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the-witheredroses · 6 months

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Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

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Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

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yikesmary · 8 months

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BOYFRIEND DUTIES — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: after a night out with your friends, your boyfriend, seungcheol tries to take care of a drunk you. as he is helping you get ready for bed, you start mumbling about an interesting topic

notes: yes hello everyone I haven't updated in so long and I come back with this subpar writing 👍. I am still on hiatus technically, but I missed writing and thought that this would be the way I would ease my way into writing so to speak. hope you guys enjoyed!

join my taglist!

"Cheol..." you trailed off, clinging onto him for dear life after he carried you out of the car and on the way into the house.

It was one of those rare nights where you, your boyfriend, and your friends were all free on the same night. Arranging a time when all 14 of you could hang out was hard, considering all of you had separate lives to live and jobs that had different schedules.

Which was why all of you decided to spend your day together by drinking, eating, and singing karaoke. You, being the lightweight you were, didn't take much before you were drunk and screaming with Soonyoung in the mic, singing to whatever song he decided to play even if you didn't know the song.

By the end of the night, you were plastered, stumbling all over the place and Cheol had to guide you in walking when you both left the karaoke place.

And that's how you found yourself in Cheol's arms, your cheek resting on his chest while he tried to unlock the door with the key while you were in his arms. Hearing Cheol's steady heartbeat, you found yourself slowly dosing off.

"Hey, baby, you can't sleep yet. We have to get you ready for bed," your boyfriend said, gently waking you up.

You whined at his interruption, burying your face into his chest, and shook your head no. You felt the rumble of his chest when he chuckled at your actions.

He managed to carry you all the way to your bedroom and placed you gently down on the bed. Cheol turned to go, but you sat up and grabbed his arm, and looked at him, your sleepiness was suddenly gone and you were now aware he was going somewhere.

"Stay?" was all you could muster from your drunken state.

"I'm just going to get a few things for you, I'm not going anytime soon," he told you.

You squinted at him, suspicious, before you let him go and watched as he walked out of the bedroom. He didn't take long and he walked back in with a glass of water and a pack of your makeup wipes. "I saw that you used up the last of your makeup wipes so I opened a new one for you," he said, placing down the glass of water onto the nightstand and walked towards you.

Grabbing the makeup wipe, he tried to remove the makeup the best he could without having to press too hard. You moved a bit, but he was able to get most of the makeup out.

Throwing the makeup wipe in the bin, he reached over to the nightstand to grab the water and handed you the glass to drink.

As you were drinking, Cheol once again exited the room and went into your shared walk-in closet. By the time you drank the entire glass of water, he came back out with pajama pants and one of his shirts you declared to be your sleeping shirt.

"Why didn't you get dressed yet?" you asked, grabbing the clothes and you gave him the empty glass.

"I wanted to make sure you went to bed before I did anything," Cheol replied.

You started tearing up, and you didn't know what triggered it, his thoughtfulness or the fact you were still kind of drunk, but it was probably the mix of both.

"Are you okay? Why are you crying? Do you feel sick?" Cheol started panicking once he saw your tears.

“It’s just… I don’t deserve you,” you said, tears starting to stream down your face.

“That’s not true! If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” he said, crouching down to kiss you on the crown of your head.

“But I’m the one who’s drunk and you have to take care of me while you could’ve easily spent more time with the guys,” you sniffled.

“You were having fun with our friends who we haven’t seen in a while. I wasn't going to leave you alone," Seungcheol softly told you.

"I love you so much," you told him.

"I love you too,"

taglist: @belladaises @winterpaos @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @outrologist @stagefrjghts @dahliatopia @exo-saranghajaaa @uhlatcha @watermelon-sugars-things @miniminimingi @venzline @withloveyjh @lockburn-castle @userjunhuii @mypsychicpizzaworld @violetvoo @maevadobreva @soonyoungblr @baekhyunstruly @ryusol @dunixxd @minhwa @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @icyminghao @cookiehaos @duskunt1ldawn

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trulycertain · 5 months

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I've been thinking about why I enjoy Astarion and Tav (friendship or romance) so much. And I think I've finally put my finger on it: I love that, in a game so much about grey morality and there being no easy answers, this arc is so unabashedly, almost cheesily about the power of kindness.

Astarion's trauma doesn't turn him into a better person. There's no "the cleansing power of pain" here. He was a snotty petty fantasy-racist jerk before he was turned and enslaved, and he's a snotty petty fantasy-racist jerk afterwards.

The thing that makes him want to try listening to his compassion once in a while? It isn't trauma, but Tav and the crew's kindness. No matter how angry he gets with you for being a sappy do-gooder, his approvals tell a different story: despite the front he's putting up, he will fall fangs-over-heels for Tav if they're kind to him about Cazador, if they don't judge but instead offer him compassion. (In Act 3, if Dribbles asks what makes Tav special and they respond, "I treat everyone around me with kindness"? You get approval from Wyll and Astarion.) Karlach doesn't judge him for his days luring but asks with friendly intent if they would have met, if they could have had a drink together, speaking to him like a person rather than a tool; Gale offers him blood after a difficult fight and shares in his jokes about hedonism; Wyll, a noted monster hunter, lets him live and admits later on to being wrong about him. There are so many other instances.

It's incredibly telling that when you're trying to persuade him not to do something utterly inhumane in the name of the ritual, his instant, desperate argument for why he has to do it is, "Other people don't have a heart like you." Ascension is him agreeing with Cazador that the world is dog-eat-dog. No-one will ever be kind to you unless it's a lure, a scheme, softening you up to be used (the way he did for Cazador's targets and later tries to do for his siblings). Compassion just gets you killed. The only answer, the only honest thing, is domination and violence - "the cycle of power and terror".

If he stays spawn and you romance him, he tells you as much, tells you exactly what you did right: "You were patient. You cared." And "You believed in me. You believed that I was enough, just the way I am."

So yeah, that conversation where he says that "other people don't have a heart like you" and Tav counters, "The world can be a kind place," and he responds that "I'll... think on what you say"? I believe he genuinely was thinking on it. And it's why that chat lives in my head rent-free.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #tav x astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #meta #ie me rambling

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harrystylesfan2686 · 5 months

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Pieces Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of the break up has different effects on both, Azriel and Reader.

A/N: yall I'm sick🥲 the updates might be late but I'll try to post as much as possible. Hope you like this one!

Pieces Masterlist

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It's been one month.

One month of Healing.

When azriel left, I told myself that I will not contact him until I'm ready. Doesn't matter how much I'm missing him or wanting him. I will not talk to him until I know I won't take him back the second I see him again.

I gave myself two days. Two days to sulk all I wanted. I spent the whole time crying and feeling miserable about myself. Before Az left at least, I wasn't by myself. At least I saw him once a day.

Now? Nothing.

I am totally alone. His absence hit me Hard. Everything I saw, almost brought me to my knees.

The kitchen where we would make dinner together, laughing and joking with each other that many times ended with us covered in flour and syrup.

The couch where we would sit cuddling and talking until we fell asleep, always waking up with strained muscles.

His office where he would sit on his chair in front of his desk, writing out reports and whatnot while I sit in his armchair reading my book. Just enjoying each others company and occasionally taking breaks to make out on the very deck, and then some.

After those dreadful days though, I called Feyre and Mor and had a very much needed girls night. We took out a wine bottle and I spilled everything to them. My mind was too drunk to think my feelings about Elain might offend Feyre but she genuinely felt sad for me and embarrassed about her sister. The poor girl even apologised to my about Elain's behavior to which I immediately told her it wasn't her fault.

When I told them how lonely it got being alone in a big house like this, they suggested maybe I should get a job or something to keep my mind distracted and promised that they'll visit me often. So I did juat that.

I found a part time job at a local library. I have to admit, I'm really enjoying it. I'm the second assistant to the sweetest lady, Hilda, who owns the shop. I don't do much, just help her in small things like adjusting books on self or helping in shipping books out or in. Layla, the first assistant, handles most of the work around the shop. My job is basically doing what she asks of me. The salary isn't much but I don't care because it's never been about money.

The first week was very hard. Everyday after I came home, the silence felt like a slap on the face, reminding me of everything I lost.

But, slowly, I became comfortable with it. Now it's doesn't hurt me as it did before.

There were many times when I think of Azriel, tears filled my eyes, but I never let them free. I sucked them in and did anything else that didn't made me cry, like taking baths, baking my favorite chocolate brownies, reading in front of the fire place while drinking hot coco or calling my friends to take me shopping.

And as time went. I started to heal. I started to feel good, happier with myself. And without even realizing it, I started to love myself.

-☆-

Azriel

It's been one month.

One month of regretting everything I did to my mate.

I've spent my whole month sulking in this room, crying and regretting everytime I chose Elain over my wife. I haven't slept at all since I came here, just enough to keep me functioning. My appetite is gone. I don't eat unless Rhys come and force feeds me like I'm some baby.

I told Rhysand and Cassian everything the first morning i stayed here. Which earned me a flick to head by Cassian and a very disappointed look from Rhys. Even though they didn't give me any scolding(which I very much deserved), the flick and expression said enough.

Rhys has refrained me of any work, handling it himself or having someone else do it. While I have been sitting around here and hating myself. It seems like even my mind has declared itself an enemy, showing me memories of everytime I dismissed Y/N and hurt her in any way at most random times, cutting a deeper cut in my heart everytime.

"Hey Az, I was thinking if we could go out for dinner tonight? There is this new amazing restaurant I saw while walking near Sidra. I really want to try it." She told me as I put on my coat, ready to go.

"I can't, I have a mission for today. Rhys told me it's important so I can't skip. We'll go some other time. Okay?"

"Ok."

I could hear the excitement in her voice when she asked me and the hurt when I rejected her and promised to go another time. The time never came. She never asked again. And I never noticed.

"Az, are you awake?" She whispers in the dead of night. Both of us sleeping on the bed. My back to her, hoping to fall asleep quickly because I have early training tomorrow.

Cassian is spending time with Nesta more, so Rhys has told me to go to an illyrian camp to check how things are going. I have to wake and go there early to catch them off guard to see what's truly going on.

I can't do that if Y/N doesn't let me sleep.

I didn't answer her that night, hoping if i dont respond, she'll think im asleep and doesnt call me again. She really didnt call me again. I prioritized my sleep over her. Her voice sounded so small. She needed me. And I didn't care.

"So, I saw a really cute baby in garden today and..." I drone out her babbling and try to quickly I can get out of here, I promised Elain to help in her garden today. She'll be disappointed if I show up late.

"Az? You're listening to me right?" She suddenly questions, I clear my throat and answer a small, of course, she nods and takes a deep breath, not saying anything anymore. I sign in relief of the silence.

I put my head in my hands and tug hard on my hair, wanting to feel hurt, hurt the kind that she clearly felt and I didn't care.

I hate myself more and more as memories flash through my mind. I can't even cry at this point. I wished she'd hit me when we fought. Slaped and paunched some sense into me. I don't blame her at all for not talking to me. Gods, I wouldn't even blame her if she left me. I deserve it.

How do I fix this?

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Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget @going-through-shit @wallacewillow0773638 @kalulakunundrum @cat-or-kitten

#acotar fandom #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #azriel #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel x reader #pieces

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 days

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congrats on 3000 followers 💫 you deserve it honey!🧡 Also, Chappell Roan has been stuck in my head, so I’m suggesting a lyric of hers for a prompt:

“I could be the one, or your new addiction.”

(Or any lyric from HOT TO GO!)

Thank you! I’m right there with you, Chappell Roan the incredible bitch that you are 👏🏻

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“He’s had one drink and he’s acting like he had a bottle of vodka,” Robin shook her head while she watched Steve dancing with two guys in the middle of the club they’d only been at for an hour.

“He needed to let loose,” Eddie shrugged, looking down at the drink he’d barely taken a sip from.

Robin looked at him, frowned, then looked back to Steve. She desperately needed them to get their shit together, but Steve acting like this definitely wasn’t going to work. It didn’t help that Eddie had been acting moody all day, barely even wanted to come with them.

“And what about you?” She finally asked him. “Are you gonna let loose tonight or keep the stick up your ass until you go to bed?”

