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steddiealltheway · 8 months

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(I think I’ve written something like this before but… oh well!)

Steve and Eddie don’t really remember becoming friends.

Sure, they know they must’ve bonded during the Upside Down shit and the aftermath with the series of tests they went through together at Hawkins lab because they didn’t want a repeat of the Will situation.

But they can’t pin point a moment when they started talking to each other as if they weren’t just mutual acquaintances who went through the same hell and shared the same love for Dustin. And the strangest part about it all was that it felt easy.

And here Steve is, sitting in Eddie room, flipping through a magazine he had laying next to his bed, asking question about random things in it just to hear Eddie voice. Plus, he liked all the random information he contained. It kind of reminded him of Dustin, but Eddie was always able to put it into the simplest terms so he could grasp what he was talking about.

But today, Eddie seems somewhat distracted. As if something big is on his mind. And Steve knows that it’s consuming him when he doesn’t answer or acknowledge one of the questions Steve asks about Ozzy.

Steve glances to his right and sees Eddie staring off twirling a silver ring over and over while he chews on his bottom lip. “Eddie,” Steve tries.

Eddie snaps out of it, teeth releasing his bottom lip which is now more plump and red than usual. His hands drop to his thighs as he shoots Steve an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I was off in my own world.”

“What were you think about?”

Eddie shakes his head and leans back against the wall, pulling his hair in front of his face. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Steve continues to stare at him, shifting his knee so it presses against Eddie’s. “You can talk to me, you know?”

Eddie nods but doesn’t look at him. He looks far off again.

But Steve respects his wishes and doesn’t press further. He turns back to the magazine and continues reading on.

“I kissed someone in the Hideout bathroom recently,” Eddie says suddenly.

Steve slowly puts the magazine down and turns to him. “Someone?” Steve prompts gently. Eddie had told him before when they were in matching hospital gowns that he had feelings for men in the past and maybe women too. But he wasn’t sure. He confided in Steve that he didn’t see himself ever dating anyone at the time - didn’t think anyone would want to.

“Some guy,” Eddie answers and sighs, dragging his hands over this face. “I don’t know. It was weird because usually guys want more from me, you know? Especially if they’re dragging me off to the bathroom. But…” Eddie trails off, lost in thought again before he turns to Steve and locks eyes with him. “We didn’t do anything. We just kissed a little, and suddenly he told me he’d see me later. Just winked and ran off. But I can’t tell if he just chickened out or if maybe… maybe this is more than that.”

Steve takes a second to process everything, trying to connect the puzzle pieces of this mystery man to come up with an answer, but he knows there’s a bias within him. He wants so badly for the man to want more from Eddie. For him to want to take it slow and ask him out on a date.

But… a small (big) part of him, which he’s unwilling to admit, wants to find that the man chickened out.

Steve does what he always does and takes the feeling and stuffs it down along with all the other feelings he struggles to hide.

He distracts himself by asking, “And what was the kiss before like?” Which is a horrible question when jealously is practically pulsing through his veins.

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t really tell the difference between passion and lust.” He looks down and quietly adds, “I don’t know if I’ve ever had a kiss that wasn’t lustful.”

The statement fills Steve with a deep ache that he wants to file away with everything else. He wants to be detached from this all, but he can’t.

“Why don’t you show me?” Steve asks.

Eddie laughs. “I’m not going to make out with my hand or something.”

“No,” Steve says clearly, and doesn’t back down. “I mean, why don’t you show me.”

Eddie stares at him, the humor disappearing from his face as it’s replaced by disbelief. “You want me to kiss you?”

The question rings true in way too many ways, but Steve just shrugs nonchalantly. “It’ll help me understand the situation more.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow for a moment before he licks his lips, eyes searching Steve’s then dipping down to stare at his lips.

Steve wishes he could read that expression. Is there longing there? Curiosity? Boredom? Nothing but unenthused wonder? Lust? Passion?

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “We can do that if you’re okay with that.”

He’s more than okay with that. Steve nods. “Yeah.” He wishes more words would come out, but maybe it’s better this way.

Eddie jostles the bed as he stands up. Steve looks up at him and his outstretched hand, frowning. “What are you doing?”

“Recreating the scene.”

Steve accepts the explanation and lets Eddie pull him up. He follows him out of his room and into the small hallway.

Eddie gestures to the door and says, “So pretend that’s the bathroom door, okay? I’ll be the guy, and you’ll be me.”

Steve nods, heart already pounding in his chest so hard he can hear it in his ears.

Eddie glances at him and lays a gentle hand on his arm. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I can just try to explain it or embarrass myself making out with my hand or a pillow or something.”

Steve smiles and reassures him, “I’m good. As long as you’re good.”

Eddie nods at him once and turns toward the door hesitating before turning back to Steve. “Can I ask you something weird?”

Steve shrugs. “Sure.”

“Can I kiss you before this whole thing? Just as a warm up before I stick my tongue in your mouth.”

Steve laughs and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“Okay,” Eddie says with a small smile and inches closer to him, hands fidgeting nervously at his side.

Steve grabs them and runs his thumbs over the back of Eddie’s hands, squeezing them gently. He steps forward, hands trailing up his arms, his neck, cupping his face gently. “This okay?” Steve practically whispers.

Eddie nods and takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, leaning forward, eyes fluttering shut.

Steve takes a stabilizing breath before pulling Eddie in, letting his eyes close as his lips brush against Eddie’s, pressing in closer in a gentle kiss before they both pull away.

They stare at each other, eyes wide, not knowing what to say. But Steve’s too scared to say anything when he knows he’s going to sound breathless from a mere peck.

“Ready to recreate the kiss?” Eddie asks, moving away from him and breaking the moment.

All Steve can do is nod and remind himself what this is all about.

Eddie shoots him an awkward thumbs up before grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door, pushing it open and closing it behind them only to press Steve against it.

Steve can’t help the moan that’s ripped out of him at the sensation. But Eddie takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss him, harder than before, almost instantly deepening the kiss, brushing his tongue against Steve in filthy strokes. His hands move through Steve’s hair wildly, pulling him in closer, and tugging at the strands, making Steve practically a puddle of goo in the process.

God, he feels like he can’t breathe in the best way.

His hands come up to press into Eddie back, trying to get him to move closer, to successfully pin him fully against the door, but Eddie keeps his distance. Pulling away from the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip before stepping back completely.

Steve breathes heavily, staring at Eddie’s pupils blown wide, the pink flush to his cheeks, and the glossy look to his lips that Steve can’t help but think is all his doing.

“Well?” Eddie asks.

Steve tries to latch onto the words in his brain floating around. They seem entirely unimportant in this moment, but Steve knows he has a question to answer. A reason he’s doing all of this.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the wild strands, wishing he hadn’t messed with it before he got a chance to look at himself. He takes a deep breath and ignores the way he feels and focuses on the question at hand. “It felt more like lust to me.”

Eddie’s face crumples for a moment before he hides it behind his hand. He scrubs them over his face before he laughs humorlessly. “Figures. Jesus H. Christ, I should know by now.”

Steve’s mind lingers on what Eddie said before. “And what if you had a way to know?”

Eddie shakes his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

Steve tries again. “Like, what if you had a measure to know the difference between lust and lo- passion.” Steve silently curses the slip up, hoping Eddie doesn’t notice.

But the other boy just frowns and crosses his arms. “Now how would I do that?”

“The same thing again, only I show you what it’s like on the other side of things.”

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds before inching closer. “You want to do that?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies instantly. “You of all people deserve to know.”

Eddie glances at the ground and shakes his head. “I don’t know about that.”

Steve’s heart breaks, wondering if he’ll be able to show him what he truly means to him. He slowly tilts up Eddie’s chin and takes a step closer, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He lets his hand linger before resting it against Eddie’s jaw, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “You do,” Steve says, looking him in the eyes to show him the truth in what he’s saying.

“Steve…” Eddie says as if it’s a plea and simultaneously a disagreement.

And Steve answers him by leaning in and kissing him again. It’s like their first kiss shared in the hall moment earlier, but Steve doesn’t let it be a warm up this time. His left hand presses against Eddie’s back, pulling him in as close as he can. His other hand makes it way into Eddie’s hair, intertwining in the strands as he pulls away to breathe before reangling and kissing him again.

Eddie’s hand comes up to the back of his neck, grounding Steve as his lips move against Eddie’s slowly but firmly. They pull away for a moment, letting their breath intermingle as they catch it before they both move together again.

He lets Eddie learn what it’s like to take his time, enjoy the slowness and linger in the moment. To be held close and gently caressed.

Steve’s hand trails down from Eddie’s hair, tracing the same pathway from earlier but backwards, down his neck, his arms, and to his hands, intertwining their fingers together.

Eddie gasps lightly into the kiss as Steve squeezes his hand, and takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, letting Eddie explore rather than take.

Steve’s not sure how long they stand there, kissing as if there was no tomorrow, lingering in every moment. Breaking away momentarily to catch their breath before swooping back in, not letting the moment end. Because once it ends, they may never come back to it.

The thought hits Steve, drenching his thoughts with painful clarity. This is the moment everything he’s tried so hard to push down finally all comes up. No turning back now.

He pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against Eddie’s. He pants out his name quietly when Eddie tries to kiss him again.

He seems to understand, moving to rest his forehead against Steve’s before squeezing his eyes shut. Their hands remain intertwined.

Neither of them say a word, not wanting to break the moment or face reality.

But a question lays heavy on Steve’s mind.

“I don’t think it matters about what the kiss with the guy felt like. What matters is how did you feel during it?”

Eddie shakes his head and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Steve…”

“Eddie…”

Eddie takes a deep breath and whispers into the shared air between them, “Nothing close to what I just felt.”

Steve slowly pulls away and looks Eddie in the eye. “Are you sure?”

“Christ, Steve. No one has ever made me feel the way you just did.”

Steve pauses and asks, “What about other than that kiss? Do I make you feel like that all the time?”

Eddie’s hand loosens it grip as he steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t make me answer that, man.”

He’s stopped when Steve’s grip tightens, trying to keep him close. “You make me feel that way all the time,” Steve says, hoping he didn’t ruin everything they’ve built up to.

Eddie steps closer and cups his face. “You promise?”

Steve nods. “Yes.”

“Thank god. I was about to silently pine for the rest of my life. Shit,” Eddie says with a laugh.

Steve smiles, a laugh escaping from him as joy fills his entire body. “Yeah?”

“I was a fucking goner as soon as you kissed me the first time,” Eddie says.

Steve laughs, “I already was way before then.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “You’re telling me I could’ve had this sooner?”

It’s seems like Steve’s incapable of doing anything but laugh.

“Steeeeve Harrington, we have so much lost time to make up for,” Eddie says, stepping closer.

“Tell me about it,” Steve says, moving in to kiss Eddie again.

