#this one goes out to you julia | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ham-st4r · 11 months ago

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YOU LIKE TO BEG - L. HS

PAIRING: HEESEUNG + FEM READER

WARNINGS: PURE SMUT, UNPROTECTED SEX, ORAL, ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION, DIRTY TALK CURSING, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, CUM EATING, TEASING,.

WC: 4k+

SUMMARY: I was high and listening to this song AND THIS IS WHAT YOU GET 💀 BYE

♡︎

It was the weekend, and you were at a party one of your classmates invited you to. You don't remember whose house it was at. All you cared about was the free drinks and music.

You didn't really have friends, more like acquaintances, so you were hanging out in the kitchen having a drink all by yourself.

You weren't even two shots deep, and within minutes of entering the kitchen, you noticed someone taking a seat next to you in your peripheral.

"H-hi y/n," you hear the familiar voice, and it prompts you to turn your head to the side and make eye contact with him.

"Oh hey, hee," you replied casually and took another sip of your drink. "Didn't know you were the party type."

"Well…" you notice his hand shaking slightly as he goes to pour himself another drink. "I'm just gonna say it. Usually, I never go to these kinds of things, but a friend said you'd be here, so I came," he said softly and cut his eyes at you before turning back to his drink. "I came for you." As soon as the words left his mouth, he swallowed down a whole shot, grimacing at the strong taste. From his reaction, you assumed he wasn't much of a drinker either.

He quickly poured another shot so he wouldn't have to face you after just admitting that fact, and he nervously gulped it down in one go whilst impatiently waiting for your reply.

You're not sure what to take from that information. You and he weren't friends, so it wouldn't make sense for him to want to see you and hang out. You barely talked in school, so it was confusing that he suddenly came to a party just to see you. "Okay," you shrug, not thinking much of it other than him wanting to be friends. "You want another drink?" You offer him.

"Yes," he says just above a whisper. "I-I mean yes, please," he corrects himself and sits upright in his chair.

You laughed quietly and poured him a shot. You didn't expect to even see him tonight, let alone hang out with him, but you had nothing better to do, so why not?

Plus, he was cute.

After fifteen minutes of you both chatting about random topics, you grew bored of the party but not the handsome preppy boy that sat in front of you.

Who you learned had a crush on you after it accidentally slipped from his alcohol-sheen lips during your brief yet somewhat meaningful conversation.

Which now explains why he seemed so jumpy and nervous around you, but you thought it was cute, and to be honest, you were kind of crushing on him, too.

He had been fidgety all night. His palms were clammy before you even arrived, and the drinks weren't helping calm his nerves at all.

Just your presence alone made his knees weak. He's not sure how he was even able to hold a good conversation with you.

He probably stuttered five different times while he was talking to you, but he couldn't help it. He was so nervous.

You always made him feel nervous.

And the way your hand was slowly creeping up his thigh wasn't helping that fact.

He coughed slightly and shifted in his seat but didn't make any moves to stop you. You took that as the green light to test just how much of a crush he had on you by placing your hand over the front of his jeans.

You smiled with your lip caught between your teeth as you found the outline of his bulge and traced it with your fingertips. "You wanna come back to my place?" You asked with the sweetest smile as you squeezed his clothed length, wanting nothing more than to get out of this party and into his pants.

His eyes turned hazy at just the mention of you taking him home, and he could only nod in response, too entranced by you to even speak.

💜

"Y/n, please," Heeseung whines pathetically while you sit on his lap, your core just mere inches away from meeting his stiffened cock that was still clad in his jeans.

You'd both reached your place about twenty minutes ago. It started out with soft touches and not stop lip-locking until you both needed more of each other.

You had been teasing him the whole time, loving the sounds of his feeble cries and weak attempts at trying to get you to ride him.

He tried to lift his hips to feel you, but he was pressed firmly into the mattress and pinned down by his arms and legs. "Please"

"Okay, baby, I'll stop teasing you now." You lowered your core, pressing yourself against his bulge and rotating your hips on it.

"Fuck y/n," he hisses as soon as he feels some type of relief.

"Since I was such a tease, baby, you decide how you want it."

"Really?" He asked, half shocked, half excited. You nodded, a smile on your face as you rocked back and forth on the tent in his pants. "Can I taste your pussy? Please can't stop thinking about it." Every word came out in a needy tone, which let you know just how much he wanted it.

As soon as you give him the green light, he switches positions with you, laying you on your back and quickly gripping the hem of your bottoms. He then pulls them down and wastes no time before leveling his head with your cunt and going down on you.

The first taste he got, he swore he came in his pants a little. "Fuck" he moans into your cunt, tingling your pussy lips as he drags his tongue back and forth, licking you clean before he makes a mess out of you. "Knew you'd taste so good" he pressed two fingers on your clit, giving your body a slight jolt of pleasure. He then ran his fingers between your glossy folds, collecting your essence on his fingers. "So good," he whispers and makes direct eye contact while he sticks both of his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of your cream.

Your eyes rolled back, and you couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair and guide his mouth back and forth on your pussy. "Heeseung," your body shivers as his name easily rolls off your tongue, followed by a lewd moan.

He hums in satisfaction, his nose brushing against your clit and his tongue poking inside your hole.

He used his other hand to spread you apart further, pressing his face right against your core and cutting off his air supply.

Your moans and the wet, smacking sounds of his tongue filled up your bedroom as you gripped the sheets, losing yourself to the feeling of his slick, wet tongue flicking in and out of your hole.

He gave you lick after lick before flattening his tongue over your clit and sucking on the little bead of flesh.

"Hee- heeseung," You breathed out, thighs tensing with each suck. Before you could even get used to the feeling of his lips around your clit. He was already slipping his two fingers back inside you. "Oh fuck”

He moans, the deep bass in his voice vibrating on your core as he pumps his fingers in deeper, curling them up just right.

Your legs instinctively clamp shut, but his left hand keeps you spread wide, giving him more than enough room to devour your pussy, and devour he did.

Endless licks, sucks, and kisses had you biting down hard on your lip. You placed your other hand in his hair, pressing his face even closer to your core.

He gulped down every last sticky drop of arousal, his face covered in your slick as he made out with your pussy tilting his head and slipping his tongue in teasingly before he pulled away and nibbled on your outer lip softly.

You couldn't help but arch your back and buck your hips into his face. The pleasure too overwhelming that you didn't know you were cutting off oxygen, and he wasn't about to tell you he was perfectly content downing in your juices.

Which gave him the perfect idea. "Ride my face." Your eyes shot open the moment you heard his request. As soon as he saw what looked like hesitation on your face, he immediately started begging. "Please," he whines, slowly dragging his fingers along your drenched walls and nudging your thigh with his cheek. "Please, I want you to cum on my face so bad" he looks at you, giving you the cutest yet desperate eyes ever.

You weren't going to say no; you were just shocked by his request, but nothing sounded better than the idea of riding his face right now. "Lay on your back," you tell him.

"Okay," he slowly pulls his fingers out of your hole and obediently lies on his back while you pull your bottoms off completely and climb further on the bed until you're straddling his face.

You couldn't even stabilize yourself before his hands were around your waist, pulling you closer to his face. "Hee…" You put your hands on the bedpost throwing your head back, moaning in pleasure as he pushed you flush against his face, his tongue slithering between every crevice, licking you clean.

He was moaning more like whining nonstop, his hips desperately bucking up, trying to quell the insatiable desire between his legs.

Your aroma filled his nostrils as the tip of his nose brushed on your swollen clit.

He gripped your waist, a strong hold on your lower body as he ground you against his face, loving every ounce of it. "More," he mumbles out, and you don't hesitate to rock your hips back and forth, riding his face just like he wanted you to. "Hmm, mouth is so good hee."

That only excited him more as he licked a stripe for your hole to your clit, repeating the action over and over again to the point your legs trembled beside his head. "Cum in my mouth"

"Is that what y-you really want, hee?" your eyes rolled back, jaw slack, as you weakly grind on his beautiful face. "Want me to cum in your mouth?"

You ran your fingers through his sweaty strands, and his eyes fluttered.

He wrapped his arms around you, locking you in place so you couldn't move even if you wanted to. "Yes, please." The movement of your hips slows, and your walls tighten.

"C-close," he makes a sound of encouragement, his voice tickling your folds, and within moments, you're releasing into his mouth, desperately bucking your hips and getting yourself off on his skilled tongue.

When a fresh wave of arousal seeps out, he's there to lick up the warm, gooey goodness, never missing a beat, his tongue working to calm you down from your high.

He guided your core above him, his lips caressing your soft, sloppy folds.

After a minute more of him drinking from your water fountain, you lower yourself to his stomach, reaching your hand back to play with the tent in his pants.

He lays flat on the bed just like you told him to earlier. "Fuck, please let me have you."

The sight underneath you was the most amazing thing you've ever seen.

His face flush and shiny with your essence, his hair was a mess, and even his shirt had ridden up his waist, showing off his lean body that was now slick with your wetness.

Even after being absolutely pussy drunk, you could tell he wanted more, and so did you.

You put your index finger on his bottom lip, and he stared directly into your eyes before parting his lips and unexpectedly sucking your finger into his mouth and moaning like he had just tasted the best thing ever.

He swirled his tongue around your finger, even kissing the tip before he pulled away, which left you heaving and wanting more. "Shirt off." he easily grabs the hem of it, pulling it over his head and discarding it while he is busy with that. You undid his jeans and slid them down just past his knees.

You looked down at him, stroking his length painfully slow. "So hard," you whisper playfully, pumping the outline of his dick.

"Take them off." he takes a deep breath. "Please," He never forgets his manners, you thought to yourself.

You decided not to tease him anymore, and the second his underwear came down, you didn't hesitate to grab his shaft and align it with your gaping hole, slowly falling down on his stiff rod.

"Hmm, oh fuck" he slams his head back on your pillows, unable to control his reaction to the warmth of your pussy, sucking him in, he automatically starts bucking his hips up, forcing his cock deeper inside. "Shit," he breathes out, eyes clamping shut at the feeling of you wrapped around him so snugly.

A moan of relief escapes your lips as you feel him stretching you out. His hands slip under your shirt, caressing your skin as you take the lead and start bouncing on his long hard dick. "So good," he says in one long breath, his hands squeezing your hips as he indulges in the pleasure of you riding his cock.

You smirk down at him, loving the look of pure ecstasy written all over his face.

You took your hands off his chest, and he opened his eyes from the lack of contact, only to find you slipping your hands under your shirt and peeling it off, leaving your hair all messy, which made you look even hotter to him.

He whimpers pathetically at the sight of your bra-clad breasts, his hands quickly going behind your back and unclipping your bra in one go as you do a slow grind on him, continuously circling your hips.

The amount of control he didn't have when it came to you was almost scary, but he couldn't help it. Every last thing you did had him going insane, from the way you talked to him earlier at the party to now when you're fucking him senseless on your bed.

"Y/n, I need you," he moans after he discards your bra elsewhere, and you giggle softly because his desperation for you was so cute, yet such a turn-on at the same time.

"You have me," you say seductively. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as you gradually picked up the pace sliding up and down on his dick.

"Fuck" his voice comes out muffled into your chest, his fingertips leaving indents on your skin as you work, his length getting wetter with every moan and whimper that he lets out against your flushed skin.

You cage his head between your arms, fingers dancing across his scalp. His mouth falls open at the soft touch, and you lower your head immediately, capturing his lips in a hot, wet kiss.

He felt so good his toes began to curl, the kiss turning more and more desperate the longer he hit your sweet spot with his leaky tip.

"Fuck hee, you're so good," you whine into his mouth, tongue messily clashing with his as he slowly fucks into you from below.

"I'm so close," he parts from the kiss, needing a breather unless he was sure he would have passed out from pleasure. He was already feeling lightheaded just from your touch alone. "Shit"

You moved to his neck, lightly sucking on it while rocking back and forth, your walls clenched around him, just begging his cock to fill you up. "Cum hee," your mouth hangs open in a breathy moan as you kiss his neck a few more times before leaning up, wanting to see the look on his face while he cums inside you.