Eddie’s head shot up, ready to argue. He didn’t, though. He looked back down at his drink and sighed.

“Not really feeling like letting loose, birdie.”

“Why not?”

Eddie shrugged and stayed silent.

“Did something happen?” She pushed. Even on his moody days, he was still usually capable of putting on a smile for her or the kids.

“No, just me being dumb. Making assumptions,” Eddie snorted. “Should be used to it by now.”

“What assumptions?” The song changed to something even louder and she considered dragging Eddie to the outside seating so they could talk.

“Just thought I was making progress on something and I clearly wasn’t.”

Oh, so it’s about Steve.

Eddie hadn’t really talked to her about his feelings, but she caught on early. She watched the way Eddie prioritized Steve over everyone and everything else, how he smiled when Steve was happy, how his mood shifted when Steve was having a bad day. She’d be worried more about it if she didn’t know that Steve was the exact same way.

They were idiots, both of them.

“What makes you think that?” She took a sip of her drink to seem more casual, but Eddie wasn’t that much of an idiot.

“Pretty obvious where I stand when someone’s leaving his room early in the morning, Robin.”

So he did know Robin knew.

“Someone slept over last night?” Robin didn’t know that. Steve rarely brought people to his apartment he shared with Eddie, and he hadn’t in nearly a year. Robin didn’t even know the last time he showed interest in anyone beyond getting a free drink from them.

“Yeah. She seemed like his type. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it soon.”

Robin squinted back at Steve dancing.

He would have told her by now about bringing someone home. They’d been together all afternoon.

“I don’t think he slept with her,” she finally said.

“Yeah, okay. I’m sure they just cuddled all night.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “It’s not what you think, I’m telling you.”

“Sure.”

She couldn’t do or say anything else, just had to let Eddie brood about not being in Steve’s bed even though he could fix it if he just said something.

She finished her drink and excused herself to join Steve. Maybe he could tell her what was going on.

“Hey dingus,” she yelled as she got closer.

Steve turned and smiled at her, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Robs! Hi!”

“Hey, babe. Did you forget to eat today?”

Steve nodded.

“Thought so. Let’s go get you some water.”

She dragged him to the bar and managed to get the bartender to get him water before anyone else got more drinks. She forced him to drink half of it before they walked back towards the table in the corner Eddie hadn’t moved from.

“Eddie! You should dance with me,” Steve exclaimed as he sat next to Eddie and grabbed his arm.

“Maybe next time, Stevie,” Eddie smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Steve was still a little too drunk to notice, but Robin saw it.

“Awww, you never dance with me anymore. I miss you.”

Robin could see how hard it was for Eddie to hold himself together. Every possible emotion was flickering behind his eyes.

“Maybe that girl you had over last night will dance with you,” he finally settled on, which Robin immediately wanted to shove back into his mouth.

Steve sat back and seemed to be trying to figure out what Eddie meant when the beat of his current favorite song came on.

“Oh my god! Eddie! Please dance with me!” Steve clapped his hands and stood from the stool he’d been sitting on.

Eddie looked sad, but also endlessly endeared by Steve’s excitement.

“I could be the one or your new addiction!”

Steve was yelling the lyrics right at Eddie, not realizing how much Eddie was hurting.

Robin was his platonic soulmate and Eddie was on of her best friends. She couldn’t keep watching this.

“Steve, maybe you should get some fresh air,” she grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him away, but he looked mad.

“No, this is my favorite song.”

“Steve, c’mon. Just for a minute. We can listen to this when we get outside if you want.”

Eddie was looking back down at his drink, biting his lip so hard it looked like it might bleed.

“Only if Eddie goes with me,” Steve folded his arms across his chest and pouted.

“Eddie’s gonna save our table in here,” Robin said.

But surprisingly, Eddie interrupted her by standing up and throwing back the rest of his drink.

“I’ll take him.”

Steve cheered and started singing along again as Eddie and Robin shared a look.

Eddie wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and guided him towards the back door that led to a small seating area outside. Steve was singing the whole way, but he rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder while they walked.

“Why are you sad tonight?” Steve asked as they made their way to the only available table outside.

“I’m not.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Eddie lied.

“Then dance with me. I love dancing with you,” Steve didn’t move his head from Eddie’s shoulder even when they sat down.

“I love dancing with you too,” Eddie managed to say before he felt a lump in his throat.

He loved doing everything with Steve, even dancing to pop songs at a club, and it was only hurting him more to keep pretending it was enough.

“I even taught you the dance to that song,” Steve said quieter. “Remember?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiled to himself, tightening his grip around Steve’s shoulders. “Made me put my hips into it.”

“Because you have nice hips,” Steve sighed.

Eddie could feel his face heating up. Steve wasn’t sober enough, he didn’t know what the hell he was saying.

“I barely have hips at all,” Eddie managed to choke out.

“Not true. I like holding them. They’re perfect.”

Okay, Eddie couldn’t do this. Robin needed to read his mind and come outside and-

“Wanna hold them now.”

“Steve, you’re drunk. You-“

“Can we dance?” Steve interrupted.

“The music isn’t loud out here.”

“I can sing it.”

“We’ll be the only ones dancing.”

Steve tilted his head back and looked at Eddie. “When has that stopped you before?”

“Fine.”

Eddie stood and let Steve hold his hips, almost a slow dance, while Steve started singing the song.

“Baby, do you like this beat, I made it so you’d dance with me.”

Eddie loved when Steve sang. He wasn’t the best, but he had a smooth voice that made Eddie smile, regardless of the song he was singing.

They were swaying like it was a slow song, but the vibrations of the bass line coming through the walls of the club made it obvious it wasn’t meant to be.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Steve said after he went through the chorus once.

“Okay.”

Steve looked frustrated. “Some guy was trying to take her back to his place and he wouldn’t take no for an answer so I let her Uber back with me and she ended up just spending the night. Nothing happened.”

“That’s…fine. I don’t need to hear about it,” Eddie knew he sounded rude, but he truly couldn’t make it through the night if Steve gave a play by play of getting cozy with someone else.

“I don’t ever want anything to happen with anyone but you.”

Eddie stopped swaying. He was pretty sure the music stopped inside. No one else existed except for them.

“What?” He finally squeaked out.

Steve was looking at him like he was the sun.

“No matter who I dance with or flirt with or hang out with, you’re the only one who matters. It’s just you, Eds.”

He was drunk, but drunk Steve never lied. Eddie knew that for a fact. He’d said some harsh truths before when he had more whiskey than he should’ve.

“I don’t understand.”

Steve searched his eyes and bit his lip, like he was considering what to say.

But then his lips were on Eddie’s, soft, cautious.

He was holding back.

Eddie didn’t want him to.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him forward so their chests were flush against each other, tongue licking along Steve’s bottom lip to deepen the kiss.

Steve allowed it, moaning as he let Eddie hold most of his weight.

Before they could get too carried away in public, Eddie pulled away to catch his breath and try to get his heart to slow before he passed out.

“Steve, this can’t just be a fun thing. This is…this is everything to me. You’re everything to me.”

Steve nodded, eyes never leaving Eddie’s. “I know. You’re maybe the love of my life. I’m drunk but I know how I feel. Felt that way for years.”

Years?

“Years? And you just now decided to say something?” Eddie wasn’t looking forward to Robin’s ‘I told you so.’

“Couldn’t. Didn’t wanna scare you away.”

“There’s no fucking way you’d ever do that. I’ve been yours for three years whether you knew it or not,” Eddie laughed in disbelief.

“We should go home,” Steve said quickly.

“You tryin’ to take me hot to go?” Eddie teased.

“If you’ll let me,” Steve nodded, tugging on Eddie’s hand to get him to move faster.

“I’ll let you do anything you want, Stevie.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #asks #follower celebration #drabble #getting together #this is becoming a theme #what does it mean #modern au

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 2 months

Text

ACITHYCS.

“a crack in the heart you call stone” (john wick/fem reader)

Running away from John Wick is never a good idea. TW: nsfw, noncon, dead dove, abuse, violence, power dynamics except the reader doesn’t have any power, smacking, spanking, choking, rough, awful shit. Your assassin sweetheart is not sweet in this. He’s fucked in the head, but I mean it is your fault.

It was a really, really, really.

Really.

Bad fucking idea.

Bad fucking idea to turn cottontail and run away in the night.

Run from him.

But you did, didn’t you? Maybe because you didn’t realize what a stupid decision you were making, maybe because you were too scared to stay, maybe because you didn’t know what else to do.

Maybe because running away from monsters is the standard of sane and you needed to prove that you were not crazy.

“That’s bullshit,” you know he’d say, “your decisions are your own and you will deal with their consequences.”

And, oh fuck, you haven’t heard his voice in so long - that sweet honey heroin aphrodisiac infused growl - but somehow little drops of it still sit sticky inside your ears.

Your cotton panties feel uncomfortable and clingy, and you have to squirm several times in your seat to pull fabric from damp folds.

That’s the worst part, the one that makes you want to put a 9 mm barrel in your mouth because surely - guaranteed - you’re sick in the head for almost - ha, who are you kidding - for definitely - wanting him to find you.

Insane after all, even through the trouble to prove otherwise.

You shouldn’t get out of the cab, you shouldn’t walk upstairs to your apartment, you shouldn’t open the already unlocked door, you shouldn’t start curling your toes and burning when you see him casually sitting at your dining table, drinking a cold beer and eating leftover pizza. Like he just belongs here, in the life you picked specifically void of him.

He ignores you, favoring the newspaper clutched in his fist, munching and relaxing and as handsome as any husband should strive to be.

You take the chair opposite from him and press your thighs together in anticipation of that involuntary, awful clench of your cunt when his broody eyes meet yours. You try to rest your hands on the table, but pull them back into your lap when you notice they are visibly shaking.

“John.” You’re surprised you can talk through the saliva filling your mouth.

“Hello, honey,” he says, then kicks the table out of the way and muffles your scream with the loud crash into the kitchen counter. No barrier between the two of you now - really, you’re a fucking idiot to think anything could keep this beautiful, horrifying human wrecking ball away from you - and he fists the loose fabric dress over your tummy and tugs you forward.

“You know what happens now?” He asks, terrifying you with a smile.

You blink owlishly up at him, tears globbing on your bottom lashes, body shaking violently, and ask: “wh-what?”

Instead of answering, he grabs your throat, takes you off your feet and slams you - not gently - against the wall. Picture frames smash to the ground, scatter glass over the linoleum. One minute you’re breathing, and the next you’re wondering what delicious air even tastes like.

You claw at his hands, face swelling up and turning a shade of beautiful blue that grabs his cocks attention - the length of him fattens up against your tummy and he grinds into your soft, plump skin, hard and unforgiving.

There’s black hellfire in his eyes, a dark promise to make you sorry for your miserable little John-free existence, and, for a second, you resign to the notion that he is going to keep his iron grip around your suffocating throat until you pass out. Your vision is already blurring and darkening, claws scratching pitifully at his arms. A little woodland creature in a big bear trap.

But, he lets you go, dropping you right on the hard floor, and you land on your ass, gasping for air, face soaked from tears, dress ripped down the middle. He jams his pointy shoe in between your legs, pressing the tip into your cunt, hurting you.

“John, please,” you whimper through grit teeth, trying to push his leg away and only getting a big black dress shoe crushing your pussy as reward.

Your head flips back, neck craning just enough to put agonizing tension on your scalp and spine. His fist nets what feels like every tearing hair on your head, and you can’t help but screech in pain.

“Please,” he repeats, voice eerily calm even as he’s shoving his fingers down your throat and making you choke. He pulls out and leaves thick white spit dripping onto your pouty lips and chin. He smears the excess on your cheek and smiles down at you - almost lovingly - “you’re begging already? Fucking pathetic.” His foot digs deeper into you and you let out a cry, proving his point. You are pathetic.

“Oh, I missed this tight little cunt,” he sighs and closes his eyes as if talking to himself. “Thought about her every fucking day.”

“John, I’m sorry, I-“

“Shut up.” He slaps you on the cheek, hard enough to leave a big red welt, then lugs you up by your hair. He doesn’t bother to move his leg, so your bare skin scrapes raw on the rough fabric of his pants. “The only thing that’s gonna come out of that pretty mouth from now on is ‘yes, John.’”

