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laughing-with-god · 7 months

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These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)

Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

16.5k

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol

Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.

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He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.

It was foul…

It was taboo…

It was…..

Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.

Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.

Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won’t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.

There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.

That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.

Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.

You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?

You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.

Writer’s block was a bitch.

Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.

Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.

You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.

‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.

When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.

Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.

When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.

The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.

Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.

He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.

The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.

You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”

Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.

You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.

“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”

It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.

He then turned to face the window again.

You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.

Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.

You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”

You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.

The front door was opening.

Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.

The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.

His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.

“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”

Time stood still.

Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.

The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.

There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.

No one can be in two places at once.

What the fuck was going on?

You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.

Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.

“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.

“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.

“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”

You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”

Your boyfriend’s face dropped.

“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”

You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”

“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.

Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”

Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”

You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.

Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.

“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”

“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”

Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.

“Which isn’t possible!”

“Go look then!” You relented.

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.

He found no such person.

It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.

“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”

You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”

“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”

You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”

Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”

That was the first incident.

— Dinner that night was a tense affair.

At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.

He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.

Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.

Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.

Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.

And just like that your first couple fight was over.

Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.

You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.

You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.

And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?

It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.

You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.

It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.

– A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.

I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.

Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.

Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.

Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.

You and Taehyung have been off too.

There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.

Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.

Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.

Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.

Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.

You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.

You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.

Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.

Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.

Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?

You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.

You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.

He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”

You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”

“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”

You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.

He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”

Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”

You just nodded and left him to his work. Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.

Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.

Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.

You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.

It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.

“What’s that?”

He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”

You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”

Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.

You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.

“What did you put in this?”

“Oh just some cinnamon and-”

“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.

“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.

“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”

Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”

“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”

“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.

“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.

Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”

“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”

Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”

“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”

His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”

You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.

You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.

Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.

You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.

“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.

“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.

You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.

Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.

A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.

Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(

Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.

That was the second incident.

–

“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”

The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”

You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.

“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.

Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”

“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”

“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.

“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”

She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”

Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”

“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.

“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.

“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.

“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”

You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”

“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”

“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”

“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”

“None.”

“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.

You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”

“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”

“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.

“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.

“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.

“Yeah, maybe.” – Mom: Look what I found!

The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.

A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”

The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.

The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”

The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”

The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”

“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.

“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.

The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.

While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.

Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.

Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.

You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.

Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.

Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.

The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.

He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”

You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”

“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”

You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”

“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.

The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.

You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”

Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”

You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”

“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.

You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.

You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.

Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”

You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”

“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.

The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.

You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.

His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.

As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.

A tug at your clothes.

Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”

Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.

It sounded like a…bang?

From somewhere deep within the house.

It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.

Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.

“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.

You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.

Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.

But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.

This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.

Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.

But nothing ever came.

Your worry grew tenfold.

The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.

‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’

Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’

At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.

Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.

“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.

“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?

You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.

Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.

The easel held a half-done canvas.

It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.

It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.

It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.

If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.

“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.

You didn’t even know what to say.

All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.

It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.

Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.

You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.

“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”

You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”

“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.

He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.

Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.

But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.

Then, he spoke.

“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He believed you now.

–

It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.

Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.

You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.

Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.

You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.

Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.

Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.

Your boyfriend was understandably furious.

For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.

You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.

One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.

“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.

You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”

The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”

“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.

“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”

“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”

“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”

“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”

You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.

Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.

Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.

Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.

You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.

Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.

No one was there.

When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.

A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.

Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.

It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.

The sage didn’t work.

–

Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.

Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.

Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.

The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.

You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.

“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.

He followed you wordlessly to the car.

The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.

You both were still angry at each other.

Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.

The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.

You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.

You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.

He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.

“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. What do you want me to get?”

“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible

He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.

You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.

“Y/n?”

The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.

No way.

It can’t be…

You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.

Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.

“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

You managed a wry smile.

Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.

But hey, who was counting?

“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”

The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.

“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”

You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”

He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”

Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”

“Y/n.”

A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.

Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.

“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.

You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.

“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”

The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

“So…how long have you two been together?”

Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.

“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.

“Oh, um, this is Molly.”

“His girlfriend! And you two are?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”

“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.

Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.

“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”

“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”

“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”

You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.

From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.

Even, right?

Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.

You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.

When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.

The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.

You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.

Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.

You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung didn’t answer.

You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.

It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.

“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”

–

If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.

The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.

Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.

Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.

“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.

“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”

“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”

Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.

You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”

“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”

At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”

“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.

Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.

Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.

If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.

You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.

“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.

You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.

Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.

Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.

Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”

You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.

“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.

Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”

You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.

You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.

It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.

But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.

And it was almost as if Jimin never left.

You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.

“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.

Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”

“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.

You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.

Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.

You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.

Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”

Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.

When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.

“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”

“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.

“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.

“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”

She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”

You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.

“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.

A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.

Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.

– The clock was nearing midnight.

Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.

Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.

“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”

“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”

“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”

“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.

Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.

You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”

Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.

“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.

You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.

Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.

“Yes, handsome?”

His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”

“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”

He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.

Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”

You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”

“Damn, trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”

“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”

You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.

When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.

“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”

“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”

He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”

“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.

She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.

He blushed, “Thank you.”

“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”

Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”

You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.

You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.

Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.

Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.

Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.

And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.

The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.

When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.

Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.

A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.

Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.

The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”

Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.

The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.

“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”

Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.

“Ghost?” Jin laughed.

“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.

“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.

At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.

“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”

Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”

Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.

An awkward silence.

“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”

She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.

“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.

“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.

“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.

Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”

You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.

But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.

If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.

Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.

Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.

You felt even more cold.

“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.

You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.

You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.

“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.

Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.

You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.

The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”

Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.

Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”

Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”

“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.

The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.

Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”

You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”

He tiled your head to make you face him.

Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.

It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.

You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.

Black and white, really.

‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.

“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.

“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.

The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”

“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”

He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.

You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”

That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.

With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.

Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So….”

“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.

Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”

You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”

You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.

It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.

“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”

“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”

“I broke up with Molly.”

“…What?”

“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.

You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.

He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”

“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”

You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”

“No.”

You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.

How did he get there without being spotted or heard?

It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.

“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”

Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”

“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”

“Please, Taehyung-”

You were cut off.

His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”

The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.

In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.

No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.

You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.

Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.

And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.

How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?

“Hey what’s going on here?”

Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.

You felt your body lighten in relief.

Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.

Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”

Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.

He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.

Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.

What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!

Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?

You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.

If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.

Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.

About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.

You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.

Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.

“So…that got a little out of hand.”

You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."

“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”

“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”

A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”

You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.

“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.

He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Done.”

“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”

He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”

His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”

“…anything else?”

“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”

He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.

Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.

Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…

Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.

You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?

Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.

You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.

A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.

“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”

He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.

“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”

You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding. “Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight baby.”

“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.

You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.

Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.

Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.

The light under the basement door…it was on?

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

It couldn’t be….could it?

Your intuition was hollering at you from within.

A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.

Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…

And choked back a horrified scream.

At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.

Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.

It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.

So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #yandere au #bts #bangtan boys #male yandere #taehyung fanfic #yandere taehyung x reader #kpop fanfic #taehyung fluff #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction

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seresinhangmanjake · 9 months

Text

Rather Be With You

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

Warnings: cursing. I think that's it.

Notes: this was inspired by an ask (💐) from a bit ago. Sorry it took so long. So much happened in the last week and a half, some good some bad, and it just got on top of me. Writing had to come second. I have probably written better in my life haha, but I tried.

Words: 1972

---

“You know he's only messing with you, right?”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands together. Surely it had been a while. For the entirety of the morning, perhaps? Rooster had made his teasing comments at seven a.m. sharp and they were due to dock at noon. Had it been that long? Or had he really managed to shove many hours worth of painful thoughts into just a few short minutes? Somehow, he figured, it was one or the other. No in-between.

When his eyes flicked up, Nat’s face seemed to hint at the former.

It made sense, he supposed. Spending hours thinking about you wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually, though, those thoughts were a bit nicer, with you naked and smiling, laughing, or whispering sweet words to him. He liked those better than the ones that had plagued him for…well, however long he’d been sitting there.

“He knows what he said isn’t true,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have had the balls to make jokes like that if he thought they would hold any weight. Trust me, no one particularly enjoys pissing you off.”

He wasn’t pissed off, though. He was devastated at the seeds of doubt planted in his head; at the pain and insecurity that came with the twisted knife to his gut. He hated the images forced into his mind at his friend’s words; the ones of you with other men; the ones that made it terribly clear how little you considered or missed him in his absence.

“Jake, she waited for you. I know she did.”

“Yea? How?” he asked.

Phoenix opened her mouth quickly, just as he would have had someone asked him a few hours ago if you loved him like he loved you—ready to confirm with a smile on his face. But if made to think of the answer for more than a half-second, without the hope and giddiness fueling his enthusiasm, he realized he couldn’t actually say for sure if you loved him, just as Nat now could not say with certainty that you had waited for him.

Her mouth closed.

"Exactly. You don't know," he said. "It’s not like I was smart enough to ask her to be my girlfriend before we left. She has no obligation to me, so why would she have bothered to wait six months to have me when she could have anyone?"

The brunette shook her head. “I don’t believe she's like that."

Leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms, Jake just barely held himself back from a scoff. "Like what, Nat? That wouldn't make her anything other than a woman who found someone new to sleep with after the guy she was sleeping with disappeared for half a year.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I know I didn't disappear. But I’ve been gone longer than we’d been together," he said, his voice drifting as he imagined what he hadn't stopped to consider before; a nightmare that, if proven true, would cleanly snap his heart in half. "Joke or not, Rooster could very well be right.”

—

"You're overthinking,” Penny’s voice snuck in from your left.

She reached out to take the beer glass from your hand, polished almost too clean after the twenty minutes you spent absentmindedly running a rag over it. Your mind had been too occupied with troubled thoughts to notice your unceasing drag of the dishtowel around the cylindrical shape of the glass.

It came free from your hand with ease, and as Penny placed it back on its shelf, you spewed, "What if he hooked up with someone? What if he decided six months was too long to wait for a woman that isn't his girlfriend?” You finally faced her just to find her rolling her eyes. “He likes sex, Penny. A lot. There are plenty of willing women and he's practically insatiable."

"When it comes to you, maybe."

The tenseness in your shoulders from well-formed stress was heavy with your exhale, forcing your shoulders to fall forward and your posture to take a hit. "Penny…" you groaned.

"I'm telling you, there's no way he messed around with anyone,” she swore, leaning back against the bar. "Besides, it's frowned upon to get involved with your coworkers."

"You think that's ever stopped Jake?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side as she considered. "Ok, fair enough,” she agreed. “Once upon a time, that definitely wouldn't have stopped him. But after meeting you, he hasn't looked at another woman."

You couldn’t say that provided you with any relief. Jake had always presented as an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type of man. He wasn’t a worrier. Once something exited his periphery, it promptly left his brain, discarded with all past challenges or predicaments. And wasn’t that what you were? An obstacle? He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend for a reason. Holding on to you for more than just the night didn’t necessarily make you more special than any of the other women. Perhaps it simply made you convenient.

"You don’t know, Penny. You’re not with him 24/7."

Penny muttered something under her breath. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple and when they dropped back to her side, the stare she shot you was imbued with determination. "Look, my bar is where Seresin used to do his "best work," as he liked to say,” she said, and you made a face. "But the only work he's been putting in since he met you has involved getting you to like him and making you happy after you two started your little…thing."

"You may not pay attention, but I do," she practically scolded. "Now, a month ago you were excited to meet him when he got back, and then you let your thoughts get away from you and it’s fucking everything up."

To your own shame, you couldn't deny that. So you didn't bother, rather opting to nibble on your thumbnail.

"They'll be back soon, so are you coming with me or not?"

—

He didn’t know what he was doing, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. But he felt like a heavy weight, an anchor in a sea of levity. Looking around, the men and women he’d been packed in with for the last six months were thrilled, the room sprinkled with smiles and laughs of giddiness in anticipation of having their families in their arms again.

He didn’t have that.

He wanted to have it, but that was fully reliant on you. Your feelings. Your wants and desires. Your plan for your future. Jake could imagine a world where he had the strength to beg to be a part of your life—to plead as desperately as if fighting for enough air to fill his lungs—but reality made that entirely out of his will and control. So he didn't shove his way forward when they made it home. He couldn't bring himself to jump in front of the others who had people waiting for them upon their return. Instead, he let them file out, his team included, until he was one of the final few to step back on dry, solid land.

As he walked by couple after couple, family after family, his already weak composure began to crumble at its edges. The people milling around him felt like a mocking montage of the life he didn’t have. Men and women kissing their partners or spouses, hugging their children with no intent of letting go, their tears coating the ground with joy.

Jake's chest constricted. He needed to get himself on the other side of it, but weaving through the mass of bodies proved harder than he expected.

His shoulders bumped into theirs, his chest skimming across backs and limbs when he turned to his side to sneak through narrow openings. Little kids ran into his legs like spinning tops on the loose from their wound-up energy finally releasing, though each one quickly recovered and returned to their parents, maintaining the same level of enthusiasm they had prior to smacking face-first into a muscled calf.

With each unintentional nudge, he apologized, but no one so much as noticed, too engrossed in their relief at making it home unscathed or in seeing their loved ones still intact. Somewhere, his teammates were doing the same. They’d found their partners, and he thought he’d found his, but his overconfidence in your feelings kept him from ensuring you were actually together. And maybe it was too late. Maybe he would have no choice but to watch you move on from him.

Finally breaking through the edge of the crowd, Jake took his first deep breath. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his truck. He didn’t turn when rushed footsteps grew closer until they sounded as if right on his tail.

“Jake.”

He paused and sighed. He should’ve known he would imagine your voice. Six months without that lovely sound, his only chance at hearing it being within his dreams, took its toll. It haunted him like a ghost on that ship. Of course it wouldn’t cease just because he was home.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t hear me.” There was a soft chuckle, then, “Well, at least I hope you didn’t hear me.”

He spun on his heel and was greeted with your smile. It lacked its carefree nature, instead just barely failing to conceal a twinge of nerves, but beautiful nonetheless. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps closer.

“I came with Penny.” The roundness of your cheeks turned pink from your blush. You lightly shrugged. “I missed you.”

With those words, Jake knew Rooster was deserving of a swift smack upside the head, one he very well may deliver. You cared. You missed him, even.

Fucking Rooster.

“Oh, I, um,” you continued, your eyes falling down to your hand. “I got you these. It feels silly now, but at the time I thought they would be nice, I guess.”

He followed your line of sight to the small bundle in your hand. Five long stems were tight in your grip, the bulbs on their ends made up of layers of silky red petals.

"I was thinking," you swallowed hard and met his gaze, "I don't actually know if you like flowers. And if you do, I didn't know your favorite. I just picked mine." The sweet grin that returned to your face practically demanded he kiss you. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. All of you. Every little bit.

And you weren't wrong. He hadn't had a favorite.

He did now.

Jake swallowed through the tightness in his throat, fighting back the stinging in the corners of his eyes.

He didn't get gifts, and certainly not from the women he was with. But then again, with the exception of you, he hadn't chosen to be with a woman for more than a night or two in the last decade.

"I like the yellow ones but they symbolize friendship and that wasn't really what I was going for, so I—"

"I love you.”

Your smile, your jaw, your hand, fell. "You…what?"

He let out a chuckle and reached for you. "Come here."

You didn't hesitate sliding your hand into his and he quickly pulled you to him, your chests hitting, lips meeting with an intensity that he hoped expressed even just a lick of how much he missed you. You draped your arms around his shoulders and the petals of the flowers tickled the nape of his neck.

"Six months was too long," you whispered when you separated.

He nudged his nose against yours. "Way too long."

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #tgm fic #tgm

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wifeofasith · 6 months

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Warnings — Angst & Fluff, Professor x Student relationship, reader feels inferior, implied smut, descriptions of sex, inappropriate touching (brief), degrading (brief), reader's jealous, Anakin has anger issues, word 'homicidal' mentioned, neglection, Anakin is slightly aggressive.

Word count — 2.3k

Notes — Another lovely request, loved it! I'm not too good at angst because anything that doesn't involve Anakin being head over heels for the reader makes my heart ache, whoops. Also, REAL sorry if somebody's name's Janette, I love the name but reader calls her a slut.

"Dismissed." Professor Skywalker tosses his glasses aside and leans back in his chair. A delicate frown is present between his eyebrows.

He hadn't looked at you once.

An hour-and-a-half-long lecture and not one stare at you. Not a glance at the outfit you so carefully picked for him; the absence of his touch was already unbearable, but the way he avoided your darting eyes broke your heart. You wanted him to look at you. To look at you the way he does at night.

You look at his hands, slender fingers gripping the chalk; they're supposed to be on you. Gripping your hips to push himself deeper into you, holding your wrists, caressing your waist, and kneading the delicate flesh of your thighs when he pushes them back over his broad shoulders... Why isn't he looking at you?

You stuff your books into your tote, zipping it up with a forceful pull, purposely creating an irritating sound in your last attempts to get his attention. You feel a disappointed twitch in your eyebrow when he remains seated, toying with his pen while staring down at somebody else's essay.

One of the students makes her way towards his desk, slipping him another report while batting her lashes in an attempt to ease his feelings about turning in late. She leans forward, pointing at something while trying to explain herself, a cover up to push her clevage to his eye level. He takes her paper and piles it up with all the other works, nodding at the little tease and sending her off with a comment about how he won't tolerate it ever again. You wonder if his pants get a little bit tighter at the sight of her too.

You leave last. You always do. Despite his obvious uninterest in entertaining your need for his attention, you give him one last chance.

"I'll pick you up at six." He mutters, still not looking at you.

Your silence obviously disturbs him; you don't greet his preposition with a smile and an eager puppy-like nod like you usually do.

"That's alright with you, darlin'?" He adds with a raspy voice, glancing in your direction.

Your heart sinks and insides flutter when the vibration of his tone reaches your ears. How can he do this to you? How can he pretend like you don't exist and then dare to offer his nighttime company? And yet, you want nothing else but to feel his lips all over your body again, even at the price of your dignity. You find enough self-respect to slam the door in his face.

With 6 p.m. approaching, you find yourself sitting at your vanity mirror and trying to decide if your body's mere worth is some cheap lip gloss and a skimpy dress for your professor to tear off as soon as he parks his black Chevy somewhere secluded enough.

Before you know it, he's outside your house. You watch him get out of his car, flicking the ashes of his cigarette onto the concrete and tossing the butt somewhere in the grass. He adjusts the collar of his shirt and knocks on your door.

You wait. Ten seconds, twenty, half a minute. Your heartbeat increases with each passing blink of time, and you're pretty sure he knows you're doing it on purpose. Eventually, you decide that you won't offer for him to come in. Grabbing your jacket and purse, you make your way out.

"Hi, love." He greets you with a smile, which is entirely different from how he's behaving during lectures. He's welcoming, almost sweet; maybe it's just a silly trick to make you crave his attention, thus allowing him to strip you off your panties quicker.

Anakin leans in to peck your cheek, which you dodge by turning around to lock your doors. He waits for the lock to click in place before wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing himself against your back.

"You're mad. Why?" His lips brush over your clothed shoulder.

He can feel how your body quivers when you swallow a lump that's been in your throat since 8 a.m. You hate how loving he can be; you hate how he manipulates you with his touch, making you feel like you're more than just a naive student for him. You hate it, and you crave it. His hands are warm on your waist, and you can feel your cheeks getting hotter from the forming tears.