He hopes eventually Eddie will forget what it was like to only know lust filled kisses, but, for now, he settles on helping him learn about passion and love.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things

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vbecker10 · 17 days

Note

Can you do a jealous ex where reader is with Loki and the ex starts getting mad and starts texting and calling reader constantly then one day she forgot her phone and Loki reads the texts and listens to the voicemails then reader comes home to a concerned Loki because reader got hurt somehow?

She's Mine Now

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You and Loki have only just started dating and you're worried your ex-boyfriend will ruin everything. You've been able to hide how often your ex contacts you but one night he calls over and over while you are with Loki. After finally admitting to Loki what has been going on, the God of Mischief takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings: controlling ex-boyfriend, jealous ex-boyfriend, some vague mentions of previous abuse (nothing specific), arguing, swearing, threatening language, name calling, Loki being super protective

A/N: I'm so so so sorry it took me ages to get to this. I'm finally going through my request box and I loved this the minute I saw it. I changed it just a little but I hope that's OK. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! 💚

Also... I realized as I was proofreading this that I never named the ex-boyfriend so it's whatever you want it to be lol pick any jerk you know haha

Loki sits on the end of his couch, your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers run slowly up and down your arm. You've only been together a month but you have completely fallen for him. You look up at him and smile when he laughs at the movie you selected.

He notices you watching him and kisses your nose causing you to giggle. "The movie is more interesting than I am, I assure you," he jokes.

"I've seen it," you respond but rest your head against him again.

Everything about him makes you want to tell him how perfect he is and how deeply you love him but you are afraid to. A small voice inside you keeps holding you back from opening up to him the way you want to. Every time you told you ex-boyfriend you loved him, he would tell you that you sounded clingy or needy or desperate. You don't want Loki to feel the same so you keep those three words to yourself.

Loki's fingers move from your arm to your back, moving in slow circles. You close your eyes and focus on how calming it feels but then his hand moves further up. He begins playing with your hair, his eyes still fixed on the screen, a small smile on his lips. You try to keep your thoughts from racing as you feel a familiar pit growing in your stomach. He's upset, he doesn't like your hair this way, your inner voice starts to spread panic throughout your body, he's going to grab a fistful of it any second and yell at you. You tense as his fingers gently run through your hair and he notices the change in your behavior.

"Are you okay, love?" he asks, he removes his hand and looks down at you concerned.

"Yea, I just-" you look down and begin playing with the sleeve on your sweater as your mind replays what happened the last time you got a haircut without talking to your ex first. "I'm sorry, I- I was going to ask you before I cut my hair. I know I should have but I was only going for a trim so I thought it was okay but then I saw a shorter style I really liked and I just went for it but-"

He cuts off your words suddenly when his lips met yours, your whole body responds to his kiss and the feeling of his hand softly touching your cheek, relaxing you instantly. He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked on yours so he knows you are listening to him. "It's your hair darling. You can do what you like with it," he gently plays with the ends of your hair. "You don't need to ask me to do things like this," he says as if it is obvious.

You nod and remind yourself for the hundredth time that Loki is not your ex-boyfriend.

He settles back on the couch, bringing you with him easily, his arm around you. He smiles and adds, "I'm sorry if I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful today."

You blush and bury your face against his chest, the heavy feeling inside of you vanishing completely. He kisses the top of your head and goes back to watching the movie. You close your eyes and force the images of your ex-boyfriend's reaction from your mind, replacing them with Loki's words.

Half an hour later your phone vibrates on the coffee table. You lean forward to try and reach for it but Loki keeps his arm around you. You giggle and try again but he doesn't let go. He looks down at you and smirks, "Where do you think you're going?"

Your phone continues to vibrate. "I need to answer my phone," you roll your eyes.

He looks back towards the TV and dramatically puts his foot on the edge of the coffee table, sliding it further away from you as he straightens his leg.

"Loki!" you laugh as a smile spreads across his lips. He finally loosens his grip so you can get up. You pick up your phone but as soon as you see the number, you end the call and put it face down on the table.

"Who is it?" he asks.

"Wrong number," you answer with a shrug but the laughter is gone from your voice.

You sit heavily next to him and he waves his hand to bring the table back to its original spot. He doesn't respond but you know he can tell you are lying, his expression has become serious and his eyes remain fixed on your phone. Before you can think of a better excuse, your phone begins to vibrate again. You grab it and hang up quickly without stopping to see the number, you know who is calling.

"Who is it, Y/N?" he asks again, his tone is curious but you can feel your nerves getting worse.

"It's no one," you tell him as you tug on your sleeve again.

He sighs at your response and turns off the TV. "I don't like being lied to," he says as he faces you.

"I know," you shrink away from him, waiting for him to yell or tell you to leave.

"Y/N," he reaches out to touch your chin lightly, wanting you to look at him but you flinch away from his touch involuntary. He pulls away as well, giving you more space instead of invading yours. You look up after a moment and instead of seeing anger in his eyes as you expect, he looks sad.

You know in your heart Loki would never hurt you but your instincts had forced you to distance yourself from him. When your ex was upset because you had lied or had done something he thought was wrong, he could be unpredictable.

Your phone vibrates again and he sighs as he picks it up off the table. He hands it to you and says, "Whoever it is must really want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to him," you tell Loki, trying to hold back your tears. You toss it away from you wanting it as far from you as possible. It skims over the top of the coffee table and lands on the ground in front of the TV.

"Who keeps calling you, Y/N?" he asks again and this time you know you need to answer him.

You tuck your legs underneath you and move further away from Loki, wrapping your arms around yourself. He shifts his body to face you but doesn't move any closer. "It's my ex-boyfriend," you tell him, you try to keep the fear from your voice but you know he hears it.

"The one Wanda told me about?" he asks, his eyes glance towards your phone and you see a flash of anger cross his face.

You nod but don't say anything else, you had barely mentioned your ex to Loki for so many reasons. You aren't sure how much Wanda told Loki but it was obviously more then you had ever shared with him.

"Please talk to me," he says, moving towards you slowly, testing to see if you will pull away again. "I don't understand why he would still be calling you. I thought you ended things with him months before I met you."

"He started calling and texting me again a few days after our first date," you finally admit to Loki. "I don't know how he even found out about us..." your voice trails off as you look down.

You feel Loki move closer to you again and your body tenses as you prepare for an argument or worse, you shouldn't have hidden this from him, it was as bad as lying.

"I'm not texting him back I promise. I always ignore him. I don't want him to call me but he just keeps doing it, I've asked him to stop but he won't," you say quickly, all in one breath. Loki opens his mouth to say something but you are too afraid to give him a chance. "I didn't want you to be upset, that's why I didn't tell you, I wasn't trying to hide anything or lie about it, I'm sorry," you feel the apology pouring out as it had so many times with your ex. You cover your face with your hands but can't stop the first few tears from escaping.

"I'm not upset Y/N," he says softly. He gently touches your hands and slowly takes them away from your face, "I'm worried about you, that's all."

You look at him, not having expected that response. When your ex found out you were texting Wanda after work, he had been furious. He had never met her and didn't want you telling a stranger anything about him or your relationship.

"I'm sorry," you mumble quietly, not even sure what you are sorry for anymore.

"Please stop apologizing," he says in a calm voice, "You haven't done anything wrong." He wipes the tears from your cheeks, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nod and without thinking you answer him, "Sorry."

He gives you a half smile and puts his arms around you, pulling you close. You squeeze your eyes shut and press your cheek to his chest as he rubs your back slowly. He holds you and sighs, "I don't know what he did to you... and I will never ask you to tell me," he adds when you look up at him, "But I need you to remember that I am not him. I never want you to be scared of me, you can tell me anything."

"I know," you wipe your eyes again. "I'm sorry-"

He raises an eyebrow at you and you let out a small laugh. "There's that beautiful smile I love so much," he smiles in return.

A few hours later, Loki lays awake staring at the ceiling, wishing you hadn't left. He has told you on numerous occasions that he sleeps much better when you are curled up in his arms. Unfortunately, you need to run an errand before work tomorrow so you had gone back to your apartment after the movie finished. Closing his eyes, he rolls over but sits up quickly when he hears a faint buzzing sound.

He gets out of bed and follows the sound into his living room. Loki looks around as the buzzing gets louder until he finally sees your phone lighting up on the floor just under the tv stand. You must have forgotten you threw it there when your ex-boyfriend was calling. He was worried when you didn't text him to say you arrived home like you always did, so at least now he knows why.

He stands still for a moment, watching it ring as he debates what to do next. The call ends and he bends down to pick it up then he takes a seat on the couch. After a few seconds, it vibrates once more notifying him that there is a new voicemail.

He sits back, phone in one hand with his other hand over his eyes. Loki trusts you more than anyone he has ever known, on Midgard or on Asgard and doesn't want you to think he's invading your privacy. It's not you he wants to check up on, it's your ex-boyfriend. Everything he knows about him, he heard from Wanda in one very short but eye opening conversation. She only told him what little she knew but it was enough for Loki to know that you deserved better. He sounded like a man you weren't safe with and your reaction to his calls tonight confirmed that for him. Loki would do anything to protect you so he takes a deep breath and unlocks your phone.

Thankfully he remembers your password, you had told him what it was last weekend so he could send himself some pictures you took together at the museum. He opens your call history and covers his mouth with his hand in shock. Fifty-three missed calls in the last week alone, he stares at the number in disbelief. You hadn't answered a single call but still he attempted to reach you over and over. Most of the calls came in groups late at night, like they had while you were watching the movie.

He opens your texts, feeling both guilty for looking around and angry knowing what he will likely find. He smiles a bit when he sees how you've saved his name in your phone, Mischief 💚, but immediately frowns when he sees an unsaved number right below his conversation with you.

He clicks on it, at first he barely reads the words, he just scrolls further and further down hoping to find the end. He sees text after text after text, some are long rants while others are a single insulting word and it seems to go on forever. Once a day is a text from you pleading with him to leave you alone but it only seems to enrage him.

Loki quickly goes from upset to angry to furious as he reads the threats and insults your ex-boyfriend had thrown at your over the last few weeks. He grinds his teeth as he thinks about you being afraid of your ex and the things he has done to you. He sits back and types out a lengthy reply but at the last second he deletes it.

With a smirk he sits forward with his elbows on his knees and begins to type a new, much shorter message. He hits send and waits a few moments. Your phone vibrates when your ex replies and Loki turns off your phone before going back to his room.

You look both ways and cross the street quickly, excited to finally see Loki for lunch like you do every day. You spot him sitting on his usual bench just past the entrance to the park, lost in his book. You smile when he looks up, his book vanishing as he stands. He hugs you tightly then leans down to give you a kiss.

"I missed you," you tell him, his arms still around you.