He spins you around, manhandles you onto the counter, presses his cock into the cotton of your panties and slaps your ass harder than he had done to your face. He watches your plump jiggle and retract, wets his lips, grunts. “Did you hear me, babydoll?” He slaps the same spot, and you yelp and claw at the counter.

“Yes, John.” The phone is right beside your head, you see the screen light up with worried texts from your friends, asking if you’re home yet. You could try and pick it up, call someone, dial 911, but this is John, and you know there’s not a chance in hell you could touch that phone without him crushing it in one grip.

“Oh?” He sees where your eyes are, of course he does. He’s a fucking lethal predator, and you’re just a stupid girl. “You wanna call somebody to come save you? Do it. Call them. But you’re gonna watch attentively while I kill them all, I can promise you that, honey.”

Fat wet tears run down your cheeks and puddle on the counter. You can’t help but feel partially responsible for the crazed, lightless black fire in his eyes. The way he’s completely gone and fucked in the head. No, not partially. This is all your fault. You drove him to madness, left him with a broken heart that turned black and rotten over time, and now you’re gonna deal with the repercussions.

He grinds up against your cunt and ass, so smashed in that you feel his plump cock head chafing your clit. He tugs on your hair to bring your face off the counter. “My little cry baby’s gonna be sobbing a lot more often, now.” He tsks as if disappointed.

He slaps your ass for a good bit, alternating each cheek, using the tips of his fingers to make the sting unbearable. You almost move your hands to cover the raw red skin, but he tugs your head back harshly in warning.

You whimper and put your hands back on the cool counter, wishing it was your ass instead - the tissue is on fire, a new level of burning every time his hand meets your flesh.

His palm is worse than his fingertips. It’s a throbbing pain that shoots over your back, legs, and tummy, and he gets you screaming with a big, ruthless swing. Screaming and crying and kicking your feet and biting your lip hard enough to taste pennies.

Sharp slaps on your plump little cunt turn you into a sobbing, begging wreck of a human. Then, he pulls your panties to the side and pinches your burning labia, tugging and stretching, making it snap and swell.

“She missed my cock, huh? How many times did you try and fail to fill her up?”

He unzips himself and pushes his pants and boxers down, then jams his massive cock into your unprepared hole and you wail into the counter.

“How could you fucking do this to this to her?” he laments with a snarl, thrusting into you with shattering, slow slams.

You try and nudge yourself onto the counter to get his raging tip away from your cervix, but he pulls you farther down on him instead and starts taking what he wants, hard and unforgiving, hair fisted in his hand so that your back arches for his cock to pound deeper into you.

“John. Please. I can- can’t. Fuck. Too much. It hurts.”

He smacks your ass with palm again, only this time latching to your skin, fisting a pound of flesh and fat. That familiar flop flop flop of your body accommodating his intrusion tells you that you’re soaking his dick and making it easier for him to fuck you harder. Traitorous fucking whore.

“What did I say?” He asks you, that poised voice cracking into growls and grunts and groans, slick with impending orgasm.

You don’t answer soon enough, and he digs further into your ass with blunt nails. You feel like he’s going to rip the meat right off your body.

“Yes, John.” But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t let up. He gets meaner, lifting your feet up off the ground and your head impossibly higher in the air, making so the only thing holding you up is his brutal cock. You feel fucking impaled.

You’re helpless, trapped, humiliated, and all you can do is take the rough slap of his pelvis against your abused skin. When he reaches down and pushes his fingers into your swollen lips to find your clit, you can’t help but hate yourself for enjoying this - this consuming fire spreading, overtaking, the choice to orgasm from this brutality ripped away from you as he rubs and fucks you toward blinding, white hot release.

He leans over you, puts one foot on the counter beside your ass to give him an impossibly deeper angle that reads like his cock is in your womb.

With all senses overwhelmed by excruciating pleasure - an impending orgasm that’s going that’s going to wreck you - the only thing you can really do is cry and take it until he decides to baste your burning cervix in cum.

It’s immediately spurting from you, coating your thighs, his legs, dripping pearly rivulets onto the floor. He replaces his dick with two fingers, wrenching away any hope of release, gathers some fluid and brings it up to the only unstained place - your asshole. He costs the outer tissue, pushes two fingers in and curls them down, rubs at your delicate insides harshly.

“Think you can handle my cock in your ass, Mrs. Wick?” He leaves two fingers inside your anus and pushes his thumb into your snapping, gaping, runny cunt. You push back onto his finger, trying to fuck the almost orgasm free from your aching hole.

John snorts as if to laugh at this whorish attempt.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you two choices: I shove my dick into your ass and fuck it as hard as I want til’ I cum again. Or. I spend a few hours prepping you to take my cock. What do you think?”

“Need a break,” you mumble, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks in shiny rivulets.

He smacks your thigh. “That wasn’t an option, honey.”

“Okay… okay.” Your frantic, hissing tone makes him smile for the first time in a long while… For the first time since you ran away from him and left a sobbing, drunk, blood hungry mess of a man on the kitchen floor; surrounded by glass and blood and splintered wood, screaming, smashing everything in the house to tiny pieces. You don’t know how many people have died terrible deaths for the absence of this spongey, tight, beautiful pussy - Christ, he even dabbled in torture just to see if it would get him off like you could.

But he’s going to spend the rest of your life reminding you - reminding you that if you ever fucking leave again he’ll kill everyone until you have no one left but him.

“Ten seconds and then I’m picking for you,” he murmurs, kissing behind your ear.

He has to press his weight into your hips to keep them from rocking down onto his fingers - the ones he’s got shoved up to the hilt of his hand inside you, teasing your front wall with languid little rubs.

The resigned, pathetic defeat in your tone warms his heart. “Second option.”

“Which one was that again?”

“Prep me.”

He nips your cartilage with his teeth, wrenching a little beaten whine from deep in your throat, the loss of his bully fingers making you clench and spasm and writhe.

He picks you up, cradles you to his warm heartbeat, kisses your head. You can’t help it, you fold into his embrace, cling to the John you once knew, hands clutching at the lapels of his suit in some desperate attempt to find comfort.

“I’m sorry, John.” You choke on whimpers, smothering your tears into his collar.

“Oh, babydoll,” he coos, smoothing your sore scalp. “No you’re not. But you will be.”

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #yandere john wick

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ilys00ga · 5 months

Text

life after his enlistment.

pairing: yoongi x reader

synopsis: how life/the relationship was like after he enlisted.

genre: fluff, established relationship, yoongi enlisted, they are trying their best, idk if I should call it angst or hurt/comfort, but there's some kind of ✨️melancholy✨️ in this (predictable much), I effing miss him sm more now :(.

warnings: t.w: if u are just like me, prepare to be missing yoongi sickeningly after this. gosh, it feels like a hole in a chest rn. idk what to do w myself. oh btw some ideas mentioned here are purely my own opinions, so it doesn't have to be "facts" or "all true." if u have different opinions or if u disagree with any it u can reach out to me about them, I would like that, but that's that, enjoy!!!!!!!!!

A/N: this was a request made by @kimvante2013 I hope it meets ur expectations! this was so fun to write, I liked this a lot. feel free to send more reqs or anything u want :)

PS. English is not my first language, so you know the drill.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

the problem wasn't that you couldn't see him, no.

since his duty was different from that of an ordinary individual, you both were able to spend the nights in each other's arms.

when he comes back home after duty, sometimes he's met with an empty house where he'd wash up and start preparing something for you to enjoy munching on once you get back home at a later hour of the day. other times, he comes to a busy, warm house. you blasting your favorite drama on the TV while doing the laundry in the middle of the living room, or just chilling and waiting to welcome him with mellow hugs and kisses.

and when he's on duty, he can't always contact you, but he whispered kisses laced with promises into your lips before leaving on his first day, and he would never dare to break them. not that he wants to anyway.

sometimes you'd wake up to post-it notes sticked on random surfaces and items around the house, or good morning messages of love and kisses. sometimes he calls during lunch breaks to check up on you, reminding you to drink water and eat well because that's yoongi's most precious habit of showing that he always just cares.

"don't forget to layer your outfit today, I just saw that it's gonna be awfully cold."

"did you like the bouquet I sent? want more? cook me ___ tonight xx"

"hi, don't forget to drink a cup of water right this instance or you'll shrivel up and die."

"it snowed on my way here this morning, let's go out this weekend and have some fun :]"

when days are too hard to handle, weighing one of you—maybe even both of you at the same time, cause life is a bitch like that—down and burying you under the ground, you'd send long voice messages to the other. never expecting an immediate reply. just simply pressing record and spilling all the bottled negative energy that clogged your brains and chests.

so, the problem wasn't really that you couldn't see or talk to him..

the problem was that neither of you were used to any of that.

you weren't used to being away from each other for long hours throughout the day (even though he often went on tours and job events aboard), or not being able to talk and/or see him whenever you wanted to—atleast whenever your shift agreed to let you. you're stuck on this routine for months. you were so not used to that.

over the years, you and yoongi grew to become a pen and a paper: two different items that are meant to only function and be paired together. one can't be capable without the other.

yet you try to avail yourselves of the situation and take it all easy. slowly, like waking up and leaving a warm, comfy bed at 5 in the morning to gain some purpose somewhere out there.

so, while staying away from one another for several hours a day comes with heavy challenges and even melancholy at times, that doesn't mean it can't be fruitful for your relationship.

since for it to grow healthier, a couple, intentionally or not, sometimes needs to take some "time off" to preserve the connection and intimacy between them.

you always remind yoongi of how much you had missed him during the day, which is something that never failed to put a smile on his face and trigger a stream of butterflies in his stomach.

love and yearning are two inseparable powerful emotions that one can't defeat, and absence makes the heart grow fonder. that's the beauty of the challenge your relationship was subject to at this new stage.

"I am still me, you are still you. everything's gonna be alright." yoongi would say as he hugs your face into his chest.

he always reminds you that this new chapter the two of you have entered together, hand in hand and with shaking hearts, is one that he'd been dreading but looking forward to for a very long time.

a chapter that made him understand how much he needs your existence in his life. to be himself and to be the somebody you need and deserve.

and he makes sure to translate that into your skin as he traces it with his lips and fingertips when you finally fall into each other's embrace.

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #agustd #yoongi angst #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts fic #bts army #bts yoongi #bts enlistment

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dungeonpuppykai · 2 months

Text

Based on this mood prompt that @captregina told me to elaborate on.

Warning(s): Power imbalance, misogynistic husband Steve, spanking, degradation, dumbification, panty sniffing, infantilization. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: 40's breadwinner wallstreet worker husband!Steve Rogers | Housewife!You.

"I am sorry" Steve, your lawfully wedded husband, had to do a double take as he put down his work bag that you had refused to accept in your hands. "What was that, honey?" As you huffed and crossed your arms in response before putting one foot out and raising your chin up high, your newfound defiance caused him to raise a puzzled eyebrow at your smaller form.

"You heard me" you hmphed out your words.

"No" now it was Steve's turn to cross his massive arms -thanks to your hearty cooking and his knack for working out- across his broad chest as his sky blue eyes began to narrow down at your form. "I don't think I did" his head tilted to the side. It was a sign for you to stop; rethink your actions. "So tell me, dear. What was that, just now?" But you were beyond annoyed with him today.

You had been for a while.

"Ugh, aren't men supposed to be smart?!" You rolled your eyes that he usually adored with his whole heart. "I said, reheat your own food!" Now his other eyebrow shot up to accompany its companion.

Your husband had been at it for days and you just could not do it anymore. After you worked so hard all day long so you could spend some quality time with your hardworking husband who either had his nose buried in files or his ear glued to the telephone all day long, the man would show up late and tired at odd hours. Then he would expect you to understand -which you tried your best to but Lord you had needs too!-, reheat and ruin the food you always went the extra mile to prepare, eat with him while listening to him rant about things your domestic mind did not understand, then making him a drink with which he would watch tv and you would clean the kitchen before going to sleep cuddled up only to repeat the same day again!