"Darlin'?" He kisses your pulse point gently, waiting for you to speak.

"Let's go." You blink the wetness off your eyelids and head towards his car. Your sides instantly shiver when they aren't shielded by his grip.

Anakin starts the car in silence, giving you an uncomfortable look at how you didn't even allow him to open the door for you. The engine roars to life, and he's about to drive off when he leans across your body.

"Seatbelt, darlin'." He doesn't wait for you to reach for it — he's already buckling you in.

"Why don't you look at me?" You begin speaking when he's out on the road.

"What do you mean, bunny? I am. You look gorgeous. Like every night." His hand leaves the gearstick and finds place on your knee, gently caressing the inside of your thigh.

"During lectures. You'd rather look at some slut like Janette instead of me." You cut him off, complaining about the unfairness of his actions.

"And you?" He laughs. Mockingly. "You are not a slut? Spreading your legs whenever I call you." His hand on your thigh glides up to brush against your panties. "But you like it when I call you that, don't you?"

He doesn't take you seriously at all. He is oblivious to the fact that his words claw a gaping hole in your chest, leaving your heart sore and lungs collapsing at the attempts to hold your pains. You push his hand off your core in a disgusted manner and shut your legs close.

"You're seriously mad at me?" He shifts gears, and you feel how the vehicle starts speeding, your body tensing in alertness.

You know he's not going to hurt you, not physically, and yet you can't stop shuddering. Your cheeks heat up once more, and this time there is no strength in you to stop the inevitable.

"I treat you well, don't I? Do you know how you'd be treated if I were somebody else?!" The highway is ending as he's taking a turn towards your usual spot of desire. His tone is increasing with every word.

"Drive me home!" You slap the panel, hysteria in your voice is present as thick tears drop onto your lap.

"You're not going anywhere!" He stops the car on the sidewalk, not making his full way into the forest. That's when he can finally see your mascara-stained cheeks.

Anakin groans at the sight; his fingers curl into fists as he pounds onto the steering wheel. "You're so fucking-" He groans again, trying to stop himself from saying something he'll regret later, and leans to rest his head, sighing deeply.

The car fills with your sobs and sniffles. You sit there, buckled up like a child who's been denied candy, and weep. Anakin lets out a sigh and frees himself from the seatbelt, clicking yours off too.

"Come here."

"No! I'm done doing this; I'm done letting you use me like I'm worthless!"

He sighs again, rubbing his face aggressively, trying his best to contain his anger and focus on how your whines are hurting his ears and heart.

"It's okay, come here, bunny." He places his hand on the back of your head and pulls you to lean on his shoulder. Pathetically, you wrap your arms around his neck and continue sobbing into his button-up. "There she is; come here." He grabs you by the waist and pulls, guiding you to climb out of your seat and onto his lap.

Unfortunately, his gesture only forces more tears. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. He cradles your quivering body to his chest, one arm wrapped around your legs and the other keeping you in place by your back.

"Silly girl, you've ruined your make up." He wipes your cheeks with his sleeve, black ink staining the cotton. "I'd never force you, you know that? If you don't want to, you don't need to go with me, yeah?" His anger seems to be ceasing, and you wish your despair was too. His attempts to comfort you are bittersweet.

"You said I was the prettiest girl... You always say that; you touch me, you- you... How can you do this? Why don't I matter to you?" Words spill from your mouth; endless thoughts are rushing through your mind, and your tongue is unable to catch up with all of them. And his hands. His hands, his hands, his hands. His hands are holding you, caressing you, wiping away your tears, and it hurts, hurts, hurts so bad you want to tear his perfect face off his skull and drive his stupid Camaro into a lake.

"You are, you are the prettiest girl; you're the perfect girl, bunny, my perfect girl, okay? Of course you matter." He seems to be pretty unaware of your homicidal ideas because he keeps stroking your hair, trying to console you. "Of course you matter; look at me." He cups your cheek and forces you to face him.

"Why won't you look at me?" You manage to form a full sentence, uninterrupted by little sniffles.

"Well because..." He sighs. "You know it's not right. We can't have people know about us." His finger gently brushes a strand of your hair off your cheek. "You're my student. A good one at that; I wouldn't want anybody to think your A's are earned with your pretty little pussy." He chuckles at his crappy attempt to make you laugh.

"So you'd rather hurt me?" Your eyebrows furrow, and anger slowly replaces sadness at how naive he thinks you are. "What could a little glance give away? A little praise? A text message about my pretty clothes when nobody's looking?!" Anakin is getting a taste of his own medicine, feeling the exact same emotions you feel when he shouts at you for being sensitive.

"Well, that's the thing, darlin', somebody is always looking. I don't want to risk it; you have to understand..." He coos at you gently, his lips pressing against your cheeks. "You're such a sweet girl; I can't put you at risk, why don't you get it?"

You knew that it wasn't just you. He had to protect himself too; he was a well-respected professor, his career was great, he was loved, but... But still. Your little heart couldn't comprehend the fact that your love wasn't enough for him. That he didn't love you a bit more to show some affection that wouldn't involve an orgasm eventually.

"I just... I just want to feel like I matter..." You sniffle the last tears away; there is disappointment in your voice. You are aware that this relationship is not meant to go anywhere, and you wish he'd deny that. Even if deep down, you both would know it's a lie.

"You do, bunny, of course you do. Do you have any idea how it's hurting me too? To have you crying in my arms..." Anakin cradles you closer to himself. "I just wish you could be happy, sweet girl. I'm sorry I've done this to your heart, I'm sorry for ever laying my hands on you..." He kisses your cheek, trailing up to your temple, and sighs. "I'm so sorry, darlin'..."

You sit there in silence, the headlights of cars passing in the distance casting short flashes of light over you both. The car's getting colder, and Anakin tries his best to embrace you and keep your body warm.

"Let's get you home, bunny." He caresses the back of your head, touching it so delicately that you'd think you were made of porcelain. "You should get some rest."

Home? No. No, no no no. You don't want to go home. You want to stay. You want to be held, and you need his arms to caress you. You can't go home and rot in self-pity the whole night. You need him.

But you can't say that; the words are stuck in your throat, and you're pretty sure he wouldn't be able to understand the depth of your feelings. So you cling onto him, your arms squeeze his body impossibly close, as if doing that could close a wound that's open inside of you.

Anakin chuckles softly. "You don't want to go, do you?" He nuzzles his nose into your cheek and kisses it. "That's okay. I don't want to let go of you either. I just love holding you, precious."

"Can I stay with you?" You hesitantly whisper in the crook of his neck; his skin shivers under your lips.

"For the night?" He pulls away slightly to gaze into your eyes. Tomorrow's Saturday, and you can seriously see him considering bringing you home.

"I don't want to be alone."

He smiles warmly, his hand cups your cheek once again, and gently kisses your lips, lingering for a moment. "I was about to ask you." He smiles and pecks your forehead. You know he's lying, but he couldn't tell you no when your doe eyes stare at him pleadingly and the thought of you crying yourself to sleep stabs his heart.

"Let's go, bunny. Get you a milkshake, mmm? Then I'll cuddle my princess to sleep. I can't bear seeing your little heart ache." He urges you to move off his lap and back into your seat.

You can swear his hands were trembling ever so slightly when he put the key back into ignition and started the car. Maybe this time he'll love you in a way so the pleasure fills your heart instead.

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 1 month

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Grocery Shopping with John “Soap” MacTavish

My Blog is 18+ NSFW | Minors DNI | Some suggestive themes here but mostly just fluff.

(477 word Drabble)

Grocery shopping with Johnny is a nightmare.

No matter how hard you try to keep to the list, there’s always something extra to pull his attention away from you.

Don’t let him out of your sight, the moment you lose line of sight, you’re done for. Turn to grab a bag of crisps for your movie session later? Rookie mistake.

Johnny’s half-way to the freezers to get ice-cream, popsicles, you name it. Man will return triumphantly with four household’s worth of frozen goods.

Never send him off to get something, even if it is just an aisle over. You’ll spend ten minutes trying to find him, only to have him trot up to you from behind as you start to call his phone to track him down.

“Was just over there lass, you fuss too much, you know?” He’ll say with the most oblivious grin on his face as he deposits that bath soak/face mask/sweet treat you’ve been talking about all week, “You deserve to treat yerself sometimes.”

He’s also the type to run into six different people in one shopping trip, waylaying your plans by at least half an hour. He’s too kind to interrupt people, letting them prattle on about their lives without pause as you stand there dumbfounded.

Where does he meet all these people?

“Johnny,” you grumble, “Who was that?” You’ll ask as you practically push him away from the scary looking giant of a man with a Germanic accent.

“Just an old army buddy,” he’ll say with a bright smile, but you know that’s a gross oversimplification, “Now what’s next on the list?”

You sigh as you look down to see a half-full trolley and only three items actually crossed off the hand-written notepad. It’s always an adventure doing your weekly shop with Johnny, but Jesus, there’s a reason you usually do it when he’s otherwise occupied with work, or out with his friends.

But you don’t mind, not when he’s wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Ah, I’ve side-tracked yer plans haven’t I, hen?” He’ll murmur apologetically in your ear as you sag back against him.

“Only a little,” you lie, a smile gracing your lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“How about I go wait in the car?” He offers and you almost want to tell him to stay, but your stomach rumbles and you laugh in unison.

“Alright, but crack a window,” you tease and Johnny flashes you a goofy smile before giving you a mock salute.

You watch him go, already missing his presence, but the risk of melting frozen goods spurs you on.

Plus, you noticed the little bottle of lube he deposited in the trolley on the way out, and you’re looking forward to what he has in store to make it up to you.

CoD Masterlist Grocery Shopping with Gaz Grocery Shopping with Ghost Grocery Shopping with Price Grocery Shopping with König

#john soap mactavish #soap x reader #Drabble #soap cod #soap Drabble #johnny mactavish #141 fluff series #CoD Grocery Shopping Drabbles #Theywhowriteandknowthings fluff #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap x reader

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lemonsprite · 6 months

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𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 || 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐓𝐚𝐯)

Summary: Tav finally gets to pet the gods most loveable creatures

Word count: 598

Warnings: none^^

A/N: gn! Tav/reader, sorry to all my above average height baddies reader is smaller than Halsin :(, so much fluff it’s gonna make you vomit I love him!!!!!! Ambiguous relationship? Kinda? If you like squint it can be interpreted as platonic

I LOVE HALSIN IM CRAWLING ON HANDS AND KNEES THROUGH THE DESERT IN SEARCH OF MY BEAR MAN

It was cold.

Very cold.

Night had fallen, shrouding the camp in darkness and you shivered in your bedroll, pulling your one thin blanket closer to your chest in a desperate attempt to garner warmth.

The small campfire next to your bedroll barely emitted any light, the small embers casting a faint orange glow on the nearby damp grass.

You had half a sleep deprived mind to just stick your hands into the dying flame and cuddle up to the warmth.

“Can’t sleep?” Came a low grumble from the cot next to yours.

Halsin turned on his side to face you, his gaze searching your eyes almost concernedly. Part of you wanted to ask him how he was able to sleep in this cold practically shirtless but you bit your tongue, hiding your words.

“…yes.” You said almost sheepishly, embarrassed to be caught despite doing no wrong. “Sorry to wake you Halsin.”

“You did not wake me.” He smiled gently, his grin so soft it melted your heart like butter.

“I was already awake and noticed your plight… is there anything I can do to help?” He offered and you felt yourself involuntarily smiling back, his kind demeanour infectious.

Your face turned pink at his offer, shaking your head softly in reply.

“No, it’s quite alright Halsin you do not need to do anything…”

“Nonsense, yes I don’t need to… but I want to.”

He sat up from his bedroll, even sitting he still towered over you, his head blocking out the soft glow of the moon in the sky as the embers of the fire turned the hues of his hazel eyes brown. Halsin stopped where he sat, looking at you in a silent ask of permission.

He patted the empty space next to him in his bedroll, a clear invitation for you to join him yet something made you hesitate. You’d done very little for Halsin as long as you’ve known him yet here he was giving everything for you and asking for nothing in return. He was kind, too kind, and a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you that you’d never done anything worth while enough to deserve the love and attention of the Archdruid.

Before you could spiral any further, Halsin’s sweet as honey gaze returned you to normality. His smile was gentle, his eyes crinkling, forming wrinkles and it soothed your worries, washing them away like an ocean, Halsin’s soft breathing the ebbing tides and the quiet crackle and pops from the dying fire the lapping waves.

as you scrambled to pull yourself together and climb into bed next to him, Halsin moved his arm to accommodate you before wrapping it around your waist, pulling you closer to his torso.

His chest was like a furnace and if you laid still enough you could feel his heart beating slowly almost in perfect synch with a crickets chirping in the woods surrounding camp.

Your face couldn’t help but heat up once fulling realizing the situation you were in, the tips of your ears turning pink.

A low rumble came from behind you, Halsin’s laugh soothing in your ear.

“You Look Like a radish.” He teased, pulling you impossibly closer till you were flush with his chest.

No words would come out from your open mouth when trying to respond, so instead you elected to look around the sound asleep camp, your eyelids finally starting to droop from fatigue.

“Never hesitate to ask me for anything.” He hummed quietly, his body spooning yours.

“I’d hang the moon for you if asked…”

Sorry it was so rushed at the end TT I just got done with a six hour musical pit practice and I wanted to post this so I rushed it </3

You n’ Halsin rn ^_^

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kkami-writes · 6 months

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waiting for us — chapter forty six. moonlight cw. brief mention of a fire scar, SMUT!!! first times, loss of virginity (f), protected sex, soft dom(?) seungmin, oral (f), piv, lowkey body worship, seungmin is a simp wbk wc. 3.4k

After a long day, almost 3 hours in the car (with 4 of your soulmates and a blasting playlist) and then walking around the Japanese garden you’re glad to finally be resting in your hotel room. The boys had whined that Seungmin had got to monopolize your attention all day and now got to spend the night with you but you had simply shooed them away, desperate to get into the shower.

Now you were all cozy in a small pajama set, sat curled up on the little ledge next to the window. The lights are dimmed, the room painted in the light of the moon. Seungmin was just finishing up in the bathroom as you wait for him, staring sleepily out at the view outside. You might be $900 down but you couldn’t help but think it was so worth it.

Your eyes glaze over slightly as you space out, the day finally catching up to you as sleep threatens to take over. You don’t even realize that Seungmin has finished his shower or that he’s already come out of the bathroom.

Seungmin on the other hand has frozen completely. He’s watching you, taking in every little detail, like the way your head is tilted against the cool pane of the window or the smooth skin of your legs. The moonlight washes over your figure and he thinks you look so fucking breathtaking. It’s like something possesses him as he strides over to you, hands coming to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, lithe fingers tracing your jawline and forcing you to look up at him.

The way you look up at him has him in a trance, practically drowning in your pretty eyes. He leans down and you meet him half way. Seungmin’s lips are soft against yours and you practically melt against him, body relaxing. He brings his other hand to fully cup your cheeks while his lips move languidly, almost precise in his movements and it’s really no surprise to you that all these boys were good kissers. Years of experience with each other.

Yet you can tell he’s a little tentative to go any further, so you do it for him, tongue darting out to swipe at his plump bottom lip. Except Seungmin pulls away at the feeling of your tongue and for a second you’re afraid you’ve pushed it too far, but the way his face is a bright red you know you only had surprised him. A giggle falls from your lips as you stand up suddenly, surprising the boy but he doesn’t get a chance to question you as as you all but yank his body towards the bed.

Your body flops down onto the bed, sinking into the impossibly soft comforter and Seungmin is forced on top of you. His hands are on either side of your head, eyes blinking rapidly at your actions. Your arms come to wrap around his broad shoulders but you don’t push him down, instead letting him take the lead if he so choses. You tilt your head slightly, giving him a cute wide eyed look - making you look so enticing how the hell is he supposed to resist you? You’re literally under him, lips already slightly puffy and your hair spread out in a halo. Seungmin is convinced you might actually be an angel.

So he takes the plunge, connecting his lips against yours. It starts off simple like your kiss just minutes ago, just lips pressed together and moving in tandem. This time it’s Seungmin who deepens the kiss, not even bothering to ask as he practically shoves his tongue into your mouth. Of course you let him, mouth parting to give him easy access.

He’s sucking on your pink muscle, nipping and pulling at your lips so much that it pulls a whimper from your throat. The embrace turns heated, the sound of your lips smacking is the only thing you can hear. Seungmin can feel his restraint getting weaker and weaker so he has to force himself to stop. Yet the look you have on his face almost makes him groan, lips completely kiss bitten, slick with spit and cheeks flushed a pretty red that goes all the way down to your collarbone. You’re driving him absolutely crazy but he knows he has to stop because he will not be able to control himself the longer you look at him like that.

“We…” He takes a deep breath to calm himself. “We should stop,”

“What if I don’t want to?” You ask so simply as if you don’t understand the insinuation of your answer but the look in your eyes tells Seungmin that you do. He falters.

“But… Aren’t you a-“ You can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“A virgin?” Seungmin just nods his head. “Yeah, but to be honest, I really, really want this,”

“Are you sure? I mean, like, are you sure you want your first time to be with…me?” Again, you roll your eyes.

“Minnie, do I need to go on my rant again?”

“Ok- Ok fuck. Are you 100% sure? Because I don’t think I’d be able to stop once I get my hands on you,”

“I’m sure just,“ You hesitate, but Seungmin is patient, waiting for you to continue. “Just, promise me you wont ask,” He furrows his eyebrows at your words, thoroughly confused.

“Ask about what?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,”

“Is it about…” His eyes dart over to your wrists. Though there are no new scars, most of them having healed already, there is still the visible signs. You shake your head though.

“No. It’s something else just - please,”

“Ok, no questions. I promise,”

“Ok good. Now kiss me again,”

“You got it,” And at that Seungmin is pressing his lips against your already swollen ones, hands slipping past your sleep shirt, fingers dancing along your bare waist. It draws a shiver from you, the feeling of his cold hands against your heated body. His lips begin to trail down to your neck, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses against your flesh. Seungmin has barely done anything to you already feel uncomfortably warm.

Seungmin’s fingers creep further and further up your shirt, pulling it along with him. Before he can fully push it up he glances up at you as if asking permission. You simply nod and he doesn’t hesitate to remove your shirt. Since you were going to bed you had gone without a bra, a sudden shyness takes over you but Seungmin is looking at you like you put the stars in the sky. He can tell that you’re shy and slips his own shirt off so that you’re both shirtless.

You can’t help but stare at his toned upper body. Seungmin is all lean muscle and broad shoulders with somehow a tiny waist. You briefly wonder how someone could be so handsome. He turns shy under your smoldering gaze so he turns back to focus on you.

“Y/N, you are so fucking beautiful,” He says the words in between pressing kisses down the expanse of your neck, before latching onto the juncture of where your neck meets your collarbone, sucking softly. It’s enough to leave a mark, wanting something as proof of this moment, even if it’s temporary (and maybe something that the guys would see).