"Fuck okay," he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing as you picked up the pace of things to make him cum, his hips came to a halt, too weak and overwhelmed by the pleasure that he had to let you take over again. "I'm gonna cum" he rushes out, his hands going to your hips to slow your movements so he wouldn't cum inside. "Gotta pull out," he whispers hastily, doing his best to hold off his high.

"No hee, please want it. Want you to cum inside" You take his wrist in your hands, moving them from your waist so you can ride him without him interrupting you again. Pinning his hands beside his head, you use every last ounce of strength to bounce on his cock. You take him balls deep with every move, wet sticky sounds squelching between your bodies as your arousal mixed together, creating a white ring of pleasure around his thick base.

"Are you s-sur?" Before the words leave his mouth, it's far too late to stop, but he knows you don't want him to. By the way you're riding him so eagerly, riding him like you just couldn't wait to have your hole filled with his cream. "Fuck y/n fuck" his breath is heavy as his words linger in the air seconds later; you lock lips with his capturing each and every one of his sinful moans.

Once he's filled you up, you broke the kiss, nipping on the skin of his shoulder and riding out his high.

He turns his head to the side, eyes closed, and when you go to kiss, that's when you notice him acting a little off.

You were about to ask what was wrong, but you didn't need his words for the answer. He was still nestled inside of you hard as a rock, and no wonder he was acting all shy. "You wanna go again?" He turns to look at you, his face flush, hair drenched in sweat, and he can only nod in response. Yet again, if you didn't know any better, you'd say you had him under some sort of spell by the way he was looking at you.

Heeseung was awestruck and completely mesmerized by you, and when you were on top of him asking to go another round, the idea of saying no never even crossed his mind.

"Yeah," he sounds breathless as he replies, and you throb around him, unable to stop the rhythmic pulsating of your pussy. "Please," there he goes again, desperately begging you for more as if you didn't just give him a five-course meal and the best orgasm of his life.

His chest was flushed red, his abdomen covered in sticky slick. He was utterly exhausted, but that didn't stop him from flipping you over and taking the lead. This time, he didn't even bother pulling out before he positioned you to lie on your back. Besides, if he pulled out, he's sure he wouldn't even be able to last a single second without being buried in your cunt. This was his new favorite feeling. Your warm walls were hugging him so tight. He found a home within you, a home that he never wanted to leave as his length perfectly molded its way in your tight little cunt. "Put your legs on my shoulders beautiful, gonna make you cum so hard" Suddenly feeling submissive under him. You're quick to comply, your legs going up on his broad shoulders. He pushed the backs of your thighs down, pressing them to your chest, and you swore you could feel him going in inches deeper.

"Hee," you whined, already clawing at his chest, leaving little red marks on his lower stomach.

He smiles at your reaction, a soft laugh coming from him before he bends down and kisses you one time. "So beautiful like this." he traces your jawline, brows furrowing as he takes in the sight of every curve dip and imperfection on your skin. Hell, what imperfections you were literally perfect in his eyes.

He was so lost in your eyes that he barely even registered when he started moving his hips and slowly fucking into you, inching back and forth to get you used to the new angle. "You take it like you were made for me," he thinks out loud, hands caressing your thighs before he leans down and grips the sheets beside your head, thrusting in and out at the perfect pace. "O-oh y/n," he sighs, pulling almost all the way out before sheathing himself back inside of you.

Your mouth parts in an o shape, silent moans leaving your lips as your brows furrow in pleasure.

The sight of your pleasured face and the way your tits jiggle right in front of his eyes makes him go feral.

He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, pressing himself further against you to get as close and as deep in you as possible.

Your arms immediately wrap around him, trying to ground yourself as he plows into you, going deep into your stomach with every thrust, and it becomes impossible for you not to scream in pleasure. "Oh god fuck yeah hee, just like that, don't stop."

The nickname, the sound of your whiney voice, and the needy clenching of your hole drove him to the point of no return. He's gone. So lost in your pussy that everything else around him is nonexistent.

He promised himself that he wouldn't stop until you were shaking and creaming around him. "Yeah, let it all out, baby. I know you fucking want it," he groans, fingers digging into your sheets veins bulging all over his body as he gives you his all, which is too much for you, and seconds later, you let out the lewdest moan every as you came so hard on his cock.

"Hee," you squeak as his tip keeps hitting your cervix, each touch making you whine and clench pathetically, asking for more.

"Keep moaning my name," he says as if you had an option. All you could remember was his name cause he was fucking you completely senseless.

"Heeseung," another whine of his name comes out when he unexpectedly starts rubbing your clit.

The sounds of skin clapping bounce off the walls. The room was steamy and full of nothing but the smell of sex as you two lost yourselves in each other.

You were already close again, and so was he. The way his full sack brushed against your ass turned you on more than it probably should, but you couldn't help it. Feeling his sweaty skin against yours was truly the best thing you've ever experienced, and you were on the edge of experiencing something even better.

"Fuck y/n, I'm gonna cum again," he grunts, feeling his forearms grow tired, and he falls on top of you, restlessly bucking his hips so you both can cum on time with one another. "Kiss," he says, rubbing your clit and stroking your walls to bliss. His unoccupied hand reaches for anything to hold onto, and your hand quickly moves from his waist, clasping it with his seconds before you both come crashing down, him filling you up and you staining his cock in your cum. "So good," he moans into your mouth, his cock throbbing with every spill of cum.

You hum, basking in the warmth of his load, brimming your swollen pussy over. "Hee," you breathe out, hand lightly scratching his back until you both calm down a bit.

He laid his head beside yours, your bodies still twitching and tingling in the aftermath of having cum multiple times.

Neither of you even think about moving the warmth far too comfortable to worry about clean up.

His cock was still resting inside you. The warmth and fullness made you sleepy, especially with him on top of you, feeling like your personal weighted blanket.

Moments later, you drift to sleep. He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and nuzzles up to you, following you into dreamland.

♡︎

When he wakes, the bed is empty, but before his heart sinks in disappointment, he notices a note you'd left for him telling him you had to leave early. He breathes a sigh of relief and can't stop smiling from ear to ear when he sees your number at the bottom of the Post-it note.

You smile while at work after you receive a text from him going on and on about how great last night was.

You reply with a smiley face and wait for him to make the next move, and you know he would cause, after all, he liked to beg.

FIN

♡︎

Permanent taglist:🔖 @furious-eagle @hoyeonheeseung @heeseungssidechick @aishigrey @heesitation @hee-pster

Layout inspired by @heesdreamer

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #smut #heeseung angst #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #Spotify

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lovemesomeagnst · 21 days ago

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Gravity Falls x Carmen Sandiego AU where Stan is an international super thief and Ford is trying to catch him.

More of the au under the cut!!

The CSxGF au (Carmen Sandiego x Gravity Falls) is an alternate universe in modern setting where the characters follow a similar/inspired plot and trope of Carmen Sandiego. It is basically the characters of Gravity Falls, but with the theme of Carmen Sandiego hehe. Definitely took some elements from that show ofc.

Characters and their roles:

Stanley Pines - (Carmen Sandiego)

Ford Pines - (Chase Devineaux)

Fiddleford McGucket - (Julia Argent)

more to come later obviously!!

Slight Background:

Stanley still got kicked out at seventeen and lived on the streets for a while before he got selected and offered a place in VILE. He was already good at theft and all that but his skills improved greatly at VILE. Later when he realised the organisation went beyond just theft to more diabolical things he listened to his moral compass and left. He’s not so homeless anymore cause he sorta stole money from VILE before he left. Sought quick refuge with Shermie’s family first for a few days to get a plan going. Somehow managed to have his nephew offer to hack for him. Ran into Carla later, then recruited Dan when they were making a pit stop at Oregon. Later established a home base at Gravity Falls. Much like Carmen who got her name inspired by a brand, Stan’s alias is named after his car, El Diablo. Wears his signature maroon red coat.

For Ford, everything happens as it does, Stanley gets kicked out and Ford goes to Backupsmore and so on with his life. However, Ford hears about Stanley stealing and being a wanted thief across the globe eventually. Feeling like he has a responsibility to bring Stanley down he attempts to join the Police Force. ACME notices him before he does and recruits him easily due to his intellect and skills. He later calls up Fiddleford and convinces ACME to hire him too.

Cue shenanigans of them trying to catch Stan and fumbling every time.

(Also some angst with plot that I’m cooking but will reveal later)

Also Big Thank You to @skamb3ll for helping me with ideas hehe I love u so much!!

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #Carmen sandiego #csxgf au #Stanley pines #Stan pines #Stanford pines #ford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddlestan #yes there will be fiddlestan #Theres SO MUCH im cooking for this au guys #pls ask me about it PLSPLS #I have like docs and character designs and plot and everything #I just think ford as chase would be so funny #he can get so hyperfixated on catching Stanley #also ty to my lovely moot for helping me lots

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juliaspizzeria · 11 days ago

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── ᵎᵎ ✦ SMUTTY INO BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

SUMMARY ! ; you read the title ¬‿¬

JULIA SPEAKS ! ; god im actually thirsting so hard over this man

WARNINGS ! ; smut ノ 17+ノ afab! reader ノ language ノ 69ing ノ oral (m+f receiving) ノroleplay ノoverstím ノpegging ノfood play ノclít smacking ノcowgirl

── bf! takuma ino who’s open to trying new things. roleplay? hell yeah. food play? yum. wanna peg him? sure, go ahead. he just asks that you be gentle. he’s a sensitive man, after all.

── bf! takuma ino who eats pussy so messily. he goes above and beyond for your pleasure, and he certainly doesn’t mind getting dirty in the process. after all, it gives him an excuse to bathe with you once he’s done.

── bf! takuma ino who’s a total switch. one day, you could ride him until he cries, so overstimulated in your gummy walls to even think coherently. the next, he’ll have your face pressed into the bed, fucking you with a relentless pace while snaking an arm under you and giving your clit a harsh ‘smack!’ because he’s just that into it.

── bf! takuma ino who yes, can be rough with you if asked, but he prefers not to degrade you. this man loves telling you how fucking gorgeous you are, loves praising you. "yeaahhh.. look at you, such a p-pretty, dirty girl, mm..? god, can’t believe you’re m-mine..”

── bf! takuma ino loves any position. if he had to pick, he’d say 69ing and cowgirl are his all time favorites.

── bf! takuma ino can cum completely untouched, just by watching you get off. he'll rut against the bed, pillow, anything, just gawking at how your fingers plunge in and out and in and out of yourself. the amount of times he’s come in his pants just by watching you finger yourself is a little embarrassing (to him, at least).

#juliaspizzeria #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #julia writes!#takuma ino smut #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ino x reader #jjk smut headcanons

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mediumgayitalian · 8 months ago

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The best part of being his own camp counsellor is that he can wake up whenever the fuck he likes.

Nico’s a fan.

Because, however, his dumb ass made friends with the camp’s head medic, he doesn’t get to sleep in as often as he would like. He is instead often woken up before the clock strikes nine, which is a tragedy and one of the forty thousand reasons he is going to be present on Will’s judgement day. (The scales tip any which way on a regular basis, but as of last week, Will is going to hell. Unfortunate. Nico’ll still visit him, though. Bring him one half of a twizzler or something.) So when he wakes up, one lovely morning, mouth tasting like something rotted in it and sun well past halfway across the sky, he is capital-C Concerned.

What a horrible tragedy that is. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to sleep in. And his first thought is not gratitude. Solace may indeed have to die — Nico was not this way before he started planting his annoying ass front and centre in Nico’s life. He’s quite fairly certain he used to be frightening and badass. Now Will orders him to drink milk for the sake of his calcium and he does. Gods.

“Morning,” he hedges, approaching the archery range, feeling marginally more alive than twenty minutes prior.