Sundays -the only days when he was free- were not much different because he would always have plans with his friends that were getting fancier by the day and though you liked the get togethers, they held no measure to some one on one time with your dear husband!

Steve's fingers flew to your wrist before wrapping around it to pull you back and towards him when you went to stomp away to the bedroom. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To bed, obviously!" He was in disbelief when you went to yank yourself free. Good girls didn't turn their backs to their husbands. "Let go, I am done!" You refused to slave for someone who did not care for your requests even after you had communicated your feelings so many times at this point.

Your husband snorted. "And since when can you decide what happens around here, honey?"

"I am deciding for myself! You can do whatever you please like you do anyways!" He did not appreciate your tone.

"Come on, baby" your strength was no match to your husband's so you could not make him budge much. "I know why you're acting out, but I already told you why this is so important for us and our future" he got you to turn around rather easily despite your struggle. "Don't you remember?" Cradling your pretty face in his hands he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs tenderly. "Or has your little brain forgotten that already?"

You pouted, not in the mood to cooperate. "You can secure your future however you desire, Steve" he was so used to you calling him by affectionate endearments that the use of his name stung like an insult. "But I am done with working hard all day long and staying up past bedtime for nothing!" You had hated chores with a passion before marriage as it was. "Since you're oh-so-big and smart I am sure you can figure out how to reheat your dinner!"

"Hey now" his eyebrows furrowed as the movement of his thumbs ceased. "Watch that tone, little girl" you were hanging by a thread but you were far too irritated to care.

"You watch your tone!" Your fingers curled around his to try and pry them off. "And let me GO!" Another huff escaped you as your eyes hit the back of your head to express your annoyance.

"You really wanna do this right now, young lady?" Steve had made it very clear when he was courting you that he did not like any of your sassy little habits.

Talking back, complaining, pouting, huffing, stomping around, disobeying, eye rolling and misbehaving.

"I just wanna go to bed, ugh!"

"Okay, you did this" your body had been hurled over one of his shoulders within the next second and while it thrashed in his hold, Steve easily walked over to the couch with one protective hand draped over your ass that he was determined to bruise now.

"Ugh– OWIE!" One of your legs kicked in protest and pain when his palm struck your clothed ass cheeks. "Stop, you meanie brute!" Your husband grunted under his breath as he steeled your knees in his hold before draping you over his lap.

"I should have known" both your cheeks received a spank each in quick succession. "It has been a while since your last maintenance session, hasn't it, baby?" You went to retort with something petty in response but the bratty way in which you started gave him a good idea and so he cut it off with random strikes all over your poor butt. "Aw, honey, of course!" Your backside had already started to sting like hell so when he yanked your panties off before pushing the hem of your dress up to your waist, you couldn't help but whine. "Your little girl brain forgot, didn't it?" The way he caressed your cheeks caused you to gulp for your sake.

"O- Ow… stop!" But that only made him raise his hand high to finally administer the first of many skin-to-skin spanks to come.

"Silly girl thinks she can tell her husband to stop" the hits were becoming more frequent by the second, your husband was settling on a rhythm. "Or tell him to do anything, really!" Your ass was blushing already and your pucker blinked up at him with each strike. Steve could not help but bite his lip at the sight but he knew discipline came first. It always did. He could not afford a mouthy brat for a wife. "Such an ungrateful little thing I've here" your hips tried to scurry left and right so Steve placed the elbow of his free hand between your shoulder blades before ceasing the side of your body facing away from his own until you were so sore you caved.

"I am sorry, oh my God, hubby, I am sorry!" A satisfied smile spread across his handsome features and his chest puffed outwards in pride.

"I am sorry, I couldn't quite get that over the sound of brat, honey" his palm was still unrelenting as he went about further reddening your sorry butt. "Why don't you try a bit louder and more convincing now?" It was a rule in your household; you had to mean your apologies.

Your back arched as you whined in frustration, hanging from his legs limp and resigned to your fate. "I am sorry, dear! I really am!" Your moans morphed into wails when he began to target your sit spots every few hits. "I am sorry for– owwwiee!" Your toes curled when a particular smack caught your pucker in it. "... F- For being ungrateful and n- not appreciating my husband's hard work and sacrifices for us and our future babies!"

"That's right" he made a point of sitting you upright and right on your sore ass. "And why do you think that was?"

You whimpered submissively as you lowered your head, unable to hold his authoritative gaze in this state. "B- Because my mind i- is too small to understand or remember such things for too long, hubby" reaching for the hand he had used to punish you, your fingers cradled the crimson palm. "But thanks to you sacrificing your hand for my well being after already working so hard all day long, my small brain has had its much needed reminder that you only mean well" looking up briefly to press an appreciative kiss to his cheek, you squeezed his hand. "Thank you for setting me straight, hubby" the most smug smile etched on his face.

"Oh, sweetie, that's completely fine" Steve's tone was tender but it switched up into an intimidating one briefly, "although mind that I did not appreciate it one bit" when you lowered your head further with a snivel, he continued but in a reassuring manner. "But of course, you're just a girl, aren't you?"

You nodded wordlessly without looking up.

His hand snaked out of yours to dip between your legs, the blunt action causing you to gasp aloud. "Tsk, look at all this mess, honey" your face became hot in an instant and your teeth pulled your bottom lip between them. "So worked up from your punishment, hm?" His face dipped closer to yours and you couldn't help but mewl shyly as you buried your face in his shoulder. "Is that why you were so frustrated? Because you weren't getting the kind of attention that you needed from hubby?" You nodded. He clicked his tongue. "Does my little girl also need to be reminded of the rule about verbally responding when spoken to, sweetie?"

Oh, yes.

The house rules.

Magnetized to the refrigerator.

"N- No, hubby. I- I remember…" Your eyes focused on his tie and you began to loosen it like you were supposed to after receiving his bag when he got home.

"Good girl" your eyelids fluttered at the way he kissed your cheek, lovingly caressing the inside of your thigh. "So, tell me, honey. Was that so?"

"I- It was, hubby" now you relieved him of his first few buttons. "J- Just need you so bad all the time… C- Can't think straight without you…" Steve had a shit eating grin on his face at this point. His ego -and something else- was so inflated that he did not even care about chastising you for your much forbidden actions tonight any longer.

"Go serve hubby his warm dinner and he'll consider" you obediently jumped to your feet in an instant and bustled to the kitchen with such speed that you didn't even remember to take your discarded panties with you.

Steve nodded to himself as he watched the way you had disappeared, pulling free the rest of his tie knot himself as he stood up with your underwear in his hand. "Now that's about right." With a deep sniff of the moist article, he walked off in the direction of the bedroom to freshen up.

MASTERLIST

Let me know what you think, feedback is much appreciated <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #captain america #marvel mcu #steve rogers x y/n #marvel smut #mcu smut

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fadingdaggerr · 21 days

Note

Hii!! I hope you've had a great day!!

So, I had this idea and I can't stop thinking about it, it's like rotating in my brain like a Rotisserie Chicken. IDK if you're still taking requests but I just had to send this.

Anyway, Melissa and reader are in someone else's house (R parents or idk some kind of sleepover with the teachers) and for some reason they can't sleep together in the same bed/room, like they're used to, which is concerning R because Melissa doesn't really sleep well alone.

But Mel tries to ease R saying she'll be just fine for one night, and very reluctantly R agrees.

Well, it turns out she can't. R and obviously a few others in the house wake up to Melissa's screaming in the middle of the night and R runs to her, shes is sobbing, shaking and clutching R for dearlife, just absolutely terrified and not even letting R move. R calm her down and take care of her, like with a lot of fluff and comfort.

I'm just obsessed with R taking care of Mel and being really sweet.

Yeah that's it. I love your stories, they are really really good. And I could only think of you when this thing came out of my brain.

+ I absolutely loved what you did in "Know I'm Alive", I was kicking my feet and internally screaming. (I sent that anon 👉👈) So thanks, I enjoyed it a lot, like a lot a lot, like, if I could I would eat that it.

You're really talented!! <3

by the sun, by the moon

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.8k

includes: no pronoun use for r, fluff, hurt/comfort, family play fights/sibling banter, r’s family adores mel, probably ooc!mel oops

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic (short), attempted violence (short), mentions/insinuations of sex, one outdated traditional value, sleep difficulties/nightmares, anxiety/panic attack

note: please feel free to skip the section that discusses the unhealthy relationship dynamic/violence. it begins after the first section divide with the line “for her entire childhood…” those topics are only explicitly stated there and only referenced one other time. please do not feel as tho you need to read triggering material to understand the story, i tried to make it understandable without having to read potentially distressing content :)

Melissa’s head tips back when she hears you coming back downstairs, having been waiting for you since your mom called during The Real Housewives time. The way you’re watching your feet with furrowed brows makes her fully turn until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back to get closer to you.

“Something wrong?” Melissa asks, reaching to grab your hand to pull you closer.

You shake your head, “no, no.” Warm hands rise to cradle the redhead’s face, “how would you feel about spending the night at my parents place Saturday? They’re hosting Jonah’s birthday, wanted our help to set up the night before.”

Her eyes widen, “just Saturday night?”

“Just Saturday,” you reaffirm, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She cautiously nods, barely moving. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know, I know,” she says through her breath, “we’ll stay the night.” The kiss you press to her forehead feels heavier than just a silent thank you.

—☽—

For her entire childhood and through her marriage, Melissa slept like a rock. She slept through Kristen Marie’s and Joe’s snoring, her college girlfriend’s sleep talking, her parents having a screaming match so loud the cops got called. Before starting teaching, she even had to train herself to wake up at the sound of her alarm, knowing that being late to the school was ten times worse than being late to JC Penney.

Two years after she finally left Joe, Melissa met Eric.

Tall, charming, nice-smelling Eric with his salt-and-pepper beard always tidy, a covered up Marine tattoo on his forearm. He’d bought her drink after his friend accidentally knocked hers off the counter of the bar, and two hookups later, she was agreeing to a real date. Three months later, she was his girlfriend and allowed him into her apartment. He got to know where the spare key was hidden after a year.

Eric was everything Joe was not. During arguments, Joe would shut down and leave, only returning when he smells like cheap liquor and some other woman’s perfume. Eric always stayed, told her his point of view, listened to hers, calmly told her when she was overreacting. He was smooth, never raised a hand towards her or threw things at the walls. Melissa always knew when she was in the wrong, but he never made her feel bad about it.

Eric was particular. He liked his shirts folded a certain way, beer only from a glass, and silence when he worked. If she was excited about anything, he only ever allowed her to speak about it until he’d lost interest, almost always by the time she paused to take a breath. When he properly introduced her to his friends, his hand on her knee would tighten when she spoke. Quickly, she learned that the tighter the grip, the less she should speak. Four hours at some sports bar and Melissa had only been able to say a total of six sentences. Eric liked Melissa quiet. Melissa became quiet.

He started to prod about meeting her family, and she shut him down. Again and again. The fourth time, he banged his fist against the table, the end of his fork creating a small dent. Green eyes fixated on the dent as he began to calmly explain that he had introduced her to his family, it was her turn. Mumbling those were your buddies got her stuck on her own couch that night, clutching the blanket Nana made her before she started college.

Two months later, she began to slowly bring back Eric’s clothing to his apartment on the off-chance they went there for a night. Grading her student’s assignments began to take longer and she triple-checked the scores to waste more time, suddenly too tired to have sex or even talk before going to sleep. Otherwise, she listened to his rules, spoke when spoken to, cooked when asked.

The morning he narrowly avoided calling her a moron to her face when she made the eggs over-medium instead over-easy, she officially made her choice. That night, at the Italian restaurant he brought her to, she called it off.

“Why?” Eric asked, eyes stone, unwavering from hers.

She took a deep breath, “you treat me like a pet. Speak when spoken to, move when told, I’m sick of it.” Her grip on the table cloth tightened, “tomorrow, I will put your stuff outside. You’ll pick it up when I tell you to, and then you will leave.”

He sits back in his chair, tongue poking at his bottom lip, “and if I don’t want to break up?”

“Too bad,” she shrugs. Standing from the table, Melissa leaves him with the check and the sad excuse of Italian cuisine on the table.