As he marks up your neck his hands come up to cup your breasts, his large hands giving them a squeeze. Seungmin thinks they’re perfect, fitting in his hands so nicely. He can’t help but squish and grope at the soft mounds, relishing the first time of actually touching a pair of tits. You’ve got your lower lip between your teeth, worrying it as you watch Seungmin’s every action, feeling your panties getting damp.

Seungmin brushes his thumb against your nipples and you finally let out a small moan. It spurs him on as he rolls one between his fingers and it hardens under his ministrations. After he’s quite literally made his mark along your neck and collarbones his lips trail down to press kisses across the peaks of your breasts. His hands have moved down to your waist, running them up and down your sides. It’s like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your body, committing it to memory.

His tongue darts out to flick at your pert bud before wrapping his plush lips around it, sucking softly. A whimper slips from your lips, feeling your back arch up and further into his touch. Seungmin loves how reactive you are as he experiments with your tits, nipping at the cute bud before making sure to give equal attention to the other.

At this point you’re uncomfortably wet, trying to press your thighs together for some semblance of relief.

“S-Seung,” You whine, trying to get him to understand without having to say it. He seems to understand though as a small laugh falls from his lips at your impatience.

“Sorry love, just trying to appreciate your body like you deserve,” You can feel his hum against your skin and it sets you abuzz. His fingers hook into the thin fabric of your sleep shorts before looking back up at you for permission. With a deep breath you nod your head and he doesn’t hesitate to slip them off.

Kisses continue to trail down your silky skin, Seungmin occasionally teasing you by nipping at your sensitive skin. Everything he’s done has only made your body warmer, panties sticking to your cunt. When his nose nudges against your mound you sit up suddenly, startling the poor boy between your legs.

“Shit, wait,” Seungmin is quick to sit back on his heels, looking over at you in concern, scared he’s made you uncomfortable.

“What? We can stop if you want,”

“No, no it’s just- fuck. You don’t have protection do you?” You murmur, remembering probably the most important thing. To be honest you hadn’t expected you to be ready for this so early, so you hadn’t really considered birth control and while you had trusted that all the boys were clean and wouldn’t mind forgoing a condom, you were not about to risk having a crotch goblin. Disappointment washes over you, still rather uncomfortably turned on.

“Oh! Wait no, I do have one,” Seungmin says before grabbing his wallet on the nightstand and pulling a condom from it. You’re blinking at him, having not expecting that.

“Huh. So you thought you were gonna get lucky?” You decide to tease the poor boy, whose face flushes so cutely.

“No! No of course not! I just-“

“Minnie I’m kidding,” You cut him off before he can go on a tangent again, giggling at his reaction. “Honestly, it’s kinda hot that you’re so responsible,” You coo and Seungmin comes back to hover over to you, slapping at your thigh.

“Brat,” That causes another giggle to fall from your lips as he leaves the condom on the table. “Do you want to continue?”

“Mm..please,”

“Hm? What’s that?” It’s Seungmin whose teasing you now, a cocky look on his face and you suppose you should have seen this coming.

“Please…Minnie,” You whine, thighs pressing together but he quickly pushes his hand between them, spreading them.

“Please what? Gotta tell me what you want love,” He hums, moving down to his position himself between your legs, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. Immediately that heat returns full force and you can’t take it anymore.

“Please touch me Seungmin,”

“How can I say no?” He comes to slip your panties off and he freezes. Seungmin can’t even take the time to admire how beautiful you look underneath him, completely bare because all he can focus on is the fire burn across the left side of your pelvis that goes across your hip. The skin is reddish, almost looking like a large bruise. He probably shouldn’t but he can’t help but run his thumb over the old wound and he can feel that pulsing energy. It’s then that he knows.

Your soulmark is under this scar.

Seungmin glances up at you and you can’t even look at him. Hot white shame fills your stomach as you curl up into yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea, you should have never let it get this far, never should have let him see it. You’re about to get up to put your clothes on but before you can even move, Seungmin is pressing kisses against your lower stomach again, large hands splayed across your hips.

“Sorry sweetheart. No questions. Can I still make you feel good?” He still wants to make sure this is what you want, if you told him to stop he would. Your comfort is the only thing on his mind. Seungmin’s kisses bring instant butterflies to your stomach and you can’t lie, you still want this. You want him. You want all of them.

“Please…I. I want you Minnie,”

Seungmin lets out a groan from his throat. Why is you telling him how much you want him turn him on even more?

“Fuck. Be a good girl and let me take care of you, yeah?” Seungmin hums while he’s pressing rather wet kisses against your inner thighs, and a shiver runs through you. He does not want to make it seem like he doesn’t know what he’s doing because he is quite literally just running on pure instincts. His tongue darts out and he doesn’t hesitate to lick a bold stripe up your damp folds. You can’t help but jolt slightly, the sensation completely new as you try to relax back against the pillow.

It’s certainly a different taste but it’s certainly not bad, he can definitely see himself eventually getting addicted. Seungmin continues to explore your cunt, alternating between licks and kisses. He brings his tongue to your clit this time, flicking at the small bud and it has a moan falling from your lips.

“O-Oh!” You gasps, heat starting to pool in your lower stomach the longer Seungmin plays with your clit, his lips wrapped fully around it and sucking. Long fingers run through your damp folds before pressing slowly to your entrance. He sinks a single digit in, letting you get used to it before sliding it in and out. He has to bite back a moan from the way your walls are sucking his finger in, his only thoughts are about how you’ll feel wrapped around his cock.

Of course you’ve masturbated a few times and yeah it was nice but nothing special. This though, this was so different as pure heat and pleasure fills your body, making your toes curl with how intense it is. Seungmin can’t take his eyes off you, every little reaction you make only entrances him more. He slips another finger into your sopping core, your cunt taking it in easily with how turned on you are. There’s more of a stretch but you could care less with how good it feels.

The lewd squelch of your pussy echoes in your ears, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Seungmin on the other hand finds it so hot, how wet and warm you feel. His cock is throbbing almost painfully, pressed fully against his pants. Heat is pooling into your lower stomach, threatening to snap and as you feel yourself on the precipice of your release, Seungmin stops. It pulls a whine from your throat and he has the audacity to chuckle at you.

“Sorry love. I just. I want you to cum with me,” And how are you supposed to argue against that? Seungmin leans over to grab the foil, ripping it open and throwing the wrapper into the trash. He pulls his pants down and his hard, angry cock flops out. The tip is almost a bright red, precum leaking from the slit. He slides the latex down his length before looking back up at you, only to see that you’re staring.

“…stop staring,” Your head flies back up to him, blushing at getting caught.

“Sorry! Sorry just- It’s my…first time seeing a dick,” You admit. Both of you are a flustered mess and even though Seungmin isn’t a virgin, it certainly feels like he is - after all he’s never been with a woman before.

“I mean it’s my first time seeing tits too so…I guess we’re even,” There’s a brief silence before the two of you are giggling. It feels comfortable despite the two of you being stark naked. You two take a moment before getting serious again. Nerves roll off both of you as he clumsily lines up to your soaked entrance.

“Are you ready?” He asks softly, rubbing soothing circles against your waist. With a gulp you nod, bracing yourself. Slowly he pushes in, a moan falling from his lips almost immediately at how you feel, the sensation almost overwhelming.

It’s not painful, it’s more of a weird sensation and some pressure but it’s not bad. As he slides in his body comes to press against yours, almost in a hug, wanting to be as close to you as possible as the two of you become one. It’s so overwhelming in a good way that you can’t help the few tears that slip from your eyes, you feel so incredibly full and loved. Seungmin pauses and glances up at you, thumb wiping away the tears.

“You ok sweetheart? Does it hurt?” You shake your head quickly.

“No! No..You feel so good…feel’s amazing Seung. I. I love you,” You choke up a little and he smiles down at you, so incredibly fond.

“I love you too,” He says as he finally bottoms out, his whole length buried inside of you. The two of you just stay like this for a few minutes, basking in the moment, just being connected in the most intimate way possible. After awhile that feeling is returning in your stomach and you need him to fuck you.

“Seung. Please move,”

“Anything for you sweetheart,” He pulls out almost all the way before rocking back into your cunt, pulling a moan from your lips. It’s so much more than his fingers and you can’t believe anything could feel better. Seungmin moans as he keeps a languid pace and the sound make you clench. His hips stutter. “Fuck, you can’t do that. I might just blow my load,” He knows he won’t last very long anyway though and his only goal is to make you cum.

His grip against your waist is almost bruising now but you could care less, you hope it does. Your back arches and with the slight adjustment his cock is now hitting that sweet spot.

“Oh! Oh fuck Seungmin, right t-there” Seungmin large hands against your waist angle you perfectly so he’s constantly brushing against your g-spot and you swear that you’re seeing stars. One of his hands snakes down to rub at your swollen clit and it’s bringing you closer to your peak. “Minnie ‘m close,” Your words are slightly slurred, losing yourself in the overwhelming pleasure he’s bringing you to.

“M-me too. Fuck sweetheart. God, feel so perfect. You were made for me. Made for us, yeah?” It’s his words that send you off the edge, coming with a cry of his name. With your walls spasming around him he’s spilling into the condom with one last hard thrust. The two of you collapse against each other, a thin layer of sweat covering both of you but neither of you could care.

Both of you end up giggling again, just basking in the after glow of sex as you curl into each other. Again, the two of you just lay there for awhile, staring in each others eyes before Seungmin reluctantly pulls away.

“Come on, let’s take another shower and get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow,”

Seungmin is nothing but attentive to you in the shower, cleaning you up gently. You feel a little sore but it’s a rather nice feeling so you certainly don’t mind. Nothing more happens in the shower besides a few kisses here and there.

Soon enough the two of you are tangled up in each other in bed, legs entwined and your face buried into his neck. You have never felt more safe and loved then being in Seungmin’s arms right now. You never wanted to leave and you don’t ever plan on it.

previous | masterlist | next waiting for us taglist (50/50) send an ask or sign up here!: @abbiestearsricochet @boo-ven9eance @adorawritesalot @melleus @inlovewithallmusic @alnex05 @borahae-reads @zonked-times @yoonrimin @slay-and-gay @loverlixie @katsukis1wife @0325tiny @adestayskz @minhwa @littleaprilcherryblossom @soobery @lillithathecat @everglowdaisies @boi-bi-ahaha @popcatx0 @stayinhellevator @jaiuneamesolitaiire @enchantedgrunge @corrodedthorn @143lix @ashitshowforalot @xrvrqs @lynlyndoll @txtandroll @kawennote09 @liknws @ritzy-dream-boy @vampcharxter @surefornext @puppy-minnie @freckleboilix @turtledove824 @fylithia @toshijimafarms @hyunestrella @blackrowses @chlodavids @reallysparklychaos @sunnibearr @chili-crab0811 @stickycrusadecollective @lucidliving1205 @princelingperfect @leemidnightmoon a/n. THIS ONE GOES OUT TO ALL THE SEUNGMIN GIRLS, GUYS AND NON-BINARY PALS (it's me. i'm the seungmin girly. I did it for me). Look idk when or why I decided it was gonna be minnie but I have no regrets. everyone is all about hard dom/mean dom seungmin (which i love don't get me wrong) but there's something about sweet gentleman seungmin who wants to make your first time special, paying so much attention to you and making you feel good. soft sweet first time sex under the moonlight. FUN first time sex where you can laugh about how lowkey awkward it is and still have an amazing time. listen, if you can't laugh while having sex with the person you're fucking, you're not fucking the right person. GIGGLY SEX >>>> UGH. ME FUCKING WHEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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arachniee · 3 months

Text

i. medical haywire

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ various! hazbin hotel x female seraphim! reader

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summary: as the seraphim responsible for the management of heaven's medical areas, your days are mostly spent in the comfort of labs and clinics. though, those mudane days seem to shift into more interesting ones after meeting the princess of hell and her little group.

જ⁀➴

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, too much caffeine intake, not proofread; there might be grammatical errors, all lowercase letters

જ⁀➴

heaven was as bright and bustling as ever, regardless of the time of day. whether it'd be the sun shining, or the moon. every corner of the city was filled with fun and joy, not a single hint of negativity. heaven was paradise, after all. a paradise that everyone wanted to get a taste of. it was the embodiment of dreams, everyone would agree. this was place that granted them a life that was worth living, even in the afterlife.

however, you wouldn't say that this was your dream. in the presence of the night, you remained unfazed as you continued with your work. eerie silence seeping into the laboratory room you were currently in, despite being all alone, this somehow bought you comfort instead of uneasiness. being surrounded by laboratory equipment and machinery, your attention shifted from the blood sample in your hands to the medical files on the metal table near you. it wasn't just any pile, almost every corner of that table was filled with piles and piles of folders almost the size of mountains.

after you received the report of an extermination angel's murder, you haven't slept in days. an angel was behead, that kept you up at night. each time you thought about it, your curiousity and thirst for knowledge were eating you up from the inside and out. you wanted to dwell deeper into the topic, but you still had medical areas to run. and with the recent news that you received about the extermination, you wanted nothing more than to just drown yourself in your own misery. every six months, really?

extermination angels return with more wounds than what others would expect. and with thousands of them returning with injuries that range from scratches to more notable wounds, the extermination is something you do not look forward to dealing with. you are definitely not surprised, these sadistic fuckers are too overconfident in their own actions, lacking in armor and more driven to attack, and because of that, you're the one who has to suffer with treating them.

and now that those demons know what they can do to angels, you're expecting more bloodshed during extermination. and that means more work. and not mention that the extermination angels should be in the best condition possible to participate, thus, you have to monitor all of them regularly. and with your more 'common' patients, the residents of the city, you haven't seen and felt daylight nor the moonlight in who knows how long now. you haven't even slept yet, only taking naps here and there that only last around half an hour or so.

as you checked your watch, you noted that the project you were currently working on would have to be continued in the next few hours instead. you followed quite a strict and busy schedule, which is not surprising for one of the highest of seraphims. you tidied up the lab a bit, rummaging through the almost endless amount of files and folders, grabbing a few before your eyes fell onto a folder that had a letter "v" in the middle. you momentarily paused your actions, frozen in place as you stared at it. you eventually pushed it aside and grabbed the files under it before you stood and made your way out, turning off the lights and locking the door.

the halls were dimly lit, casting an unsettling sense of uneasiness. though, you walked through them without a care in the world, this was heaven after all, no one would harm you here. each door you passed was dark and disturbing, expected as it was almost two o'clock in the morning. your steps echoed down the empty halls as you walked to the laboratory's cafeteria. your last caffeine intake was almost an hour ago, you need to grab another mug before you collapsed with more work piled up on your desk the next morning.

unsurprisingly, the lights were still on in the cafeteria since the cooks would usually prepare the food early in the morning. you had to commend them for their dedication though. as you entered the kitchen area, you were greeted warmly by the workers, you nodded at them in acknowledgement, greeting them as well, though with a little less energy. they understood why, and they were grateful for your dedication to your job as well. it must be hard to keep everyone in check, managing a lot of stuff all at once. before you could reach one of the coffee makers, one of the newer staff members extended a mug of steaming, hot coffee into your reach with smile. you looked at them with raised eyebrows and tired eyes, the young angel just wanted to express his admiration, and maybe this was the way that he thought you would appreciate the most at the moment. maybe he was right, so you gently took the mug from his hands, careful not to spill any onto him.

he visibly beamed at you when you expressed your gratitude by muttering a small 'thank you', hoping that he, even in the slightest way possible, was able to help your mood and tiredness. you stayed in the cafeteria for a few more minutes before you had to go back to work. the young angel's mood dampened a little bit, but he understood and bid you goodluck with a smile. after that unintentional break you had, you walked to your office, a little more energetic now, was it because of the caffeine or the interaction you had with the young man? you're not sure. he reminded you of an old friend you had, but you shook those thoughts away as your office finally came in sight.

you were slightly surprised to see someone standing at your door, their knuckles knocking onto the door. you were always told you had such light, unaudible steps, now you realized how right they were. if you hadn't spoke, this person wouldn't have heard your arrival. even in the dark hallways, you were able to make out the person's appearance, and you didn't quite expect to see her here, especially at this hour.

"emily?"

you stated, your voice was somewhat husky, you figured it was because you hadn't interacted and spoke to someone in who knows how many days due to your work. the young seraphim slightly jumped at your voice, not expecting you to appear right beside her in the dark. she let out a nervous laugh, she was jittery, you could tell with how she played with her fingers and avoided eye contact. and when she finally spoke, you knew your hunch was correct.

"h-hey! no wonder no one was answering me, i thought you fell asleep in your office again!"

her smile was strained, it was quite obvious. you didn't question her as you gestured for her to enter your office with you. you placed the files you were carrying on the table, taking another sip of the coffee in your other hand as you nodded your head to one of the chairs, emily understood and with unsure movements, she sat down on the chair in front of your table. the atmosphere was tense, you could tell. she couldn't seem to stay still in her seat, eyes darting all around the room. the silence was deafening, though you wanted to break it yourself, you didn't want to overstep boundaries and ask her directly about why she was acting so... troubled. and it didn't take long before she took a deep breath and spoke.

"i heard there's going to be a meeting with the princess of hell."

her voice was quiet, but to you, it was loud and clear. you knew about the meeting, of course. sera and the others have informed you about this meeting a few days ago. you were one of the most important figures of heaven, so your presence there was mandatory. and you weren't surprised that emily knew about this meeting, as she herself was also a seraphim. though you wondered why she spoke of the meeting in such a tone. you expected her to be happy, especially since you knew of her curiousity about hell and the demons who reside in it. as you stared at the file in your hands, you gave a brief glance to her as an acknowledgement to continue. she hesitated for a few seconds before she eventually spoke again.

"sera didn't tell me. no one did. if i hadn't passed by and accidently heard them talk about it, i wouldn't have known."

at her words, you finally lifted your gaze. she wore a sad expression, her eyebrows low and down as her lips were. she seemed visibly upset. yeah, maybe sera was going to tell her and was about to do so, but the meeting is in two days. usually, sera would speak to her about the meetings at least a week before they were held. and when she found out that the meeting is on the day after tomorrow, she had her doubts that sera would tell her. maybe it was childish, but to emily, she thought that she at least had to be informed, she wanted to help her sister, in the preparation and such. but with how sera didn't tell her, nor did anyone, she figured that they may have not wanted her to attend and join, nonetheless know, about the meeting.

"she knows how much i want to know about hell, so why didn't she tell me? am i not allowed to join the meeting?"

you knew why sera didn't want her to know about it. yet you knew that you aren't the one in the place to tell emily any of those reasons. you knew the answer to both of the young seraphim's questions, but you made no move to answer them. that was not for you to tell. you didn't want her relationship with sera to be waned by whatever may happen during that meeting, and you understood why the older seraphim made an effort to ensure that emily doesn't know about it.

you didn't want to give emily any false hope, but you wanted to do what you could to make her feel better. so instead of giving her a sure answer, your eyes fell back on the file in your hand before you spoke.