Kayla raises an amused eyebrow. “Dude, it’s, like, two.”

“Well fuck you, then.”

She smirks. “Aw, did baby not get his Sunshine fix of the day? Is that why he’s so grumpy?”

It really sucks that Will is so fond of his siblings. Nico wonders if Will would still like him if he knew how many times he daydreams of transporting Kayla onto the moon per day.

“As soon as I figure out which god would appreciate you as a sacrifice, you’re gone.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, turning away and lining up an arrow. She lets it fly, watching as it shaves a splinter off a hunk of wood fifty feet away. “You couldn’t get close enough to kick my ass before I’d skewer you, di Angelo.”

Remembering the warning arrow Kayla had shot through his shoulder last week, he wisely chooses not to press the matter any further. The power visibly goes to her head. Fuck.

“Just — tell me where Will is.”

“Why?” She strings another arrow. The grin on her face is a level of shit-eating that Nico has only before seen on a Stoll. She should spend less time around Julia, or else the camp is in for some serious trouble. “What are your intentions with my dear brother?”

Nico, on principle, refuses to answer that question. Kayla shrugs, finishing her shot and then turning around to stick her tongue out at him.

“No answer, no location! Find him yourself, loverboy. And remember that I am always watching.”

Stomping away, and ignoring the smile twitching at his lips — she is so annoying, truly, gods above he owes Bianca a thousand apologies for ever opening his mouth — he heads towards the infirmary. There are only six locations Will is at any given time, after all, except when he disappears for several hours randomly but Nico doesn’t know how to bring that up yet. As he approaches the infirmary, though, he hears it absolutely blasting with music, like genuinely shaking the ground a little bit, and knows exactly where to find him.

As he approaches the door, wincing at the door, he finds it closed. Odd — Will likes a breeze when he works. Even odder is the hastily-written sign pasted onto it:

ANNUAL CLEAN OUT DAY. IF YOU NEED ME, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU NEED A BANDAID, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT, CALL AN AMBULANCE AND PRAY. I AM BUSY.

(‘Busy’ is underlined three times.)

In smaller print, under the all-caps monstrosity, is:

Unless you’re Nico, in which case disregard the previous sentiment. No, Cecil, this does NOT mean you.

The note is written again in Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Italian, Polish, Korean, Morse Code, and another ten languages Nico can’t even name. Actually, wait — the top left is Klingon. And middle right note does not appear to be language, showing instead a poorly drawn stick figure in armour being shoved into a cannon and shot into the sun by another poorly drawn stick figure in a lab coat. Nico loves a man who’s multi-talented, indeed.

Hesitantly, Nico cracks open the door. He is immediately assaulted by a solid wall of sound, and then nearly bowled over by the enigma himself, William ‘I Can Restructure A Human Brain But Cannot Tie My Shoelaces’ Solace. He catches himself at the last second, and then barely manages to catch Will, grabbing him around the waist just before his head hits the floor.

“Nico!” he shouts over the music, smiling brightly. “Hi! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He can physically feel his voice cracking, but luckily the music drowns it out. Hopefully. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning!” Will straightens up, although he stays within the circle of Nico’s arms. Nico tries real hard to keep his gaze firmly planted on his face and not on the hands he still has in his hips. “I do it once a year, kick everybody out and deep clean the place. Helps keep it fresh and minimize the bloodstains on the floor.”

“Ah. And the music…”

“It’s fun!” Will shouts. He gasps when the CD player skips and a new song comes on, heavy base and funky synths blasting so hard the window panes shake. “Oh my gods! I love this one!” He turns his bright grin at Nico full force, absolutely no holdbacks on the dimples or freckles, gods help him, and bows cheekily. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”

“It’s Britney Spears’ Outrageous,” Nico protests weakly.

“Yeah!”

…Very, very weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will whoops, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Nico yelps, nearly tripping over a cot, but when he looks back up Will has his eyes closed and is shimmying not unlike a worm on a fish hook, and it’s so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. Will pries one eye open, grinning widely, and shimmies harder.

“You’re such a dweeb!”

“Join me in the dweebiness! Free yourself!”

Nico rolls his eyes fondly, squeezing Will’s hand, and lets himself get ridiculous. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but it’s fun.

…And not just because Will is next to him, smile brighter than any star, dancing like a massive dork, hand clasped in his.

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bardace · 4 months ago

Text

lighting study with a picture of julia lepitit all my friends were redrawing

@witchkittymeow this one goes out to you

#drawfee #julia lepitit

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aestheticaltcow · 3 months ago

Note

I read some of your stuff and really liked it and I was wondering

If you could do like a carmy x English major fic?

Like maybe a book store opens somewhere near the bear and it’s Natalie’s babies first birthday and he figures that kids like books and stuffed animals and he’s been too busy to get anything for the party cuz he’s helping Natalie by catering so she doesn’t have to worry about it

So he goes in and he meets reader and she recommends him something (like stellaluna or where the wild things are, like a classic kids book that carmy has somehow never heard of)

But then he thinks she’s really cute so he just keeps finding excuses to go in and talk to her and she starts like regularly recommending him books and everyone’s like “when the fuck did he learn how to read?”

No pressure just thought I’d ask, tysm!

Written Romance

Carmy Berzatto x Reader

The Bear Masterlist

“What do you even get a one-year-old?” Marcus queried as he looked down at the pastel-fruit-decorated birthday invitation. Michelle Witaske-Berzatto’s Berry's first birthday was this upcoming Sunday, and of course, the entire Bear staff was invited.

Carmy shrugged, “Last time I babysat, she played with a paper towel roll for 45 minutes.” he chuckled, remembering his niece squealing as she threw it in the air as much as her chubby little arms could. While he had become one of Natalie’s go-to babysitters, his apartment lacked baby-friendly activities. He’d busted out a couple of his old stuffed animals from Donna’s garage, and he had a couple of soft blankets for her to sit on, but aside from that- he was the awkward uncle who didn’t know what to talk about with a baby. He did like reading about French cuisine with her, but Sugar argued she preferred the story books Donna and their Nona used to read them when they were little. Carmy insisted she was actually a huge Julia Child fan, but his opinion was written off.

Carmy was taking out the trash when he noticed a new bookstore had opened a few storefronts down. He paused before throwing the bags in the dumpster; he’d have to check it out on his break.

It had been a slow day in the bookshop, granted days like this were nice since you were behind on homework. You were on a hot streak with your writing when the welcome bell rang, signaling you had a customer. After mentally cursing their existence, you closed your laptop and looked up to see a handsome man. Black Dickie work pants, crisp white t-shirt, and Birkenstock clogs with a reusable tote bag on his shoulder. You bit your cheek as you watched this mystery man approach the counter. “Hey, how can I help you?” your voice cracked subtly enough for him not to notice- or at least not indicate he heard it crack.

“Do you have any children’s section and recommendations?” he asked hopefully. “Well, that depends,” you started as you walked around the counter. “How old is the kiddo?” you asked as you walked toward the back of the shop, motioning him to follow you.

“She’s one.” Carmy answered, following you through a narrow hallway made up of two overstuffed bookshelves. You nodded, “Well, my nephew loved Stellaluna when he was little- so that’s my go-to.”

Carmy nodded, “Okay.. any others? It’s her birthday, so wanna get her somethin’ fun.” he explained as you handed him a copy of Stellaluna, “Is this about bats?” he asked as he held up the book to you. You laughed and nodded, “It’s charming- it’s about embracing differences and how different people can be friends.”

You directed Carmy through the children’s section for about an hour. Carmy held a pile of colorful picture books and a copy of a fairy series you’d recommended for when Michelle got older. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Carmy asked as he set the pile of books on the counter. You nodded as you began ringing up his purchase, “I’m getting my Master’s in English Lit.”

Carmy smiled, “That’s cool.”

“Thanks… what about you? Are you passionate about your work?” you challenged as you put each book in a paper bag. “Passion is a subjective experience… I’m a chef- I actually own The Bear.” he laughed, gesturing toward the exit. “Is it nearby? Sorry, I don’t go out to eat often.” you grimaced, hoping you hadn’t offended him. Carmy nodded, “It’s across the street a few doors down.”

“I’ll check it out sometime.” you smiled, handing him his bag. Carmy nodded, “Sure thing. I’m Carmy, by the way.”

“Y/N. I hope the little one likes her books.”

“I’ll be her favorite uncle for sure.”

It took a few weeks for Natalie to notice, Carmy was happier. When she went to pick Michelle up she noticed an ever growing stack of children’s books, coloring books, and his not ratty old stuffed animals from Donna’s garage. Something was goin’ on… she just didn’t know what.

“Is Carmy dating someone?” she asked Syd one night when they were alone in the office. She shrugged, “Honestly, I don’t want to know about his love life.” she laughed at the end. The sheer obscurity of Carmy having a girlfriend after the Claire saga was something Syd didn’t want to wrap her head around. “He’s been going to that bookshop a lot- if he is seeing someone, she probably works there.” Syd thought aloud as Natalie hit print on the document she’d been working on.

“Hm. Interesting…”. “Natalie trailed off as she exited the office with the paperwork and a pen. She walked into the dining room to get Richie to sign off on an order. She watched him squeeze the bridge of his nose at the host stand. “Stressed?” Natalie commented as she set the documents in front of Richie. Yeah… where’s Carmy? I need to ask him about the menu for next week.”

Natalie shrugged, “Not sure. He said he had to run an errand?”

Richie shook his head, “I swear that child is tryin’ to get with this girl- mother fucker learned how to read to impress her. Marcus saw him reading some philosophy book in the office last night.”

“Hm. I guess I’ll just have to ask him about it.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fan fiction #the bear fan fic #the bear imagine #the bear one shot #aestheticaltcow request box #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x you

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zepskies · 5 months ago

Text

Dream With Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

AN: Here we go, a three-part story for the Espresso-verse! This is set in the dreaded 15x20 (or the time gap within In Bad Weather.) There are implied references back to Devour Me and Show Me.

Word Count: 4.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, some spiciness, past body insecurity, references to body shaming, references to smut, PTSD, peril, blood and violence.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “On the Drop of a Dime”

Silence reigns as you and Dean get ready for bed. Tonight, it’s your boyfriend who’s watching you closely.

Something’s off, he thinks, even as he checks you out in the little sleep shorts you just put on. It’s not the spandex ones he likes, but he still gets to see your familiar curves.

It's been a minute since he's gotten reacquainted. He and Sam just got back from a long hunt yesterday. You stayed home this time, for reasons Dean still hasn't totally figured out.

But his eyes trace over you, from thick thighs and tempting ass, to all of what you’re hiding under an old Def Leppard shirt. The rest, he can trace from memory alone.

You notice him watching you from his side of the bed. Your lips tug upwards.

“What?” you ask. Dean nods over, beginning to smile as well.

“Come ‘ere already.”

Huffing a little laugh, you tie your hair up in a big scrunchie and slide your way into bed, and into the inviting space between his arm and chest. He wraps that arm around your waist, pulling you comfortably close. You expel a deep breath and rest against him.

And you smile. “He’s snoring again.”

Miracle, a shaggy mutt Dean rescued, is curled up in his doggy bed at the foot of the humans’ bed where he likes to sleep. And rumble through his nose. He always goes to lay down when he sees Dean venture to the sink to brush his teeth. It’s like he knows his parents are about to go to sleep, so it’s his way of joining you.

“Dogs snore. Who knew?” Dean remarks.

“Who knew you’d be the one to get us a dog,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees in amusement. “Taking home strays is more your thing.”

You smirk at him. “Worked with you, didn’t it?”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, you moved in with me. Which makes you the stray.”

“Hey!” You shove at his shoulder. He traps your hand against his chest and tugs you in to kiss into your neck.

“Aw, but a sexy one,” he says, humming in pleasure against your skin, where he inhales that alluring mix of floral soap and coconutty shampoo. “Mmm. Less Annie, more Pretty Woman. Like Julia Roberts, if she had a Latina ass.”