At work the next day, it takes all morning, lunch, and prep to fully debrief Barbara on everything that had been going on. It made sense to the kindergarten teacher why she had yet to meet this Eric fella, but after hearing this, she knew Melissa wasn’t proud of getting herself in this situation. A promise of a wine weekend and greasy food makes Melissa truly smile. Barbara hadn’t realized how fake every little grin had been until now, she missed her best friend.

That afternoon, Melissa came home to the loose brick that hid her spare key ajar. The blood in her veins runs cold. Opening the unlocked door, glass scratches across the wooden floor, crunching under her heels. Every picture frame, the television, the radio, the coffee table, the stovetop, the tea set from her grandfather, all smashed to pieces. Holes were in nearly every wall, the stair railing broken. The entire first floor was destroyed, only upstairs was left pristine, as if nothing had happened at all. Bat in hand, she checks every closet, under her bed, in the bathtub, everywhere. He was gone.

Leaning against the wall, she slides down and sobs. Melissa is forced to make a choice she didn’t want to make. Opening her phone, she calls Joe.

Joe, despite everything he had done, was at Melissa’s house within the hour. In one hand he held a bag from the hardware store, containing new locks and keys, the other hand had his very own bat, nails pounded through the wood. Like he said when they signed the papers, just because he wasn’t in love with her, doesn’t mean he didn’t care.

Three weeks later, after things had settled and locks were changed, Melissa felt more secure. Still every night, she woke at every sound, wind and the smoke detector quickly became her mortal enemies. Bundled in her soft pajamas and thick comforter one night, she finally fell into a hard, deep sleep forced from pure exhaustion.

Paperclips, a screwdriver, and a small sheet of flexible metal are all someone needs to pick a lock and shift the deadbolt. Eric surely knew that, always the smart man, yet never the brightest. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, bourbon fueling his motions as well as his heavy steps.

A particularly loud thunk wakes Melissa, hand flying under her pillow to the bat Joe had made her promise to keep there. Another thump made her jump out of bed and to the side of her dresser with an iron grip around Edith Houghton. When her door opened, she stayed pressed into the corner, hoping she stayed hidden just long enough for him to leave so she could grab her phone.

Liquor breeds stupidity, worsens it when it is already present, and Eric had left to check the bathroom. Quickly, Melissa called the police, shakily texting Joe as she whispered to the operator. At that point, she didn’t care who got there first. She just wanted to be free of him.

She moved to a new apartment before the month even ended. Barbara insisted on cameras, which Gerald installed. Joe insisted on a nailed up bat, which he made himself. Not a night has gone by since then where she didn’t have it within arms reach of the bed.

It took six years for her to sleep again.

—☽—

The light tracing of nonsensical patterns on her abdomen is what wakes Melissa, eyes cracking open to the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She wishes now, more than ever, that she had agreed to the blackout curtains, groaning into her pillow. With the knowledge she’s now awake, several soft kisses press against her shoulder, traveling to her neck. With a sleepy grin on her face, Melissa turns to face you.

“Morning,'' you mumble against her lips, hand traveling up to her hair to separate the knots that you created. “Sleep good?”

The only response you get is a little huff that almost sounds like yeah, her face burying in your neck to hide from the light. You lay there with her, finishing your detangling mission as Melissa’s nails trace up and down your arm. A final, sound kiss lands on the crown of her head before you shuffle out from underneath her, reaching for your previous discarded university shirt and sweatpants. The redhead watches through droopy eyes, scanning over you before your pajamas cover everything she adores.

“Gotta get up, beautiful,” you say through a yawn as you walk out the room, “we need to be leaving for one.” A tiny groan escapes her lips as she rises from the bed, though a small smile crosses her lips when she sees your sweatshirt thrown over the chair in the corner, just waiting for her.

Not even halfway down the stairs, there’s a clatter from the kitchen and a quiet exclamation of fuck. “You’re not even awake and you want me up,” Melissa says as she walks to the coffee maker. She’s met with a small slap on her ass in return, not even caring to be embarrassed of the girlish giggle she lets out.

Whose fault it is that you’re late leaving, who could tell? Between the forgoing packing and wrapping your cousin’s present last night for a taste of Melissa and her lack of pants this morning, it’s hard to say. Nothing that going a gentle twenty over on the highway can’t mend.

Driving up the dirt road, the dense trees thinned and your parent’s yellow house came into view. Your father’s questionably functional truck sits in the front of the garage, your mom and brother’s cars parked close together on the lawn. Seeing the way your hands tighten on the steering wheel, Melissa slides her hand from your elbow to the free hand on your thigh, playing with your rings to calm you. Being at your parents house was always overwhelming, fun, but overwhelming.

Narrowly avoiding scraping the side, you pull in next to your brother’s car. Looking at each other, you and Melissa give each other a nod of we got this. She’d been over here before, she’d been to three family reunions and almost every birthday party, but never had you two stayed the night, always being some of first to leave to sleep in your own bed.

With a little grunt, you hop out of the car and jog to Melissa’s side to open her door. She gives you a half glare when you tap her hand away from helping carry the bags in, you never let her lift a finger, if you can help it.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

Both you and Melissa jump at your mother’s yell from the porch, bangles clanking together as she widely waves to the both of you. Gravel crunches under her feet as she rushes over to the two of you, immediately pulling Melissa into a hug. Before you were banned from saying it, you used to joke that your parents preferred your girlfriend to their own child. The giant smile on Melissa’s face when she interacts with your family makes it worth it.

Tumbling upstairs, you bring your bags into your childhood bedroom with Melissa close behind. Even with every time she had been here, she loved being in your room. It was a time capsule of your life before college, all the posters of bands and movies still hanging on the walls, trinkets covering every space. She particularly loved the little collection of rocks on your bookshelf, clearly in order from favorite to least favorite.

The bed bobs as you both drop onto the mattress, groaning at the comfort after three hours in the car. You turn your face towards her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder, “I love you.”

Melissa leans in closer, “I love you, too.” She watches your eyes flick to her lips, beating you to the chase and pressing her lips to yours softly. It takes every ounce of effort to not moan at your tongue tracing her lip, her hand coming up to grip your shirt and keep you close. Stomping up the stairs makes you both jump apart, feeling like teenagers getting caught, not that the room was helping.

The door opens to show your dad, boots trekking in dirt that will inevitably get him in trouble with your mom. The hand not on the doorknob is over his eyes, “you two better be decent. Ma has lunch ready downstairs and clothing is probably mandatory.”

“Knock it off,” you mumble as you shuffle towards him so he can give your head a gentle noogie. Neither of you were big on hugs, only really being physically affectionate with your partners, but the love is always clear in every fistbump and hand on your shoulder.

You and Melissa trail behind your father as he goes to the kitchen, both fighting laughs after nearly getting caught by your dad. However, the second your mom peers over at the two of you, you both act like you had been silent the whole time, eyes flicking around in feigned innocence.

Lunch is a mismatch of all the foods your mom made for the birthday party the next day, making you all be her taste testers, even if she only really wants Melissa’s opinion as the other cook in the family. Pasta salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, shortcake, even some chicken with her new lemon pepper recipe. You and your brother fight over who gets first dibs on the pasta salad, ending with his wife taking the serving spoon from your hands and grabbing some for herself.

“Act your age,” Kennedy says to her husband, making you laugh, before she gives you a sharp glance, “that goes for you, too.” Melissa turns away to unsuccessfully hide her own laugh from you.

Lunch ends with your mom and your brother arguing over another serving of macaroni, “we need food for tomorrow! Fuck’s sake, Marcus.”

—☽—

Your father divides everyone into groups to set up the backyard. Your mother takes Melissa and Kennedy to help set up the tables and lights, forcing you and Marcus to help your father with the tent, bonfire pit, and yardgames.

Getting all the yardgames for the little cousins was the easy part, even if it took a while because the three of you had to play a game of cornhole before you could do anything else. None of you got a single one in after two turns, making you all set into defeat, the game was agreed between the three of you to be stupid now. With your father taking a break now, getting the tent together was a doomed venture with you and Marcus.

“If you don’t let me hold it up, it’s gonna keep falling.”

“Fuck off! No, it won’t,” Marcus says with confidence, trying to stand the tent all at once before securing it. Four had already fallen, and a job that should only take twenty minutes was taking nearly an hour.

“How is it gonna stay up if nothing’s holding it, huh? Thought you knew everything?” He flips you off and doesn’t answer, continuing putting the spike in the ground, though without the other end being held up, the weight pulls it down again. Giving up, you walk away and attempt to find your dad for something else to do. You stop in your tracks, just step from the patio.

Watching Melissa with your family always makes butterflies erupt in your chest. She used to be so nervous around them, uncharacteristically quiet and meek, but now she’s almost as carefree with them as she is with her own. The sunlight makes her hair shine, and it’s damn near impossible to look away. It seems you’re of similar mind, her head turning towards you, fighting a grin when she sees the dopey grin on your face.

You almost start to walk towards her, but a strong hand pulls you back. Your dad pushes the hatchet into your hands, “you’re on firewood duty.”

“Bu-”

“Nope, you’re not slinking off to your girl. Go chop the wood, Casanova,” he says as he walks back to help Marcus with the tent.

It’s hours before you even get a chance to see Melissa again, as if your parents were keeping you apart. Which they were, knowing that you’d ignore everything you had to do if it meant you got to just look at Melissa. By the time you got back inside, the button up you’d been wearing was abandoned on a lawn chair and you were out of breath. How much firewood does one bonfire even need?

Walking in the backdoor into the kitchen, Melissa is leaning against the counter, her eye on the mixer filled with what will be cheesecake going to your tanktop clad form as she chats with Kennedy. Creeping up beside her, you wrap an arm around her waist and press a lingering kiss to her cheek, mumbling a greeting into her skin before trudging upstairs to shower the sweat and dirt off.

—☽—

By the end of the night, everyone is half-awake and struggling to keep their eyes open as a TV movie drones on. Neither you or Melissa are paying attention, too wrapped up in one another in the arm chair. Legs dangling over the arm, Melissa is seated on your lap, head tucked into your shoulder as you mindlessly play with her hair. The hand on the back of your neck stops its soft ministrations, her breathing slowing as she fights falling asleep.

You speak quietly for only her to hear, “you ready for bed?” She just nods against you, and you tap her legs to prompt her to move. Her hands hold onto your arm to steady herself, wavering where she stands.

“Alright, we’re calling it. Night guys, we’ll see you in the morning,” you announce into the room as Melissa starts going towards the stairs, not trusting her ability to speak when she’s this tired. You get a quiet chorus of night before you walk to the stairs, but your mother’s voice stops your movements.

“Jellybean, could you do me a favor and take the trash out before you head upstairs?” she asks without taking her eyes off the TV.

You internally groan before nodding, turning to Melissa, “go up, baby. I’ll be right there.”

This catches your mother’s attention, immediately moving to face you, “you mean to say ‘goodnight,’ right?”

“What?”

Her eyebrows rise, “you’re saying goodnight, then going to your room. Right?” Melissa’s blood immediately runs cold, color draining from her face. If she was tired two minutes ago, she was wide awake now.

“No...” you say slowly, confused, “why would Mel not also be in there?” You peak over your shoulder to Melissa, giving her a look before your attention is back on your mother.

“So, you’re staying in the guest room? Or is Melissa?”

Your face screws up, “Neither of us? My room’s got a full, that’s fine for us.”

“No.”

“Hell you mean ‘no,’ Ma? Marcus and Kennedy are sharing a full, it’s not a huge deal,” you hear Melissa step down from the stairs, her shaky hand holding your elbow.

“Marcus and Kennedy are married, unlike you two. I know you live together, but my roof, my rules. You know that,” she says matter-of-factly. The other three people in the room pointedly avoid looking at you, not wanting to get on your mom’s bad side.

You argue back, “that’s fucking ridiculous, Ma. We are grown adults, in a relationship.” The arched brow on your mother’s face tells you that you shouldn’t be arguing, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the panic that is starting to eat away at Melissa’s veins at the sudden thought of sleeping without you, something she hasn’t done once in over three years now.

“No rings, two beds. Don’t think I won’t be checking.”