"i will speak to her about it."

your reply didn't gurantee her anything, but as soon as she heard those words from you, she immediately smiled and brightened up. you and sera are very good friends, yes, but sera held onto her duties and responsibilities with an iron grip. and if one of those involved emily's safety, you knew convincing her wasn't going to be an easy task.

if it were anyone else, emily was sure that sera would just dismiss them, claiming that she was doing the right thing, but if it were you, then there's a silver of hope. she's beyond grateful that she had a friend like you, someone she could open to about all this. though, this all felt foreign to her. the feeling of not being included.

chants that vary from 'thank you's and 'you're the best's echoed in the room, emily was practically bouncing in her seat from the excitement. you were satisfied that you were able to bring up her mood, even just a little bit. the conversation continued, mostly from emily. she told you all about the events yesterday, rambling about random things. you would nod to her statements, eyes still focused on the tasks that need to be done. as soon as she started talking a little slower and quieter, you lifted your eyes to see a half-awake seraphim, blinking in and out of sleep. your initial thought was to offer her a drink of your coffee to stay awake, though as a doctor, you knew very well not to do so, that would be ridiculous with your title and knowledge in health.

you advised her to rest, letting her know that you would inform sera of her whereabouts soon. emily couldn't really make out what you were saying anymore, so she just nodded her head along with each word that escaped you. oh, how the tables have turned. you shook your head with a small smile before you stood up from your seat, making your way around the table. gently, you scooped the young seraphim up into your arms in bridal style, adjusting your hold on her to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable, and after the softest of snores left her, you knew.

as you reached one of the couches in your office, you gently laid her limp, sleeping form. you didn't really have any blankets here, as you never really sleep here (and you never expected anyone else to). so you just took off the dark blazer you had on, leaving you in your white dress shirt. your clothes were no doubt expensive, the sublte but intricately made accents in your favorite color.

you turn away momentarily to glance at your watch, it was almost five in the morning. as hectic as your schedule is, you have more work in half an hour, so you had to get ready to go back in the lab. you wrote a small goodmorning note to emily after grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, leaving the neatly folded note on the coffee table in front of the couch, you may or may not have also put a few candies as well. after hearing a satisfying pop from your stretched limbs, you braced yourself for another day of war. war against tiredness and work. but now you also had to add the little promise you had made to emily, you'll have to converse with sera soon.

a knock came from the door, one of the nurses on shift informing you that adam requested to meet with you at 8 am today. you pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the in coming headache. when will you ever catch a break?

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel sera #hazbin hotel adam #x reader

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undercoverpena · 7 months

Text

can you ever really know?

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

summary: marcus hadn’t intended to meet someone, never mind begin seeing them.

word count: 3k warnings: smut, marcus eating you out on a table (f!recieving). dedication: this is a dual dedication, both to @perotovar who i adore and has spurned me on, and to @psychedelic-ink who whooped so hard when i said i wanted to write this, that i finished it for her 9k celebration

"Is this what we do then? Just two strangers who buy each other drinks?" Dipping his chin, he half-laughs, trying to see the scribbled name on your cup. "Well, we don't have to be strangers." "Oh, nice. Very smooth." "Too much?" Shaking your head, you turn the cup—allowing him to see your name. "No, I liked it." "Yeah?" Nodding, you begin grinning, before hiding it with a sip of your drink.

Marcus hadn’t intended to meet someone, never mind begin seeing them.

It was accidental. A chance encounter. An event that had wholly thrown him off his game as he stood in line at the coffee shop, soul prickly, from the day he was having.

On some level—the practical part of him, the one that deals in facts and statistics—he suspected it was why it was then you’d stepped into his world. Not even hovering in his peripheral, but front and centre in front of him in the queue. Your phone nervously tapping in your palm—eyes looking over your shoulder, not at him, but not through him.

You’d bought him his drink first. A pay it forward thing—or so he was told when he’d finally chosen his drink.

A gesture that stuck with him remained embedded somewhere in his head, rotting away.

Marcus never expected to see you again. The chances were slim, the odds so low it wasn’t worth thinking—but then he did. Same time, same place.

You were in front of him again as he pulled open the heavy glass door and was confronted with the back of you he’d been trying not to think about in his downtime. This time, your attire was different, more casual—less ‘on the way to work’ and more out doing errands. But, unlike before, you kept your head down, barely even a sound over a whisper when you ordered your drink.

It etched a place in him that stuck around until the next time.

By then, he’d wrongly assumed that your timings matched his. But, when he walked into the coffee shop, his stomach fell to his feet—disappointment blooming where his organ once was because you weren’t there.

Typically ahead of him, arriving a few minutes before.

Marcus trying to swallow back how frustrated he felt that he’d made progress, felt good, almost ready to even say a hello to you and then… you weren’t even here. His feet dragging, plastering on a smile as he walked up to the barista, shoulders sinking, until he heard the door open.

Somehow, before he even looked, he knew it was you.

Your voice cut in over the distorted music, covering the cheap speaker and the grinding of beans as you said goodbye to whoever you spoke to on the phone. And he knew he had one chance—one.

So, Marcus bought you a coffee.

Quickly coming up with an excuse, a reason—if it went wrong, he’d say he was simply paying the kindness back.

But you hadn’t asked him why. Instead, your reply was as bold as he wished he was.

It’s how he found himself across from you in the coffee shop, spending the remainder of that drink learning all he could—half-tempted to buy another so the two of you didn’t have to part.

Instead, he asked for the same time next week. Your smile stuck with him for the next six days and twenty-three hours until he could see you again.

And it was better than the first.

“You going to ask me out, Marcus?”

Sipping his coffee, he licked his lips. “Thought I already did.”

Shrugging, you leaned closer. “Guess I’ll do it then. You fancy getting dinner with me?”

That’s how he found himself at a red tablecloth with a flickering candle. You sitting in a similar position as you had been in the coffee shop when you’d handed him your name on your cup, and he’d given you his with a shake of his hand—all careful, wrapped in softness, a sweet bow on the top perfectly positioned by a smile.

It going well—too well.

A part of him screaming to slow down, already feeling, already wanting—

“I need to tell you…”

Leaning over the table, you smile. “I knew it. You had to have a flaw—you don’t actually like coffee, do you?”

It happens slowly, and flows in stages: First, a smile, one which grows into a grin. Then, he laughs. Before finally, his body leans closer, fingers ghosting over, almost touching yours.

The part of him still wounded, sore, the only thing stopping him from taking your hand in his.

“No. I—I, um, have quite an unhealthy addition to that.”

Smirking, you glide your tongue across your lips, sliding your hand to your glass, eyes holding his—waiting, giving him the floor.

“I just wanted to tell you that I really like getting to know you.” Your face flickers, ever so slightly. Perfectly in time with the dancing candle, almost could be blamed on the trick of the light—but he isn’t anyone. He’s trained, all able to read people. “But, I… my last relationship didn’t end so well. And while I’m over it—over her—I... I don’t want to rush this.”

Your smile sweetens, lips rolling as you sigh, ever so softly. “I like getting to know you too, Marcus,” you reply, fingers sliding across the base of your glass—a smile, hanging so kindly on your face. “We can just… see what happens. Take it easy, like we have been.”

Beaming, he licks his lips. Slowly grinning—letting the words “see what happens” around on his tongue before he laughs. A gentle one, his hand running along his beard.

“Yeah. That’ll be… nice.”

Casual, you follow up with as his knee abuts yours under the table, watching as your chin rests on one of your hands, as the other scoops up your glass, smirking against it as you take a sip.

He felt it then, the sparkle—the crackle in the air.

His eyes could not tear themselves away from you—just like he hadn’t in the coffee shop. He was enamoured, fully taken in. Marcus hung off each word and studied each expression on your face.

He blames that for the reason he finds himself pushing your back against your front door, the keys jingling in your hand, the evening very much far from over. His mouth on yours, searing, almost bruisingly kissing you.

It isn’t until your breath is ghosting over his, lips ever so close, his body flush with yours, that you speak, your eyes flicking from his to his lips and back again. “I thought you wanted to—”

“I’m seeing what happens…”

Your lips curl. “You sure you want to do that, Agent Pike?”

He has to swallow a moan. The way you let his name fall from your lips so velvety, makes his trousers even tighter. The hand on your waist tightens, clutching you more so, before his mouth spells all the words he wants to say against yours—kissing away any doubt that he doesn’t want this, you.

“Open the door,” he says, kissing it to your lips. “Please.”

Thank fuck you do.

Guiding you in, walking you backwards. Hand sliding up to your cheek, wrist resting against your jaw as he traces his tongue over your bottom lip, easing you against a wall, hearing your door click shut—

“I just… I just need a minute,” you whisper. A hand on his chest, not pushing, but just there—fingers stroking his shirt, nodding. “Just one minute.”

Nodding, he gives you another kiss. Stepping back, brushing the strands of hair that had fallen from his forehead as you held up a finger, another sign of promise, just a minute, and he smiles, doing as you instruct when you tell him to get comfortable.

Your place is nice—cosy.

The windows are all tall and long, the sheer curtains barely able to put up much of a fight against the city’s lights. He suspects you chose it for the light. Something about you screams light and airy, easy and inviting—a thing which is embedded into everything you do. From the initial greeting to now.

The only light casting over your place is the one from the city—it illuminates your table, the one in the centre of the space, glass, pretty fabric chairs around it. No marks, not a single fingerprint. His mind quickly imagines you eating at it most mornings. The flirty text messages the two of you have been exchanging between the coffee date and tonight, all beginning here, until he joins you on your commute to work.

A thought, all dangerous and unwilling to go, pops up. There’s no pin able to burst it, not as it grows—it expanding, filling the expanse of his head and ridding him of all other thoughts—

“Nice table,” he announces, following the sound of you joining him.

Not needing sight to know where you are, already in tune with you—even if he’s told himself to slow down. To not fall as quickly, take his time—breathe.

“Oh, yeah? I-It’s new.”

His throat tightens, the thought pushing further against his skull—knowing if there were even a flicker from a candle, you’d be able to see how lustful his eyes were.

“How new?”

His question burns in the air. Sizzling. The air thickens. The only sound coming from a neighbour above walking around in what sounded like heels. But, all he’s focused on is that you’re beside him—shoulder against his arm, eyes forward, staring out at the view. As though you don’t get to marvel at it each day, as though you haven’t had your fill of it.

Not that he can blame you. He’s had plenty of chances to take you in—taking all he can get—and he still doesn’t feel he’s committed you all to memory.

“Barely eaten at it myself, never mind anyone else—if that answers your question.”

It does.

“We should change that.”

“Why? You hungry?” you ask, meeting his eyes—and he wonders if you can feel it then.

Wonders if you’ve caught on and can hear it rolling around his mind, banging around, nothing able to stop it.

Smirking, you must suddenly arrive at his way of thinking. Your body turns towards him, arm looping around his waist, as his hand cups your cheek.

“S’not too late to tell me to leave,” he whispers.

Your lips curl, but only smooth out into a smile. “I don’t want you anywhere else, Marcus.”

He’s quick, intent—crashing his mouth to yours so you know he feels the same. His other hand sliding around your waist, a groan emitting from your throat, travelling up and kissing his tongue.

And he can’t quiet the voice, the bubble that bounces from one side of his skull to the other. It’s why it escapes through a kiss, muffled, but not enough not to be discernible:

Get on the table, baby.

It’s branded into the air, burnt there. Hanging as your lips halt in their movements against his. Hand hovering, poised, eyes lashes opening to coat him in momentary confusion.

His lips slide into a smirk, your eyes flicking to it, before lifting back up. “Nice glass table like this,” he continues, voice low, husky, “Someone should eat at it.”

Watching as you swallow, your fingers brush against his cheek, against the beard on his cheek. “That so?”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to you. ”Yes,” he groans, nose butting yours. Briefly catching you shudder, “Think you can let me taste you on your nice table?”

Marcus takes the moan as a yes—takes the way you try to position yourself, as another.

His fingers move to your trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping with ease until they’re gliding down your legs, unveiling them inch by inch to him—lit up in the glow from the world outside. Sliding the fabric from your skin with ease, before he helps you, guiding you, positioning you like he would if he were making a table arrangement.

Your legs close, eyes looking at him through your lashes.

Cupping your cheeks with his palms, he pulls your eyes to his. “You okay?”

Nodding, rolling your lips. “Yeah… just like you, is all.”

Fuck, you’re pretty. Beautiful. Stunning. More so when he aids you in removing your other clothes, leaving only the fabric between your thighs while he stares at you. Takes you in because—

You’re a wonder. A sight for sore eyes and an image that should be studied in a gallery. He’d thieve you, would abandon all of his morals and prize you from a wall, let your captured eyes solder holes into him forever.

But he doesn’t need to.

You’re already doing so without him having to do much. They leave a mark, scratching against him.

“I like you too. S’ why I wanna make you feel good, baby. Okay?”

A hand drops, sliding over the fabric between your legs. Feeling it, how much you want this. Him. Tonight. He even hears it as you whimper before he teases your underwear down your legs—the little wet patch quickly caught by his gaze, before he throws them in a similar vein to your other clothes.

“Wanna taste you, baby. Want you to come against my tongue. Will you? Can I?”

His hand continues to clutch your cheek, thumbs swiping a line back and forth as his words register and your breath hitches. But your thighs part, all for him. One hand drops to your leg, fingers drawing shapes, teasing, climbing higher and higher until his other hand mirrors his on your other leg, basking in the way you stare at him, holding onto his sight with every teasing touch.

Not begging. Not asking.

Waiting, ever so patiently.

Perfect. Oh, so fucking perfect.

Sliding around the back of your thighs, his fingers dig, pressing little half-moons into the underside of you, as he parts your legs further—eyes dropping, marvelling, ever thankful for the glow so he can see the way you glisten, the way you need and want him, it all evidenced, able to be captured.

“So wet for me already.”

“Marcus,” you moan.

His name elongated, special. It hits the air—and his ears—in a way that licks heat up his spine. The flames smother his bones when he spreads you with a finger, it circling, coating up to the knuckle in your desire.

Then, he dives.

All tongue flat to your core as the sound of ‘oh fuck’ punches the air. A sound he wants to collect, and earn—licking a stripe before he spells letters against your bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking the tip as your nails grasp his hair.

You make sounds that make him feel holy, that could bring him to his goddamn knees. He wants to pull them all from you, more so when his name begins to join them—when you’re panting, pleading, please, Marcus, fuck right there, Marcus.

He grins against you, tasting and flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves that has your hips arching into his face. But Marcus continues, placing a hand on your stomach, pinning you down, giving and giving—

Then he pauses. Purposefully stops, just blowing a cool breath to earn a whimper.

Your eyes steam him. Narrowed, eyebrows dropped to shape them. Your breath ragged, body thrumming, vibrating with how close you were.

Shooting you another grin, he plunges his tongue inside you—relishing how your walls tighten around him. Enjoying the way you taste, the way your fingers have found a home in his hair, tugging and pulling, nails all against his scalp.

The air is smeared in gasps, moans. A chorus of his name. All of it falling into the air around him and you, becoming a song, all instrumental, rising to a crest, ready to crash.

Fuck, he wants nothing more. Marcus wants to be travelling home and still be able to taste how sweet you are, to hear the noises you make because they’re sliced somewhere in his brain.

“You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna make sure I can taste you when I’m in bed alone tonight.”

You whimper.

His tongue continues to lap, to take everything you’ll give him as he slides two fingers in. Your walls tightening, gripping him—all vice-like and needy. And Marcus is pleading, if only internally, for you to scorch him, singe and sear yourself into him.

“S-so close, M-Marcus—”

He knows. “I know. Let go for me. Be good for me.”

And you do.

You really fucking do.

He feels you tighten, and tense, before his tongue is flooded, your legs shake, and your toes curl. His movements continue, brutally guiding you over the edge, pushing and pushing until he feels you loosen your hold on his hair—trying to wiggle from his mouth.

Marcus isn’t sure he��s ever felt so good.

Positioning himself so he’s stood at full height, staring down at you, trying to capture your breath—lit up by the star-filled sky and sparkling city. You’re beautiful, he thinks for the billionth time tonight.

“You’re everything,” he whispers, watching your eyes open, landing on him, taking him in.

Your lips spread into a lust-filled smile, tinged with exhaustion, but there’s a spark there, too. Something having been awoken, ready, riling itself up.

He suspects he won’t be going home tonight, not that he really wanted to.

"Not to rush you, but we'll be late for the movie." Your lips press to his cheek when he steps into your space, apology stitched there—usually so punctual, on time. "I just need to grab a jacket if that's okay?" He grins, bites the inside of his cheek as he nods, hearing you dart off—taking the few short steps further into your place, spotting the table, walking to it. Immediately, memories knock into him. Loitering, pacing. Until his eyes land on the fingerprints, his thumb ghosting over it—finding it the perfect match. All knowing, and realising. It makes his throat dry as heat licks up his spine as you emerge, fiddling with your jacket. "You're... um, not cleaned your table." "I've cleaned up where you... you know, but not your handprints. No." He huffs out a laugh, tracing his bottom lip with his thumb. "Why's that?" You smirk, bashfully, trying to disguise it by biting the inside of your cheek. "Guess I like the memory of you being here." "And, what I did to you." "Very astute, Agent Pike. You wanna head out or do you wanna see if my pillow still smells like your hair product?" He slaps you on the ass for that.

AN: first time writing marcus. this was supposed to be 1k, the original was 6k. but i felt happier with this 🙈 pls be nice.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader smut #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal characters x reader #pedrostories #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #marcus pike smut

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monsterfuxkermarya · 11 months

Text

Miķelis

Now Playing: Alkaline by Sleep Token

Length: 4,558 words, ~20-25 minute read

Summary: It'd be such a shame if I just left my terrace window open on a hot night to let the breeze in and some big, half human-half tentacle monster comes in through the window, clearly aroused, and sees my wet and loose hole and breeds me in my sleep. Noooo, I'd hate for that to happen!

kinda like doc ock but its natural//part of his body and he's more alien-like 😊

CW: vaginal fingering, masturbation, somnophilia, somno breeding, breeding, tentacle monster/monster sex, cervix penetration, oviposition, rapid pregnancy?, uhhhh idk I’m doing this in order of appearance lolz, egg laying I guess? Idk what you'd call it. also lactation? But it's not really milk, but I guess it's still lactation.

It'd be such a shame if I just left my terrace window open on a hot night to let the breeze in and some big, half human-half tentacle monster comes in through the window, clearly aroused, and sees my wet and loose hole and breeds me in my sleep. Noooo, I'd hate for that to happen!

It's really hot out here in the woodlands of Texas, and my little cottage on the edge of the woods just can't keep up and everything is hot. I don't live particularly close to anyone, so I can go around all day in scantily short dresses or just my lingerie and not worry about anyone seeing me. Some days I just put a little skirt on and skip the panties, just a skirt and a light top you can see my nipples through.

But anyway, it's that time of the summer where it's not even cold at night - you're lucky if it gets down to 80 now. So I go to bed with most of my windows open, hoping it'll bring more air through.

But I don't just go to bed that night, no no no. It was a hot day, I had a few stressful work calls, I need to relax. I've had a few glasses of wine with my dinner, and I have a little left to sip on, so I pull out a small bottle of lube and my rabbit vibrator, my favorite at the moment.

I sigh out a little in relief. I've needed this for far too long at this point. I lube up my fingers and push two in at first. It feels almost foreign with how long it's been since I've been able to give my pussy a little love.