"Then you shouldn't have left last night," he smiles. "Oh, I believe this is yours," he takes your phone out of his pocket.

"Thanks. I can't believe I forgot it, that was really stupid," you shake your head. You had realized when you got home last night that you had left it at Loki's but it was too late to go back.

Your heart stops when you realize its your ex-boyfriend. You look up at Loki, one of his arms is still around you but his eyes are fixed to your ex as he approaches with a wide smile and outstretched arms.

"You are not stupid," he corrects you and before you can respond you see someone walking over to you.

He continues towards you and when your brain finally registers that he is trying to go in for a hug you free yourself from Loki and quickly back away. Loki moves in response, putting himself easily between you and your ex which causes him to stop.

"Seriously Y/N?" he says, already sounding annoyed with you. "I drove all the way out here for lunch with you and you won't even give me a freaking hug? You're lucky I accepted your ridiculous invitation after you kept ignoring me."

Loki says, "Y/N did not invite you here, I did."

"Oh really?" he's looks from you to Loki and seems unphased that he is face to face with the Prince of Asgard. "What, are you looking for some tips on how to control her better?" he laughs to himself. "Of course, if you've decided you're done with her, I'll gladly take her back. I put years into fixing her, wouldn't want that to go to waste."

You take another step back as his eyes find you again and they roam up and down your body. You suddenly wish you hadn't worn a skirt and you cross your arms tightly around yourself. He always commented on how you dressed, he had so many opinions on what he wanted you to wear.

Loki notices how uncomfortable you are and brings the attention back to himself. "Do not look at her, this conversation is between you and me," he tells your ex.

He sighs and says, "Fine, what do you want?"

Loki holds his anger at back and in a controlled tone says, "You will apologize for how you treated her in the past and then you will leave, never return here or contact her again."

He almost laughs and says, "I treated her the way she deserved. She needed to learn how to behave and you should be thankful I trained her as well as I did."

Your eyes dart from your ex to Loki and your heart races with anxiety about what might happen next. Loki doesn't respond at first, you watch his fist clench and his jaw tighten. He looks like he is holding himself back from lashing out with every bit of strength he has.

"You have no idea what she was like before. When I first met her-" he tries to look at you but Loki cuts him off.

He walk steadily forward, glaring at him as approaches. "I will not stand here and listen to a pathetic mortal like you speak poorly of Y/N. She is kind, funny, generous, creative, beautiful and so much more. She never deserved to be mistreated by the likes of you. Y/N is a queen and I will ensure she is treated as such."

You can't take your eyes off of Loki, you've never had anyone speak about you this way before.

Loki stops just in front of your ex and says, "If you ever speak to her, text her or see her again, I will make sure you suffer greater than any human on Midgard has ever suffered before."

Your ex-boyfriend looks at him in shock but it quickly morphs into anger, he does not take being challenged or threatened well. He takes a small step backwards and says, "You can't just threatened me like that. You might be some fancy royal on your planet but here your just another asshole. If I want to talk to her, I will. She was mine once and I could take her back if I really wanted to."

As soon as the words come out of your ex's mouth, you know he finally pushed Loki too far. Loki's full armor and tall horned crown appear in a bright flash of gold and green. Your ex goes quiet in an instant as you are both reminded that Loki truly is a God among men.

The God of Mischief looms over him, staring down at him, daring him to speak again. Loki raises one hand and suddenly your ex is picked up by his throat, a green mist surrounding his neck. He tries to claw at it but Loki's magic brings him closer, until they are eye to eye. In a dark voice, Loki says, "She's mine now."

Your ex-boyfriend looks utterly terrified and a part of you can't help but enjoy seeing the fear in his eyes after all the pain he inflicted on you. You watch, your heart still pounding quickly. As much as you want your ex to suffer, you are afraid Loki will go to far, you've never seen him so angry. Look had worked so hard over the last few months to gain the trust and support of the Avengers, if he hurts your ex he will have to face serious consequences. As much as you hate your ex-boyfriend, its not worth risking Loki's future with the team or with you.

Loki's magic brings him closer, until the are inches from each other, his feet dangling helplessly above the ground. "Do not doubt for a moment that I will do what needs to be done to protect the woman I love. Is that clear?" Loki asks and he nods rapidly in response.

Loki releases him from his grasps and he falls to the ground. Getting up quickly, he runs from the park without looking back.

Loki's magic vanishes, his crown and armor fading away in the breeze as he turns to face you. The determination and rage in his eyes is gone, replaced with his own nervous fear. Your eyes remain locked on him as he slowly walks towards you.

"Y/N," he asks softly. You don't answer, your mind still processing the events from a few moments ago. "I'm sorry, I never meant to let my temper get so out of control but I just couldn't bear to listen to him talk about you for another moment," he explains and you nod in understanding.

He reaches out to take your hand, looking down as your finger interlock and sighs. "I told you not to be afraid of me and then I showed you exactly what kind of terrifying monster I really am. I never wanted to scare you, I only wanted him to leave you alone."

"You um..." you pause, biting you lip as you think. "You said you love me?"

"Loki," you close the distance between you and touch his cheek with your other hand. "I could never be scared of you." He looks at you slowly and you smile, he breaths a sigh of relief and smiles in return.

He laughs and relaxes completely, his arm wrapping around your waist. "Darling, I have loved you from the first time we spoke," he tells you. "You mean everything to mean."

You reach up and kiss him, his hands move down your back to hold you flush against his body. You look up, still pressed together and say, "I love you too. Thank you for keeping me safe from him."

You rest your head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. "I promise, I will always protect you, you just need to tell me what is bothering you," he swears.

You smile when you look into his eyes and see how much he means it. He leans down to kiss you again and between breaths he whispers, "Mine."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

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kadwrites · 9 months

Text

deja vu | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary; how well do we really know the people we love?

warnings ; dark!tommy, minor character death, description of violence , mentions of murder, arranged marriage!trope , slow burn, fem!reader

a/n ; please let me know what you think!

you tilted your head and frowned , you're both standing at the garrison.

"tommy..." you mumbled in protest

"i know" he nodded "it'll be very short."

you clicked your tongue and then huffed "if you take longer than ..... 30 minutes i'm leaving."

"ya won't."

"get out of my sight." you muttered , taking a sip of your drink.

you sighed, looking over at the place. it was fairly busy, but not stuffy. sounds of chatter and men laughing echoing around, the lighting is dim. you made your way to the booth you were in, sitting down , eyeing your drink.

"when i heard tommy was marrying again, i would've never thought it's celest's little sister that he's trapped."

you recognized the voice before even processing the words, you look up, your brows raised and smiling in disbelief "lizzie?"

she's standing there, looking over at you. her blue eyes studying every inch of your face, a face she hadn't seen in a long time. and you hadn't expected to see her here , of all places.

"what are ya doing?" she speaks softly. you know the tone, you get the meaning; what are you doing with someone like him ?

you stand up, your gaze never leaves her , still smiling. "lizzie... i've not seen ya in so long..."

since she got involved with tommy , that is. lizzie and celest knew each-other , went to school together. lizzie would sometimes stay over , whenever your mother felt she wouldn't be safe otherwise. until the war.

she chuckles, "ya 'ave your mother to thank for that."

you chuckled too, still looking at her. "how did ya know about it?"

she gives you a look, her dark brow raised "everyone knows. i just didn't know it would be someone like *you*"

you lick your lips, "lizzie i know ya two share.... a history"

she scoffs , a bitter smile on her lips "i don't resent ya for this, i wouldn't." she shakes her head "i 'ave given up on 'im... a long time ago." her eyes look away for a moment before landing on you "whatever ya think of 'im, whatever ya believe he is , he's not." she speaks with conviction.

you don't reply to that, you're just trying to know what she means by it.

"thomas shelby doesn't know love like we do, what he knows is ownership." she chuckles bitterly, "learned what that meant the hard way. but ya shouldn't go through what i did." she shakes her head softly

"i don't understand...."

she stays silent for a moment "consider this a warning from a friend, this man , *will ruin you* , and when that 'appens ya will not recognize who you've become but he.... he will remain the same, unchanged not matter how hard ya try. he will always be what he always was, no love in the world can heal whatever is broken in 'im."

"ya don't understand, lizzie." you speak finally, "this isn't simple, for either of us. i can't leave"

"ya can't or ya won't?"

"i..." you pause for a moment, letting out a chuckle "i can't."

she studies your face , nodding "what does celest think? what does oliver think?"

"they're not thrilled."

"i know 'im more than most." she adds "and if i

knew what i do now when i first met 'im....." she looks away "i came here because i knew you'd be here and to tell ya that ya can come to me... if ya ever need help."

she places a hand on your arm, looking at you one more time before turning and making her way out of the garrison.

"she was always a nice girl" your mother sighed, taking a bite of her food

you and celest look at eachother before looking back at her,

celest knew why lizzie talked to you , and so did the rest of your family

"where's abraham?" you nod towards anna

she shrugged , "he had to do something before coming here"

"ya knew who i dreamt of?" your father pointed his fork at you "that teller boy, jeremy was it?. it was the strangest thing , i tell ya"

all the women at the table tried to stay neutral, keep their reactions to a minimum, you try to hide your uncomfortable reaction behind your glass of water "it is strange"

the whole table looks towards the front door, the sound of the door slamming open and not slamming back closed, and the heavy rushed footsteps

"i need to talk to ya," he appears in the living room doorway. he puts his hands on his hips, breathing heavily as if he ran to the house. he's disheveled, he pushed his glasses back on his nose with a shaky hand

"jeremy teller is dead." he speaks in a hushed voice, looking around to check that no one is listening, both of you standing in your parents bedroom. he didn't want anyone to hear , especially not renee or she might just give birth on the spot.

"what? no he's not." you laugh, looking at him. waiting for him to finish his joke

he looks at you, wiping a hand over his face. he looks at you "he's fucking dead."

your laugh falters slowly as you look at him, your face twitching with different emotions "how ? when? how do you know about it?"

"i heard. they found 'im murdered," he tries to not speaks too loudly "his throat was slit"

you can feel your blood go cold "do they know who killed 'im?"

he tilts his head, his hands still shaking as they rest on his hips. "ya know who killed 'im."

"no....no." you shake your head, laughing again in disbelief "no no no, no" you look away and step back, putting a hand over your forehead "that's impossible."

"listen to me" he grabs your shoulders, turning you to look at him "he did it, all of small heath knows he did and ya do too."

"no , he wouldn't." you shake your head again, your heart beating so fast you can hear it. "why would he do that? he wouldn't ."

he moves you gently, sitting you down on the chair in your parents room. he kneels , his hands move to your face "what do ya wanna do now ?"

the room feels so stuffy, you can hardly breath.