Not wanting to make more of a scene, Melissa tugs on your arm to gain your attention. Turning to her, you can see the silent plea in her eyes for you to give it up. Shoulders sagging, you let out a grumbled fine. Breaking away from her, you go to the kitchen and roughly pull the trash from the bin. It takes a great deal of effort to not slam the door as you stomp to the garage. When you come back in, you don’t bother saying anything to anyone, just wrapping an arm around Melissa to guide her upstairs.

When you get into your room, you shut the door and lean against it with a huff. The two of you silently change into your pajamas, moving slowly from exhaustion and an attempt to prolong your time together. Melissa turns away to fold her clothes on the bed, and you move to wrap your arms around her waist, propping your chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll stay in here tonight. Not like she can’t ground me anymore.”

Melissa turns in your arms, loosely wrapping her own around your shoulders, “it’s alright, I’ll be fine. I don’t want her mad at you for my sake.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t do that,” she says, though the sigh in her voice gives away her uncertainty, “I’ll be okay, amore.”

Your eyes scan over her face before you nod. Her arms pull you closer, noses brushing before she presses a sound kiss to your lips. Melissa’s arms shift and her hands cup your face, moving your head to press kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and chin, until the sour look on your face disappears.

Tugging her into you, you bury your head into her neck, pressing a long kiss there. From her neck you mumble, “I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“I’ll survive in the guest room, this is your bedroom,” she says, though she doesn’t fully mean it.

“What’s mine is yours. Plus, this one’s more comfortable, you’ll thank me later,” you hug her tighter, “so... I will be next door.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s more for her than you this time. Three years. Three years of falling asleep with you still awake beside her and waking up with you already looking at her.

You walk her back towards the bed, getting in with her, though not under the covers. With everyone, especially your mother, you don’t think it’ll hurt to stay until Melissa falls asleep. Her back presses to your front, hand holding yours to her chest, fast beating heart beneath. In a hushed voice, you speak about little things that don’t matter in hopes that it will calm her enough. Slowly her breath evens out, face burying into the pillow as it always does when you hold her like this.

Carefully, you detangle yourself from her and press a kiss to her hair, “I love you.” Stepping out of the room slowly, you leave the door cracked just a little and eye Melissa before turning. At the top of the stairs is your mother, brows raised.

“You better be going to your own bed,” she says quietly, though her tone is hard.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “I am. Just had to make sure Melissa was asleep first.” You try to go into the room next door, but your mom’s face is silently asking for context, “she doesn’t sleep well. Different place, different sleeping arrangement, it’s difficult.”

You don’t particularly appreciate the dismissive way your mom just nods before walking towards the master bedroom, clearly thinking it was just an excuse, but it’s too late to fight about it. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up and crawl into bed with Melissa before she wakes. You watch the crack in the door and listen for Melissa until sleep comes over you.

—☽—

Something wakes you just past three in the morning, an ear splitting scream coming from next door. At first, you think it’s just your own anxiety, closing your eyes slowly. A second scream, this time of your name, and you’re springing out of bed, throwing the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall and slam shut. Four steps bring you to your childhood bedroom, rapidly swinging the door open to run in, not noticing the others joining you in the hall.

When you get into the room, moonlight illuminates Melissa where she’s sitting up with a hand gripping her shirt as she breathes in quick, panicked pants, eyes flying around the room until they land on you. Before she can even reach for you, you’re practically pouncing on the bed to get in front of her. Your hands go to her shoulders, her own gripping your forearms, her watery eyes darting around your face. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, you motion for Melissa to mimic you, trying to slow her rapid breath and heart.

Short gasps become slow, shaky breaths as panic begins to fade and tears form. A whimper of your name makes you pull her into you, her arms gripping your shirt and she cries into your neck. Between broken sobs, only the words window, knife, and everywhere and mention of a him come through, but you understood. This wasn’t the first time Eric’s actions haunted her at night, though it had been nearly two years since she’d woken up in a sweat.

Peeking over your shoulder, you see your parents and brother in the doorway. The look you give your mother is filled with anger and a raised brow that says I told you to listen. The clear fury makes your father pull her back towards their own room, pushing your brother to his. Some level of courtesy hits your mom, closing the door fully before she gets tugged away.

Attention back on Melissa, you alternate between playing with the ends of her hair and lightly dragging your nails over her back under her shirt. You tuck her hair behind her ear, tacky from tears, “you’re safe, Mel. Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let them.”

Rocking side to side gently, you feel her breathing return to normal, body no longer shaking from tears. Trying not to jostle her, you turn your body to lay down with her, keeping her tucked into your neck with your arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head, you slide an arm down to grab her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just below your ear.

You squeeze her hand, “you never have to apologize for this. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I should have stayed.”

She sniffled, “I’m a grown woman, I should be able to sleep alone.”

“And I should be able to stand up to my mother about sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, yet here we are,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she chuckles, the vibration on your skin making you smile, “so it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” you mumble as you settle into the bed more, relaxing as you feel the redhead relax against you.

In a sudden move, Melissa props herself up over you, hair dangling in your face. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, long and loving. It’s a quiet thanks that she will never owe you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” you whisper back.

It takes half an hour for sleep to creep back in, Melissa’s breathing growing slow where she rests on your chest, your heart beating under her ear. When she eventually falls back asleep against your chest, you stay awake and trace lines on her back. You’ll gladly stand guard if it means she sleeps peacefully, stay awake if it means she’s safe.

note: solaris write a fic under 3k like u planned challenge good lord man. also thank you thank you for the compliment, it’s an honor to be the first person u thought of to write this. i hope i did ur vision justice <3

as always, feedback appreciated <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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diejager · 1 year

Note

Ooo I just love how you write platonic yanderess

Can you write a platonic yandere Ghost with his little sister😗

Of course. Of course.

Pairing : Big brother Simon "Ghost" Riley & little sister reader

Cw: canon violence, death, Ghost background, death, murder, dark, platonic yandere, protective Ghost, murder, mental breakdown, depression, trauma.

Wc: 1.3k

The last thing he wanted people to know - even his team - was about his civilian life, the secrets he held under lock and key near his heart, and a hard appearance. He protected what little was left of his old life fiercely, he wasn't Simon Riley anymore, he was "Ghost" now and that's all people knew. All the pain and torture he went through, from digging himself out of his grave to finding his family murdered, dead in the home they thought safe.

He remembered going home, exhausted and ecstatic to see his family, he celebrated Christmas with his family, drinking and eating at Tommy's house, you sitting next to him - your older brother. He was lucky that everyone was free that night, you both had unpredictable schedules, him being a red beret and you a field medic. Although he never had the chance to work with you, you were always skilled with your hands, bandaging and nursing his wounds.

You fixed him up when your dad got too drunk, Simon used to wrap himself around your body and receive every hit and berate of degrading insults your dad liked to spew. Simon protected you and you played his nurse until it became too real, you left for military service a few years after him, wishing to help the one who protected you so often.

He left to drink with friends on the eve, military buddies, you promise to come back once you got something from your flat near the edge of Downtown Manchester (it was a bit far, but always noisy, it helped quell the nightmares that silence brought).

He rushed home when he finished with whatever Sparks had done, ending him and his accomplice. They knew where he was before, it put his family at risk, then the call he got only solidified his fears when he stepped into Tommy's house, door open and lights off.

He found you sobbing, kneeling over Tommy and Joseph's bodies, cradling them. The dread and devastation he felt were overpowering, his life in the military had cost him his happy family. He was served revenge on a silver platter, a few scrapes here and there, but you two had disappeared in the dead of Christmas.

Everything from public relationships to your face was a risk, and somehow, he managed to keep you by his side wherever he served. You were the medic and him the lieutenant; (Name) and Simon Riley were dead, simply Doc and Ghost. That's how the world knew you and how Task Force 141 called you. Doc and Ghost, stuck by the hips, wearing similar masks and worked spectacularly together.

You were the last of his family, of the life he had before the murder - his dreamy heaven - so he kept you close, he protected you like he did when you were younger. If they got too close, he'd dispose of them immediately. Your safety was his top priority, whatever he did was for you, and the purpose he built himself was to ensure that you'd live.

He wanted you to stay, the agonizing pain of feeling lost and alone was harrowing, and he couldn't risk the chance of losing you too. They haunted him in his sleep, the memory of their deaths and his regrets, it all loomed over him like a reminder of his mistakes - his failures. The 'what if's lingered in his mind, the 'should have' and 'could have' becoming a mainstream of his thoughts when he looked at himself in the mirror; what if he never joined the army; what if he was there that night; he should have been there with them, instead of drinking at a bar; he could have saved you the grief and pain he felt, the one you shared like an open wound.

It should have been him.

He told himself that so many times, to you and himself, always mumbling about it at night, pointing the finger at himself for the loss. You stayed by his side, smaller arms wrapped around him like a blanket of comfort, warm and reassuring with words that pushed back his demons. He loved you so much, for being here and for always sticking to him.

You don't blame him for it, he doesn't understand how you don't, he saw it as his fault for bringing the enemy home.

"'S not your fault, Si," you whispered to him, his mental state too fragile for loud noises. His ears were ringing, almost so loudly that he thought his mind would implode on itself. You knew he felt everything much stronger, being the eldest of the trio he felt more responsible. "You're not to blame, Si. None of it, ya understand?"

He liked how your hands held his, gripping him tightly to bring him back to earth, far away from his violent mind. You supported him when he crashed and he held you when you broke, their deaths never left you, it simply brought you closer together than you'd think possible.

You closed yourself from others and built a wall of brick and cement, yet you smiled and socialized freely, you spoke enough for you both - or so Ghost insisted. He grew colder, callous, and brash with others, reserving his sweeter and softer side for you.

He stood near you, practically looming over you with his height of 6'4, broad shoulders, dark fatigues; a giant wall of muscle, you'd tease him, though you knew he was only protecting you. He's grown wary of everything that tried to approach you, he would stand before any approaching figure and glare them down.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, you were told from the file Price sent you, walked to meet you, smiling broadly and eyes squinting from the bright sun that bared down on the base. Besides him was Gaz, Kyle Garrick, olive-skinned and leaner than both males - blockheaded blokes, you called Simon and Soap.

His newly formed habit stood out the moment Ghost moved to block you from their sights, standing high and sneering when they stood feet away from you. You saw them flinch, hesitation seen through their eyes before they closed in, greeting Ghost who stared at their hand.

"Doc, pleasure meeting you, Soap, Gaz," you moved around Ghost, tapping his forearm reassuringly, his tense form slumping slightly. "He's Ghost, sorry 'bout him, he's not much of a people's person." Ghost huffed as you shook their hands, peering between them to the other duo approaching: Captain John Price and Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Ghost acted once more, moving to guard you even though he knew Price prior to the formation of Task Force 141, you both knew him. You shook his hand, bowing your head lightly out of respect for the experience and battle-hardened man.

Other than guarding you, he hoarded your attention like a dragon hoarding his gold, keeping you by his side wherever he went as much as he stuck to yours. Per your conditions, you and Ghost would always be assigned together, and Price sympathetically complied. You bunked together and ate on the same table, he warded away unsavory glances and you lashed out at those that glowered at Ghost.

Although you'd burn the world for Ghost, he took it a step further, he took it upon himself to take care of whatever plagued you. Be it harassment from a fellow soldier, he'd disappear the next day; be it an unintentional threat to your safety, properly disposed of; be it someone who's trying to get close to you, too close to you, would find themselves jumping into an oncoming train.

He did as he should to keep you from harm, any kind that would mean losing you. A desperate man takes desperate measures, and Simon "Ghost" Riley is the most desperate elder brother in the world.

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spidernuggets · 1 month

Note

hiii first time requesting (if i could claim 🦚 that’d be awesome) from you!!

anyways,

jason fluff inspired by "chemtrails over the country club" by lana del rey

jason’s joker trauma triggers a destructive spiral, leading to a desperate hunt from you (gf or fiancée or gn idc honestly 🤷‍♀️) and the batfam when he goes missing. found right before he could kill the joker the batfam stops him and is freaking out and he drops to his knees and he’s just kinda numb. you’re the only one trying to comfort him and he’s pushing you away but you start reminding him of the life you two want together (queue the lines from chemtrails: “washing my hair, doing the laundry…” etc etc) and he breaks down and starts crying in your arms.

ok yes it’s a bit of a tear jerker but my brain is screaming that this needs to exist so 🥹🥹

anyways tysm for considering and i hope you have an amazing day regardless! don’t forget to eat and drink water 💋

— 🦚??