I add a third finger and start trying to loosely separate them, stretching myself open slowly. The slight burn from being out of practice makes this all the more worth it.

I'm getting a little wetter at the provocation, I can't help but smile at the wetness growing between my legs. I think I can use my rabbit now.

I grab my little rabbit and get it in position, slowly thrusting it into myself for the first time in probably a month. I moan out for a man that isn’t there.

I turn up the speed on my vibrator, letting it sit in me for a second, I’m too sensitive to thrust it in yet. Even then, it still feels so good. I needed this. I move it around a little, gasping at the pleasure it brings. God, if only someone else were doing this to me.

I thrust it in faster, panting at the relief it brings. I’m almost at the edge, it’s almost there, I can feel it pooling in my stomach, oh god, oh god oh god oh-

I’m squirting on my fingers and my rabbit before I know it. It was all too much, but I still want more.

I should stop before I’m too sore to work in my garden tomorrow. I turn off and slowly pull my rabbit out, sighing as I get up to clean it. If someone else were here, I wouldn’t have to lift a finger for my aftercare. But here I am, I just fucked my own brains out with a toy and I have administer my own aftercare. How fun.

I wash it of my juices and leave it in the bathroom, I can deal with it tomorrow. For now, though, I lay back down and dim my flower lamp, dusting the room in a pink hue.

I must’ve been sleeping for a few hours when the looming creature creeps in through my wide open bedroom window. He’s tall, at least six-foot-five, dark green in color that fades to a light green at the end of his extremities, and he carries this musk with him; we’re miles from the ocean but I smell the salt and the sand when he enters my room.

But the big thing, though, is that it’s mating season for his kind. He’s been looking for a human to mate with for weeks, and the longer he waits, the more desperate and deranged he becomes. He needs someone to carry his clutch. Now.

And I guess I’m the first easy womb he’s found to harbor his clutch in.

He creeps over, silent and imposing, and looks down at my stretched hole. She played with herself, he thinks absentmindedly. He doesn’t care if I was stretched or not, his slick tentacles would open me up well enough for his eggs.

He growls as his need increases. He needs this now. He grows out two tentacles to wrap around and spread each leg by the ankles, leaving no room for a fight if I wake up. Two more grow from him and stretch out my arms. He gets closer, letting some smaller tentacles trail up my thighs and caress my love handles.

After mapping out my body, he wraps one large tentacle around my waist, keeping me in place as he moves to insert one questioning tendril into my loose cunt.

He makes a lewd sound at the feeling of my walls, excited to have finally found a mate. He thrusts in further, curling round and mapping my womb.

I think this is when I wake up - a rather slimy tentacle all the way in my pussy, pushing against my cervix, and all my limbs and waist being held down by these larger tentacles with suction cups rather than little pores that drip slick. I open my eyes, hoping this is just a dream. I scream when I see his shadowy figure above me, multiple eyes staring at me. A tentacle, small at the tip but quite large at the base - almost as large as the one around my waist - comes straight for my open mouth and shoves itself down my throat. It immediately starts secreting the same fluid that’s being pushed around in my womb, calming and clouding my mind, maybe this is okay. Maybe I do want this.

I have no say when the slick starts leaking from the corners of my mouth, and I have no other choice but to swallow. It’s warm - I think it warms to my body - and it’s sweet, like strawberries and chocolates sweet. Once those first drops are down my throat I can’t help but suckle on the tentacle in my mouth. It just tastes so sweet!

He slides a second, smaller tentacle into my wet pussy - is the liquid an aphrodisiac? I don’t remember going to bed or waking up this wet, I think to myself. This one gushes more of the liquid and helps to stretch my hole open with the other one to let more tentacles in. God, how many is he gonna put in me?

He slowly slides two or three small tentacles in at a time, I don’t know how many, but when he stops, I’m completely full and can barely move. Just as I think he’s finished with the tentacles, he slides one more in, but this one is different from the other ones in and on my body. This one’s cold, large, equipped with both pores and suction cups, and is rather round and larger at the tip, not tapered off like the others. I whimper at the fullness.

And then he starts moving them around, in and out, thrusting in at different speeds.

He finally makes a sound, he shushes me as the tendril in my mouth pumps out more liquid than before. I sigh at getting the sweet aphrodisiac in a larger amount.

I’m getting close, so so close. All of his tendrils are hitting each and every nerve I have, setting my entire body on fire with pleasure. I start moaning a little louder around the tentacle in my mouth, maybe he’ll like the vibrations.

He does. He love it. He starts excreting more of the fluid into my mouth and my womb, making everything hotter and my mind a little more absent. He thrusts all the tendrils in my womb a little harder, a little faster.

Just as I think it couldn’t get any better, I feel a small, completely slick tentacle prodding at my ass. It��s looking for entrance elsewhere. He prods in slowly, hesitantly, making sure he doesn’t hurt his brooder too much.

Once the tentacle is nicely and comfortably moving around in my ass, I come from it all. I’m moaning and shaking, taking in more of the aphrodisiac. Within minutes of me cumming it’s almost like it never happened, I want more from him.

I feel a few more tentacles slowly make way to be with the one in my ass, pumping me with more of his slick. God it feels so good.

He leaves one small tentacle out to play with my clit, he lets it circle and suck on my nub. Two more slither up my body, leaving a trail of slick as they move, up to my breasts. They lightly touch around and move to suction onto my nipples, and I moan loudly at the feeling.

Apparently, once all of his tentacles are where they should be, I’m too loud for him. He stuffs the tentacle down my throat a little farther and starts pumping more of his liquid out.

“Shhh, shhh, I got you, shhhh, shhh. You’ll look so nice brooding my clutch” he whispers. He’s got a heavy accent, but it’s not one I’ve ever heard. Almost like it’s from a language most don’t speak. I try to look into his eyes, but as he looms over me - blocking out most light - I can barely make out his dark sets of orbs. I hope I’m looking at him, I want him to know I want more.

The limbs in my ass and my womb start moving faster, dripping more and more slick into me as he grunts a little louder. The oddly shaped one starts prodding at my cervix - it wants entry.

Everything becomes too much again, and as I feel his tentacle breach my cervix, I cum a second time from him, moaning loudly at the feeling. I slightly push the tendril out of my throat with my sounds, and it recedes back out to his back.

I mewl at the emptiness, I didn’t want him to leave! He swoops in and crashes our lips together, his slick and our saliva mixing. His tongue - much like his tentacles - slithers it’s way into my mouth - feeling what his tendril was just seconds ago. Can he not feel with his tentacles? I’m sure he can, he grunts when I squeeze my walls around him, he acted in tandem with me. Maybe it feels different.

Just as he’s about to pull away, I feel the tentacle that breached my cervix start to expand, like it’s hollowing around something. And sure enough, a few seconds go by and I feel something plop into my womb, followed by another, and another and another and another-

There’s got to be at least 20 small plops that go by before I zone out, totally in love with the feeling. I look down at my stomach, watching it inflate. His hand reaches out to cup my womb, slowly caressing it and cooing at me. I smile at the feeling of truly being full for the first time in my life.

I zone back in when I feel the tentacles in my ass start to pull out, slowly and one by one as to not hurt me. He starts pulling out the ones in my cunt, too. I whine at being empty.

“Shhh, pretty girl, you won't be empty for long” he whispers against my ear, the only tentacle left in me is the one in my womb now. It’s still pumping, my stomachs still swelling.

When it stops swelling, he goes to tear it off.

“What, what what do you think you’re doing? Why are you cutting it off?” I ask. They’re the first words out of my mouth to him, my voice shot from the tentacle that was down my throat.

“It’s customary. So you don’t worry about the clutch inside of you, and they also have both parents with them.” He grunts out as he finally tears it off. He doesn’t bleed from it, I guess it is customary for breeding.

“Sleep, grow my clutch dear brooder. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He whispers as he gets up to leave. He uncurls the tendrils from my body and stands up from where he was on my bed. I whimper at being cold and alone now.

He circles around to the side and puts a tentacle back in my throat. I accept it immediately, letting it settle heavy on my tongue. It starts pumping out a different tasting liquid, this one tastes like how honeysuckle smells. I start nodding off to the taste of it.

I wake up hours later than usual, the sun is almost right above me when I wake up. It’s got to be at least 10:30 now.

The tentacle is gone from my mouth, but the one he cut off is still sitting in my cunt, fully extended to my womb. My womb is completely filled and extended, the skin taught from how many eggs are inside me. I see a small note, a pair of scissors, and a glass of water on my bedside table as I swerve to the side to stand up.

Don’t take the tentacle out, just cut it so it doesn’t impede your movement. I'll take it out when I get there. See you tonight.

-Miķelis

I smile, rubbing my large belly. I wonder what’ll happen tonight. I cut the excess off, leaving maybe an inch to grab it with, and throw it in the trash can by bed.

I stand up, hearing my knees pop and my back moan in pain from the sudden added weight. I guess I can't work in the garden today. There goes my Saturday.

I waddle to my kitchen to make breakfast, but I honestly don't have much energy to do that. All I want to do is get back in bed and snuggle up until Miķelis gets here tonight.

After breakfast, I go freshen up (get all the slick off of my body) and lay back down. I find a small little cup and a second note on my other bedside table.

Drink this about an hour before sundown, it'll make tonight easier.

-Miķelis

It smells nice, almost exactly like the first liquid he pumped into me last night. Maybe it is that liquid? Who knows, but I want to listen to him, so I turn on my other side and settle down.

I wake up again a few hours later, it's about two in the afternoon now. My stomach is larger, its moving a little, and I feel an insatiable heat in my cunt. I can't even reach my clit to play with myself. I whine in frustration, getting up to get my small bullet vibrator from the drawer. That'll do the trick.

"Ohhh, Oh my god! Miķelis!!!" I moan out when i squat down to the lower drawer where my vibrator is. Everything just moved inside me and everything hurts. The tentacle almost starts sliding out. I quickly grab my bullet vibrator waddle to go grab some panties to keep the tentacle and vibrator in place for when I lay back down.

Putting on panties is harder than it seems when you can't reach your cunt or see most of your legs for that matter, but once I get them on, I waddle quickly back to bed. I need this more than I needed it last night.

I push the tendril back in, sighing at the comfort it brings to have something so stable in me. I slide the bullet into my panties and turn it on, mewling at the pleasure it brings. Nowhere near what Miķelis gave me last night, but it'll do until he gets here.

As the bullet buzzes away, I go to play with my breasts. When my hands cup them, though, I notice they're a little larger than they were last night. They seem, I don't know, heavier? Like they're filled with something? Oh my god, oh!! What if they're filled with milk for our clutch? Do his eggs even need milk? Ooooh is that what's going to happen tonight? Is that why he's coming back?

I cum quickly when I pinch my nipples. They're so tender right now! I sigh and turn down the bullet, letting it go at a small hum on my clit. I go back to sleep.

When I wake up again, it's about 30 minutes before sundown, a little later than when he said I should drink whatever's in the small cup. The bullet turned off, so I turn it back on at the low hum it was at. It feels nice to have a small distraction.

I quickly swallow down whatever he gave me, it tastes like a mix of the strawberries and chocolate aphrodisiac with something else, not the honeysuckle, but something equally sweet. Raspberry? Jasmine. It think it's jasm-

My cunt starts spasming out of nowhere, and I've noticed a few things:

My stomach is at least twice it's size that was earlier.

my bedsheets have become extremely wet - as if I poured the entire ocean on them wet.

My breasts are leaking something that looks like milk

I think I'm contracting?

Do I start pushing? Do I take the tentacle out? He said not to take the tentacle out until he got here, what do I do what do I do?? Damn Miķelis, giving me the best night of my life just to leave me alone. But he's coming, he's just not here right now! That's all!

I'm writhing on the bed for what feels like days before I see that it's completely dark outside now. Miķelis should be here soon. Please show up. I don't think I can do this alone.

I whimper a little louder and feel the tentacle slowly start moving outward, something's pushing it out from the inside. I push it back in, I can't not do one of the two things Miķelis asked of me, I can't upset this man.

Just as I start crying, I see him in the corner of my doorway. He rushes in when he hears me in full.

"Shhhh, shhh shhh, dolly, it's okay, I'm here now. Let's move you to the bathroom dear, my eggs need to be hatched in water." He whispers as he holds me. He picks me up and coos silently on the way to my bathroom. How does he know the layout to my house?

He sets me down in the bathtub and starts the water. He lets it get to a warm temperature before closing the stopper and letting it fill. As it nears my breasts, he stops the water and helps me onto the large ledge.

"Oops, sorry dear, I didn't see you had panties on" he chuckles softly as he pulls them off. The vibrator falls into the tub -thank god it's meant to be submerged - and he turns it off and chucks it onto the bathroom counter. He does the same with my panties.

"I'm so happy you listened to my directions, dear, both for the tentacle and the drink. Women have tried to take it out before, it never does end well." he whispers as he rubs my belly. I whimper at his words.

The lights are on in the bathroom, and I finally get a good look at him. He is indeed tall, and only his tentacles - which I only see eight right now - are the dark to light green ombré. He's got dark brown hair, olive skin, and his eyes match his tentacles - one's dark green and the other's light green. He doesn't have a plethora of eyes like I thought, only two. Why did I think he had multiple sets of eyes?

The contractions start at a heavier pace now, and he pulls the tentacle out. He places it in the tub.

He coos at me and rubs my belly a little more, telling me it'll be okay. I hope it will be.

He tells me to start pushing, and I can't not listen to him. A tentacle wraps around my chest, just above my nipples to keep me upright.

I push, I feel them moving closer to my entrance.

A few more pushes, and the first small egg makes it's way to crowning. He slips a tentacle into my mouth and tells me to suck. A second one makes it's way to my clit and circles around it. I moan at the comfort his tentacles bring me.

The liquid starts pouring out into my mouth, and I feel myself loosening up as I drink up more of it. I hear the first egg plop out, followed quickly by the second, and the third, fourth fifth sixth seven-

At least 20 small eggs have slipped out of my loose hole before I start crying a little louder. How many are there? How many did he put in me?

It finally stops at 36, and I slump into his tentacles, letting him do what he pleases with my body.

By now, it's at least an hour after sundown, probably around nine or a little after. He carries me back to bed and lays me down, letting me catch my breath.

When I've finally caught my breath, I feel a slew of tentacles prodding at my loose cunt, not forcing themselves in yet, but asking for entrance.

I sigh around the tendril in my mouth. I try to say yes around it, he can shove them in me and make me his brooder again. He smiles, he got the memo.

I'm loose from last night and just giving birth to his clutch, so he easily slides three or more in at once. I feel the ovipositor tendril come in with a second bulk of them this time. It's already regrown? This one feels larger though?

"It regrows quickly during mating season. And you can take a larger clutch this time dear, you can take a larger tentacle for it. It grows with each mating session." He explains. I guess I looked a little confused.

A few tentacles ask for entrance at my ass again, and again, I let him in. There's still some entering my loose pussy, but not as many as there were earlier.

The remaining go up to cup my still leaking breasts, the tentacles immediately go to suckle on my nipples. Two more go to cup the underside of them.

I guess he doesn't feel the need to tie me up this time. I like that. I move my arms to wrap around his neck to get closer to him, I want to breathe his ocean scent in.

He smiles and puts a hand on my back to bring me in closer, the other on my neck to keep a good hold of me. He leans in to whisper.

"You are meant to be a breeder, dear. You'll take every single clutch I give you and won't let a single egg spoil. You make such a good brooder, sweetie. You're the best brooder I've ever had. You're my only brooder for this season, I swear to you. You'll be my only brooder for every other season.

What a good slut, deary. Taking all I give you and still begging for more. I couldn't help myself when I smelled your sex last night. You just had to keep your windows open, just had to tempt me. Now look at you, begging for a second clutch to take care of."

I whimper as I cum around his tentacles again, he just makes me feel so good. I can't stop myself this time, I feel myself adding to the wetness around us. I'm gushing around his multiple cocks. I hide my face in his neck as best I can with the tentacle in my mouth when he speeds up. I think the aphrodisiac numbs pain, too.

The tentacles in my ass move at a different pace than the ones in my cunt, and I whimper a little louder at the sensation. The tendril in my mouth pumps more liquid to calm me. God do I love the taste of it. Can't that be the only thing I drink for the rest of my life?

The tentacles in my cunt speed up, and I feel the ovipositor tendril make its way for my cervix again. Already? I can't complain, but it feels like no time has passed at all. But he doesn't move to breach yet, he simply straddles it there.

More and more of the liquid is pumping into all of my holes, he's pounding my cunt and my ass, and my mouth is full. It feels like I didn't just cum and I'm already cumming again. I'm gushing against him and I feel his smile even with my eyes closed. I whimper a little louder, everything alive with fire but dull at the same time.

He pulls out the tentacle from my mouth and moves to kiss me as the ovipositor breaches my cervix. I cry out loudly as it happens and he smothers me with the kiss. I feel the all the other tentacles still and the ovipositor start pumping eggs into me again. I sigh quietly, it already feels comforting and constant even if it's the second time. I smile into his lips at the thought.

The clutch he pumps into me is larger than the last ones, if only by a little bit. It still feels jarring, though. I don't think 36 will fit this time if they're larger.

I whimper at being full once again, happy at being at this point again. He pulls away from my lips and smiles at me, moving us back down onto the bed flat, letting a had move to my stomach and leaving the other to still rest at my neck. It moves to cup my jaw.

He stops pumping me to take his other tentacles out, slowly, knowing even though I like this, my body still isn't fully acclimated to it. Once they're all out, he again cuts off his ovipositor. I whimper at being empty again.

This time, though, instead of getting up and putting me to sleep, he shushes me and tells me he'll be right back. He comes back with a glass of water and lays down with me. Is he staying this time? Oh I hope he stays this time!

He holds the glass for me as I take small gulps, smiling down at my large belly. It's a little larger than it started at last time, god it's gonna be a bad night tomorrow if they're that big. But it's only gonna get bigger and more painful from here. Who cares, hopefully I'll acclimate.

He moves us around to spoon, moving his arms to be wrapped around my full belly. I smile at the gesture.

I really hope he does this all mating season.

I have wanted to write tentacle sex for so long, and this one could go on forever, but I mean it'd just repeat after this.