"i don't know." your chest feels like it might collapse. you try to stand up, but you can barely feel your legs, you try to blink away the darkness that takes over your vision.

but you knew it was coming, the darkness does take over.

here you are again, staring at that portrait that hangs opposite of your bed. you're filled with dread , fear and even anger , your eyes trace the portrait that you've already memorized.

your head on the pillow, your sister sniffling is another reminder, like a deja vu of that cursed night.

but you can see someone else in your peripheral vision sitting in the chair , those cold blue eyes cannot be missed. its as if his presence filled the room with a cold sort of air.

you try to get up,

"lay down"

"i don't want to." you mumble, letting out a breath as you lean your back against your bed frame. your eyes still on the painting, you don't even glance his way.

"feeling better?" his voice sounds colder than you ever remember it being. the smell of the cigarette smoke making you close your eyes shut, making your head spin. you reach for the glass of water on your bedside table, your hands quiver as you bring it to your lips

"yes" you put the glass back down

"ya look pale"

"hmm"

you can't shake that feeling, you're scared of looking at him and seeing the same view you did that day, the blood on his hands.

"ya killed 'im." you're almost muttering to yourself,

he doesn't answer you, and you don't ask again. you finally peel your eyes off of the old painting, glancing at him. the look on his face gave you the answer that you already knew.

he looks so calm , so collected , almost wicked. "are ya scared now?"

and it was your turn to not answer his question, but your eyes never leave his.

"did ya do it yourself?"

"yes" he looks right back at you "you're already aware of what i can do"

you just shut your eyes, your hands shake as they grip into the covers

"forgetting it is your fault, not mine." his voice sounds again

you don't even remember the rest of that day, his words were replying in your head.

you snap out of that trance a day later, you're in the living room on the chair by the window. you look straight at the window as your mind tries to make sense of everything, and then a figure down the street catches your eyes and you feel a switch go off in your head.

i have eyes around here.

and you realize , probably ears too.

your clothes swish as you run out of the living room towards your parents' room, your mother running behind you. the old wooden floor cried under your rushed footsteps

"what happened?"

you don't even hear her, you don't process what she's saying. you pull out the box from under their bed, you rummage through it , pulling out your dad's revolver.

the cold metal of the gun feels like it's burning through your flesh

"what the fuck are ya doing? where did ya get that?" oliver yells , his eyes opened wide as tries to run after you too.

the whole house freezes, all of them just still as if the slightest movement would set that gun off

you push that door open , it slams against the wall beside it. your feel take you towards the man standing in the street , a figure you've seen lurking around too many times to chalk it up to coincidences

you cock back the hammer, your hands are steady for the first time since yesterday.

"ya tell tommy fucking shelby that if he doesn't get ya fuckers away from me , i'll start shooting."

you move the revolver and point it to the pavement , missing his foot by a hair.

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#kadwrites #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction

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linos-luna · 3 days

Text

Blueberry Pamcakes❣️

Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, spanking, fingering

————————————————— 🌹

What a slow morning… It’s almost noon and he won’t let you up. But honestly… you weren’t fighting it. Chan had you in his arms, cuddling under the warm blankets. It was Sunday and you had planned to be at least a little productive today.

“Channie… we need to get up.” You said with a whine.

“Ten more minutes…” he replied sleepily.

“You said that an hour ago.” You chuckled while sitting up. “C’mon. Let’s make breakfast.”

“You know what we should make?” He asked while also sitting up and putting a shirt on.

“Hm?”

“Blueberry pancakes!” He said happily.

“That’s very specific.” You chuckled while standing and stretching. “But if that’s what you want, I think I can work with that.” I nodded while starting to walk out.

Chan followed close behind you. He was still in a cuddly, teasing mood and lightly rubbed your waist as you got to the kitchen.

“Whatcha doing, Channie?” You giggled softly while looking at the instructions on the box.

“Nothing.” He replied with a smirk.

“Hm… where’d I put that mixing bowl…?”

“Bottom cabinet.” Chan replied suddenly.

As you bent over to look, you could feel your boyfriend behind you, looming really close.

“Hm… I’m not seeing it..?” You said with a frown.

“Are you sure? Maybe you need to double check…?” He smirked while feeling up your thigh. It had you freeze when realizing what he was doing.

After closing the cabinet and sighing dramatically.

“Hm, channie… i think you’re misleading me…” you said softly. “The bowl is up here.” You added while grabbing it from a shelf.

You decided to play his little game and went to get the berries.

You knew they were in the fridge and bent over slightly, even adding a little wiggle to your hips so Chan would notice.

Your boyfriend picked up on it fast and gave you a little pat on the ass.

And that was the game. Lightly teasing each other to get the other’s reaction. It made the simple task of cooking pancakes take way too long…

“Im not sure why you’re so distracted.” Chan smirked while slipping his hand in your pants, playing with the material of your panties. “You just gotta stir the mix…”

“Mm…. I’m not the only one getting distracted.” You teased while squishing a blueberry between your fingers and sucking the juice off slowly and quite sensually.

“You really like berries that much?” He teased while grabbing one himself.

“Mmhm…” you nodded, watching as he also squished a blueberry.

“Well… looks like I made a mess here…” he said while pressing his chest to your back and showing his two fingers in front of you. “You think you help me?”

“Mmhm…” you let out a giggle and take his fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking the juice off and making lewd noises, moving your head as if it were something else.

Chan found it incredibly hot. He could help but now take his wet fingers and slide it around your waist.

It was getting increasingly difficult to focus but eventually the batter mix was ready and you were ready to cook them on the stove. You grabbed the bowl and used a measuring cup to add some to the pan, then adding blueberries.

“Wow babygirl that looks amazing.” He chuckled while moving his hand in your sweatpants again and this time going under your panties.

“W-what are you doing?” You twitched a bit as he started rubbing circles on your clit. “Mmm… Channie…?” You moaned softly while trying to focus on the cooking.

“Yes baby?”

“I-I’m trying to cook—” you found yourself gasping as he boldly started to run his fingers along your folds and tease you. He couldn’t get enough of your reaction, loving how breathless you became. Chan rested his head on your shoulder while teasing your hole with one hand and groping your breast with the other.

“Feel good?” He teased while rubbing your bare cunt.

“Mm-Mm…” you replied with your eyes closed. It was getting increasingly difficult to focus and it took everything in you not to moan out loud.

“Let it out, babygirl.” Chan taunted. “I wanna hear it~”

“C-channie… I’m gonna burn the—…”

“Nonsense.” He interrupted, now slightly slipping his finger in your cunt, making you gasp.

“Now let me ask again.” Chan said slyly. “Feel good?”

“Yes…” you whimpered, dropping the spatula, as he moved his finger in and out.

“Yeah?”

“Yes…” you moaned out loud while leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“More?”

You could only nod while letting out shallow breaths, bucking your hips to get more friction.

“So desperate.” He chuckled. “Are we gonna forget about breakfast?”

“Mmhm.”

“You want that?” He teased which frustrated you. Why does he tease so much, practically making you beg for it.

“Yes I want that, channie please!” You begged.

“Good girl.” Your boyfriend smirked while turning the stove off with his other hand before removing his hand from your panties, making you whine.

As a response, he shoved his fingers in your mouth and you instantly sucked your essence from them.

“Babygirl, I can’t wait to go eat you out for breakfast.” He smirked while walking you backwards towards the living room. “Then I’ll fuck you ‘til lunch…” he said in a low whisper. “how’s that, hm?”

You couldn’t respond. Only focused on sucking on his fingers like little was something else. Chan was amused. Very much amused.

—————

Not proofread

#kpop #kpop x reader #fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop smut #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x poc reader #bang chan #bang chan x female reader #bang chan smut #skz chan #skz chan smut #kpop fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fanfic

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velvetures · 9 months

Note

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

#john price #captain john price #captain price #mwii #cod mwii #john price x reader #john price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #velvetures #velvetures writes #velvetures answers #cod #anon <3

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kaleldobrev · 3 months

Text

Under Control

Pairing: Moc!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean keeps reassuring you that he has everything under control in terms of the Mark. But does he really?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing (3x), Smut (Insanely brief P in V), Non-Canon Elements, Talks of murder & Fluff

Authors Note: Dreams are in italics | Bold italics are the voices | I know Dean never really heard voices when he had MOC, but I thought it would be interesting to add for this fic | I’ve had this sitting in my drafts since December and I honestly have no idea why | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You were lying underneath Dean as he was peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone; every so often nipping at your skin. It wasn’t enough to leave any marks, but it was just enough for you to let out those pretty little soft sounding moans he had loved hearing so much. “Dean,” you moaned out; your nails pressing into his back. You ran them along his back, and it was his turn to let out a groan.

“Yeah Sweetheart?” He whispered, sucking on your neck a little rougher now as he wanted to leave marks now. Your hands went to the back of his head now, and you gripped his hair, slightly tugging.

He felt your lips on his earlobe, and the corners of your lips turned into a smirk. “Need your cock inside of me,” you whispered, and kissed just below his earlobe.

“Hmm,” he sat up a little, slightly straddling you; careful not to hurt you. Your hands went to his abdomen, and your fingertips started to slowly inch closer and closer to his cock that was pressed up slightly against your thigh. “Slow or rough today?”

“What do you think?” You smirked, biting your bottom lip.

He took his cock in his hand and lined himself up with your entrance, the tip barely touching you. “Rough it is,” he smirked, pressing his cock inside of you.

“Fuck…” you moaned, trailing off. You shut your eyes, and the look on your face was that of pure and absolute bliss.

Watching your face now as he pushed himself fully inside of you, he went to his side of the bed and opened up the side table drawer. “Ready Sweetheart?” He asked, pulling out The First Blade from the drawer and closing it.

“Uh huh,” you moaned, your eyes still shut.

“Gonna go on three,” he said, smirking.

“Baby don’t tease me,” you said, and you were about to open your eyes. But his hand went quickly over your eyes, covering them firmly.

“No peeking,” he grinned.

“Okay, okay. I’m ready when you are,” your voice sounding the happiest it’s been in a while.

“One…two…three…” he counted as he plunged the blade into your heart.

Dean woke up, sitting and panting, slightly covered in a thin layer of sweat. He turned to look at your side of the bed, and you were still lying on your side sound asleep.

He fell back into bed and stared up at the ceiling briefly before he turned to his side to look at your closed eyes staring back at him. He was still panting, and his heart was still racing; but it started to slow a bit as he looked at your face. You looked so peaceful, and he was so curious as to what you were dreaming about.

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, and a small smile formed on your lips. It was almost like you knew he was doing this; but he knew for a fact that you were still asleep. “Love…you…too…” you mumbled, and he smiled; now knowing that you were dreaming about him. But that smile didn’t last for long, as it quickly turned into a frown. Here you were dreaming about him telling you he loved you, but in his, he was killing you.

Dean pulled his hand away, as he felt the darkness start to creep up. “Do it,” the voice said from inside of him. “Take the blade and do it,” it continued.