Jason Todd x Reader

Note: Really? Aren't you peacock-anon who requested feral jason todd? I'm only asking because you asked this around the same time peacock-anon reblogged feral jason todd and said they were the one who requested it. Anyways, whatever, THANKS FOR REQUESTING ME. If you're not peacock-anon, then I'm afraid you can't claim it :(( BUT ANYWAYS i hope you like the fic 🫶🫶

It was one of those nights. The nights where Jason couldn't stay still in bed, always tossing and turning. He tried, but every time he closed his eyes, he was 15 again. He was back in the dark, abandoned warehouse. He was back in the chair, tied up and unable to move. He was back with the Joker.

Beads of sweat trickled down his forhead. He felt like he was suffocating. He looked over to his side, seeing you peacefully sleeping, snuggled into his chest. God, you were so beautiful. Like a Seraphim that was gifted to him during his loneliest hours when he couldn't find a speck light in his darkness. You were his miracle. His reason for continuing to live.

He's already done too much by letting you stay with him. By letting you love him. By letting himself love you. He felt like he put you in this position; a position where you can't leave, can't be free. You're stuck in a position where you have to stay with him.

Sometimes, you wish he could see the way you see him. A beautiful figure shaped and moulded by the hands of the most exquisite and talented scluptor. A man that could love you like no other has. A man who knows how to treat you well, who knows you can be independent but can stay close to you, at the ready to save you from any danger. He will always be at your beck and call.

He shifts away from you, carefully untagling limbs and sitting up. You stirred in your sleep, hand reaching out to find your boyfriend's warmth. He shushes you, pecking your forhead.

"I'm gonna be on the couch, sweet thing," he said, barely above a whisper. You hum in response, letting your arm fall back onto the bed.

You understood that during some nights, when Jason had bad dreams, he needed to be alone. You tried to help him once, trying to wake him up as his screams were muffled as he slept. His hand accidentally made contact with your face. He didn't realise it, even when he woke up. You tried hiding the bruise with makeup, but to no avail. When he found out what he did, he couldn't talk to you. He wanted to punish himself by not speaking to the love of his life. Even when you tried to tell him it was just an accident or that ot didn't even hurt that much, he couldn't even look you in the eyes.

So soon after he started speaking again, you came to the negotiation that whenever he had night terrors, he would move to the couch. He never wants to hurt you like that again.

But even as Jason laid on the couch that night, staring at the cracked ceiling, his thoughts were running wild. A bunch of drunk men were outside laughing. But he heard the cackles of the Joker. A stray cat knocks over a trash can by the alley of their apartment. But he hears the clink of the crowbar.

His heart races, and his pupils contracted. His breathing is uneven. His mind runs to Bruce. Why didn't he kill the Joker? Why is he still alive? Why is he locked up, only for him to break out again? Where was his justice?

He sits up, looking around the dark room. His eyes move to his hands that were resting on his lap. He promised. He promised not to make any lethal decisions as his role of Red Hood. But the Joker is still out there. He's definitely not in Arkham. Arkham Asylum couldn't keep the Joker in captivity even if it had the best security.

He wanted these dreams to stop. He wanted to stop waking up in the middle of the night, worried that a stupid faced clown was going to break in and hurt you. He wanted to stop waking up in the middle of the night and leave your hold just to sleep on the couch. He wanted to stop waking up in the middle of the night because it was worrying you.

Jason grunts, figuring there was only one way to end this. One way for him to finally feel better and to stay in your arms without hurting you again. Jason stands from the couch, putting his shoes on, and sprinting as fast as he can to his nearest safe house where all his gear is.

You stretch as the morning sun burns your eyes. You look around to see Jason isn't beside you.

"Oh right, he's on the couch," you mutter to yourself. You thought breakfast for him would he nice. A nice wake up to a horrible sleep.

But upon entering the living room, the couch was empty. In fact, there was no 6 foot, 200 pound boyfriend to be seen anywhere. You looked all over the apartment.

That's weird. Jason would've at least left a note or a text. You go back into your room, grab your phone, and scroll to Jason's contact name. But as it rang, you heard another ringtone in the distance.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as you walk out of your room, trying to find where the ringtone was coming from. It led you back to the living room, Jason's phone ringing under a pile of blankets.

You can hear your heartbeat in your head. Jason never left his phone. Starting to panic, you dial Dick's number as he answered within three rings.

"Hey, Y/-"

"Dick! I- Jason's not home! He- he went to sleep on the couch last night - I.. Nightmares! He left his phone.. no note! Gone!" You could hardly form a proper sentence. Your fingers pull against your hair, and you hyperventilate. Dick tries to calm you down.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, don't worry! We'll help you find him, okay? I'll round up the other bats and birds, and we'll look for him. He's going to be okay, okay?" He gently says from the other line.

You take a deep breath. "Yeah.. yeah okay," your voice shakes.

You start your own hunt for him as the Bat Family gear up. The first place you look at is at Jason's closest safe house. Going in, you see that a few pistols are gone from his wall. You run to where he stored his armour, but that's gone, too. You call Dick again.

"Dick! His guns, armour- He's out as Red Hood," you worry more. It's broad daylight, Jason shouldn't be out in his uniform.

Dick says, "Got it," before informing Batman that Jason is out as Red Hood. He then tells you to stay put, and that Oracle will update you when she tracks Jason's location.

You pace around the safe house, anxiously waiting for Oracle's call. You couldn't think of a reason why Jason would be out and why he wouldn't tell you. Jason tells you everything!

Then your phone rings.

It barely rang once before you answered it.

"He's in the warehouse." Is all Oracle said before you booted out the door. You didn't even need the address or specific whereabouts of the warehouse. You knew which one she was talking about. The one Jason died in.

Surprisingly, you showed up at the same time as everyone else.

You all rush inside, checking all the rooms. You were the first one to enter the room. And low and behold, the Joker in the centre, tied up in a chair, just as Jason was a couple of years ago, as Jason stood a couold feet away, a pistol pointed in front of him.

You couldn't tell if everything was sped up or in slow motion. But you screamed Jason's name. It's followed by a loud bang, then a couple of grunts and thuds.

As your vision focuses, there's smoke flowing out of Jason's gun, a hole in the wall where the bullet, and the sounds of the Joker's maniacal laughter as he's been tackled to the floor by Dick and Bruce.

You hear a mutter of 'no's. Your attention turns to Jason. His head is shaking, and his lip is trembling. You notice lis legs wobbling, and you lunge forward to hold him as he falls to his knees.

An echo of choked sobs is heard from Jason as he drops his gun and digs his palm into his eyes while he cries.

"Fuck! Why- Why did you do that?! He- He should be dead!" He tried to yell, but came out as cracked whimpers.

"Sh, sh, I know, sweetie, I know," you whisper to him, running your hands through his hair, just as he loved it.

Jason carries on. "He.. he killed me! He took me away from Bruce... he's gonna take me away from you.."

Your heart shattered. You wish and pray that there was more you could do to help him.

"No, no, no. Don't say that, baby, he's not. You hear me? He's not gonna take you away from me," Jason leaned himself into your comfort further, grounding himself. Reminding himself that you're with him. From the corner of your eye, you see Tim and Steph walking up to the two of you, but you lightly shake your head, a silent plea, asking them to leave you be. Damian walks up behind them, tugging on their capes, respecting your request.

Jason tries to shove you off him. But he's too tired. So he tries ti speak instead.

"Get away," he weakly says. "Get away! I'm - You shouldn't be near me," his voice cracks. "He's gonna come back! He's gonna hurt you! I- I'm gonna hurt you..."

"Hey, Jay," you quietly call out, pulling him closer to you. Jason sniffles against your chest. "Remember that time you got a little drunk? I had to help give you a bath?" Jason doesn't reply. But he remembers. He remembers your delicate fingertips massaging his scalp. It felt nice. He wanted to be in that moment again. "Remember what we talked about? How hopefully Gotham's brutality dies down, and we can run away together? We said we'd own our own house. A small one, like a cottage. You'd be cooking one of Alfred's lovely dishes while I'd hang the laundry out in our garden. We'd have movie nights, eating junk food while crying to the Notebook. And.. You even admitted wanting your own kids. Remember that, Jay?" Your fingers caress his scarred cheek. Your lips hovered over his white streak.

You heard a sound coming from Jason. Like he was trying to speak. "Yeah. Two girls. Two... so neither of them would be lonely..."

You smiled, tears stinging your own eyes. "Yeah.. Jason, nothing bad is going to happen to us. We're going to have the life we want. Nothing is going to stop us. Not even that monster. I won't let it happen. You do such a good job protecting me. But you need to remember that you're safe with me too, okay?" You said to him.

In response, Jason breaks down into more tears once again, clinging on to you tighter. "I love you," he sniffles. "Don't wanna lose you."

By this time, you're now crying yourself. "I love you too, my sweet boy," you kissed his head. "You're never going to lose me. I'm right here." Your hand intertwines with his.

The two of you are wrapped in each other's safety and warmth. Jason is mever going to stop about the horrible possibilities that could occur if you continue to stay with him. He thinks he's selfish for not doing more to let you go. But you're like a magnet. Somehow, through all that loathing he feels for himself, you're always going to find your way through the midst of hatred. You're always going to be there to hold his hand and give him the love that he never believed that he deserves. You're always going to show him that loving him isn't a sin.

Hopfully, this reached your expectations, anon 🥲🥲 But it was a lot of fun to write!! ALSO sorry if this seems short and rushed, I'm really trying to get everyone's requests out 😭😭

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ikeuverse · 8 months

Text

I WANT YOU — p.sunghoon

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, a pinch of angst WC: 4.5k+

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking, coming home drunk (being carried, literally), a few swear words. and let me know if I've forgotten anything else.

NOTES: i don't remember ever seeing a story with sunghoon being the best friend in love, so i wanted to write something like this. i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing something for him like this.

masterlist

Friday night was the moment when you felt the peak of your tiredness beating against every fiber of your body. Taking off all the clothes you wore to work during that tiring day, getting into the hot shower was the only thing you needed for a moment.

Water on your skin, strawberry-scented soap and shampoo, and a lot of relaxation as soon as you turn off the shower to dry off and look for more comfortable clothes.

"Y/n?" the voice called out from downstairs in the apartment, indicating that your brother had just arrived home.

Putting on your baggy T-shirt followed by your pajama shorts, you went downstairs to meet him in the living room, turning on the television.

"Oh, did you just get out of the shower?" he asked when he turned to you. A smile played on his lips as you smiled back, without much enthusiasm for being completely tired from your exhausting day.

"Do you want something to eat? I'll order—"

"Actually" he interrupted you, walking with you into the kitchen where he leaned against the worktop, "I just came to drop off my backpack and let you know I'm going out with the boys."

Oh, your whisper came out softly, he was still smiling while his hands were flat on the marble in front of him.

"Be careful, please" you asked him "Don't come loaded tonight, okay? Tomorrow you need to study for your final exams."

His smile was contagious. And you felt the weight of your brother's body as he came up to hug you and put his chin on your head.

"I promise I'll take care of myself, okay?"

He didn't take care of himself.

You laughed at the brief thought earlier in the evening as soon as you hung up the phone. On the call, Jay's loud voice was indicating that your brother had already left about fifteen minutes ago with Sunghoon.

Park Sunghoon. That's why he hadn't come to see you that night, he was with your brother in that bar.

Of course. You couldn't just ask your brother's best friend to stay with you, when in fact your brother was a pit of jealousy. So your relationship with Sunghoon had to be a secret from the day you first kissed.

The party was going on and you would never have thought that Park Sunghoon, the high school skater, would have a crush on you. He kissed you. He kissed you so hard until you lost your breath - or until your brother threw you away in your last year before university.