Not super edited, sorry for any mistakes

Again, if you actually got to the end of this, why don't you stay for a while? I got some other works in the making at the moment and chances are if you've found my posts you'll like the stuff i repost. Just a thought :)

Creds to @/cafekitsune for the dividers ♡

#somno breeding #monster fuxker marya #tentacles #terato #monster fucker #ovipositor #cervix penetration #lactation #rapid pregnancy #i hate tags #breeding k1nk #Spotify

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actual-changeling · 6 months

Text

i am incapable of talking about an idea without automatically turning it into a ficlet. this was supposed to be a one-sentence post but uh. have this instead i guess

~~~

It's awkward at first, being around each other again.

They cannot talk about any of it, really, not with another apocalypse so close to succeeding that he can already smell charred earth and burned feathers. Opening that box, those six thousand years of something, would come with more than either of them is currently prepared to handle, and so they don't.

No apologies but no accusations either, only a silent but mutual understanding to save their home once and for all—and then they would have the rest of forever to verbally tear their relationship apart.

Still, despite keeping his distance, despite locking up the more tender feelings simmering in his chest, despite refusing to take his glasses off or coming within arm's length of aziraphale, Crowley can feel himself softening by the hour.

Three days. He makes it three days before he slips up—or rather, before Aziraphale slips up.

They are back in the bookshop, and Crowley is side-eyeing his usual armchair like he has been doing since he first set foot in the shop again, but for now he is content leaning against a pillar and watching Aziraphale sort through his bible collection.

"If only I could remember which one- I swear I read something relevant, I just need to find it again."

He discards another one after impatiently thumbing through it, and he carelessly sets it down on top of a swaying tower of scripture. Crowley briefly considers making it topple over—and then it does so without any demonic intervention, crashing down in a flurry of ripping paper and hardcovers, hitting the stone floor head-on.

"Ohh f-" Aziraphale stops himself, angrily staring at the mess as if it hadn't been mostly his fault in the first place. He takes a deep breath, then another, and to Crowley's utter surprise, he says, "Fuck."

A half-choked laugh escapes him, closer to a giggle than he would care to admit, and it's the word itself and the furious expression directed at a pile of paper that rips it out of him and through every carefully constructed wall.

The smile is foreign on his face, the sound of his own laughter even more so, and yet he finds it remains, small and fragile but visible, when Aziraphale's head snaps up. A myriad of expressions flicker across his face, too quickly for Crowley to keep up, and fear freezes him in place, his mind scrambling for some sense of control and finding none.

Aziraphale doesn't lash out, nor does he ridicule him; there is no bitter disappointment or confused anger. No, Aziraphale looks at Crowley with eyes the colour of the fading night sky and smiles back. A true, wide smile, all teeth and sunshine, and he is so disoriented by the entire sequence of events that it takes him almost a minute to label the emotion coming off of him in waves.

Relief. Aziraphale is relieved.

He steps over the mess on the floor, slowly and carefully, as if approaching a skittish deer, and considering the tension tightening his muscles, it is not an unfit comparison; he stops an arm's length away, still smiling.

Someone help him, the universe might be doomed because Crowley lifts one hand and pushes his glasses up into his hair, soaking up the breathless gasp he gets in response. So much for waiting.

"There you are," Aziraphale whispers, steadily holding his gaze, and Crowley's smile deepens, overshadowing the river of doubt coursing through his veins. For the first time since being torn apart, the world feels worth saving again.

"There I am."

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce

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cognacdelights · 5 days

Text

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [2]

gif by @spacedean.

my supernatural masterlist

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [1]

summary: she craves male validation. he's the best high she's ever gotten. now they're both stuck in a sick and twisted game of foreplay that neither are willing to lose.

warnings: a whole fuck tonne of daddy issues. self-esteem issues. abandonment issues. i am well aware that this is not a healthy relationship and is for entertainment purposes only. sexual content and themes. praise kink. mentions of death and grief. swearing. alcohol use. religious undertones. small age gap romance.

author's note: sorry that it took so long to post. i had a few issues. but we're here. also, i got carried away. it's now going to be in three parts, but i promise that the final part will be worth the wait. minors have been warned. do not interact.

Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel out of boredom. His heavy metal mixtape filled the background as he watched carefully out the windscreen, observing the world before him. He was always watching. Scrutinising. That’s how he managed to stay ten steps ahead — by knowing his environment, noticing when the tiniest of details were off. His eyes scoured every inch of the scene that unfolded in front of him, followed people and their every movement, and noticed every little detail.

The faint smell of chlorine hung in the late-spring air and smoke-like clouds loomed in the distance; there was a flash thunderstorm brewing nearby. The bearded barista’s apron pocket was stuffed full of dollar bills, yet in the six hours that he had been parked there he’d only seen six or seven customers wander inside the upmarket coffee house — and one of them was Sam; he was most likely stealing from the cash register. Short-changing customers and pocketing the difference. And the cops were clearly rattled by the deaths at the boarding school; three patrol cars had cruised past in the last thirty minutes, and there were extra patrols on foot. They were on high alert.

The door to the Impala opened, and Dean instinctively whipped his head towards the passenger side. His malachite eyes found Maggie — dressed in a modest, high-neck blouse and a long, flowing skirt that grazed her ankles. Her dark locks were neatly braided into a sensible bun at the nape of her neck, and a natural layer of make-up cleverly hid the garish welt that stained her cheek. She looked positively prudent. Respectable, even. He almost didn’t recognise her.

“Nice get up,” he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a half-smirk as he turned the music down.

Maggie responded with a tight-lipped, sardonic smile — then flipped him her middle finger — as she climbed into the passenger side. She reached into the depths of her leather purse and retrieved two matching pieces of cloth; they were tied neatly into parcels and wreaked of flower-like herbs. She threw them carelessly towards Dean as the door slammed shut behind her.

“Hex bags?” Dean raised an untamed eyebrow. He curiously untied the leather string that held the cloth together and peered inside at the contents. Rabbit’s teeth, bird bones, and lavender.

“Hex bags,” the feisty brunette confirmed. Her fingers found the clear buttons of her blouse and swiftly began unbuttoning — the high-necked garment uncomfortable and suffocating around her throat. “Matching, best friend hex bags. I found them in both their dorm rooms.” Oh, the irony of a witch in a Catholic boarding school.

Dragging his tongue along the dry ridges of his bottom lip as his gaze followed her quick-moving fingers, he watched in anticipation as she exposed her chest to him once again without any hint of hesitation. As the black, lace fringes of her bralette were exposed he cleared his throat and diverted his attention back to the contents of the hex bags. “So, uh—” he twiddled with the bird bones, fighting the urge to take her half-naked body in once again, “—that’s great. We just find the jealous third wheel and case closed.”

“If only it was that easy.” Maggie ridded herself of the god-awful, itchy blouse. She clumsily kicked off the kitten heels that had rubbed her heels to glory and pushed the waistband of the skirt down her thighs. “Missy Braun was a resident Regina George, and Imogan was her Gretchen Weiners.”

Dean peered towards her out of the corner of his eyes and simply blinked; Maggie may as well have been speaking a foreign language.

Rolling her umber eyes at his lack of pop culture knowledge, she explained, “Missy and Imogen terrorised the school.” Her long, pleated skirt fell into a crumpled pile in the footwell and was soon joined by her tan-coloured tights. “There are about three-hundred potential Sabrina the Teenage Witch’s on roll that those girls have humiliated in some kind of way, and we only have two days to find her. They’re shipping them all back to Mommy and Daddy for an early summer vacation come Friday.”

“Looks like we got some work to do,” he mused in his usual, sarcastic tone. It was then that he caught sight of her in the rear-view mirror — round ass shamelessly in the air and covered only by the thin string of her thong as she leant over the seat, reaching for her clothes in the backseat. Jesus Christ, she really was going to be the death of him. He adjusted himself in his seat, finding a more comfortable position that kept his semi-erection a secret.

“Where’s Sam?” she questioned casually. Maggie had noticed the empty coffee cup that had his name and order scrawled across the side, discarded in the cup holder, and the noticeable lack of his presence. There was an unmentioned tension that hung in the air between them; it surrounded them, holding them in a tight coil and squeezing until the pressure overflowed in way of a petty sibling squabble. Even though Maggie had grown up with the Winchester Brothers, their bickering still drove her to the point of insanity.

“Gone for a walk.”

“Okay—” she twisted her half-naked body back around and slid into a sitting position, t-shirt and shorts in hand, and asked directly, “—what the hell is going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Dean deflected, folding his arms across his muscular chest in an obvious display of defence, “we’re fine.”

Maggie sent him an unrelenting glare. One that Dean was no match for. He broke instantly with a long exhale and threw his head back against the leather seat.

He was quiet for a second longer, formulating the words in his mind. “He shacked up with Amelia when I was in purgatory,” Dean admitted with a careful choice of words — cleverly calculated to keep his deepest and darkest emotions from surfacing.

“I know.” That was all she said. I know. It was tactical really. She knew Dean Winchester far too well. In fact, she knew the man better than he knew himself, and this was one of his best self-defence tactics. Give just about enough to satisfy them without giving anything away at all. Keep everybody at a distance so when you give an inch, they’ll think it’s a mile. But that didn’t wash with Maggie. Maggie knew better. Maggie used the same damn tactics herself.

She merely shimmied a pair of ripped, denim shorts up her thighs.

It took several moments of an awkward silence before Dean broke once more. “So—” he reluctantly delved further, “—instead of looking for me, he was holed up in a motel room doing the horizontal line dance with Florence Nightingale.”

“First of all—” Maggie pulled a t-shirt that he distinctly recognised as being one of his own over her head, “—Florence Nightingale was a human nurse, not a dog nurse. You’re thinking of Dr Doolittle.” She tied the hem at her abdomen into a crop. “And secondly, I know.”

“If you know all of this, then why are you asking me what’s going on?” His head swivelled to face her abruptly in frustration.

“Because you’re being an asshole, and you’re fobbing me off with some bullshit excuse to shut me up,” she answered, casually shrugging her shoulders. Tugging at the elastic in her hair, she released the braided bun and combed her fingers through her long, sleek locks. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Dean.”

He threw his head back against the seat once more, rubbing the palms of his hands over his face. A loud, defeated groan echoed throughout the Impala; this was the last conversation he wanted to have with a half-mast hard on. “Can we just drop this already?”

Of course, in true Maggie May fashion, she ignored his very obvious pleas to leave this subject well alone. “You’re hurt that he didn’t come looking for you, aren’t you?” she spit-balled her thoughts on the situation, “you’re upset that he moved on without you.”

Dean sent her a look. It was one that she couldn’t quite interpret. A cocktail of emotions swirled around his tired eyes as they glazed over ever so subtly. His stubble-lined lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke, voice considerably timid. “I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d gotten Sam back if he was the one stuck in purgatory.”

“Dean—” her whole demeanour shifted, softened, as she scooted closer to him. Her arm rested atop the back of the seat and her body twisted towards him, her legs haphazardly hanging over his. “There’s a few things that you need to remember here. Sam isn’t you. Your childhood was a lot different to Sam’s. You were raised to protect him at all costs — hell, you raised him yourself. You weren’t just his brother. You were Mom and Dad too. Yeah, Sam was taught family above everything, but he didn’t have the responsibility of someone else’s life in his hands.”

He watched cautiously as she leant forwards, the gentle palm of her hand resting on his shoulder. It was such a simple gesture, but the warmth of her touch comforted him immensely. “It just—” he really did struggle with emotions, even if it was easier with Maggie, “—feels like a punch in the gut.”

“You know, deep down, that Sam never wanted this life. He went to Stanford. He applied to law school. He wanted to be a lawyer, and get married, and buy a house with a white picket fence, and have two point five kids. The whole shebang. He wanted a normal life. And Sam grieved in the same way that a normal person would. He put you to rest and built a new life for himself, and he just so happened to find someone that he really cares about in the process. I might not like her, or agree with what he did, but I understand why he did it. He made a normal life for himself.”

Gradually, he melted into her delicate touch; he found solace in her words and the strokes of her fingers against his skin. He knew that what she was saying made sense, and he knew that she was right, but it didn’t curb the anguish that consumed the very pit of his stomach.

“Sam loves you very much Dean, and he idolises you. Hell, that’s probably why he left this woman that he loves to jump back into a life that he doesn’t want. To be with his big brother. And yeah, he probably feels guilty for not looking for you. For being happy with Amelia whilst you were fighting for your life in purgatory. But you can’t blame him, or even hate him, for going after what he really wanted. He thought you were dead. We all did. You just disappeared. How was he supposed to know where you were, or what happened to you?”

Dean simply exhaled in response. Words were too difficult in that moment. Mostly because everything that Maggie was saying was right. She had rationalised everything for him, plain and simple for him to understand. Now he just had to come to terms with it.

“I’m not taking his side—” Maggie reaffirmed with a tender tone, “—I’m actually on your side.” She dragged her finger carefully down the length of his neck and traced the glimmering metal chain of his cross necklace, toying with it. “I’m on the side of you not holding onto all this resentment and hatred for your brother, that I know you love very deeply. I’m on the side of letting whatever this right now is go and moving on with your own life. You’ll regret it.”

“And what about you?” his eyes flicked up to meet her own.

A reticent laugh spilled from her throat, “that’s a lot to unpack and we’ve had enough chick flick moments for today.” She couldn’t ignore the obviously elephant in the room any longer that she herself was harbouring a stubborn grudge against the youngest Winchester, too. But she was going to give it her damned best effort. She chose to ignore the disapproving shake of his head that she’d earned.

The fox-eyed brunette reached upwards and placed a loving peck against his cheek before he could respond, signifying the end of their conversation. Her gentle lips lingered against his skin, replaced only with a fervent burning sensation. She untangled her bruised legs from his body and shuffled back into the passenger side.

Dean gave her thigh an appreciative squeeze. A silent thank you, and a hopeful reminder that he was there to listen whenever she was ready.

Maggie’s lips twitched ever so slightly into a smile as she peered out the window. Suddenly, she was one with the clouds. That familiar jolt of electric that she felt every time he touched her.

Maggie and The Winchesters had committed numerous crimes over the years. Breaking and Entering. Impersonating a Federal Agent. Grand Theft Auto. There had to be a case for kidnapping in there somewhere with all the times they’d shoved a demon into their trunk and hit gas. However, stealing confidential information about private school girls and proceeding to stalk them in every area of their sordid lives might just take the biscuit. If anything, this was the one that was going to get them caught. This was the one that was going to stick. It didn’t look good from any angle, and there wasn’t a single explanation that was going to make it any less creepy.

Maggie sat in the leather armchair — her bare leg pulled up in front of her and her spine arched at an unhealthy angle as she scrolled through the social media site. An open, room-temperature beer stood beside her laptop, always within touching distance, with a crumpled-up register of all three hundred and sixteen students beside it. Condensation from her thawing beer had dribbled onto the paper, staining and blurring the ink of her rambling notes. They would only make sense to her anyway.

Sam perched opposite her, fixated on his own laptop. His long hair was dishevelled and tucked behind his ears, and his pin-strip shirt had been unbuttoned to reveal the navy t-shirt beneath. His own beer had gone relatively untouched, now flat and bordering on stale.

“Well, it looks like the field hockey team were out of town during both murders,” his smooth voice filled the room, airing out his findings. His bloodshot eyes peeled away from his brightly lit screen long enough to meet with hers and capture her attention. “We can rule out an Emmy Palladino, Victoria Harding, Shannon Brackenridge, Kayleigh Dougherty, and a Fallon Carpenter. There’s others but they’re not tagged.”

In one swift motion, she placed the pen between her teeth and pulled the ball point free. She searched through the seemingly endless list of suspect names and crossed them off as they appeared.

The harsh taps of Sam’s fingers hitting against the keys sounded through the motel room. Then, he spoke again, reeling off another list of names at an unhelpful speed, “—ah. Verity Montrose, Daphne Alcott, Annaleise—”

“Slow the fuck down,” Maggie grumbled as she tried to keep up with him. Her pen scratching against the thin paper, and the hard wood of the table, filled the awkward silence between.

Until it didn’t. And Sam was left uncomfortably waiting for permission to continue. He looked anywhere but the laptop screen before him as an icky feeling swirled in his stomach; there was just something about digitally stalking teenaged schoolgirls that made him feel dirty. Even though it was rationalised as being a part of the job, it still wasn’t his favourite thing to do.

“You know—” she piped up, popping the cap back on her pen with a purpose, “— you really hurt him, right?”

“Him, or you?” Sam questioned. His dark, thick eyebrows furrowed together, almost accusingly as he stared towards the petite brunette.

“Both,” Maggie admitted candidly. Her posture straightened as her shoulders fell backwards in a defensive move and a blazing glare bounced back towards him. “But this is about Dean.”

“Yeah—” he let out a breath, unfamiliar with the vicious heat of Maggie’s anger being directed towards him, “—I sorta gathered that. He’s giving me the cold shoulder and benching me on cases like he’s Dad.” He sat back, his back falling against the stiffness of the chair. “He won’t talk to me.”

“It’s Dean, he isn’t going to.”

Sam shrugged his broad shoulders out of exasperation, a look of helplessness etched into his fuzzy features. “I don’t know what he wants from me anymore,” he admitted solemnly, “I left Amelia for him. I jumped back on the road at the drop of his hat. I gave up my job, and the first place that I’ve called home in… forever. I don’t know what else he wants me to do.”

“He’s a stubborn asshole sometimes—” Maggie agreed, “—but it only ever comes from a good place.”

“You’re telling me?” he let out an indignant scoff, his voice raising to a pitch he never thought he’d take with her, “—if he’s not digging me out for stupid things, he’s giving me the silent treatment. He won’t listen to anything that I say. Everything is done Dean’s way, in Dean’s time, exactly how Dean wants it. Whether it’s right or not. I’m almost thirty and still being treated like a child. He’s no better than Dad at this point.” His boot-clad foot propped against the wooden leg of the table as he leaned backwards in his chair. “I should have known you would take his side. You always do.”

“This isn’t about taking sides. This is about you two not killing each other so we can get this job done and move on with our damn lives.” She was surprisingly calm in her response, despite her defensive flags being up. The very tips of her ears tinged an angry shade of rouge and her pruned brows dipped inwards. Her tone wasn’t it’s usual melody by any means — and her tongue dripped with poison — but she refrained from raising her voice. “Dean raised you. Dean dragged your ass up and did a damn good job of it given the circumstances. So, excuse him if the lines between brother and father are a little blurred here.”

Sam ran his fingers through his long locks, frustration evident in the way his face contorted into a frown. He opened his mouth to reply but was abruptly silenced when she continued; she wasn’t afraid to speak over him and make sure that her opinion was heard.

“You know, Dean told me that he wouldn’t have stopped until he found you. He would die for you — hell, he has died for you. He sold his soul for you. He went to Hell for you. And you just gave up on him at the first hurdle.” Maggie grabbed her beer and took a long sip, allowing the rage that was slowly building in the pit of her stomach to subside before proceeding. “Dean has a right to be upset that the brother that he loves, that he gave his life for, didn’t even bother to go looking for him. He has a right to be upset that the same sentiment wasn’t returned.”

“Maggie, that’s not what happ—”

“I’m not finished,” she cut him off curtly. Her dark, cinnamon eyes bore into his as she spoke soberly. “And he’s right to bench you from the job. You’ve been out of the game for a year. You’re out of practice and your head isn’t in the game. You’re still caught up on Amelia and that’s going to get somebody killed. The best place for you right now is doing research. And it’s just tough shit that you don’t like that.”

He was left in a pensive silence; she left him to soak up her words, to digest them fully. And he did. Sam saw things a little clearer, but that didn’t mean he liked what he saw. He often liked to live in a world where Dean, his father, and the lifestyle that he had been born into were the root cause of everything that had gone wrong in his life. And, most times, one or the other were to blame. However, Sam often failed to accept his own responsibility in things. After all, it was easier to blame Dean and his father.