“No,” he whispered. Your body started to stir a little as you readjusted to lying on your stomach now; your arms underneath the pillow.

“She’s right there,” the voice said. “She wants you to do it.”

“No,” Dean whispered again. He threw the blankets; uncovering himself, and sat on the edge of the bed, his back facing you.

“Her blood would look so pretty staining the blade…” the voice continued. “Watching the light go out of her eyes…”

“Dean?” It was your voice now, but he wasn’t sure if it was actually you talking or the voices in his head pretending to be you in order to trick him. But he felt your hands on his shoulders, your cheek pressed up against his back. “What are you doing up?” You asked, pressing a kiss on his bare shoulder. “Did you have a nightmare?” Your voice was so calm, so soft.

“Yeah,” he said, his volume just slightly above a whisper.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, pressing another kiss on his skin.

He thought about it for a moment but didn’t want to worry you; as you already worried too much about him. “No,” he answered, and quickly got out of bed. “Gonna go shower.”

You looked over at the clock as you watched him walk toward the bedroom door. “Dean, it’s 2:38 in the morning. Come back to bed and we can watch a movie or something,” your voice slightly begging, but was still so calm.

He wanted to just crawl back into bed with you, but he needed to get away from you, slightly afraid that he would actually hurt you. “Gonna go shower,” he repeated.

“I’ll take one with you,” you offered, and without looking, he knew that there was a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Again, he wanted more than anything for you to come and shower with him, but he didn’t want to hurt you. “No,” he said. “Wanna be alone,” he continued.

Before you could comment, he walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door quickly behind him, leaving you on the bed with a slightly sad and worried look on your face.

Dean turned on the shower once he stepped inside and let the steaming hot water run down his skin. “Should have invited her in. Easy clean up,” the voice said.

The voice kept repeating, and he couldn’t stop it. The only way he knew how was to actually go and kill something. But the world had been quiet lately, which was usually a great thing, but not since he’s had the Mark and the darkness inside of him had been getting more and more dominant.

You laid back down in bed, deciding to stay on your side; your face looking at the door in case Dean decided to come back in; but you were unsure if he would given how he just was. You knew that he wanted to be alone, but you didn’t want him to be alone.

There was a lot you didn’t know when it came to the Mark and how it was affecting him. But you knew it wasn’t good. As much as you wanted to help in trying to find a cure or a way to remove it alongside Sam, you knew he was fighting a losing battle. You were pretty sure he did too, but he just didn’t want to come to terms with it just yet.

Getting out of the shower, Dean looked at himself in the mirror briefly before he started to feel the Mark slightly pulsate on his arm. “Just kill her,” the voice said. “You’ll feel so much better,” it continued. “She’ll forgive you. She loves you.”

“Won’t do it,” Dean whispered to himself.

“Why not?” The voice answered back. “You said so yourself. You need to kill something. So why not her?”

“Because I…” Dean started, but the voice simply laughed.

“See, you can’t even say the word love. Pathetic,” the voice mocked.

“Shut up,” Dean whispered to himself.

“Pathetic,” the voice repeated.

“Shut up,” Dean whispered again, more annoyed this time.

“The only thing you’re good for is killing,” the voice said.

“I said shut up!” Dean yelled, no longer a whisper as he punched the mirror in front of him; glass shattering everywhere.

About to shut your eyes, you heard what sounded like glass shattering coming from the bathroom. “What the…” you whispered to yourself. You removed the sheets from yourself, and stepped out of bed, making your way toward the bedroom door.

“Son of a bitch!” You heard Dean yell, and again, the sound of more glass shattering.

Walking out of the bedroom, you saw Sam open his bedroom door, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Is Dean okay?” He asked you, his voice half asleep.

“He’s…he’s having a rough night,” you said, slightly sighing. “I think he punched the mirror again.”

“Want me to come help?” He asked.

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry. I got it. Just go back to sleep.”

“Alright,” he nodded, closing his bedroom door again.

Walking into the bathroom, Dean was on his knees trying to pick up the glass from the multiple mirrors that he punched. His knuckles were bloodied and cut up, and it looked like his knees were slightly bloodied too, probably from the broken glass on the floor.

As he was picking up a giant chunk, he looked up at you, the two of you making eye contact. “Go back to bed,” he said, his tone slightly demanding. “I got it.”

“Let me help you,” you stated, walking over to the closet and pulling out a broom and dustpan. “It’ll go faster with this and with two people,” you added.

“I don’t need your help,” he slightly mumbled, continuing to pick up the glass. His tone was less angry now, more maybe embarrassed sounding. But he had no reason to be. You weren’t upset with him, nor was Sam, the two of you were more worried about him than anything.

“Well too bad, because I want to help you,” you said. It was now your turn to have a bit of a more demanding voice. You started working around Dean, who insisted on continuing to pick up the glass with his hands as you started to sweep up some of the pieces into the dustpan with the broom. Every so often the two of you made eye contact and you would gently smile at him, hoping that it would let him know that you weren’t upset or angry.

After a few moments, Dean sighed, and the pieces of glass that he had started to pick up, he placed into the dustpan that you were using. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you reassured.

“I keep breaking the fucking mirror,” he added. “Second time this week and it’s only fucking Wednesday.”

“And that’s why I buy these mirrors from Five and Below,” you grinned. “Don’t worry, I have a whole stock pile.”

“Which you shouldn’t have to do,” he sighed.

“I rather you punch a two dollar mirror than kill an innocent person,” you said, throwing the glass away. “And see, it didn’t take that long to clean up at all.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“She’s not that innocent,” the voice said. “She said she doesn’t want you killing innocent people. She doesn’t count you know. You’ve seen it with your own two eyes.”

“She’s a good person,” he mumbled to himself.

“Say something Sweetheart?” You asked, closing the closet door once putting the broom and dustpan back.

He met your gaze, not realizing that he had answered the voice out loud with you in the room. “I said, can you help me patch myself up?” He lied.

“Of course,” you smiled. “Let’s go back to the bedroom and do it. That’s where my kit is.” You walked over to him, holding out your hand for him to take it, and he simply just looked at it.

“I don’t wanna get your hand all bloody Sweetheart,” he said.

“Dean, I’ve had your blood on me plenty of times. And other fluids,” you winked, trying to lighten the mood. “Your blood ain’t gonna kill me. Besides, we have a sink in the bedroom.”

“Okay,” he finally agreed, taking your hand.

Sitting on the floor of the bedroom now, you carefully started to clean the blood from his knuckles; and the stare that he was giving you was one of the most intense stares you had ever seen from him before. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you smirked.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“Don’t be,” you reassured. “I don’t mind you staring. It’s not like you’re some creep. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Who doesn’t tell you that he loves you enough,” he mumbled.

“Dean —” you started to say, but he quickly interrupted you.

“It’s true,” he continued.

“Dean, I know you love me even if you don’t say it all the time,” you said, starting to bandage his knuckles. “Is that what your nightmare was about?”

“I killed you,” he finally admitted. “I took The First Blade and I just killed you.”

Your motions started to slow as if you were trying to process what he had just said to you. “How often do you have that one?” Your voice seemingly unfazed by his admission.

“More often than I would like.” As much as he had wanted to tell you how frequent they were, he knew that would only make you more nervous and afraid about him — two things he never wanted you to ever feel around him. But he needed you to know at least to some extent that he does have these dreams, and has them relatively often.

“Well, Crowley has the blade hidden, so you don’t have to worry about killing me with it,” you said, finishing up bandaging him.

“But we have other weapons here Sweetheart. I mean I could kill you with my —” you cut him off by kissing him, and he was slightly surprised by this action. Yes, you’ve done this plenty of other times before (he’s even done it to you a few times), but kissing him after he openly admitted that he has dreams about killing you, was something that he didn’t expect to happen.

“I know that you won’t kill me,” you said. “And if you try, I’ll kick your ass,” you grinned. “Now, let’s get back to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” he said.

“Who said we were sleeping?” You smirked.

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#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader

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lucilleslore · 5 months

Note

lovesick snow really really really scratches a part of my brain that i cannot have the words that explain it and have to go the library of babel to find it. he'd be more easy to manipulate in that state, especially how vulnerable he is to you and how willing he'd do anything for you. like you said in one of your first posts, i'm in love with the idea of it of how powerful the reader is if you want to add more backstory to them.

ok so i went with your idea and gave manipulative!reader and snow the backstory they deserve for the little au we have going here!! i hope you love it <3

➸ so as a kid i see manipulative!reader as a bit of a daydreamer and what do lots of little girls dream about?? their wedding. for you though it wasn’t necessarily about the day, not even the fancy dress or the colour scheme but the person. let’s just say you’re already from quite an influential family but it’s not enough - you want more.

➸ you wanted a husband that’s powerful, motivated. he had to be important and charismatic - someone who could really get you what you wanted from life. you weren’t completely unbothered by the idea of romance though and hoped that’d you’d manage to get them utterly devoted to you, willing to do anything to protect you and make you happy. it’s not a hard thing to ask for, right?

➸ you’d always been aware of coriolanus snow but there always seemed to be better candidates for your attention. then he comes back to the capitol and you can sense the change in him - the unhinged, power hungry aura that seemed to surround him and as he quickly started making a new name for himself, you thought he could be the one.

➸ coryo would never be an easy person to get close to however. so you had to subtly start placing yourself in his life. it was a slow process but you were diligent. ‘bumping’ into him just outside his apartment, having the same social calendar as him, even showing an interest in the games so someone would set up an appointment between the two of you to discuss.

➸ then there was one moment. one that not even you - seemingly the mastermind of your own life - had planned out. it was raining that day, pouring and you were alone rushing back to your apartment. you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and when you stepped out onto the road you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of screeching tires or horns. or for the strong grip that wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

➸ coryo was there just as drenched as you were but with a kind of frenzied, panicked look in his eyes. ‘you should watch where you’re going,’ he’d urged. it was the way he said it, the way his hand squeezed at your wrist that had you thinking maybe he’d been noticing your efforts after all. he’d tugged you closer to him as if you’d be safer there and it was probably the most genuine moment you’d had in years, as you blinked up at the blonde man who’d just saved your life.

➸ honestly after that you decide to back off, feeling a little guilty about your scheming but seemingly the universe wanted the two of you on the same path. or maybe coriolanus did. suddenly he was there at family functions, taking meetings with your father, charming your mother at all costs. he’d come to dinners hosted at your families estate and his eyes would never leave you from across the table even when he was in a conversation.

➸ so when your family told you about the marriage proposal you weren’t that surprised, just giddy. everything was finally falling into place. you knew you’d have to be careful. to you snow was charming, doting in a sense but you’d heard the rumours. he could be dangerous and you’d have to make sure you were never in his firing line.