You have to laugh, despite the arousing graze of his teeth against your pulse point. You hold him close by his shirt. He takes the scrunchie out of your hair with a practiced hand, letting the wild strands curl around his fingers. You tsk at him. He can never just let your hair be.

“Are you really comparing me to a prostitute right now?” you retort. You feel the shape of his grin against your skin.

“What can I say, baby? You’ve got moves,” Dean teases, low and gravel in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you’re both turned on and incredulous all at once.

Again, you hit his shoulder with a burst of laughter. It briefly lightens you from the funk you’ve been in.

It’s been a couple of months since Sam, Dean, and Jack ended Chuck’s reign of terror. Jack snapped the world back into existence and brought you back, along with everyone else…and the monsters.

It means your work isn’t over, even though that work is starting to wear on you. You haven’t let this on to Sam or Dean, however. It’s just been this thing, weighing on you for two months.

Unlike them, you don’t have as much experience with apocalyptic-level events, let alone dying. (And coming back, for that matter.)

Dean’s lips begin to break you from those thoughts, however, when he blazes a warm trail of sensuous, grazing kisses up your neck. Then along the curve of your jaw, as he holds your other cheek. Finally, he claims your lips.

You breathe into it, and into him as he almost succeeds in distracting your weighted mind. You give him a couple of sweet kisses in return before you slowly break from him.

“You have another long drive tomorrow,” you remind him, rubbing a hand across his chest. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Dean frowns as he looks on you. He tries to read whatever you’re hiding back there, behind your eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asks, and not for the first time. “Could use your help on the case.”

Sam already found another one: a string of suspicious murders in Boston—potentially a cursed Red Sox collectible cycling its way through unsuspecting baseball fans. In the morning, he and Dean are going out to investigate. You’ve elected to opt out.

“It’s okay. I want to give Jody a visit,” you reply. You reach for the bedcovers to cover yourself up to your chest. Dean strokes your hip underneath.

“We could always swing by Sioux Falls after the hunt,” he says.

“It’s okay, baby. You and Sam go ahead,” you say. You twist away from him to turn off the light, but Dean stops you.

“All right,” he says with a sigh. “What’s going on?”

You raise a brow at him. “What?”

“You what,” Dean retorts. “This is the second time in a row that you’re blowing off a hunt.”

He’s right, but you don’t have a good answer for him. Your lips purse.

“I don’t know, I mean…are you going through some kind of slump?” he asks. “‘Cause you know I’ve been there.”

It’s your turn to sigh. You sit up in bed, and you debate the words you want to use to broach this with him. It’s been percolating in your mind for a while now, but it seems like this is the time to finally let it out.

“Okay, here it goes,” you mutter, trying to ignore your trepidation. “Do you ever think about…retiring?”

Dean’s attention piques, along with his frown.

“Retiring?” he repeats.

You reach out to grab his wrist, and you draw your thumb back and forth across his skin.

“You ever think of…a house,” you pose. “Maybe a cozy cabin, or a little cottage-style thing somewhere, with a backyard for Miracle. And like, at least three bedrooms.”

Dean smiles a little. He allows himself to contemplate the picture you’re painting.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why three bedrooms?” he asks.

Hope begins to flutter in your chest.

“Well, there’s our room of course,” you say, with a flirtatious gleam to your smile. “That’s where the magic happens.”

He smirks. “I’m in agreement so far.”

“Then there’s a guest room, for whenever Sam and Eileen come to visit,” you continue. “And then…there’s a third room for whatever we need.”

Your tone is leading him somewhere, along with your hand trailing up and down his arm.

“Like, you know, a gym. Or an office. Or a kid’s bedroom…or maybe two,” you say.

Dean’s expression slackens as surprise overtakes him. He probably should’ve known though.

“Two,” he intones, chuckling nervously. But, his face softens as he watches you with new understanding. “You’ve really been thinkin’ about that, huh?”

“Maybe,” you confess. You gain some courage and take in a deep breath. “Do you think about it? Dean, do you ever want to have a simpler life?”

He hums deep in contemplation. It’s a heavy sound, and it doesn’t spark your confidence.

“You know I’ve tried that before,” he says at last. “That life…sweetheart, it’s not my life. It never has been.”

“It could be,” you insist. “Chuck is done—”

“But the monsters ain’t,” Dean retorts.

“There are other hunters,” you point out. “Haven’t you given enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You squeeze his hand to punctuate your point. Dean glances down, feeling the near desperation in your grip. Eventually, he’s able to meet your eyes again.

“Look…I’m the Job, you know? What the hell would I even do if not this?” he says.

You raise up his hand and lay a kiss to his knuckles. You know he thinks being a hunter is all he’s good for—all he’s equipped to do. You also know that he’s so much more than the Job.

“Dean, you’re one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know. You can…restore cars, build cars,” you suggest. Your excitement grows as you brainstorm for him. You tap on his thigh.

“Oh! You could open up a bar. Call it the Roadhouse, after the one your friends had. Or hey, we could open up a bakery. We’ll sell pies and flan and whatever the hell else you want me to make.”

You say that last bit with a giggle. It earns Dean’s smile, but you know, looking into his eyes, that he’s not convinced. You grab his hand again with both of yours.

“Come on, Dean. Dream with me for a second,” you implore. “I know we could do this. We could…we could have a different life. A peaceful life. We could have a family.”

Dean sighs, glancing down at his hands. They’re calloused and scarred, and he has the memories to match.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I just uh…I think it’s too late for me to dream like that.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. Dean sees the fractures, and immediately feels guilty for it.

“Sweetheart,” he tries, reaching out for you, but you shake your head and turn away from him. He feels the loss of your hand.

“Good night,” you say, more sharply than you mean to. I knew he wouldn’t go for it, and I opened my mouth anyway.

He touches your shoulder. “Hey, come on—”

“Good night, Dean,” you repeat. I knew he wouldn’t…

You shouldn’t have said anything. You turn off the lamp on your nightstand, casting the room into darkness.

Dean hesitates. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, even though he knows he has. He just doesn’t know how to comfort you this time. His hand falls away from you as he turns onto his back, his lips pressing together.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to go to bed angry,” he dryly remarks.

“I’m not angry,” you mutter.

She said, friggin’ angrily, Dean finishes in his mind.

He sighs and tries to go to sleep.

In the morning, you’re quieter than usual. You keep saying you’re not mad. You keep telling him to forget about it. But after four years together, Dean knows when you’re pulling away from him.

You don’t even make espresso from your little cafetera press, like you usually do. You’re rummaging through the pantry, seemingly trying to decide what you’re going to have for breakfast.

“Coffee?” Dean asks.

You point to the percolating machine that spits out normal black coffee—a silent gesture that tells him he should make it himself.

Which he does, while frowning in annoyance at your attitude. He thinks it might be good that he and Sam are leaving on this hunt soon. It’ll give you a chance to cool off, and Dean a chance to figure out how to make this right with you. The problem is, he knows he won’t be able to do that without giving you what you want.

Retired? He scoffs in his mind. Bobby and Rufus never fucking retired from the life. Hell, Dean never even thought he’d live this long.

And what happened to Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and too many others…

Dean doesn’t let himself dwell on that interjecting thought for too long, even though it adds a familiar weight to his shoulders. He makes himself some buttered toast. He then sits across from Sam, who’s eating cereal while scrolling through the news on his laptop.

You sit next to Sam after grabbing a steaming cup of an Americano and a protein bar. Dean can tell by your face that you’re not enjoying either one. He debates if he should ask if you still plan to drive out to go see Jody today.

Sam glances over at his brother. He’s sensing the unspoken tension between you and Dean, but the latter can only give a small shake of his head.

You don’t want to know, Dean’s face says.

Your cell phone rings, breaking the silence. It’s an unknown number. You frown in confusion, but you still pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey. It’s me.”

Your frown deepens. You think you know the voice on the line, but you figure you should make sure, before your shitty morning gets even better.

“Who’s this?” you ask.

“It’s Carter,” he replies.

In other words, your insufferable ex-boyfriend. The last time you saw him was at a wake for a fellow hunter, Alicia Jackson. By the end of it, Dean nearly broke the man’s hand by the table of mini quiche.

“You have some goddamn audacity,” you say in a biting tone. It has both Sam and Dean perking up in curiosity.

“You’re the one who didn’t change your number,” Carter points out. You sigh and cover your eyes with your hand.

“Why the hell are you calling me?” you ask. There’s a pause on the other line, but you lose patience.

“Carter, don’t waste my time. What the hell do you want?”

At hearing that name, Dean’s face falls with a dark frown. You raise a placating hand to him while you listen.

“I need your help,” Carter says. “I’m on this case. A town in Nebraska on the edge of the woods. Three infants taken from their cribs. Townsfolk have been hearing noises from the woods. Sound familiar?”

Unfortunately, it does. You remember a case you worked a few months before you met Carter, in a small rural town in Louisiana. It had affected you so deeply, you remember telling him about it, when you two were still together.

“A cadejo isn’t going to go that far north,” you say.

Originally from South America, cajedos are dog-like creatures, except for their hooves. They’re creatures of habit, and they like the warmth. They also prefer the taste of children. The younger the better.

“It will if it’s hungry,” Carter points out. “You’re the only one I know who’s hunted one of these things.”

“…Okay. Where are you?” you sigh in defeat.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dean whisper-yells. Your lips purse, and again you raise a hand, wordlessly telling him to wait.

“Arcadia,” Carter replies.

You shake your head at the prospect of actually going along with this.

“You know I’m probably not going to meet you alone, right?” you say.

“Yeah, I heard Hasselhoff back there,” Carter remarks. “I’m sure he and the other Twin Terror will be right behind you.”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can get fucked by the cadejo for all I care. Call another hunter.” You’re ready to hang up when Carter backtracks.

“Okay, okay! I can be civil,” he says. “Come on. I need your help.”

You deliberate internally with indecision as you set down your phone for a minute. You glance up at Dean, whose facial expression makes it pretty damn clear what his stance is. Sam seems to be waiting on whatever you decide, but is still wary.

You reluctantly hold the phone back to your ear.

“All right. I’ll be on the way in a bit,” you reply.

“Well, all right then. See you soon,” Carter says, in a quasi-flirtatious tone that makes you grimace in disgust.

You hang up the phone and set it down on the table in exasperation. When you raise your gaze, you find exactly what you expect to see.

Dean’s jaw is clenched.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was?” he asks. You frown at him in annoyance.

“You want to calm down?” you say.

“What, so I’m supposed to be okay with you agreeing to go see that son of a bitch?” Dean says. “After what happened last time?”

“Dean…” You rub at your forehead, frowning at the beginning of an ache behind your eyes.

Sam knows instinctively that this is a conversation better had between just you and Dean, but he feels weird about getting up from the dining table. In his indecision, he stays.

“This isn’t about me,” you say at last. “And it’s not about him. This is about saving people who need help.”

It’s a point Dean can’t readily refute. So you give him a sly smile.

“Besides,” you say. “Are you really going to let me go alone?”

That’s how Dean ends up driving you and Sam to Nebraska on a Tuesday morning, after calling another hunter to take on that case Sam had found.

Dean is taciturn and downright grumpy all the way there. Even though you know why, it still irks you. Despite your argument last night, he’s become an amazingly supportive boyfriend in so many ways. So why is he being such a man child about this?

When you all get to the motel, you and Dean book a room while Sam grabs his own. You don’t blame him for wanting some distance from the tension the elder Winchester is exuding. You only wish you could get a room by yourself.

You text Carter to let him know that you’ve arrived at the same motel he’s staying at:

Where do you want to meet up?

Dean notices you texting.

“Right, let’s get this over with. Where’re we meeting your boyfriend,” he snarks.

But you’re not laughing. You let out an angry huff, your hands moving to your hips.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stopped being such an ass about this. I have enough on my mind without dealing with your pouting,” you say.