Although, after several, drawn-out seconds, she couldn’t resist spilling the words that flooded her brain once more. “Maybe I am taking his side—” she contemplated aloud, “—but, this time, he deserves it.”

“So, what does he want?” he asked genuinely, “an apology?”

Maggie merely shrugged her petite shoulders. “An apology wouldn’t be the worst place to start.”

He raised an untamed eyebrow as he questioned cautiously, “and what about you?”

She stared at her beer on the table. The label was soggy and peeling off the side of the bottle. Small, carbonated bubbles rose from the very bottom of the bottle to the quarter line, where the liquid stopped. “I want the last year of my life back,” she told him. The viper had retreated and had left a door mouse in it’s place.

“Mags—” Sam breathed out unsteadily, still feeling the heat of their exchange, “—I’m sorry.”

“You turfed me out on my ass and told me to git,” Maggie recounted with a detached tone. Her cold gaze peeked above the rim of the bottle and pierced through him. “Dean was gone and you just left me. Alone. You, of all freaking people, left me alone. It took me weeks to catch up with you in Texas. Weeks. And when I finally did, you tossed me out like I was some piece of trash. I had no one, and I needed you. But you were too busy cosying up with Amelia. You didn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

“You ever thought that, maybe, I didn’t want to be found?” he spat back with sharp words, each syllable lacerating her diminished defence. He dragged his tongue along the upper row of his teeth. “I was grieving for my brother in my own way, and that didn’t involve you, Maggie.”

She was overcome with emotion. A fuck tonne of heavy, painful emotions. All of the grief that had consumed her — strangled her, choked her, suffocated her — over the past year had finally come to a head. It had churned her stomach sick for twelve long months; it had burned the inside of her throat; and it had decayed her insides until she was nothing but a walking meat sack of anguish and despair. Not anymore. She was about to expel that demon.

“So was I,” she screeched, her bottom lip rippling ever so slightly as her eyes burned with salt-laden tears, “I was grieving Dean, too.” Her chest heaved up and down as she took deep breaths; exhaustion poured out of her from every angle as all of the pent-up emotions from the past year began to creep to the surface and seep out.

“That’s enough—” Dean’s gravel-like tone filled the motel room as he appeared in the doorway, a take-out bag full of waffle fries and chicken tenders clutched against his chest, “—the both of you.”

The palms of her hands pressed against the table as she pushed herself to standing. Maggie made for the motel room door, a well of tears fighting to escape against the barricade of her waterline. Her heart thudded tenfold against her chest when she felt his ring-cladded fingers wrap around her wrist as she attempted to slip past him, and a high-pitched ringing blared through her ears. She simply shook her head at him, and slid herself from his grip, before disappearing out the door.

Maggie had vowed to sleep in her truck that night. The stubborn, defiant side of her had reared its ugly head and was seemingly there to stay. A permanent scowl had etched itself into her fair features — her full, rose lips pulled into a downturned pout and deep-rooted frown lines crinkled her forehead. Her umber eyes were reddened from the sting of tears, and her flushed cheeks were stained with streaks of strays that slipped past her reinforced defences. An empty cone of waffle fries and a half-used barbecue dip occupied her passenger side seat, as an empty beer bottle sat, in pride of place, in the cup holder.

However, as the clock ticked over into the am and the temperatures ran cruelly bitter, Maggie begrudgingly relinquished. She tip-toed back into the dark motel room and slipped into bed, beside Dean. She was careful with her movements, slow and steady, as she lifted the quilted blanket and nestled herself inside.

Dean stirred when he felt the spring-filled mattress dip, yet his eyes remained closed. A shiver danced along his spine in an elegant ballet sequence as she burrowed her ice-like toes between his legs, pressing them against his calves. His sweltering skin burned at the contact and felt her feet thawing against him. God, he hated with an undying passion when she did that.

“Maggie May—” he let out a low grumble, “—get them goddamn feet off me.”

“It’s just until they warm up,” she whispered back, her voice dainty and quiet. It was never just until they warmed up.

His burly arm casually stretched across the flattened pillows in an open invitation to the petite brunette. She currently resided on the opposite side of the bed, clinging onto the edge of the mattress. He knew that she would come to him in her own time — when she was good and ready. She always did. However, for the sake of an extra half an hour of much-needed shut-eye, there was no harm in hurrying that along. “Get here,” he rasped deeply.

Maggie shuffled closer, nestling into his side. As she laid her cheek against the bare skin of his chest, it burned. Dean emanated heat, from everywhere. Her arm lay casually across his stomach as she burrowed her feet further between his legs. She felt the gravelly vibrations of his disapproving grunts as a small smile curled the corners of her lips upwards.

The palm of his hand found her back — his thumb gently caressing the bumps of her spine. Slow, tender movements eventually faded into nothing as he fell back asleep. The sound of his soft breaths eventually turned to gruff snores.

When Maggie woke in the morning, it was abrupt. She turned herself over, eyes remained closed as she desperately grasped onto the frayed strings of a peaceful slumber. She poised her bare leg, ready for her thigh to fall over Dean’s thick, muscular ones. But it didn’t. All she felt was the cool crumples of the bed sheet, where he once laid. There were no chainsaw-like snores reverberating around the room. There were no cadenced breaths that fanned against her forehead, tippling down to the very tip of her nose. There were no calloused palms caressing the lengths of her half-naked body. There was no feverish heat radiating from his side of the bed.

Her sleep-filled eyes peeled open instantly and she propped herself up by her elbows. Her heartbeat pounded with rapid thuds and her stomach churned with bile — forcing it up into the crevices of her throat. Static coated her exposed skin, making the hairs stand on end. In a bleary haze, she scanned the room and her gaze fell on the nightstand. Car keys. Phone. Gun. All still laying, haphazardly discarded, exactly where Dean had left them. A long exhale deflated her lungs as she allowed her eyes to wander the motel room further, feeling the trepidation slowly leaving her body; it seeped out through her pores, evaporated off her skin into the musty motel air. His boots lay at the foot of the leather armchair and his jacket lay in a rumpled heap over the arm.

She let out another deep breath and let the relief overcome her. It gave her more clarity as she spied the harsh, white lighting emerging from the cracks in the doorway to the bathroom. The sound of the running shower soon filled the room, alongside the grating echoes of Sam’s snores.

There was something that that just drew Maggie to him. It was an ever-present presence, a sensation, a feeling. The invisible string. The slightest of tugs had her gravitating towards him, and vice versa. And that moment wasn’t any different. She felt the ever-familiar tug in the very pit of her stomach, and she answered to it. There was no use in fighting with it.

Climbing out of bed, she made her way across the motel room. Her feet were bare and padded lightly against the dull carpet until she reached the bathroom door. Carefully, she turned it and slipped inside. Sam remained sleeping not so peacefully, and none the wiser.

It was considerably warmer than outside in the main living space; the room fogged over with tepid steam as condensation laced the mirror. Maggie stepped onto the apricot bathmat and slinked out of her sleepwear. The old, logo-printed t-shirt and her plaid shorts ended up in a crumpled pile on the floor. Her lemon-coloured thong skimmed her bruised thighs as it dropped to the floor, and she stepped out, embracing the nakedness.

Maggie slowly peeled back the curtain and stepped inside the tub.

Dean turned to face her — his eyebrow arched questioningly, and his body draped with glistening water droplets, “can I help you?” His voice was low and scratchy; just how Maggie liked it. He’d caught the soft click of the door as it opened, and the blurry outline of her silhouette as she undressed herself out of the corner of his eye.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” she answered with a reticent tone. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she felt a wave of nervousness; Maggie was in a newfound state of rawness. She was riding the wave of raw, untouched emotions and with that came a raw sense of vulnerability. She spoke her truth, even if hesitant. It was as though a dam had been broken the night prior, and all the pent-up emotions had been released.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he told her, stepping aside, “I thought you could use the sleep.”

Her slender figure slipped past him, under the water stream. Immediately, she was overcome with a warm and comforting feeling. Her dark lashes fluttered closed, and her muscles relaxed, her shoulders dropping backwards. She took a moment to relish the peacefulness of it all; the water pattered against her back at a heavenly pressure, and the warmth of the water felt like a loving embrace.

Dean took the opportunity to admire her naked self. Her breasts were full and pert — her taut nipples a glorious rose colour as the silver bars reflected under the harsh lights. Her curves were spectacular as an hourglass figure carved out her waistline. Her thighs were thick and juicy, and her pussy was freshly shaven. She truly was a sight to behold; full lips parted ever so slightly, dark locks slicked back, and a hint of a flush rouging her cheeks. He would savour this moment for the duration of his lifetime with several mental polaroids. Mentally framed and displayed in his Hall of Fame. He’d waited years for this moment, and it suddenly all became worth it.

Feeling the sear of his lust-filled eyes tearing her naked body apart, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I thought you’d left me,” she admitted quietly, chewing involuntarily on her bottom lip.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured. She needed that.

Dean reached his thumb upwards and, with one gentle motion, pulled her bottom lip from between her teeth. He then, ever so tenderly, placed a finger against her shoulder — guiding her to face away from him. She complied without question in her fragile state. His ring-clad finger meandered slowly down the length of her spine, until he reached her rounded ass. He wanted to give it a rough and playful squeeze — digging the crescent-shaped tips of his nails onto her fair skin and leaving his mark. But now wasn’t the time for rough; now was the time for tenderness. Maggie was delicate in more ways than one, and she needed soft. She needed comfort. She needed to feel his presence.

“You know—” he began, running his fingers through the lengths of her wet hair, “—you should take your own advice every once in a while.” He combed her chestnut wisps until they were sopping wet beneath the warm streams of water.

“What do you mean?” Maggie asked in response. She allowed herself to indulge in the feeling of the tepid water running along her body; it was calming — restorative even. It was as though she was washing away the memories of her emotional outburst from the previous night.

“You should let this thing with Sam go. Not for him, but for you.” Dean squeezed a generous dollop of her fruity-smelling shampoo onto the palm of his hand before massaging it through her hair. The tips of his nails grazed against her scalp in a gentle massage, working the product into a lather. “You told me to do it for me because it’s bad to hold onto so much anger and resentment. That same sentiment goes for you. It’ll eat you alive in the same way it would me, Mags.”

Her long lashes fluttered closed as she melted under his touch; the way in which his fingers worked her scalp scratched at her soul. “I can’t—” she deflated with a saddened exhale, “—I just can’t.” Her head tipped backwards as his masterful fingers found the sweet spot, a soft purring noise slipping from between her parted lips. “He was all I had left, and he still chose to leave me. I’ve spent the last year alone because of him. I needed him. I needed you.”

“Hey—” his palm carefully covered her forehead as he rinsed the shampoo from her roots, “—I’m here now.”

“But nobody was here this past year—” her voice cracked, making way for the heartache that she had held so deep inside of her, “—nobody was here when I needed them the most. Nobody was here when I bumped into my father on a hunt. Nobody was here when I was stabbed by a demon and was laying in the hospital as a Jane Doe for weeks. Nobody was here on the anniversary of Bobby’s death. Nobody was here on my freaking birthday. But Sam should have been. He promised me he would always be here.”

He continued rinsing down to the ends of her sopping locks, ensuring that he had gotten all the suds. “I agree. He should have been.” Placing the showerhead back in the holder, he picked up the bottle of conditioner. He squeezed out another generous blob and started running it through the ends of her hair. “Just think about it, yeah?”

Maggie stayed silent. She didn’t want to make any promises that she couldn’t keep — and if there was one thing about Maggie, the girl could hold a damn grudge.

Dean didn’t push her; he knew that would only push her in the opposite direction. Maggie did as Maggie pleased — or Maggie did as what made Maggie feel the least shitty about herself. She may know him better than he knows himself, but he knew her just as well. He knew her like the back of his hand; he knew the games that she played and exactly why she played them. Sometimes it was just a case of playing into them games. Sometimes it was anything to put a smile back on her face, and pull her out of the gloomy funk that she’d gotten herself in.

He simply rinsed the condition from her long, luscious strands. He took extra care to ensure that he’d got it all before reaching for her loofah. He lathered it with a sweet-smelling body wash and began scrubbing down her skin. He ghosted over her petite shoulders and arms, caressing each breast with an acute attention before continuing down to her stomach. He could feel the scald of her attentive eyes as she watched his every move. He continued down her body — seizing the opportunity to fondle her pert ass and exploring every inch of her juicy thighs. He reached her lilac-painted toes before trailing the loofah all the way back up. He skimmed the inside of her leg, grazed the mound of her pussy and past her naval, and brushed across her rigid nipple. She was enjoying that.

Once more, he detached the showerhead from the tiled wall and aimed it at her body. The pressure was just right as the stream hit against her shoulders, washing the suds away. He moved down to her ample breasts. A haughty smirk quirked the corners of his lips upwards as a low hum vibrated through her chest — the water hitting perfectly against her pierced buds. He took a half step closer to her as he slowly swirled the jet around her nipple, her back pressing against his sculpted chest. His hand snaked slowly around the concave of her waistline and settled against her hipbone as he continued downwards. He gently rinsed down her thighs.

Then, with one soft but commanding movement, he nudged her bruised thighs apart.

Maggie, consumed by the drips of dopamine coursing through her, obliged immediately. She spread her thighs apart, just enough to give him access to her aching cunt.

“Atta girl,” Dean praised with his usual, gravel-like tone. He aimed the water jet between her legs, letting the stream hit against her.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden contact. A familiar tingle crept along her spine and down into the very tips of her fingers. Her skin tinged with the fire that she had been keeping at bay — locked within the dark, dingy caverns of her soul. Her eyes fluttered shut as heavy breaths slipped from between her chewed-up lips. The jet circled around her clit in lazy ministrations, forcing a strangled whine to claw it’s way out of her throat. She caught it with her hand, pressing her dainty fingers against her lips in a knee-jerk reaction.

Arching her back at an unholy angle, she threw her head back against the robust muscles of her shoulder. Her mahogany tresses splayed across his tattooed chest as her hand reached up to grip onto his collar bone. She needed an anchor as the tension began to build up inside her. Her fingernails sunk into his wet skin, scraping and scratching until she broke the barrier. Heavy, sordid pants spilled from her mouth as the metaphorical rope began to coil around itself in the very pit of her stomach. It knotted once, twice, three times as her hips bucked candidly against the water stream — hitting her most sensitive of nerves.

“Dean,” his name rolled so effortlessly off her tongue with a salacious whine, her voice barley above a whisper. Her breath-like pants grew faster, and the metaphorical rope pulled tighter and tighter. Until her hand found her mouth once again, capturing the sinful moans that carelessly spewed from between her lips. Her curvaceous hips rocked back and forth in frantic motions, her back leveraged against his solid body, as she rode out her orgasmic high.

Dean eventually placed the showerhead back against the wall when she let out an overwhelmed whimper. His calloused palm still gripped her waist, keeping her naked body pressed against his own. His jade eyes peered downwards at the beauty before him, brimming with pride at the mess he had created; her cheeks were stained a fervent rose and her chest rose and fell in a rapid cadence as her lungs desperately pleaded for air.

Maggie nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, her eyes still closed. She felt the warmth of his lips as he placed a soft kiss into her hairline. Oxytocin and dopamine drowned everything surrounding her out. Everything but him. For several moments, the only sound she could hear was the gentle thuds of his heartbeat; the only thing that she could feel was the delicate traces of his fingertips against her hipbone; the only thing to exist was him.

Then, she felt a surge of adrenaline and her natural instincts took over. No thoughts or considerations of the consequences — just pure desire. She pulled herself from his tight embrace and turned on the tips of her toes. Her fix-like eyes gazed upwards into his as her arms wrapped around his neck, her bare silhouette pressing against his own. Her full lips ghosted against his, caressed them with a sweet embrace. It was nothing like either of them had anticipated; it was loving, and tender, and fragile. She continued with her soft touch as his hands clung onto her waistline — securing her in place. Their tongues moved together as one. Exploring. Tasting. Embracing.

After what felt like a hundred lifetimes, Dean retreated slowly. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her jawline. “We better get you back to Mary Magdalene’s, Sister Maggie. We’ve got a witch to find.”

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles

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x-bluefire-heart-x · 6 months

Text

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Okie dokie my lovely readers! Here is chapter Five of Dating App now it does end a little on a non suspenseful cliffhanger and I promise that the next chapter will be worth the wait!

So there is also about a three week timeskip at the start and about three days around the half way point of this chapter.

Warnings: Masturbation. Dirty minds. Semi public (in office behind a closed door).

Master List

Prompt List

One , Two , Three , Four , Six

It had been almost three weeks since you had been able to see Rafael, the two of you had messaged back and forth every day. You had learned a lot about the man, such as the fact that he needed at least three coffees a day more often than not that was the minimum requirement, one of them had to be as soon as he wakes up otherwise he is a little grumpy, and he can be a little petulant when you mention how adorable you thought he was as he complained to you about the coffee at the court house. He even sent you a photo of himself pouting, you saved that straight away.

Rafael always messages in full sentences, with near perfect grammar and punctuation. However, you learnt that when he was beyond tired after a day of court and then spending hours preparing for cross the next day he could become adorably nonsensical with some of his messages, the perfect grammar and punctuation slowly leaving as each hour passed. The petulance would come back in full force if you gently told him that he had to go to sleep, you worked out two ways to get him to sleep, one that if you promised to give him lots of kisses when you next saw him he would go to sleep. Or you hoped he did, he stopped responding to your messages at least. The other was video calling him, and you preferred this option as it allowed you to see that he did actually go to bed and sleep, as you wouldn’t hung up until he was asleep. You were also shown the petulance in its full glory as he tried to negotiate with you, thankfully you weren’t bound by law or court etiquette so you used all the weapons at your disposal to get him to relent. Including promises of more than kisses and perhaps a continuation of what happened in his office. That would sometimes backfire, as Rafael’s eyes would darken and his voice would become a husky grumble, still tinged with sleep as he asked for evidence of these promises. In the end it still resulted in him falling asleep but it was harder to get him to agree.

You also learned how to tell when he had been having a good day in court and when he’d had a bad day. You made sure to do whatever you could to do make his day better when court had been tough, by sending him updates of everything going on in the library, sending him photos of your different outfits and makeup for the day, as inspired by different gods and goddesses. Even though you hadn’t been unable to meet up with him it hadn’t changed how you felt at all, in fact you think it only helped your feelings grow. Although the two of you couldn’t do exactly what you guys promised on your second date, Rafael insisted that you still read the amber quartet series to him over the phone. He claimed being able to listen to your voice helped to relax him after a tough day, hearing that you were all too happy to read him a couple chapters a night.

Rafael showed that he could be romantic even without seeing you, he had sent flowers and even chocolates to the library twice since your lunch, both thanking you and apologising for not being to be meet up with you. Not wanting him to be the only one being romantic, you sent him some flowers back, with a hidden meaning. You sent him a bouquet with peonies, matthiola incana, red chrysanthemum, and carnations, trying to portray that you could see yourself falling deeply for him. Something that was already happening. The response you had gotten from that had been endearing as hell, Rafael called you right away after he got them, he stumbled over his words and he sounded flustered, you really wanted to see if his cheeks were red, because that would have been the most adorable sight.

That had been three days ago, the messages had been fewer but Rafael had told you that the court case had just gotten difficult and so he might not be able to message you. You stared at your phone and the message sitting in-front of you.

‘So, I know that your case is difficult at the moment, but when it is over I was wondering if you would like to come over to mine for dinner? And maybe, if you wanted to of course, you could stay the night.’