➸ in the beginning of your marriage you try and play coy, let coryo take the lead in things. you like to let him know how you rely on him, always holding onto his arm in public and letting him speak first. basically just playing up to his male ego but something about seeing you feeling so safe with him and letting your guard down has him letting some walls down too. which is exactly what you want.

➸ he’d start to confide in you after a while because you’re just such a good little wife! bringing him drinks in the evening in your pretty dresses, loosening his shirts and playing with his hair. it isn’t his fault he ends up telling you things about his past, things he plans to do in the future - a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t tell you especially since you’ll remember each and every one.

➸ kinda dark but i love the idea of you being able to read people really well and always hyper aware of who coryo surrounds himself with, always sussing out their intentions before he does. you give it a little while but if he’s still not catching onto them you’ll simply make something up. maybe they’re giving you dirty looks or maybe their gazes are just lingering a little too long for your liking, in places they certainly shouldn’t be looking. maybe they’ve flirted with you, maybe they’re making nasty digs but you have coryo eating out the palm of your hand by this point and he’s possessive, protective in a mad, feral way. you’re flat out lying but he eats it up and whoever you want gone doesn’t last much longer after that.

➸ maybe that’s how you get your power. by simply having his ear. people know that they can get what they want through you and by the time coryo is president you have people visiting you nearly everyday. hoping you’ll let them into your inner circle, offering you things in exchange for a word whispered in his ear.

➸ and maybe coryo comes to rely on you this way. you’re a capitol darling, their perfect first lady but behind closed doors you’re separating the good from the bad. the people who can help your husband and the people who’re out to damage what he’s built. people begin to see you as a powerhouse in your own right, someone with a good side they need to be on. or else.

#- nonnies!#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Note

can you do a ghost version of the Memories of Youth fic you did for price please?

Harvest Storms

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, emotionally distant father/Simon, injuries, arguments, mentions of Simon's past, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, etc.

A/N: I know this might be controversial but I really don't see Simon wanting kids so I tried to keep this realistic but also cute, lmao. Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Simon admitted that having a kid was never on his to-do list, and it wasn’t only his job that caused that. In fact, at any point in his life, the thought alone terrified him.

His icy eyes spaced out as the man unstrapped his combat vest in the on-base armory, hucking it over his head with a tiny grunt. Muscles ached; wounds burned.

He’d known having that one-night stand wasn’t right—he should have just stuck to his perfected solitude of dark rooms and middle-of-the-night workouts. But there was only so much you could do before instinct overcame any sort of common sense; add a few drinks into the mix and the concoction had glazed over his mind like a honey-laced dream.

And then nine months later a single text. A photo attachment.

“She’s yours.” His child. His daughter. Simon had a daughter.

It had taken weeks of self-isolation to figure out what to do. There were moments of very real panic—bone-deep worry and hatred. He couldn’t be a father and still be the Ghost that he was now, but there wasn’t a way to reverse his already damaged psyche. Home in Manchester didn’t feel like a real place anymore; home was a gun in his hands and his mask over his face. Slumping bodies and adrenaline-blown pupils. The high he got out of killing could never be topped by the joys of having a family he didn’t want.

But then he remembered his own father and the guilt that had struck him at that moment left Simon physically sick. Head pounding and bile lacing his tongue as he retched over a toilet. It would have been easier to just promise money, and give over some of what he earned to give you a future. He could distance himself but still be a shadow on the wall if it all went south.

Yes, it could have been easy.

Until your mother up and disappeared; leaving you all alone. There was no way in hell he could leave you in foster care. The stories he’d heard…

Simon’s gloved hands flex, joints cracking, before he checks the watch on his wrist with slow-blinking eyes. He needed to be home in two hours.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” A groan escapes, rolling his shoulders twice before grasping at his thigh holster—slipping out the X12 to place it down with a small thump of black metal.

These movements were entirely routine and soon there was a neat line of multiple knives, the pistol, an automatic rifle, frag grenades, med pack, rope, and anything else that Ghost could have even the slightest possibility of needing in a tight spot. Through it all, the mask stayed; icy eyes behind the spread of black face paint numb.

It’s one hour later that he’s done cleaning and putting everything away with tired fingers. Feet shuffle before he’s exiting the armory all together, snatching the large duffle bag near the double doors; a small grunt plays out of his chest. The strap is dragged over his head when Soap passes him in the base’s hallway.

All Simon could do is hold back a groan as a headache already begins to form.

“Lt.” The Scot calls, smile pulling his lips up, “off to go hide in back-alleys, then?”

“Jesus, Johnny, shut the fuck up already.” Ghost grumbles out, hands slipping into his pockets as he continues off down the hallway. Behind him, the mohawked Sergeant belts out a laugh before disappearing into the armory Simon had just vacated.

“Copy and check, Sir!” Sarcasm bleeds out and makes icy eyes fall half-closed with subdued annoyance.

The large phantom continues on until he exits the base and digs his keys out of his pockets—finding his car in the underground parking garage exactly where he had left it two months prior. As if on autopilot, he shuffles open the door and tosses his bag in the back before sitting in the front seat and twisting the ignition.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Simon pulls out a clean balaclava and holds it loosely—his opposite hand slipping up to the skeletal mask of his head and feeling the fibers on his fingertips. Replacing it swiftly, the clean fabric slips over his face with a stiff movement of his arm. Seconds later, his foot presses into the gas.

There are no words spoken, no comments under breath, just a silence that seems to stem from some underlying anxiety completely foreign to Simon on the field. Going home always made him nervous. A soul-digging kind of hesitation.

It takes him the rest of that last hour to drive home—a tiny little country house far removed from Manchester though still leaving it well guarded by local law-enforcement patrols. A perfect mix of safety and distance that had been the driving force in Simon’s initial purchase of it. But it wasn’t his only properly, not by a long shot.

Like a rat, the holes of his paranoia ran deep into the earth.

He pulls the car into the dirt driveway and kills the vehicle. Outside in the darkening sky, his eyes slide to watch over the top of the garden wall; seeing tree branches sway in a subdued breeze. Sitting there for a few moments, the man just ends up shaking his head and shoving open the door with his shoulder.

Veins tighten under his flesh.

“Kid!” Simon raps on the front door with his knuckles when his boots take him over and up the steps, voice gravelly. A house key slips into the lock, turning over before the barrier opens. Ghost stomps in and immediately knows the entire home is completely empty.

He blinks in confusion, looking over the still air and dull noises. The AC unit whirls; the fridge shakes. No feet on the floor—no groan or sly comment.

You were a teenager now, but the absence of your aura was harsh to him. You were supposed to be here. The Manchester man’s lips thin.

“Christ, don’t go and tell me she’s fuckin’ gone again…” Simon kicks the door shut and lets his bag fall from his fingers, feeling his chest tighten slowly. He beelines to the kitchen where, sure enough, a note from the far-off neighbor who keeps an eye on you when he’s gone was sitting with its delicate font.

Fast fingers snatch it like a snake, jaw clenched and tight grip creasing the paper. He reads with a growing disappointment.

“She got into a fight out of school again—black eye and bruised knuckles. I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but I couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you about it. I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father. When you read this, I’ll have tried to make her come back inside but I was unsuccessful. I left supper at the base of the hill and a blanket. I’m sorry. I’ll be at my home if you need me.”

Simon places the note down and runs a hand up and down his face, a deep sigh exiting his lips as his fingers cover his jaw and chin. Like the definition of fatigue, his body lightly bows forward. Slouched shoulders.

This would make the fifth fight this year.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

After a minute of mute irritation, the man drops his hands and goes to the freezer, taking out an ice pack with a small glint of further emotion stinted in his gaze. There are so many things that Simon feels for you—some of which he would never be able to properly express.

He’s not a good man. Not someone to look up to or place on a pedestal. He’s in the 141 because he can do a job; a job that not many others can do simply for the fact that something in him was broken. Shattered beyond repair.

Simon was never meant for this.

The blond placed the ice pack into a rag from the drawer and exited through the back door of the house. Grunt stuck in his throat at the thought of the delinquent activities you seemed to always get up to when he was gone which, admittingly, was more often than not.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

But wasn’t he doing a good thing by staying away? He took you in—provided food, water, shelter, and anything else you could need. What was he doing wrong?

Simon’s brows tighten as the chilled air hits him as a winder wind would. By now the sun had fully set and the darkness was becoming more black than blue by the second; dim twinklings from stars dancing in the pupils of his eyes. His feet take him off the back porch and easily finds a small trail that leads through the barren garden all the way to a hill in the distance.

Icy blue easily finds the tiny hunched being at the very top. His hand tightens over the ice pack.

Ghost was unable to understand, of course, he hadn’t had the kind of childhood people would want—was never around kids in general. No friends with little brats running around, obviously. Was this a normal kind of thing kids did? Start fights?

He’d heard some things about teenagers.

Closing his tired eyes for a moment, Simon silently walks past the plate of food at the foot of the hill but snatches the fluffy blanket that had been beside it. If you don’t want to eat he won't force you, but it was getting cold out quickly.

Simon wasn’t letting you catch a bug.

He huffs as he ascends the slope, all the aches and pains finally making themself more known in his thighs and abdomen.

You hear him coming when he’s three-fourths of the way there.

Your red eyes widen in shock, hands that had been trapping your legs to your chest rising to wipe the tears on your cheeks away aggressively; frantic. Three seconds later a heavy fabric hits your head and you tense, widely looking up into the dead eyes of your father.

The blanket thumps to the ground beside you in a heap.

“Put it on,” he grunts from behind his balaclava and your surprised expression slowly sours.

You turn away with a growl. “Don’t want to.”

“Bloody ‘ell, just put it on,” there’s no acidity behind the words, but the annoyance is clear. “Asking to get fuckin’ sick at this rate, are you? I’m not cleanin’ up your vomit from the floor when you're hunched over like a mutt on drugs.”

Not a stranger to his humor, but with a venom-laced look, you grab the blanket as Simon sits next to you and end up throwing it over your shoulders. Your face hurt too much to talk for long periods—right eye swollen and radiating heat; hands weren't that much better, the knuckles puffy and blood-flooded under the skin. It made you flinch when you had to clench your fingers.

You’re acutely aware of your father’s presence. How he sits with his spine bent with one hand behind him; legs laying out flat. You should be happy he’s back safe in one piece, but in reality, there would be little change if he never showed back up at all.

The house was always silent anyways. Dead. Simon was as much a stranger to you as he was to everyone else.

“What did I tell you when I went away, eh?” The man asks you lowly when you’ve settled, and you grit your teeth and look out over the landscape, long grass swaying in the wind. “Kid.”

“Don’t get into any more fights.” Words are stiff, reflective of both of your muscles and hearts.

“Affirmative. You want to explain to me what you did?”