Dean looks down at you, crossing his arms. “I’m not pouting. I’m here trying to watch your back while you go and let that bastard play you like a damn fiddle.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“Do you really, actually think I want to see Carter?” you ask. “Do you think I’m that stupid, that I don’t know what he’s trying to do?”

You already know Carter is using this to try and get back into your life, or at least, under your skin. You don’t intend to let him accomplish either one.

Meanwhile, Dean’s frown deepens.

“Okay. If you’re seeing 20/20, then why’re we here? Why not call another hunter and let them fill in?” he asks.

“Is that what you would do?” you counter, pressing a finger into his chest. “If it was your ex who needed help, you would be doing the same damn thing that I’m doing, and don’t pretend it’d be any different. So stop trying to make me feel guilty for trying to do this right.”

You grab the empty ice bucket from the counter. Right now, you need any excuse to get some air, and get out of this oppressive room.

Dean lets you go, even though he’s silently fuming. The door slams shut behind you.

He sighs. He doesn’t feel like being in this room either, so he steps out and knocks on Sam’s door.

Sam opens it, and has to move to the side when Dean slips inside without asking.

“Sure, come right in,” Sam says wryly. He watches Dean sit down on the bed and drop his head into his hands, rubbing his face.

“Dude, you need to chill out,” Sam says. Dean’s head raises, and he gives his brother a sarcastic look.

“Oh, really? Is that what the fuck I need to do?” he says. He draws a frustrated hand over his mouth. “This guy’s a problem Sam. This whole thing…it doesn’t feel right.”

Sam doesn’t understand just how bad the repercussions were, after what happened at Alicia’s funeral. You having to deal with Carter that night had set you back, mentally, in more ways than one. It had you thinking things about yourself, and your own body, that made Dean want to track that bastard down and bash his skull in.

But instead, Dean had spent that entire night trying to help you feel comfortable in your own skin again, and comfortable with him. He’d continued trying to erase those old insecurities from your mind for the rest of the damn week—mainly by fucking it out of you.

In your bed, in the shower, in the backseat of his Baby, on that comfy couch in the library that's already been christened three times before (luckily, no one caught you guys that time), and even in the dirty bathroom of a roadside bar after a hunt.

...Yeah, you’d taken some convincing on that last one.

Worth it, Dean thinks, smirking internally.

Besides all of that though, there’s something else gnawing at his insides. Something he hasn’t told Sam, or even you for that matter.

Since the world nearly ended with Chuck and his snapping fingers, Dean has lived with…a kind of edge. An edge that makes him wary whenever your safety is concerned, beyond the usual dangers that come with a hunt. Beyond the things Dean feels equipped to handle with certainty.

“Be that as it may, she can take care of herself, Dean. You know that,” Sam says, breaking Dean from his thoughts. “All we can do is watch her back on this. And we will.”

After a beat to consider that, Dean nods, however reluctantly. Despite your recent struggles, he also knows how strong you are, and not just in your stubbornness that’s more than a match for his own.

Even though he’d rather you not have to go through this bullshit at all with Carter, Dean knows you. He knows you’ll do what you think is right, with or without his say so.

His shoulders deflate with his breath of exasperation. He gets up, claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean leaves his brother’s room to return to his own.

He frowns when he finds it empty.

He backs out of the room and looks down the sidewalk. There’s no one in sight.

He follows down the path you must’ve gone to find the ice machine. He turns a corner, and he finds a half-full bucket of ice…on the ground, laying on its side. Dean rushes back to the parking lot.

He doesn’t see you anywhere. The Impala is still parked where he left her, so you haven’t taken off by yourself. At least, not of your own volition.

He goes back to Sam’s motel room and pounds a fist three times on his door. Sam opens it with an annoyed frown and a ready protest, until Dean speaks over him.

“Sam, I can’t find her,” he says. “She’s gone.”

Slowly, you wake in what looks like a dusty old barn.

You’re sitting in a wooden chair that hurts your ass, and your back is aching due to the thick knot of rope holding your wrists behind the chair. There’s a pounding in the back of your skull that makes you wince.

You have a dull memory of feeling a presence behind you, and then being hit before you could even throw a punch.

Someone calls your name gently. You turn to your left, and there’s Carter, strapped to his own chair. He looks rough. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, and he bears a ragged wound on his neck. It’s weeping with blood that stains his shirt, likely hours old, by the way it’s dried.

You would know that kind of bite anywhere. You feel the phantom pain where your neck meets your shoulder.

Vampires.

“You okay?” Carter asks. He looks genuinely worried for you.

“What?” you utter. You’re still a bit dazed, until a woman steps into the room. Her long brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her leather jacket matches her dark wash jeans and black boots. She gathers her hands behind her back and gives you a smile.

“Morning, sweetheart. Have a good little nap?” she asks.

“You know...I’ve had better,” you reply, rolling the crick out of your neck. Again, you glance at Carter. He looks like he’s been here for days. And, he looks guilty as hell.

A terrible feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, but you take in a breath and return your attention to the woman in front of you.

“It’s a cocky game, hunting for hunters,” you say. “What, got tired of sucking on cows and hookers?”

What can you say? After four years, Dean has rubbed off on you.

The woman cocks her head, and her smile deepens. She steps closer. Close enough to smell you as she leans in close to your cheek. She inhales your scent, her lips brushing your neck and earlobe. You grimace and try to pull away, but she grabs your head, her nails tangling sharply in your hair.

You fucking hate vampires.

Especially after a nest of vampires turned a child, who then tried to take a chunk out of your neck. It’s been a few years since then, but you’ve always been uneasy on vamp hunts ever since.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” the woman whispers in your ear. “You’re here because I want one thing. Just one thing… Sam and Dean Winchester.”

That shocks you, but you manage to recover enough to reply.

“Who are you?” you ask. “Why are you after them?”

“Jenny. At least, that's the name they'll remember,” she replies, toying with a strand of your hair. “And let’s just say, we have history. They killed my family. And that crime has no statute of limitations.”

“You really think you’re going to get the drop on them?” you say, even though you’re trying to calm your breathing, and your racing heart. “Good luck, bitch.”

She grabs you by the hair, making you wince.

“Leave her alone!” Carter says. He’s exhausted, but his anger and frustration fuel him.

The vampire suddenly releases you. But she walks behind you and moves over to him. She grabs him by his short blonde hair and forcefully cranes his head back. He makes a sound of pain, and her lips draw near to the open bite wound on his neck.

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jenny threatens. She abruptly lets him go and comes around to stand in front of both of you with her arms cross. She glances over at you, and gestures at your companion.

“If you want to find the world’s most infamous killers, ask a killer,” she remarks.

You slowly turn your head toward Carter. Your expression tightens with anger—such anger that even brings furious tears to your eyes.

“You…you lured me here,” you realize.

Carter confirms it when he can’t meet your eyes. His face tells a story of immense guilt.

“I just thought they’d try to get the jump on Sam and Dean,” he says.

“Cooooño,” you mutter a drawn out curse through clenched teeth. Briefly you close your eyes.

“I figured the three of you could take ‘em. I didn’t think they’d take you!” Carter exclaims.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’d lied to you, betrayed you. He tried to trade his own life for theirs, and yours as well.

“I knew you were a fucking asshole, but I never thought you were this big a coward!” you hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

“I don’t want to hear it!” you snap back. You look up at Jenny, who looks bemused watching the scene.

“And you better come packing, Twilight, because Sam and Dean are gonna gut you like a fish,” you say snidely.

Jenny smiles as one, two, three and more men step into the barn and join her. She greets them all with a nod of her head, before she turns back to you with a sharp grin.

“Oh, I’m certainly not alone.”

“Son of a bitch. I fucking told you," Dean grouses. "I knew there was something off about this whole deal.”

“I hear you,” Sam says. His tone is steady to try and anchor his brother. “We’re almost there.”

Dean is pushing Baby to her limits on a dusty road out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Nebraska. Sam has been able to track your cell phone, and even break into your text messages from his laptop. Carter’s last text to you held the location of where to meet in exact coordinates. Even Sam agreed that was strange, as if your kidnapping wasn’t bad enough.

It has Dean white-knuckling his grip on the steering wheel. Sam’s route is leading him further away from civilization, and deeper into the woods on either side of the road.

“How much longer, man?” Dean asks.

Sam gives his brother a reassuring look. He’s worried for you too, but he knows he has to lock it up for Dean’s sake.

“Couple more miles," Sam replies. "Then it looks like we’re going off-road.”

“Into the woods?” Dean asks.

“Most likely,” Sam says.

Fuck, Dean thinks. His gut churns with apprehension. He doesn’t even know what you’re going through right now, let alone who (or what) has you. All he knows is, he’s not losing you.

Not like this.

Not again.

Spanish Translation: “Coño.” -> "Fuck."

AN: 😮‍💨 Diving into the thick of it on this one! Lots of conflict and tension, but what did you think of her argument with Dean about her "dream?" And how do you think it's going to play out with Carter? 😬

Here's a sneak peek at where we're going:

Next Time:

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks.

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Would you be willing to do a bodyguard!Sirius fic where they’re both pining and there’s so much cute banter but then something real goes down and Sirius goes into full guard dog protective mode, soft with reader and aggressive to anyone else??????

Thanks love!

cw: violence

bodyguard!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you say, trying again to steal the handles of your shopping bags from Sirius’ grasp. He holds them away from you, the wind of a passing car barely moving the bags with all the clothes weighing them down.

“Careful, or I’ll accidentally drop them in the street,” he teases, bringing the bags back to his side. He’s carrying three in one hand, the other kept free as a precaution. “And you’re not actually that difficult to persuade, dollface. You know a reasonable argument when you hear it.”

You scoff. “How is ‘buy six of the same top’ a reasonable argument?”

“Because it looks good on you, and they had it in six colors. Easy.”

“But red? I look awful in red.”

“You don’t look awful, ever.” Sirius makes a derisive sound. “You’re just not used to seeing yourself in red. You look good in every color.”

You roll your eyes, about to retort when a shout rings out behind you. You turn, Sirius placing a protective hand on your arm, but it does nothing to stop the momentum of the figure running at you.

The air is knocked out of you as a masked man barrels into your middle, barely slowing as he throws you over his shoulder.

Sirius yells, and you look up to see he’s dropped the bags and is wrestling a knife away from his neck—your heart lurches—twisting the wrist of another man until he drops it.

A third is running behind you. They’re all wearing ski masks. The one you can see barely has the holes over his eyes, like he’d pulled it on hastily before running at you.

He reaches up to press a cloth to your mouth. Your arms are pinned by the hold of the man carrying you, but you kick and buck for all you’re worth, thrashing your head about until the guy behind you gives up and lowers the cloth.

You suck in air to scream, and something crashes into you from the side. Your face smashes into the ground. You twist onto your side as quickly as you can, hands up to ward off the new threat, but this new person isn’t masked. The third man, the one who’d put the cloth to your mouth, hesitates less than a second before taking off, another member of your detail digging her knee into the first man’s back as she works to pin his arms behind him. A second later, and Mark—who must have been the first shout you heard, he was supposed to be guarding your back—is there with her, helping to wrestle your attacker’s hands into zip-ties. You think distantly that you’d always considered them carrying zip-ties ridiculous, because what would they need those for? Now you know.

A hand grips your chin, and then you’re looking into Sirius’ worried gray eyes. “Are you okay?” he pants. His voice is rough and curt, at odds with the gentleness of his touch on your face.

“I—” You glance to the man beside you, who’s gone obstinately silent as your two other guards fire questions at him.

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice is near pleading. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah.”

His shoulders slump in relief, but none of the tension leaves his face. “Mark!” he barks towards the other two. “Julie’s got him, go get the other guy.”

Mark nods and takes off in the direction the third man had run, and Sirius turns back to you, the crease between his brows not leaving but gentling. “I saw them put something on your face. You didn’t breathe in?”