You hadn’t sent it yet the nerves in your stomach stopping you. Of course you knew that he wouldn’t have an issue with it, in the past few weeks there had been plenty of indications that the both of you wanted to be more intimate with each other. But there was still that small part of you that was worried he would say no, that was nervous about taking that step with him.

“Come on, pull on your big girl pants and send it,” you groused to yourself. You took a mouthful of your wine, swallowing it while closing your eyes and hitting send. “Okay, so I did that. It’s fine, it’s so totally fine.”

You drained the rest of your wine as you grabbed the bottle to pour yourself another glass, to wait for Rafael’s response. It was late but you weren’t working tomorrow so you figured you could get away with a rare late night wine session. You bit your lip as you looked through some of the photos Rafael had sent throughout the weeks. A lot of them were similar to the first one he ever sent, dishevelled appearance with more and more of his shirt buttons undone. You paused on a few of the ones he sent when the two of you had been messaging late at night when he was grumpy. He had angled the phone to capture his strong thighs clad in his suit pants, with the zipper undone and his cock tenting his boxers. You felt a curl of pleasure in your lower stomach as you stretched out on the couch, your bare legs bent and spread. You flicked through some more photos of the same vein, one with his hand cupping his cock through his pants, another showing his entire body as Rafael bit his lip and grabbed himself.

Images of what could happen the night he stayed over played through your mind as you remembered how his cock felt as you sat on his lap kissing him, his hands grabbing your ass. Your mind played out what could have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted, you imagined Rafael manhandling you until you were laid out on the couch, as he buried his head between your thighs, drawing moans and whimpers from you. You imagined him hovering over you as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. As these images played through your mind, you trailed your hand down your stomach, slipping under your panties and swirled your fingers around your clit.

Rafael could feel another headache starting just behind his eyes. This case was almost over, maybe another two days and it would be closing arguments, the defence was just throwing character witness’ at the jury, one of which had opened up a can of worms but the detectives had dug a little and hopefully found something he could use tomorrow when he cross-examined this witness. He had always had an issue when defence would have an insane number of character witnesses, but he especially felt it with this case. It had been almost three weeks, three long weeks since he had been able to see you, see his Chica. The messages and video calls had been amazing, you showed a clear concern for his health, bartering with him to get him to sleep, it was adorable to see you negotiate with him. You of course had an advantage, he was finding it very difficult to say no to you. He didn’t want to disappoint you, and it was slowly becoming clear that all you had to do was flutter your lashes, pout a little at him and use a tone that was a mixture of coy, shy and seductive.

He was pleasantly surprised when you had sent him flowers, along with a cute little note stating that you thought men should get flowers and that you were giving him a little test to work out the little message the flowers had. He had brought up a flower language website so fast, the flowers were all about adoration, romance, bashfulness, happiness, passion, fascination and new love. Rafael didn’t think he had ever felt so flustered when he read the meanings of the flowers, nor had he ever stumbled so much over his words when he rang you. Nor had he ever felt so adored by someone before. He had worried that you would lose interest in him, finally see that a relationship with him meant going potentially weeks without being able to see him, that it would involve making plans for dates but having to cancel them and not even being able to have you come to his office. But you hadn’t shown any sign of that, you always sent him a good morning and good night message along with ones spattered throughout the day, trying what you could to help him relax.

Rafael sighed, a groan of frustration leaving his lips as he slumped into the couch at his office. He knew he should probably go home but he needed to be focused for the cross tomorrow, plus he had to go over the evidence of other cases and start on warrants for the detectives. Liv and the others had done what they could but even they couldn’t prevent how much work could pile up on his desk. His phone vibrated on the desk drawing his eyes from the papers in-front of him. God he hoped this wasn’t a message telling him one of his cases was about to blow up. Again. But all the exhaustion and frustration of the day disappeared when he saw your contact name.

Rafael stared at the words on the screen. He swallowed as heat coursed through his body, you wanted him to stay the night. He thought that you might be interested in moving things forward from the conversations you had had, including some of the incentives you had given him to get some sleep. And you weren’t necessarily shy, although you could ask for what you wanted he found that you would get a little bashful about asking. He wondered how long it took for you to send this message.

‘That sounds like a fantastic way to celebrate the end of this case. And there is nothing more I would like to do then spend the night. Hopefully, this case should be over in about three days but I will keep you updated, of course.’

He sent through his response, adding a heart emoji onto the end of the message. And with that Rafael couldn’t focus on his trial prep, all his mind could think of was spending the night with you. He tried not to let his mind get away, but after some of the video calls the two of you had shared he found it incredibly difficult. He knew what you would look like above him, but now he was imagining what you would look like underneath him, stretched out head thrown back in ecstasy and what noises he could drag from your lips. He felt himself harden, his cock straining against his pants as the images played through his mind. He felt his body heat as he palmed himself to relieve some of the tension, a soft groan slipping from his lips, he glanced briefly at the door trying to remember if he had locked it after closing it.

“Fuck it,” he muttered deciding that it was too late for anyone else to still be around. He quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants to pull his aching hard cock out.

He didn’t have any lube available so he closed his eyes and licked his hand, imagining that it was you licking his hand, sucking on his fingers. He wrapped a hand around his cock slowly stroking himself as he allowed his mind to go where it wished to. He saw you on your knees in-between his legs as you teasingly sucked on the head of his cock. Your gorgeous eyes staring up at him, a beautiful red flush on your cheeks. He bit down on his other hand in an attempt to quiet the noises coming out of his mouth. His phone was beside him on the couch ignored as he focused on his pleasure until it started to buzz consistently. He wanted to ignore it but he vaguely recalled having messaged you and he didn’t want to ignore you, even for his own pleasure.

You had just considered getting up to get one of your toys when your phone buzzed.

You grinned at Rafael’s response glad that he was excited at the prospect of spending the night. Your pleasure hadn’t ebbed away when you read his response, it instead grew as the possibilities you had played in your mind as you fingered yourself suddenly became a lot more possible. You dragged yourself up from your couch and travelled to your bedroom, glass of wine in one hand and your phone in the other. You quickly set up your room, lighting some candles and turning on the fairy lights you had strung up over the canopy of your four poster bed before you dug around in your drawer for your external vibrator. The wine had gone a little bit to your head, as you took a photo of your bed and your room all set up to send to Rafael. You sent another one with a towel and your toy sitting on top of it. And then other one after you had changed into a green set of lingerie that you thought would be perfect to wear for your first night with Rafael. You had purchased it as soon as you saw it, as you believed it would almost match his eyes.

‘I thought a little preview was in order. A little gift for you. My poor man is working so hard.’

“Fuck Chica,” Rafael groaned his hand speeding up as he stared at the photo of you in the most gorgeous set of lingerie he had ever seen.

A gorgeous green, with lace trimmings and a sheer, gauzy material that almost showed everything but it was designed to hide the parts of your body that he longed to see. His stomach tensed as his pleasure reached its peak as he imagined you laying under him in that lingerie set as he mouthed at your breasts and teased your clit through your panties. His cum covered his hand, some drops on his pants that had it been a different situation he probably would be frustrated but he didn’t care. He cleaned up the mess his cock had made before he took a photo of his face showing his flushed skin, lips red from his teeth having bitten them.

‘Chica, you are going to drive me insane.’ He attached the photo and sent his message off before he saved all the photos you sent. Your bedroom looked exactly how he thought it would, cozy and romantic. And he desperately wanted to see it in person. He would actually consider murdering the defence if they did anything to make this trial go any longer than three days. But he would kiss them if they stopped calling witnesses and allowed the trial to end earlier. He decided to call it a night, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate at all now.

You stared at the photo that Rafael had sent you and a part of you just knew that he had taken this photo after he had cum. His cheeks were flushed just so and his lips looked bitten and his eyes, god his eyes were burning and had a satisfied look in them that you desperately wanted to see as he hovered above you.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as the heat inside you built, you held the vibrator against your clit, hips rolling in pleasure. You sat your phone done so you could tease your breasts altering between them as you pulled at your nipples. You imagined Rafael above you, thrusting inside you and biting at your neck, the imagine was all you needed as your pleasure reach its peak, your walls fluttered as your clit throbbed as your orgasm flooded through you.

You breathed deeply allowing the last thrums of pleasure to roll through you before you removed the vibrator. Humming you opened your phone again to the photo Rafael sent, bit your lip. You weren’t a religious person but you prayed that the case would be over in three days or less. The need you felt for Rafael was like nothing you had ever felt before, it grew and grew every single day.

“Girl you need to get laid,” Lily muttered after you had snapped at some teenagers making a mess.

“I’m trying to,” you snarked.

“Wait…you guys haven’t?” Lily walked beside you on the way to the break room.

“I haven’t seen Rafael in three weeks, this current case apparently become a shit show,” you shrugged. “He’s going to stay the night after the case is over.”

“And that is?”

“Hopefully tomorrow night,” you groaned. “Lily, that man is making me feel things I haven’t felt for someone before.”

Lily grinned wrapping an arm around your waist as she pulled you close.

“And what about Rafael? Any indication that he feels the same?”

“Yes, I think so at least,” you nodded, a soft smile pulling at your frown as a soft blush swept up your neck to your cheeks. “We’ve messaged a lot, including video chats and he is definitely interested. I had a bit too much wine the other night and may have sent a spicer photo then normal and he definitely enjoyed that.”

“Ooh girl, who are you?” she teased.

You shrugged grinning at Lily as you briefly wondered that yourself. You have never sent a photo like you did to Rafael, you had never felt comfortable enough for that. But Rafael made you feel comfortable and safe, you couldn’t explain why after only a short time you felt that way. But honestly you didn’t care. You liked how Rafael made you feel, and you didn’t want it to go away.

“I don’t know but I kinda like it,” you giggled.

“Well, let’s hope you get laid tomorrow cause you seeing you death glare teenagers dressed as Athena is a little terrifying,” Lily patted your head. “And we can’t go scaring people from our library.”

“Hm, let’s hope,” you hummed in agreement.

Rafael barely waited long enough for the Judge to leave, barely waited enough for the victim and their family to thank him before he rushed out to the courtroom and to his office. Ignoring the detectives, he briefly waved over his shoulder when Liv called his name.

“Can’t stop, dinner,” he rushed out. His pulse was thundering as he quickly packed his office, telling Carmen to not interrupt him under any circumstances for tonight and tomorrow. Maybe even the next day, he hadn’t quite decided that. He paused only long enough to send you a text message letting you know that he would be over to yours by 6 at the latest.

‘I can’t wait to see you Rafael, I’ve missed you.’

Rafael grinned at your reply as his uber arrived, he continuously tapped his leg in a little anxious pattern until he arrived at his apartment. He didn’t think he had ever rushed quite so much packing a bag as he did tonight. He debated having a shower and changing but after a quick look in the mirror he decided against it. He knew you thoroughly liked how he looked dishevelled in a suit and figured he could have a quick shower at your place, maybe with you. That would be incredibly enjoyable. He ordered another Uber to get to yours, stopping to pick up some flowers on the way.

In what felt like hours he arrived at your apartment. Taking a deep breathe he keyed your apartment number into the buzzer and waited for you to answer.

The sound of your intercom going off set your heart racing. You hesitated briefly before answering.

“Hello? Rafael?” you asked, there was no-one else it could be.

“Hey Chica,” Rafael’s voice soothed something inside of you. The nerves calming a little.

“I’ll buzz you up, I’m the fourth floor, left after you get out of the elevators and near the end,” you breathed hitting the unlock button.

“Thanks,” Rafael said before you heard the sound of the door opening.

You rushed to your room, checking yourself one last time in your mirror making sure there wasn’t anything out of place. Your hair fell loosely down your back, you decided to forego make up tonight, and chose a formfitting dress with just the peek of green lace showing at the top. In a short time a knock on the door had you wondering back to the entrance. Your eyes cast over the candles that you had lit throughout your apartment, the kitchen table set for two, a bottle of wine and a glass of scotch waiting. You also had your aroma diffuser going with the scent of cherry blossoms. You smoothed down the front of your dress, taking one last breathe before you opened the door. And that breathe rushed out of you the second your eyes saw him.

It looked like he had run here straight from court. A bag held in one hand and white rose held in his other. His green eyes simmered with a heat as he took you in, the simmer growing when he saw the green lace peeking out the top from your dress. He was man enough to admit that he struggled to pull his eyes away from your cleavage but he managed to if only because your eyes caught his.

“My eyes are up here, Sir,” you teased opening the door wider to allow him in. “Come on in.”

“Thank you Chica,” he grinned, as he passed you he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You look ravishing tonight.” You smiled ducking your head a little as pink dusted your cheeks.

“So do you,” you tried for a similar tone in your voice that Rafael had but you didn’t quite succeed. Your voice was breathless, because Rafael did look…delicious. With his suit not quite perfect, the tie loose and buttons undone. His hair ruffled and messy.

You watched as Rafael took in your apartment, you kept it clean and tidy. You had bookshelves along the back wall of your open floor plan, the shelves had fairy lights and fake plants decorating them. More fake plants decorated your coffee table and other little nerdy items were scattered throughout your apartment. You felt comfortable and happy in your apartment and never second guessed any of your choices for decorations. Rafael did a small circle noting a glass of scotch waiting beside a plate on the table, you grinned as you noticed the slight hitch in his eyebrow and the soft look on his face as he took everything in.

“You have a lovely home,” Rafael walked towards you. “I picked these up for you.”

“They’re gorgeous Rafael, thank you,” you said reaching out to take them from him but you didn’t step away from him right away. You stepped closer, looking up at him through your lashes, before looking down at his lips and then back up to his eyes.

“Is there something you want carino?” He asked hands taking hold of your hips and tugging you softly.

“Hm, I thought it was you who wanted something,” you countered. “Last I checked it was you who petulantly begged for kisses.”

“Petulantly begged?” Rafael whispered lowering his head until his lips hovered over yours.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “You going to deny it?”

“Do I get a kiss if I agree?” he asked.

“Well, I mean you did bring me gorgeous flowers,” you started, purposefully biting your bottom lip. “And I heard you won your case as well.”

“Oh, does winning get me a kiss then? Even if I deny that I begged?” Rafael grinned.

“We both know that you did beg but I will still give you a kiss for winning,” you nodded. “Plus I haven’t seen you in three weeks.”

“Which is just far too long, I’m sorry-”

“Ah no, there is no need for that Rafael,” you smiled cupping his cheek with your free hand. “I was fully aware that this could happen. You’re here now.”

He opened his mouth, probably to try and apologise again but you were not having it. You decided the best way to get him to stop and to distract him from even thinking about it was to kiss him. You pressed your lips against his, causing him to startle a little at the sudden contact, a huff of air escaping him as his lips curled up into a smile, before he started kissing you back. You pulled away before it could get too heated, as you had cooked a rather nice meal and as much as you wanted to finally get him naked you wanted to have a nice meal and talk with him first.

“You hungry?” you asked pulling away, Rafael followed your lips for a second before he opened his eyes a soft whine leaving him.

“Starving,” his green eyes no longer just simmered with heat, they burned.

“Later,” you promised, a similar heat burning through you, and your eyes telling Rafael that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. “I made Casareccica Alibrandi, and I got you some scotch. I hope it’s one you like. Also please make yourself at home, you can put your jacket on the coat rack just over there.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rafael watched as you pulled out a vase to put his flowers in before sitting them on your coffee table, his eyes were glued to you as you walked back past him into the kitchen. It was only when the rest of your sentence entered his brain that he looked over to the a little nook in the wall just after the entrance into the apartment. He quickly took off his suit jacket and tie hanging them up and leaving him in his shirt and suspenders. He undid a few more buttons and rolled up his sleeves.

“I know, I wanted to though,” you smiled over your shoulder at him as you pulled the pasta dish out of the oven where you had placed it to keep to warm without overcooking anything, feeling your throat constrict a little when you saw him rolling his sleeves, exposing those forearms of his that you had dreamed about. You forced your eyes away and tried to remember the rest what you had wanted to say. “You’ve had a tough three weeks and I wanted tonight to be as relaxing as possible for you.”

“Carino, you are something else,” Rafael whispered as you served up the dish gesturing for him to take a seat. The first thing he did was try the scotch, he wanted to assure you that the scotch was good. And it was, it was really good. “This scotch is really good.”

“I’m glad, I hope the food is good,” you smiled shyly placing a bowl down in-front of him.

“It smells delicious and looks it too,” Rafael caught your hand before you could move to your chair. He brought it up to his mouth to place a kiss on your knuckles. “Thank you Carino, this night is exactly what I need. You are what I need.”

“Rafi,” you whispered squeezing his hand, leaning to place a kiss on his cheek before slowly dragging your hand from his and taking you seat. You stretched your legs out entangling them with his, not wanting to stop touching him.

Rafael smiled at you, taking a bite of the food and could barely stop the groan of appreciation that left his mouth the minute the tastes hit his tongue. It was amazing. Your eyes were stuck on his mouth, as he took another bite, tongue darting out to catch a drop of the sauce. Another hum leaving him. Your body heated as you noticed that his tongue would poke out a little as he took a bite of food.

“Chica, this is amazing,” Rafael focused back on you to see that you hadn’t taken a mouthful yet. “Chica?”

“Hm, what?” you shook your head trying to clear away the images that had taken up residence there. “Oh, um, good, that’s good, I’m glad.” You quickly took a mouthful trying to pretend you hadn’t been staring at him this entire time.

“A bit distracted?” Rafael teased he slipped off one of his shoes and lightly ran his foot up your leg that was entangled with his. You gulped down some wine at his action, surprised at it. “Because I have been distracted by you since you opened your door. Seeing that lacy bra peeking above that gorgeous dress that hugs your curves. Those curves that I have been wanting to kiss and run my tongue all over, tasting you.”

“Rafael,” you gasped, a shiver running through you, your heart picking up at his words.

“My desire for you has grown Carino,” Rafael stood up from his chair, placing one hand on the back of your chair and the other on the table beside your bowl. “Carino, look at me.”

Your eyes trailed up his arm, his throat until you finally looked him in his eyes. The green in them was darker then normal, you were taken back to the day in his office when the two of you made out on his couch like teenagers. You wetted your lips, subconsciously pushing your chest out a little, you felt a little surge of pride and victory when you noticed Rafael’s eyes darting down to stare at your chest before he looked back to your eyes. That small little victory you felt however, withered under the look on Rafael’s face. The hand that had been on the table moved to trail up your stomach and over your chest and up your neck before he gently cupped your face. His touch was the complete opposite of the hungry look on his face, a look that was almost feral. A look that finally made all those descriptions in your fantasy books seen possible. The plan for a nice slow evening had gone out the window and you found that you didn’t quite care as much as you thought you would. You could always talk with him in the morning.

“Ask me,” Rafael demanded as he slowly lowered his face to yours. “And tell me to stop, tell me if you don’t like anything I do.”

“Rafael, please kiss me,” you voice was quiet.

“And?” Rafael insisted, you smiled up at him you hands reaching to grab hold of his suspenders.

“And I promise I will tell you to stop if I need to and I will be clear if I don’t like something,” you responded.

“Good. Girl.” Rafael cooed just before his lips took yours.

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