“Got into another fight.” An icepack is tossed near you, bouncing in the grass. You scoff but take it, softly applying it to your face with a concealed flinch. Shame permeates in your ribs, a desperate need to prove yourself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not an excuse.” Simon glares at you from the side of his eye, utterly serious. “When I tell you something, you listen, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” you grit your teeth and clench your hands, a bitter huff leaving your lips. “Sure.”

A tense silence keeps you in its clutches, the kind of silence that stems from two people who really have no idea how to speak or understand one another.

“No more fighting,” Simon grits out, “now show me.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Show me it.” Your face burns as you slip the ice pack away and turn your face his way, meeting your father’s gaze head-on and seeing his lids slightly pull back. You spy his hand clenching in the grass, ripping strands out like hair from a head.

“Happy?” You sarcastically ask, turning back forward and putting the ice pack back into your socket.

It’s a long while before he speaks to you again, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face when he does. Your heart rampages at the deathly slow and tiny voice.

“Why?” The question makes your body flair with anger and you grip the pack tighter, feeling the ice shift in your grip as you clench it violently. You feel your fingers twitch when you answer, unconsciously closing into fists.

“Why?” You glare at him, “Why the hell do you care?”

Simon’s eyes go blank, brows going up his head. Gazes lock and you’re suddenly standing to your feet, chucking the ice pack right into his chest. It only makes you madder when he catches it easily, glancing down at the object before slowly shifting his numb eyes back to you.

“You’re never fucking here, what’s the point in telling you anything about me?” Your father’s face is covered, but the mask is more than just physical—it’s a part of him in every sense. You don’t know what he is, but you see his lungs going still in his ribs. You splay your hands around you as the blanket hits the ground at your feet. “It wouldn’t even make a difference if you never came back! Even when you’re here it barely even matters beyond who’s dishes are in the sink.”

Bitter tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, a tight itch in your skin. Slight guilt hits you when you shove out such harsh words, but you don’t care enough right now to think about what you’re saying. Everything just hits a breaking point. Shaking your head you scoff again, weaker this time. “You don’t even know the first things about me and you want me to try and explain why I do the things I do?”

Simon watches and listens, stone still. It’s as if he doesn’t even breathe; his pulse doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. If you would have been able to see it, you’d have noticed the way the large man’s lips were slightly parted.

He wasn’t averse to arguments, he yelled on Ops and cursed aggressively on duty, but he had made a stark promise to himself to never yell at you. If there was one thing that reminded him of his father—it was that. Explosive fights that only ended one way.

What you were saying was everything he knew to be true. This came to him in a slow and silent realization of growing pain. Simon didn’t know your favorite color or what food you loved. Your interests or your goals.

He knew how much you spent on snacks at the store, but didn’t know what you bought.

Ghost clenches his jaw and watches your resolve deteriorate with a heavy heart. What was he supposed to do? He was your father, sure, but…he didn’t know the first things that went with anything beyond giving you items and objects.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

How could he be a father to you?

Simon clears his throat, for once in his life completely unable to pull on any sort of skill to rectify this situation. You take his silence as blatant disregard.

With a burning face, you sniffle and twist on your heel, speed-walking down the hill back into the house. Your brain is pounding in your head, just as fast as your heart when you finally stomp through the garden and shove open the back door.

Simon doesn’t tell you to stop.

Left on that hill, he watches your back disappear into the house and gets a rabid pain in his stone heart. You were his daughter. You were hurt; neglected. He’d never felt like this before.

Simon had failed the only job that he knew was far more important than any other. Blue darkens into a color reminiscent of storm clouds.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Standing, he snatches at the ice pack and the blanket, lightly jogging down the mound of earth. In no time he’s standing in the house again, having completely forgotten about the plate of food outside. It’s the tense set of his shoulders that really give away how unprepared he feels. How out of his expertise.

Give Simon a gun and he’d be able to take it apart and reassemble it in one minute; a knife and he’d have it sharp in seconds.

Simon Riley has no idea how to be a good father and he’s suddenly very aware of how fast the window is closing to try. You were his blood and his responsibility. He can’t end up like his own father.

The thought almost makes him sick again, stomach rolling with anxiety.

Inside the house, he tosses the items in his grip onto the couch and whispers past into the hallway to your room. Fingers twitching, he grabs at his balaclava before ripping it from his head; stuffing it into his pants pocket. Stopping in front of your room, Simon raises a hand.

Just as he’s about to shove open the door, he instantaneously stops himself with a sharp thought.

Daughter, not soldier. Home, not barracks.

Hand lowering, he takes a long and deep breath and waits a moment; gathering himself. He still didn’t know what to say…but…

God, your words hurt, but he needed to hear them because they were true.

Simon’s knuckles rasp on the wood, a series of three dull thumps that echo over the stale air. There’s a shuffling of sheets and a dull, “God, just go away!”

Cursing quietly under his breath, Simon runs his fingers through his hair tense-like; pushing back blond strands.

“Open up for me, yeah?” He tries, awkward as his hips shift weight. “Need ‘ta talk to you.”

A cruel laugh exits from under the bottom of the door. “You? Talk?”

Simon keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, pulling from the deep pit of patience he holds for on-duty missions and not mastered yet for disagreements and verbal talks. He calms down and rolls his shoulders slightly.

“Please.” A pin could drop.

It’s a long, hot-air moment before there's the padding of feet over the floor and the slight shift of the door handle. The metal jiggles before it’s twisted back with a firm hand.

Your face comes into view through the tiny crack of the door, injured eye on full display in all its swollen glory. A young face is laced with surprise at seeing your father’s bare visage—only the black face paint stuck to his skin—but even more so at his plea. There were only a few times you’d actually seen him and even fewer when you’d hear something like that. Simon stops himself from getting angry at the sight of your wound, staring down at you as his gaze softens just a fraction of a sliver.

He recalls the moment he had first held your form when he had picked you up at hospital years ago. You were so small, squirming in his foreign grip. The nurse had to tell him how to hold you properly—what to do and what not to do.

It had been the first time that Simon could really say he’d been terrified down to his marrow; sweating and lips pulled tight. This being so small it couldn’t do anything by itself had rendered him frozen with unease like he had been stabbed in the heart. Your eyes had looked up at him with trust and love. You hadn’t cried or screamed at his hidden face, even if he thought you should have…you’d done something worse.

You had reached up to his face and placed your little fingers on his brow, slapping his flesh with no strength or hatred. Simon’s gaze never left you for hours after you’d done that, uncharacteristically warm and rendered mute to all else.

Tiny. Weak. Innocent.

How could anybody ever leave you? Hurt you? But the man had been petrified; utterly fearful to the point he would begin shaking when you’d begin crying for a bottle.

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

“What?” Your crestfallen voice brings him back and he blinks, expression going blank once more. But he tries.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know—are you going to give a lecture?” You ask, eyes red and other hand still holding the door handle. Simon breathes out a grunted sigh.

“Negative, Moppet, no lecture.” He relaxes his posture, eye bags plainly visible. He was so tired his fingers had gone numb. “Jus’ need ‘ta…” Words fail him. What did he need to do?

Simon clears his throat, looking off down the hallway before his eyes drift back to you.

“You land a hit, then?” You blink in silent shock at the graveled question, a hitch in your lungs giving way to confusion.

“I…” your feet shuffle, face burning, “what?”

One of your father’s large hands goes up to rub the back of his neck, fingers creating red lines across his flesh as his chest rises and falls. You could immediately tell he had no idea what he was doing.

But…he was trying.

“A hit,” he vaguely gestures to your eye, staring intensely. “Did you get ‘em back?”

It’s a vague few moments before you respond, oddly touched by the question. Your door opens the slightest bit wider.

“More than one person,” you admit hesitantly. Your father’s gaze darkens but you quickly continue. “T-they look worse than me right now.”

Simon nods stiffly, hands going to slide into his pockets. “That’ll do,” a pause, “...‘cause I can’t beat up teenagers without getting into a fuckin’ heap ‘o shit.”

Your heart lurches with amusement and a small smile grows on your face. You stare, still just a tiny bit confused at the sudden shift, but unable to stop the chuckle you let out. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest when his ears twitch at the sound of your humor, yet Simon pulls a smirk to his lips. It made him…content, you could say.

“Who said they were teenagers?” you smirk, tinting your head, and your father immediately frowns, unamused. Brows pull in.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. Shut your bloody trap.” The air lightens to a degree you hadn’t experienced before. A silence settles before you break it, vision darting down to spy on the dog tags Simon wears.

“...How long are you staying?” The man hums, licking his lips.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

“I’m off as long as it takes to get you to stop picking fights, yeah?” Your fingers flinch and you stare into eyes that are always like ice, except now try to melt themselves into a chilled puddle.

“Change of heart?” You ask, voice subdued. A bitter hope builds in your veins.

Simon motions with his chin for you to open the door to your room and you do, elbowing it to the side before backing up—letting your father’s large frame enter.

He looks around for a moment at the posters and the bits of personality, glaring internally at himself because he didn’t know what you liked at all. He seems disappointed with his own negligence.

He’d really fucked up.

“C’mere,” Simon goes and snatches your desk chair before he whirls it around, “lemme take a proper look at it.” His hand pats the top of the wood and you listen, going to it and sitting down softly.

Your father kneels in front of you, bones cracking, and he delicately grabs hold of your chin to tilt your head to the side with practiced ease. You avoid his eyes, hands in your lap held tight together in this silence that brews from shared thorns.

Simon has to take a deep breath to get his head out of his rage at the sight of your damaged skin; instinctual reaction to guard you rearing its head even more so now that he can see the injury in the dim light of your desk lamp. His thumb caresses the side of the swelling with intense care.

“Won’t die,” is all he can say, voice hard and strained. “Lucky you, eh?” You scoff and his hands leave—there wasn’t much he could do. “Moppet.”

Eyes slide up to his and his grip finds your bicep, squeezing once. You’re momentarily locked at the sight of real concern in his glinting orbs; a once in a blue moon occurrence.

“Give me your word.” Simon levels firmly, feet shifting. “No more of this. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt—badly—you got that?”

“They were calling soldiers cannon fodder.” You glare at your hands in your lap, mumbling out the truth with a burning face mixed with shame and honesty. Your father goes silent. “That they weren’t even good enough for bullets.”

Jaw clenching, you rotate your wrist and feel the flare of pain from the joints. A deep sigh exits from Simon and with a hesitant clench of his jaw, his hand travels to the back of your head. He presses firmly, and your face finds the junction of his neck and shoulder with little fight. Tense in the beginning, you slowly breathe in sweat and tarmac with a gradual loosening feeling in your muscles.

Eyes wide, you slowly begin to return the strange embrace. Your father flinches lightly when your fingers slip along his waist, hands grabbing into his shirt. But like you, time makes him calm—the side of his face connects with the side of your scalp, lashes fluttering closed tightly.

It was you. His daughter. Innocent.