“I didn’t,” you confirm. Just like he’d taught you, back when you’d thought his little lessons would always be pointless.

“Good girl.” He takes your face in both hands, pressing a firm kiss between your brows. “Great job, sweetheart, that’s not easy.”

Movement from your left makes you flinch, and you look over to see Julia trying to wrangle your attacker—now unmasked, and all but snarling at you—into the van. In a flash, Sirius is between you.

“Keep fucking looking at her like that, and see what happens.” His voice is the kind of cold where even snow won’t fall. Even though you’re the one he’s protecting, you go rigid.

The man’s expression goes slack, and he’s dumbstruck enough for Julia to get him the rest of the way into the van with little hassle. Sirius turns back to you, the severity melting from his features.

“Sorry, baby.” The pet name seems to slip out unbidden, and he almost flinches himself, shying away from you as if embarrassed. The next words come quieter. “Sometimes you have to be extra harsh with these guys, but I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you say, and you mean it, the sheepishness in his expression unfamiliar but somewhat comforting considering the equally alien ferocity you’d just witnessed.

“Fuck, you’re shaking all over,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to him. It’s an awkward sort of hug, you sitting and Sirius crouched so that both of your legs get in the way, but he makes the most of it, scrubbing his hand up and down on your shoulder blade with reassuring firmness.

You close your eyes, relishing the contact, the safety of his touch. Then you remember the knife. You open your eyes as he pulls back, finding the tiny line of red over his Adam's apple.

“Are you okay?” It’s little more than a croak, tears coming unbidden to clog your throat.

“Me?” He follows your gaze, touching two fingers to the mark. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s just a graze. It’s nothing. Your cheek, though…” He looks crestfallen. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. This should never have happened.”

“I’m okay,” you promise him, though now that he mentions it, your cheek is stinging. You must have scraped it on the sidewalk. It feels raw. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder, my arms—”

“You did everything you could,” he says firmly. “Listen, of course I want you to fight like hell in any situation like that—and you did a great job of it—but it’s my job to make sure you never have to.”

“It was bound to happen eventually,” you say quietly, and something like pain passes across Sirius’ face. He rubs your shoulder delicately.

“Not today,” he says, matching your volume.

Maybe not today, you think, but would it matter if it had happened tomorrow instead? He’d always blame himself. “Agree to disagree?”

“Easy for you to say.” He grins sharply, back to the joking boy you know. “You’re not the one who’s going to get yelled at by Remus when he sees what’s happened to your face.”

“I’ll get him to lay off,” you reassure him.

“Yeah, good fucking luck with that.”

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dancingtotuyo · 7 months ago

Text

High Infidelity Part V

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature Explicit

Summary: Tommy is released, but he only pushes you further into Joel's arms.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: prison, mentions of war, fighting, LOTS OF TEARS, emotional and physical affair, cheating boundaries, smut (P in V), Oral sex (F receiving)

Notes: And so we reach the end of this story. I know there's a lot to wrap up. Thank you all for all your amazing comments and thoughts over the last month. It really means the world to me.

I know I say this every chapter but a huge thanks to @janaispunk and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin. They have beta'ed every chapter one top of listening to me scream about this story for hours over the course of months! I adore you both so much

Words: 7234

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

They warn you that Tommy’s transition home will be difficult. An adjustment period they call it. You prepare for him to struggle, thinking he would try to leave the house in search of trouble, but it’s the opposite. Joel picks him up from work in the morning and drops him off in the evening. Then he goes out on the back deck and drinks sitting out there in utter silence. At first, you join him, letting Nathaniel play in the backyard but he refuses to talk, hardly looks your way. Sometimes he tracks Nathaniel, but not all the time. He seems so far away, like he had those first couple months home after Desert Storm, but he came back to you, as Your Tommy. At least for a little bit.

At night, he pulls you into his arms without a word. He holds you until you fall asleep, but on several occasions, you wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Usually he’s sitting on the bed or standing as he stares out the window. Sometimes you hear him pacing the house. You don’t talk about it. You don’t talk about much anymore except for the weather. He’s ultra focused on the weather it seems.

He hasn’t tried to touch you. Sexually that is. Any kiss he lays on you is chaste almost like it’s his duty, but sometimes you catch more behind it, like he’s pushing down his own desires. When you try to progress things, he walks away.

It hurts. A lot.

You have Julia and Micky over for dinner a month after Tommy’s release. Tommy comes out of his shell a little bit. He wears a smile, laughs with his head thrown back at some inside joke Micky cracks. He looks easy, relaxed for once. Under the table, his hand lands on your thigh sending little jolts of electricity through your body. He’s feeding you more and more loose threads of his old self to hold on to. The ever present tension in your chest eases. You hate that it feels like you can breathe again. A small, small assurance that he will come back to you in time.

Micky and Tommy take the boys outside after dinner. Micky talks about a support group for Veterans he goes to. You watch from the window, you can’t hear them, but you see when Tommy brushes him off, his body going rigid. You try to push it out of your mind, but you already feel the threads slipping through your fingers as you push back tears with a glass of water.

Tommy goes to bed before you that night, but when you slip into bed, he still pulls you into his arms. When you wake up a couple hours later, Tommy stands by the window, gazing out of it like a statue keeping watch.

You don’t usually say anything. You don’t let him know you know he’s not sleeping, but something tugs you into an upright position. “Tommy.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. You get no indication that he even hears you. You throw back the covers, joining him next to the window. You repeat his name, laying a hand on his shoulder. You catch a small twinge in his jaw. “Come back to bed?”

His eyes dart from the moon to his feet. He leans away from you, just enough for you to pick up on it. You can’t ignore the stab of hurt that shoots through your body. Your hands fall back like you’ve been burned. You wish you had the energy to yell at him, fight him, but you don’t, so you crawl back into bed, back turned to him. Silent tears soak your pillow before you fall back asleep.

Tommy’s gaze moves to your still frame, praying for a release from the chains he can’t seem to shake. The ones that he keeps hurting you with, but he doesn't know where to find the keys.

So life continues like that. Weekly dinners with Micky and Julia, glimpses of Tommy and threads that slip through your fingers. Most days it feels like one step forward and two steps back. Your patiences frays, your emotions unraveling each time he pushes you away only to pull you close at the end of the day. You’re not sure what does it, if you’ve reached the end of your rope, completely unraveled, or multiple tantrums Nathaniel threw all day, but when he reaches for you one night, you snap.

“Stop.” You pull out of his reach.

“What’s wrong?”

Dry laughter falls out of you as you roll out of the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s not wrong?”

“Baby…”

“No, you don’t get to try and soothe me!” You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears of the past months from your eyes. You can’t break down right now, in front of him. “You’re pushing me away! I’m trying to be here for you, I really am, Tommy, but I am exhausted! I don’t know what to do.”

He looks away, body looking deflated. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

“No- Stop,” you hold your hands up. “You know why I’m here. I love you, but love only gets us so far.”

“I’m trying-”

“No, you’re not.”

“You don’t know-”

“People who are trying don’t sit out on the porch and ignore their family every night! They don’t ignore their wife!”

“If that’s how you feel, maybe you should just leave me now!” he snaps. “No need to delay the inevitable.”

It pulls the air from you like a punch to the gut. Tears well in your eyes. “Is that what you want?”

He looks away from you again. You march up to him, grabbing his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Tell me!”

There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re the same eyes you fell in love with, but they’re hollow now. It sends a heartbreaking chill through your body. His eyes fall to the corner, the only way he can get away from your searing gaze.

You drop his face, stepping away before you lose it in front of him. “Okay then.”

You can’t stay here, in the room, in your home. Tommy hangs his head as you flee from his presence. The house rattles when the front door slams behind you. Only then, does Tommy let the apathy bleed out of his body and the tears fall.

A knock on the front door jolts Joel awake. The TV plays lowly, casting harsh light and shadows across the dark living room. He feels confused, disoriented. Another knock pulls him through the fog a little bit. He opens the door to find you, tears streaming down your face. You push past him, crossing the threshold without an invitation. You don’t need one.

“What’s wrong, Darlin?”

You inhale, preparing to let the words out, to scream if necessary, and then your whole chest quivers, and the tears pour out again sending you into a blubbering mess. Joel’s arms wrap around you, pulling you to the couch before you collapse right in front of him.

He leaves you for a minute. The faucet runs in the kitchen. Joel sets a cool, heavy glass in your hands, watching over you with concern knit brows. Every time you try to talk, your chest rattles again and tears overpower you.

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

You sip at the water, rotating between complete serenity and total chaos. Every time you think you might be able to speak, the words turn into incoherent sobs. Finally, you give up trying to talk until the glass is empty. Joel takes the glass from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. You don’t attempt to talk until your breathing is fully evened out. Joel holds your shoulders, thumbs running smoothly over your skin.

“I’m just so fucking tired,” you say. “All the time.”

Joel frowns. “Tommy?”

“He won’t talk to me.” The tears gather behind your eyes again, creating pressure in your head. You feel the blubbering start to return. “I knew things would be hard, but he just acts like I’m not even there half the time.”

“Is he going out again?”

You shake your head. “No- he’s home all the time, sulking, being mad at the world for whatever reason he can come up with. I’ve tried so hard. I don’t know what else to do.” Hot tears spill from your eyes. “It shouldn’t be this hard. I’m used to doing everything alone- but now I’m doing it with a ghost in my home. It wears on a person, and tonight- “ It hurts like citrus in a fresh cut to think about.

“Come here.” Joel sighs, feeling his heartache for you. He pulls you into his chest, allowing you to soak his shirt until it sticks to his skin. His hand caresses your back, doing his best to soothe you as best he can. Though by now, he’s a pro at it.

Eventually, your head falls into his lap. The sobs don't seem to rattle your body the same, but the tears don’t stop.

Annoyance begins to grow in Joel. How many more times does he have to do this before you come to your senses? He thought Tommy’s stint in prison would help, yet here you are still crying on his couch. This can’t keep happening. It’s not fair to you.

Joel loves his brother. He would do anything in this world for him, except when it comes to you. Because Joel loves you too. He loves you more and in more ways than a brother-in-law should. He hasn’t minded being just your brother-in-law and friend until now. You deserve better.

When you finally sit up, wiping the tears from your eyes, he knows he won’t be able to stop the words at the cusp of his mouth.

“What time is it?” You look at the clock on the wall with a sigh. “I should go home.”

“Darlin,” Joel grabs your chin. Your eyes snap to his. There’s a seriousness in his eyes you’re not sure you’ve seen before. “How long are you gonna let him keep doing this to you?”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

You close your eyes for a second. Another tear falls with your eyelashes. Joel swipes it away with his thumb. “What am I supposed to do, Joel? Where would we go?”

“You could stay here until you find somethin.”

A little huff of laughter manages to escape. “Yes, I’m sure Sarah would love having us invade her space when there’s a perfectly good house down the street.”

“She wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to leave him.” You put your hand on Joel’s wrist. “He’s a dick, but I love him.”

“It’s killing me to see you like this. You deserve better.”

He’s right. You know he’s right, but there’s something else in his eyes. The way he’s looking at you. There’s a heat in his gaze, something that feels so familiar, but you haven’t seen Tommy in years, the same look you saw that night at the beach. It sends tingles through your bloodstream, little pinpricks of excitement like the night you got yourself off in his bed, said his name and then heard him. You’ve managed to push down the question until now, but you know for certain now. He heard you. You swallow, your breath feeling like it’s being pulled out of your lungs.

Do you tell him what Tommy said tonight? Do you tell him that you heard him that night? Do you tell him you’re being pulled into different directions?

“Joel…”

His hand falls to your waist. The other cups your neck. You feel like you’re falling toward him, helpless to stop the inevitable. “I’ve got you, Darlin.”

He’s been here. He’s always been here for you at the drop of a hat. Your firm foundation when it felt like the rest of the world was sinking. You always assumed you were just a promise he made to his brother, but what he’s been to you and what you’ve been to him, it’s more than a promise to a brother. It’s more than a love for family.