The emotions are so foreign to you that it brings a burning behind your eyes as the minutes lengthen.

Simon can’t even begin to process it, it just felt natural to do such things for you. If there was one thing he did know—it was that he didn’t want to see you in pain or suffering; hurt or eyes filled with pain. His hands slip to bring you up into his arms like you were a baby again, carrying you easily as your nose sniffles with restrained tears. You’re placed in your bed with a delicate plop, icy eyes darting over you until it seems a decision is made with a quick nod.

You watch him leave and return seconds later with a pile of manilla folders in his hands. Your father grunts softly, “Go to sleep. It’s late out,” and drops the items to your desk, sitting down with a huff and a squeal from your chair. The air is warm and you sit in it a moment longer.

Eyes blink at the silhouette before a small smile builds on your lips—genuine and warm like a weighted blanket.

“How long are you gonna be there?” You ask your father, grasping the covers and slipping under as your head hits the pillow; making sure to stay on the uninjured side.

He doesn’t turn around.

“All night. Need ‘ta get this shite done for my boss.” You don’t know why, but you feel like he’s lying. Simon looks over his shoulder with a tone dipping to a whisper. “Sleep, Kid. We’ll get those knuckles sorted in the morning.”

Of course, he’d noticed that, too.

“Dad?” You ask and his spine straightens instantly at the title. It’s a long time before he answers and when he does his emotion is the softest you’ve ever heard him; gravel so deep you almost miss the words entirely.

“What is it?”

“Goodnight.” Simon’s hands shake as they open the first folder in the small stack, small tremors that are both horrible and endearing. He doesn’t say anything until you’re fast asleep behind him—when he stands up and walks over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the covers farther up to your chin.

Into your skin, he whispers, “...Goodnight, my little Moppet.”

Simon wonders if his daughter likes eggs for breakfast as his pen slides over the first report, one eye forever staying on your slumbering body to watch the rise and fall of your lungs.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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rerefundslocals · 1 year

Text

Slow motion [jjk]

Summary: you only wish to love jungkook for as long as the world allows you to.

>>pairing: idol!jungkook x fem!reader

>>trope: exes to lovers

>>genre: angst,smut,fluff.

>>word count: I'll add later

>>warnings/tags: feelings discussed, arguments, shyreader, Dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex, choking kink, backshots, dirty talk,petnames, spit kink, aftercare <3(lmk if I missed anything)

a/n- a recommended song is slow motion by Don toliver ft. Wizkid. Show love through likes, reblogs,comments and asks. Keeps authors very motivated<3 enjoy!! + this is not proofread and a repost.

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"Did anyone see you?" You sigh out as you walk towards the door of your apartment.

Jungkook, by the door undresses as he removes his Nike puffer jacket and ridding himself of his shoes as well ; left in his shirt and sweatpants, he only walks closer to you, grabbing your hand as he leads you to your couch ignoring your question completely.

"I had a long day, skip the questions,___." He groans out as he lays back on your pink velvet sofa,pulling you on his lap.

You simultaneously lay your head on his chest carefully as you hear his heart softly beat in his chest. "I just wanted to know." You mumble.

"It's okay. Did you eat?" He asks, hands rubbing the small of your back as he makes his way to your ass, rubbing at the flesh, clothed by your flowy dress.

You only sigh as you trace the patterns on his tattooed arm, reeling in the silence and the comfort of your ex-boyfriends arms.

It wasn't always so sullen between you two. You always believed that you'd be more happy if you were able to love Jungkook freely without having to sign heaps of papers and worry about publicity.

But that was not the reality of this relationship. Though you did try to get through that phase, it only teared down your relationship. Having to book private dates and seeing each other atleast two times every month. Three if you were lucky.

It was bad enough that your relationship went public, and when it did, it was your worst nightmare having spent two years of your relationship with Jungkook private and signing nda's .

From the Twitter comments and Jungkook having to face the worst times during his lives. You had decided to end things with him after three years of bliss. He took it hard and so did you.

Days turned into Weeks, and weeks turned into months ; that's when Jungkook decided that despite being broken up, he will find every way to meet with you, and kiss you, touch you, tell you he loves you as if you two were still together.

That's what leads you here, on his warm lap, soaking in the little time you had left as the company would be livid if they knew Jungkook left work to go straight to you.

He wonders why you have yet to answer his question, but he doesn't let it bother him. You probably had a long day too.

"Baby, are you hungry yet?" He finally asks. Head leaning down to get a better view of your face.

Feeling wary and skeptical, you look up at him, finally responding to him. "I'm really trying to be nice...but Kook, you should be gone right now. I'm scared you'll get in trouble." You pick at your nails, head hanging low.

He immediately responds. And it is not in a nice tone. "You and this fucking worrying of yours. If I wanted to be gone I would be right now." He scoffs out. Ever so gently removing you off his lap, warm hands ridding themselves of your ass.

"If you want me gone. I'll do just that."

You're quick to scramble to your feet, fluffy socks meeting your wooden floor as you follow him to your door.

"Kook, wait- I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that..but I'm just scared okay? Please understand that." You softly say.

Jungkook turns to look at you, eyes showing the clear emotion of sadness. Your heart clenches at the sight of a sad Jungkook and you reach your hand into his, engulfing in the warmth of his bigger limb.

"You're the reason we never worked out. You know that?" He asks, his hand tightly engulfed in yours.

Your brows furrow as you frown at him, "w-what do you mean,Kook? I broke us up because it was best for you. I did it for you." He chuckles, and it's not jolly or happy.

"You did it for me? Are you fucking crazy? I put my foot in this relationship when everything was going haywire,___. I tried and tried to fight for this. I am sorry that you're too weak to render that in your brain. But I love you. I do love you and I wish you weren't so selfish all the time ; because you know deep down in your heart that you want this. You love me like I love you. So cut the shit and forget the company and the nda's, the fans too. Just focus on you and I. That's all I want."

"Its harder than that." You mumble shyly and Jungkook loses it completely.

"What's fucking hard?! What is huh?!" He growls, "Tell me,___!" He finishes, chest heaving with anger. Completely unfazed that you flinched at his voice raising higher.

It's a stare off now, as you and him stare intensly in each other's eyes.

It's then you decide, that maybe he is right and that you can trust him, hope that everything would be better..if you just shut the world out, that being the company, his fans and the contracts.

Your eyes soften as you walk closer into jungkooks personal space, your arms wrapping around his waist as you hug him, your hair being mushed by his chest.

Jungkook sighs at the sight, eyes looking down at you as he contemplates hugging you back. "Touch me, please." You plee.

"Will you shut me out when we're done hugging?" He chuckles playfully.

You chuckle along with him, chests vibrating against each other, "I won't. Because I love you and I want this to work no matter what, Kook."

"I love you so much." You whisper once more, as you lift your head, frail fingers going up to caress his cheek.

Now on your tippy toes, you lean up for a kiss that Jungkook responds too, as he latches both your lips in a loving kiss. Lips moving in sync, as his hands come to wrap around your waist, fingers fighting the urge to grab the flesh of your ass.

The kiss becomes more feverish than it was softer as you let out moans into Jungkooks mouth and he groans jn response when you tug at his hair, "mhm - fuck, baby." He let's out as he props off your mouth for a second.

You continue to make out by your door while you peel off Jungkooks clothes, from his shirt to his sweats, leaving him naked in front on you since he did not wear underwear, though you don't question it.

"Hold on, baby." His lips leave yours as he tries to remove your dress from off your body and over your head.

Left with your thong, you lean down to pull it off and kick it somewhere in the kitchen.

With so much frustration to let out, Jungkook wastes no time lifting you up as you curl your legs around his waist, leading you both to your bedroom.

It's everything jungkook has seen before. From the Polaroids of you with family and friends hanging on the wall and the pastel pink wallpaper on your walls.

"Get on the bed, your back facing me and arch your back." The tone is instructive more than it is demanding and it radiates pleasure onto you, making you unbelievably wet for him. So you do comply and do just as he says.

Foreplay has never been one for yours and Jungkooks sex life, As much as Jungkook loves getting his dick sucked and you loving the pleasure from getting eaten out, you both just love to feel each other and be binded as one with no time to waste.

He wants to feel you squeeze around him and he wants to fill you up so good. Maybe after that would he eat you out and same with sucking him off.

Now he lines up with your hole, slowly inserting thr tip of his hard cock, precum leaking.

You both audibly moan in sync when he fully enters, slow and teasing thrusts at first.

You whine pitifully as you shake your ass as to pry Jungkook to move faster."Jungkook please."

"I know,baby, I know." He teases with a sly smirk that you can't really see from behind.

He complies with you, moving faster as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his pre cum fill the room.

Along with your moans and jungkooks low but raspy moans that have you curling your toes, you become a leaking faucet, getting tighter around his cock.

"Mm- fuck! You're so tight, baby." Jungkook moans, "keep squeezing my cock, baby."

It's a sloppy mess now as your moans sound like cries now, high pitched, whiny much and loud. Very loud.

Your poor neighbors :(

You squeeze tighter around him when he slaps your ass quite a few times, groping at the flesh when he let's go. Jungkook quietly groans at the tight fit. "Wan' me to squeeze you just like that?" You coyly remind him.

"Hmh, just like that, baby." He replies, a breath of relief is what it sounds like.

You feel your high approaching when your stomach coils tighter and tighter and tears pool at your eyes, one leaking from your left eye and onto your cheek.

What a sight.

Jungkook pulls you with your hair and onto his chest, his thrusts sloppier at this new angle.

"So pretty." He presses a kiss onto your cheek. He forces your mouth open with his free hand that isn't gripping your right ass cheek, leaning forward to spit a glob of saliva into your mouth.

"You gonna be a good girl and swallow? Hmm?"

You only swallow in response, feeling the warm spit go down your throat. You like it, quite tasty to you, everything about him is tasty.

"Fuck- I-im cumming, Kook!" You exclaim, feeling your knees go weak.

"That's it, baby. Soak my dick."

And on cue, you cum undone on his cock, jungkook moaning along with you as he spills into your hole.

The sticky white substance, thick and messy in your tiny hole.

You fall limply onto the bed when Jungkook let's go of your hair, and he gets up to get a warm cloth to clean you up.

"You Okay, baby?" He questions when he's done wiping you clean and covering you up.

You lazily nod at him, smile playing on your lips. "You did not say you loved me back, earlier on."You playfully tease.

Jungkook chuckles in response, running his hands through his hair for the first time today.

"Wellll," He drags, "you didn't exactly give me that chance since you kissed me crazy."

"I'm giving you a chance now. And come lay with me!" You whine.

"Okayyy, fine woman! I love you so so much." He hops in the bed beside you, pulling you close to his chest immediately. Desperate to feel you on him. "That's what I like to hear." You kiss his chest and he kisses your head above you too.

"I love you,too."

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