It sparks a flame inside you. You haven’t been looked at like that in years. Haven’t been touched in just as long. Tommy hasn’t made a single move on you since he got out. He’s run every time you’ve tried to initiate something.

Your eyes dip to his lips, centimeters from your own. Joel echoes the statement again, quieter this time as your lips touch his. He shutters under you, lips quick to take over. Arms wrap around your waist. You’re thankful for it. Thankful not to have to think about any of it. Content to let him have complete control as you straddle him.

He inhales with a faint shake to his breath, lips still touching yours. Then, he returns in full force, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth. His hands crawl up your body, greedy and searching. You give in, nails wracking through his hair. Years of pent-up desire behind both of your movements.

You play with the top buttoning of his shirt, popping them open, lightly scraping your nails across his chest. A moan reverberates from his chest. The bulge in his pants grows against your crotch, sending electricity through your veins. You tug at another button before Joel’s hand covers yours. He manages to pull away just barely.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not here.” He pants. “Sarah.”

Your eyes widen, realizing how easily you could’ve been spotted by your niece. Joel caresses your jaw, eyes hooded with lust. He bucks his hips up, brushing your clothed crotch again. You gasp, making him smirk.

His voice is raspy with need. “Gotta get you into my bed, Darlin.”

You barely manage to pull yourself off his lap, your legs feeling like wet noodles. Joel smiles, he grabs your hand, tugging you behind him. He’s quiet on the stairs, eyes glued to Sarah’s bedroom door the entire way up.

His bedroom door clicks softly behind you, your shirt thrown off before Joel can turn around. He lets out an appreciative groan, pulling his own shirt off as he stalks toward you. Want pools low in your belly, the walls of your aching cunt clench. Your breath quickens as he edges nearer, a solid arm wrapping around your waist. His contained erection pushes against you making you grin. “Happy to see me?”

“More than you know,” he growls, kissing you again. Hand roaming your exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You moan softly and then a little bit louder. Joel shakes his head. “Music to my fucking ears baby.”

He pulls and tugs at your bra, unable to get it opened to the point you’re worried he broke a clasp. Finally, you pull it over your head and let it land with your shirt. He takes you in, topless in his bedroom for just him to see. You’re a fucking work of art, water to a wanderer in the desert.

He cups one of your breasts, pulls the other one into his mouth. You gasp, head falling back, moisture collecting in your underwear. His thumb plays with your exposed nipples while his tongue swirls over the other. You moan his name softly, being cautious of your volume.

He palms himself through his jeans, switching to your other breast as he does. You fight the urge to fall back on the bed, hands playing in his hair, nails scratching his scalp. He hums softly against your chest, sending an extra wave of pleasure through your body. He pulls back, saliva connecting the two of you, eyes glued to yours. He kisses you until the back of your knees hit his mattress, but he doesn’t let you fall to the bed yet.

“How long has it been?” he says, muffled against your lips. His fingers play with the button of your pants

“What?”

“How long has it been?” He pulls back, the button of your pants popping open as he sinks to his knees.

Confusion flashes through your face until you realize what he’s saying, what he’s asking. You swallow, unsure of how to answer.

“Darlin?”

It’s embarrassing because you can’t remember the last time you were touched like this. You shake your head. “I don’t know. Before?”

The sound from his throat is guttural, almost a growl. He’s been out for three months. Three fucking months and he hasn’t bothered to touch his wife.

Joel tugs your jeans down, pressing a kiss just below your belly button, continuing down to the band of your underwear. Your pussy clenches again, dripping with need.

“Lay down.”

You obey, bottom hitting the soft mattress first and then your back. His smell is everywhere now, seeping into your skin, just as it always has when you curled up in his bed.

His hands run up the length of your torso, tweaking your nipples before sliding down, continuing over your thighs. He pulls your jeans free, pressing his nose to your center. “Smell so good for me, baby.”

Your stomach flutters, hips pressing into his face. He lets out a low chuckle. “I’m going to take care of you, Darlin. Don’t you worry.”

You whine, hands gripping the sheets beside you. “Please, Joel.”

He tugs your underwear down, tortuously slow. His fingers trace down the entirety of your legs. You can see just enough under the hood of your lust-filled eyes. He props both of your legs on his shoulders, pressing slow kisses to the inside of each leg as he edges closer and closer to your core.

When he gets there, he pauses, eyes locking on yours. It’s intentional. You have the urge to cuss him out if he doesn’t put his mouth on you soon. The need is strong enough you could cry or scream of frustration.

Slowly, he spreads your legs, fingers creeping toward your sopping folds. He runs his pinky through them, barely nudging your clit, but it’s enough to have your back arching off the mattress. He grins up at you. He spreads you further. The evidence of your arousal glistens in the dim lights. “Fuck, Baby. So wet for me.”

You bite your lip to keep from yelling at him. “Please, Joel.” Your voice is hoarse and strained already.

He groans, practically falling into your spread pussy. His tongue flattens against you, running the length of your folds. Your hands tangle in his hair, repeated moans falling from your lips, ones you both know you’re holding back for the sake of being quiet. You’re seeing stars and he’s barely touched you.

Joel wants to take his time, savor the moment, memorize every piece of you. He wants to pull you apart piece by piece and put you back together again. He knows he may not get another opportunity again, but you’re addicting. He wants to pull those sounds from you on a loop and feast on your juices. He sucks your clit, swirling his tongue around it, eliciting another glorious moan from you. Each one grows louder until he pulls away for the briefest second and a pillow hits your face.

“As much as I wanna hear you, Darlin. Use that.” He grins. “Don’t hold back on me anymore.”

His mouth is on you, doubling his efforts. Bringing you to the edge of bliss. You’re so close, moans filling the pillow case that smells like him. He inserts a finger, giving you something to clench around, softly brushing against your walls. His tongue laps over your clit and the tension building in you snaps in one beautiful crescendo.

His thumb replaces his tongue as he works you through your orgasm, chest heaving as you catch your breath. “That’s right. Just like that.”

You toss the pillow to the side, locking eyes with him. He smirks at you, pressing a kiss over your hip. He leaves behind some of your juices, his face slick with them. Standing back to his feet, he undoes his belt shucking off his jeans and boxers.

Your breath catches again as you hurry to sit up. He chuckles at you, catching your hands in his as you reach for him, for his cock. He pushes you back down to the bed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “As much as I’d enjoy that, Darlin. It was all I could do not to finish in my pants like a damn teenager.”

Your breath quivers against him, words barely coherent in your brain. He releases one of your hands, reaching into his drawer for a condom.

“Joel, I-” Your hand runs down his side, soaking in the feel of his skin. “Please.” It’s all you can manage. Years of pent-up desire begging to be freed.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

He rips open the foil packet. Your eyes follow his every movement as he rolls it over his cock. Once it’s on he crawls onto the bed, hovering over you, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and stars. He’s your oasis in the desert and you’re his. Your hands roam his back and shoulders and hair. He leans into your touch, soft noises of contentment falling from his lips.

Before you know what you’re doing, you manage to flip him onto his back. His arms fly out, a thunk sounding through the room as his wrist collides with the night stand.

You can’t help the laughter that spills from your lips as you settle on top of him. “Are you okay?”

“Glad to see you’re so concerned for my well being.” He chuckles.

“No- Really.” But you can’t stop laughing. “Are you okay?”

“My watch caught it. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Joel smiles, cradling your face in his hands.

You lean down, hands spread over his chest as you press your lips to his. His hands are all over your bare skin again. He shifts your hips, positioning you over him, ready for you to sink down on to him, feel you wrap around him.

You run your thumb over his bottom lip as his eyes roam over your face, breath held in anticipation, waiting for you.

“Are you sure?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Never been more sure.” His hands settle over your hips, holding them softly.

The air seems to evaporate from the room and the world goes silent before you take that final, fatal move and sink onto him. A soft whimper leaves your lips before Joel captures your lips, swallowing it.

The moonlight reflects off his watch face. Neither of you are aware that it’s stopped, sealing your sins under its glass.

You lay in Joel's arms long after you’ve both finished, sweaty and bare. The ceiling fan turns above you offering little reprieve. It’s nice, at first, but the longer you lay there, the longer it begins to sink in, the more you start to feel the stickiness on your skin and the unexplainable need for a shower.

You pull out of Joel's arm’s without a word, eyes searching for your clothes strewn across the room. Why does it feel like the walls are closing in? You need to get out and think.

“Darlin?” Joel sits up, reaching for your shoulder.

“I should go home,” you say, rising to your feet before he can touch you. “I need to go home.”

“I told you you can stay.”

“I need to go home!” you snap, tears glistening in your eyes. This is wrong. It’s all wrong.

“Shit,” Joel’s head drops. He lets out a huff, a hint of sarcasm to it. You grab your shirt, pulling it on, too busy locating your items to pay him any mind. “So that’s it? You’re just going to go back? Nothing’s gonna change.”

Your head snaps up as you pull on your jeans. “This can’t happen.” Your chest shakes. “It shouldn’t have happened, Joel. We both know that.”

“Or maybe it was supposed to.” He slides out of the bed, pulling on his boxers.

“Joel-”

“He doesn’t treat you right. We both know that.”

“He’s my husband!”

“He doesn’t get to walk all over you just because he’s your husband!”

“That doesn’t make this right!”

“It was the most right my life’s felt in years,” Joel says, eyes landing on yours. You bite back tears, trying not to let him get to you as you turn away, but he grabs your wrist. “It always does with you.”

You turn your head away from him without a response.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.” His thumbs press into your palm.

You slip his grip. “I love him. I know I shouldn’t anymore, after everything, but I do.”

“I’ve always been here.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” You want to curse as your emotion wells up again. How much can a person take in a single night? “My life would be so much simpler if it was you.”

“It could be.”

“No,” your head shakes. It hurts more than you expect it too. You do love him. You wish it could be him. As if the past three years weren’t enough, you know what it’s like to be with him now, but it’s still Tommy, and you hate yourself for it.

Joel seems to read it in your eyes, the sadness, the acceptance, lingering longing for what could have been. His throat bobbles as he steps back to give you space. You release a slow breath.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don't apologize. I should have known better.”

You cringe. You want to tell him it’s not all on him, but he’s giving you an out. You’re too exhausted not to take it. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Yeah.” Joel moves about his room like he’s searching for something.

You’re not sure if you should say something more, or leave. Leaving would be easier. A clean break, and you take it, but Joel’s voice stops you before you can open the door. “He wasn’t faithful to you.”

Your hand freezes over the door knob, eyes squeezing shut. You can’t do this. You can’t have this conversation right now, but your body is frozen in place.

“I think you should know.”

Nails bite into your palms as you steady your breath, eyes focused on the wood of the door in front of you as rage begins to grow in you. “He already told me, but thanks for dredging that hurt back up three years after the fact.”

“Darlin-”

You spin on your heels. “Fuck you, Joel!”

Joel’s eye’s fly wide. “I just thought you should know!”

“No, you were using that for your own good!” You can’t take this. Joel throwing Tommy’s betrayal in your face years after the fact is its own form of treachery.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I live in a constant state of hurt! You were supposed to be my reprieve!” Your fists shake, voice raising. You don’t care if you wake Sarah, you don’t care if your sins come to light. There’s only so much a person can take in a single night. “If you actually cared about me, you wouldn’t have kept that a secret for years! And you damn sure wouldn’t have used it for your own good!”

Joel doesn’t break eye contact with you, but you see the regret fill his eyes. Fire buzzes in your bloodstream and tears prickle your eyes. You’re not sure how you have any left to shed. In the blink of an eye, you flee from his room and home before he can attempt to draw you back in.

You take the long way home, letting the Texas darkness swallow you whole until you’re ready to go back home.

The house is dark and quiet. You flip on the lamp, a deep tension forming in your head. Tommy sits on the couch, eyes latching onto yours. He looks like a lost puppy. Your breath catches. You must look a mess- eyes stained red, and clothes wrinkled. You worry you smell like sex or Joel, running over the nights happening for any chance Joel left a mark on you- not that Tommy would notice that.

“I was getting worried about you.”

You toss your keys on the end table, throwing off your shoes with a sarcastic huff. “That’s ironic.” Tommy cringes. For once, you’re the closed-off one, too emotionally hardened or drained for his antics.

“I deserve that.”

“Ya think?” You cross your arms.

“Baby…” He eases to his feet. “I’m sorry- for all of it.”

“Sorry? Sorry! What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Tommy!”

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It reminds you of Joel. The thought makes your blood run cold. “I don’t know.”

A humorless laugh leaves your throat. “You don’t know?”

“What the fuck can I say? I fucked up. Quite frankly, I don’t know why you’re still here!”

“Because I love you, you fucking idiot!”

“Why!?”

The question catches you off guard. “What the fuck do you mean? ‘Why?’”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Wow, you’re on a roll tonight.” Your eyes roll.

“I mean it.”

“Do you want me to leave, Tommy?” Yours and his transgressions filter before your eyes, making you cringe. Two wrongs don’t make a right. “You're done with me and you can’t bring yourself to say it?”

“I’m not good enough for you anymore!” Tears swell in his eyes. “I’ve done nothing but hurt you! But I can’t let you go!”

“I don’t want you to let me go, you big idiot!”

“Why?”

Your eyes flutter shut as you take a deep breath. Joel behind your eyelids. His stability. His care. His love. You could have that, but it would never quench your longing for Tommy. For better or worse, he’s yours. You want him even if it’s bad for you. “I don’t know.”

Tommy enters your space. His arms slip around your waist, eliciting a soft gasp from a place inside you you thought long gone.

“You still believe in me?” He presses his forehead against yours. The callus on your heart starts to lift away, easier than you want to admit. He’s still in there somewhere, the man you fell in love with. You’re seeing more of him than you have in a long time. His hands feel hot against your back and he tugs you closer. You’re compliant under his touch. Whatever he wants from you, you’ll let him have it if he’ll just stays like this.

You sniff back the tears, head nodding. “Yeah. I think I always will.”

“Let me make it better. I’m going to do better, Baby.” His breath is hot on your ear, lips pressing right behind it, and then to the corner of your jaw. Your body takes over as you lean into his touch. “I’m going to be here and present for you and Nathaniel.”

“You promise?” If the Tommy you fell in love with comes back to you, you won’t survive losing him again. You feel his hands in places he’s not even touching, heat sprouting all over your body.

“I promise, Baby.” He kisses your cheek and then your forehead.

You feel the pull of his current tugging you back under, clouding your judgment. You should send him packing or at least to the guest room until you wash his brother’s scent from your skin, but your body calls for him. Tommy’s touch is your addiction, your late nights running wild, your stint in prison.

His breath fans over your face and before you know it, you’re pulling his lips to yours. The undertow sweeps you away, tugging you under the surface. Tommy’s never been the safe option, but you never claimed to need safe.

He tugs you up the stairs. The lock on your bedroom door clicks and he’s on you like a starved man, hands wreaking havoc on your body, pulling clothing from your body like pretty wrapping paper on christmas morning. It doesn’t matter that you were sated well over an hour ago, your body responds to Tommy like a horny teenager. He knows you. He knows how to touch your body just right, he knows exactly how to make you writhe and moan and scream, and he hasn’t forgotten either. He plans to put his memory to good use tonight.

Your hands are as ravenous as his, tugging his hair, at the buttons of his shirt, and pants. His teeth scrapes your bottom lip before he lays you down on the bed, bared to him and the moon streaming through the curtains. He smiles at you. It’s breathtaking.

He takes his dear, sweet time with you, pulling you apart piece by piece and gluing you back together. Each time your brain dares to wonder into forbidden territory, he reminds you why he’s your husband, that he still knows you better than anyone else. It erases the rest of the night from your memory and the last two years until it’s just you and him, coming together as one like it was always meant to be. You and him. Bonnie and Clyde.

He finishes deep inside of you, a feeling you’ve missed. All of it you’ve missed. His skin on yours, sweat mingling together. You lay there staring up at him in awe. He locks eyes with you. He’s there. Your Tommy. The Tommy you see every time you think about him, with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin.

He leans down, lips pressing to your forehead. He wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “I never want to be the cause of these again.”

“Let’s be real, Tommy, you made me cry even when things were good.”

He chuckles, falling beside you. His chest moves with his heavy panting. You think he might be the most handsome man you’ve ever met. “Yeah, suppose I did.”

“You’re gonna try, for real?”

“I’ll probably fuck up here and there.” He gathers you into his arms, skin pressed to skin as you breathe in the same air.

“I know you will.” You tease. He scowls, but it’s all in good fun. Another flash of fresh air, a promise that things could go back to normal.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

You laugh, fingers tangling in his black waves. His hair has gotten so long. You wonder if he’ll keep it this way. “It’s gonna take at least that.”

He nods, a hint of seriousness showing in his face. “I know.”

And you know he means it.

“I think you should go to that group Micky mentioned. You need people who understand.”

Tommy shifts slightly. He doesn’t like the idea. That much is clear. “Baby…”

“This is how you do better, Tommy.” The firmness in your voice catches you off guard. Tommy too.

He nods, Adam's Apple bobbing. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“Every week?”

“Every week.”

The next morning, you wake up the same way you fell asleep, in your husband’s arms.

Tommy never says a word, but he smells it on you that night. Something familiar, but out of place. It doesn’t belong on you, but he can’t put his finger on it. He knows what it means. He’s no idiot, and he doesn’t blame you for any of it. He’s had his indiscretions. Lord knows you’re allowed yours.

You sit on the front porch with your coffee the next morning, the creaking of the porch swing playing in the background of your racing mind. You feel guilty for all of it. What you did to Tommy. What you did to Joel. But more so, you feel guilty because you know you can keep this buried for the rest of your life if it means keeping Tommy, and you’re pretty sure it makes you no better than him. At least Tommy had the balls to own up to what he did, but Joel isn’t some random girl at a bar. He’s your friend. Tommy’s brother. If it had been some random man, you could own up to it, but not this. Not Joel.

“Aunt Bonnie!”

The familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts as Sarah waves from the sidewalk, other hand clutched tightly in Joel’s.

“Hey!” You force a smile to your face, waving back to her as they climb the porch stairs. She rushes over to you, arms open to give you a hug. You return the gesture, crushing her against your frame. “What’s up?”

“We’re just walking. I wanted to come say hi.”

You kiss her cheek. “Well I feel honored. Nathaniel and Uncle Tommy are inside if you want to say hi to them too.”

“Okay,” Sarah returns your kiss, curls bouncing behind her as she darts inside.

You keep your eyes focused off to the side as Joel’s footsteps draw closer. Your finger plays along the rim of your coffee mug. You feel small, like a child in trouble. Joel eases next to you on the swing, shoulder brushing yours as he does. You bite your lip, knee bouncing softly.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says. “I shouldn’t have let that happen last night.”

Your eyes glaze over. “It’s not all on you.”

“Let it.” Your head snaps toward him. He looks tired, like he didn’t sleep much last night. He clasps his hands together, leaning over his knees. “You weren’t in a good place. I took advantage of that. Let it be my fault.”

Tears glaze over your eyes. He’s giving you an out.

“Joel…”

He nods at you, a silent assurance. You shouldn’t take it, but you do. You lean into it, and it covers the guilt some, even if it’s all lies. You knew what you were doing.

He kisses your forehead as the words leave your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Darlin.” More lies to make you feel less guilty. He’ll feed them to you as long as you need him to.

He stands up, eyes flickering between your door and the way back to his house.

“I can walk Sarah home later.”

“Thanks.” He nods before leaving your front porch. He doesn’t look back.

Things with Tommy don’t magically get better overnight. Life doesn’t work that way. It takes time. It’s gradual, sometimes it feels like you’re moving backward, but slowly Tommy comes back into himself. He’s never the exact man you fell in love with, the one you married, but you’re not the same person either. Time changes things. People grow, but with some work, you find new versions of yourselves that still fit together. Most importantly, this new version is still your Tommy.

Your memories with Joel don’t go away. You keep them tucked deep in your soul, but the two of you find your new rhythm, your friendship too important to lose.

One Year Later

The five of you gather at Joel’s on Sunday morning for breakfast, rotating houses each week. It’s a carry over from the routine you and Joel developed. It’s different, obviously. You and Nathaniel don’t stay the night. It takes time for Tommy to find his place in the well oiled unit the two of you became. It feels awkward and clunky at times, but you get through it and slowly the kinks work themselves out.

Joel bounds down the stairs, hair wet from his shower as he joins you and Tommy around the coffee pot.

“Figured y'all would have breakfast ready by now,” Joel says, squeezing next to Tommy to get to the coffee.

“Last I checked, we’re guests in your house,” you say, quirking an eyebrow, teasing lilt in your voice. Joel’s eyes roll but a smirk quirks his lips none the less.

Tommy hears a ringing in his ears as the scent of Joel’s body wash filters through his senses, still strong on his brother’s skin. His eyes narrow at your and Joel’s banter. There’s nothing unusual about it. He knows you two are close. It doesn’t bother him, but he knows that scent. His mind pulls it from the fading archives quickly. He smelled it on you that night.

Tommy sets his mug down, not saying anything as you and Joel go back and forth over breakfast traditions, the two of you falling into predetermined roles in the kitchen. You dance around each other, like a sixth sense, always knowing where the other one is and where they’re going.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tommy’s not sure how he hadn’t caught it before. Maybe his brain wasn’t ready. He’s lived a lot of his recent life in a fog, maybe it had just cleared enough now.

He doesn’t catch any longing glances or stolen touches. Everything is above board. He knows he has no right to be angry, not after what he's done. He’d pushed you away. Maybe he even pushed you into Joel’s bed that night. Maybe there were nights before, but he hasn’t smelled another man, hasn’t smelled Joel on your skin since. You’ve spent every night next to him, in his arms, body pressed against his. At the end of the day, that’s all he needs.

He can get past the hurt like you did for him. He can push away the questions. How long did you wait? How often did you find solace in his brother’s bed? He wants to ignore the questions, stomp them down so they don’t fester, don’t ruin what you’ve helped him rebuild.

“Daddy?” Nathaniel tugs on Tommy’s shirt, pulling him from his thoughts.

He smiles, pulling his son into his arms with an exaggerated groan. At five and a half, it won’t be much longer before he’s too big to pick up. It hits again, like a sledgehammer to a cinderblock wall, how much of his son’s life he’s missed. Nathaniel laughs, pressing his forehead to Tommy’s. Is there a sweeter sound in this world?

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“I love you.” He whisper yells.

Tommy chuckles mimicking Nathaniel’s tone. “I love you too.”

Your laugh floats through. Tommy looks up to find you smiling at them, so much love and affection sparkling in your eyes. Something stirs in him, possessiveness, maybe as he strides across the room, shifting Nathaniel to his side so he can pull you flush against him. You melt against him. That’s how he knows, knows you’re still his and he's yours. He won’t ever say a word. He won’t risk losing you again or causing you more grief than he has.

Tommy grins at you, voice lowering to a growl. “And I love you, Momma.” Then he kisses you like he’d reclaiming you.

Neither of you catches the way Joel turns his back and puts himself out of ear shot. You never catch the way his gaze lingers. He conceals the way his fingers itch to touch you like he used to.

Nathaniel squeals in disgust, sliding out of his father’s arms. You both share a laugh and then both Tommy’s arms are tightly around your waist, lips pressed to yours again. Your hands rake through his long curls.

As long as you still look at him like that, continue to touch him like that, Tommy doesn’t care that you fucked his brother. Your heart belongs to him.

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