After that, no one ever saw the two of you together again. Meanwhile, on the sly, the two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other. The only person who knew about you and Sunghoon was Callie, your best friend, and Jay's girlfriend, your friend and your brother's friend.

She was one of the only female figures completely close to you and your circle of friends, so opening up to her about everything that was going on was almost inevitable.

"He went to take your brother who drank too much" Callie muttered on the other end of the line. "I just got home with Jay and I think tomorrow's studies are going to be postponed."

"Really?" you scratched your temple with your free hand, already imagining the state in which your brother would arrive at the apartment.

You had asked him not to drink so much, but knowing his stubbornness, he certainly wouldn't listen to you like that. So you just shrugged.

"We can set up the session at your place tomorrow, what do you think?" your friend suggested a few minutes later, probably paying attention to the two of you calling and Jay mumbling something incomprehensible on the other end "That way you and Sunghoon can be together a bit more, since today didn't work out" she whispered, knowing that this had happened so that Jay wouldn't hear.

"I'd love to, actually" the sound of the doorknob made you jump up from the sofa, glancing at the door before it opened "They're here, I'm going to help them. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow, kitten" Callie said goodbye and hung up, and just as you did the same to put your cell phone on the coffee table, the door opened.

Your brother was hanging on to one of Sunghoon's shoulders, who was struggling against his weight to stand up. You ran the few steps closer to the two of them, holding back your laughter when your brother raised his head and looked at you with narrowed eyes.

"Y/n?" he looked at you, then at Sunghoon "Are we home?"

"We're home" Sunghoon was panting, holding the other boy's body up high enough.

"Shit Jake, what's gotten into you?" your voice had a worried tone, ignoring Sunghoon's gaze on you the whole time since he closed the door and entered the apartment.

"We bet" he sobbed, disentangling himself from Sunghoon's arms, "and I lost."

He kicked his shoes off his feet, keeping his socks on as he unbuckled his belt, throwing it into a corner of the living room.

"Okay, no naked here" Sunghoon ran up to him and grabbed Jake by the hands "Let's go to your room, you need a shower."

He even tried to deny it and protest, but he knew he wasn't up to it, especially since even you were harder than he was. You almost pushed him into the bedroom with Sunghoon's help.

"But… Wait…" Jake stopped at the door to his bathroom, turning around "You're not going to see me naked, are you?"

"No" Sunghoon laughed, followed by you "I'll just go in, she can sort out your nightclothes, how about that?" his gaze was on you again, and with a nod, you went to Jake's closet to get some clothes.

Your mind must have been wandering as you picked out something for your brother. Sunghoon was right there, under the same roof as you. It was strange to see him so suddenly, even though you were looking forward to meeting him that day.

It was always a surprise when you saw him because, every moment, Sunghoon was different. Not physically, you mean. But his features. Sometimes he was frustrated about something at work or college. Or even his sleepiness, which made him so cute. You felt like kissing him non-stop when he mumbled into your pillow that he didn't want to leave.

"Have you chosen?" Sunghoon appeared in the bathroom doorway. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his pants were folded to his knees and yet all the fabric of his clothes was wet.

You realized that you had rambled on too long because Jake was already drying himself off while you were singing in the bathroom. Sunghoon just smiled in your direction as you handed him some clothes and he went back into the bathroom.

Less than a few minutes later they were both out. Jake with wet hair and a slightly better appearance. Sunghoon seemed to check the room, seeing the bottle of water that Jake always kept by his bed.

"It's full, he'll be fine" he said as he pointed to the object, you just nodded in agreement.

"Hey man, thanks" Jake yawned as he flopped onto the bed, still feeling everything around him spin. He waved for Sunghoon to come closer and so he did "Without you, I wouldn't be able to get home."

"You know I'm here for anything" Sunghoon smiled at him "Now, go to sleep, I have to go home and check on Heeseung and Jungwon."

Jake muttered something else that neither of you could understand, so all that was left was to agree and say goodnight. Letting your brother know that he would be in the next room if he needed.

You were the last to leave Jake's room, taking another look at your brother's sleepiness, who was now dozing off peacefully and so quickly. It was the effect of the drink that always made him fall asleep so quickly. So as soon as you turned off the lights, you carefully let the door close completely.

Before anything could be said, Sunghoon's hands traveled up to your face and, without effort, he got close enough to touch your lips with his. A slow kiss that tasted of alcohol because you knew he had been drinking too. Maybe not as much as your brother, but still, and that made the kiss taste so sweet on your tongue when you slid it into his mouth.

Kissing Sunghoon was incredible and dangerous at the same time, even more so in front of Jake's room. Knowing that he wouldn't wake up, nothing stopped the chill in your stomach from chasing you, even when Sunghoon pressed his body against yours at the exact moment your back met the wall. You moaned into his mouth, the contact of his fingers against your skin sliding down to your waist, lifting the T-shirt you were wearing to touch you there without warning.

"We… We can't…" you tried to catch your breath as his lips descended to your neck; without leaving a mark, but enough for his tongue to slide against your skin and send shivers down your spine.

"Shit" he cursed in a whisper before giving your neck one last kiss and aligning his face with yours. Leaning our foreheads against each other so he could be close enough to you "I missed you" he confessed.

That little sentence wreaked havoc on your heart, which was beating fast against your chest. You smiled, stealing another kiss from Sunghoon's lips and resting your hands against his face, one on each side.

"I missed you too" you said quietly.

"Leaving Jake was in my plans from the moment he asked me to go to that bar" Sunghoon's voice could only be heard because of how close the two of you were. Otherwise, it would have been difficult to hear him "I should have come to see you before anything else."

"It's okay" you tried to reassure him, leaving a kiss against his jawline "You're here now and I'm glad we were able to meet."

He was more than happy to see you too, and it showed in the bright look he was giving you. The small smile adorning his red lips and the subtle touch on your cheek before Sunghoon moved a little away from your body.

"Now I have to go and check on the boys" he slid his hands into yours, interlacing your fingers in his, "or it'll be dangerous kissing you here."

"Why can Jake see us?" you whispered jokingly.

He moved closer again, brushing his lips against yours as he bent down to meet you.

"Because I can dawdle in your room."

You felt your knees tremble at the intense gaze, the warm breath against your mouth, and the grip of his hands. But he was right. Sunghoon had to leave before it was too late.

"I'll see you tomorrow" he said, kissing you once more before pulling you out into the hallway, out of sight of Jake's bedroom door.

While you walked him to the door, stumbling on the way as you exchanged numerous kisses with him, your brother continued to sleep peacefully in his bed. Not even imagining the scene that was unfolding inside your shared apartment.

Jake thanked Callie for having a brilliant mind and suggesting study time in his apartment – or because she knew Jay's friends well enough to know that they would all be hungover – especially the boy who couldn't even open his eyes properly.

Your brother's head had been lying on your lap since everyone had arrived and gathered in your living room. You hadn't had much interaction with Sunghoon apart from the few minutes Jake had been in the bathroom when Sunghoon arrived, managing to steal a quick kiss from you before sitting down on the other side of the sofa and facing you.

"Man, I don't think I'll ever drink again" Jake whined, looking up to meet your eyes, which had previously been on the notebook you kept for studying.

"You say that every Saturday morning" you said, causing all his friends to laugh.

"You all could have at least taken it easy" Callie finished writing something down in her notebook, looking at Jay who was squinting at his book.

"Yeah, tonight I think we crossed a line" Heeseung almost cried when he felt a twinge in his head.

"How about some coffee?" you suggested.

"We love you more than we love your brother. You know that, don't you?" Jay looked at you with eyes that were so affectionate, but at the same time so pleading, asking you to really make yourself something strong to drink.

"Stay away from her" Jake huffed.

In the middle of the laughter and side conversations, you quickly glanced at Sunghoon to see him already looking at you. With a wink in your direction, you contented yourself with not running to grab him, let alone trying to look so shy at the way he stared at you.

You only came back to reality when you felt Jake get up from your lap and sit down next to you on the sofa while you chatted with the boys.

Study time taking a break for them to reminisce about last night's events. You and Callie just laughing at their antics or how Jungwon had done so badly at the billiards. He and Jake were a team, hence your brother's state last night when he got home, having lost a whole round to Jay and Heeseung, drinking more than he should have.

"But the winner last night was our friend, Sunghoon" you hoped your brother wouldn't notice that the moment Sunghoon's name was mentioned, you stopped typing your report on the laptop in front of you. Looking from the screen to the boy on the other side of the room, you knew he was avoiding you when he cursed your brother.

"Fuck off, Jake. Don't talk nonsense" Sunghoon said.

"Am I lying?" Jake laughed a little, followed by the other boys.

Your gaze quickly fell on Callie. She was already looking between you and Sunghoon, trying to think of something she could do.

"That girl lied when she said she didn't know how to play billiards just so Sunghoon would help her" Jay said nonchalantly, putting his notebook aside and running a hand through his hair.

"I think she was interested in another cue" Heeseung said "Ouch" he shouted as Callie threw a cushion in his direction, hitting him in the face.

Everything seemed too far away as they talked and insisted on talking about Sunghoon and what had happened. You heard enough to know that this subject was the cause of your blurred vision and the burning in your eyes.

It was impossible to type a single word, let alone to know whether they were calling you to a meeting or not. You just looked at Sunghoon, who kept his hands clenched into fists, his gaze on you as he kept himself from getting up from the sofa and walking towards you.

You got up with the excuse that now you could make the coffee they so desperately needed. Sunghoon managed to follow you saying that he would help you since he was the only one in the room who wasn't hungover apart from you and Callie. By some miracle, your brother didn't even object, going back to talking about something when you and Sunghoon disappeared from everyone's view.

"Y/n…" his voice entered your ears like a heartbreaking sound. You didn't turn around immediately, concentrating instead on getting the container from the machine to prepare what you needed "Y/n, please…"

Your work in ignoring him was proving successful. Concentrating on getting the number of cups you needed and putting the coffee you needed in the machine were enough for you not to focus on his presence right behind you. But it all came to nothing when Sunghoon's hands grabbed your waist, pulling you around and turning you to face him.

"Listen to me, please" he asked once again.

"I'm making the coffee" you tried to change the subject, but it was getting harder and harder as his fingers tightened around your waist. Sunghoon looked disappointed and you didn't understand why, after all, you were the one who had heard things that really made your heart sink.

"Absolutely nothing happened in that bar" he began, his hands softening around your waist when he noticed that you had your attention on him "She stood in front of me, asked me to teach her how to play, and when she leaned over the table I walked away. I walked away and—"

"Why are you telling me this?" the image of the events flashed through your mind and made your eyes sting even more. Sunghoon knew you would cry and it killed him inside because he was feeling guilty enough.

"Because you deserve to know."

"Guys" Callie whispered, making you and Sunghoon almost jump in your seats. He turned away from you for a moment, and that was enough for the tears to fall freely down your cheeks "Jake went to the bathroom, but I think he'll be in soon to check on the coffee."

"Thanks for the warning, Callie" Sunghoon thanked. He didn't know if he was worthy of such a thing.

"Can you two finish without me?" your voice was broken and you didn't want to go on, so you quickly walked past Sunghoon and Callie out of the kitchen and straight up to your room.

Your best friend stood there, knowing that Sunghoon had a lot to say. And since you didn't want to hear it now, maybe she could do it in your place if he wanted to tell you right now.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Jake looked at your figure wrapped in the blanket and sitting on the edge of the sofa. You agreed, giving your best smile to your brother as he left a kiss on your forehead and walked out the door.

Counting the weeks you avoided Sunghoon, adding up the times you cried because you refused his calls or didn't want to cross his path when he came to the apartment you shared with your brother. It was painful to have to think about it, even more so because you were in a fucking secret relationship… And why? Because of your brother's idiotic jealousy? Because Sunghoon didn't want to lose Jake's friendship? Or because both you and Sunghoon were cowardly enough not to say anything?

Too many questions and no answers to what you were feeling. That was unfair. So long in hiding to have to end up like that, with him after you and your tears falling every night because you couldn't forget the bloody scene that was described. And what's more, with all his friends - including your brother - commenting with the greatest joy. Of course, none of them knew about you and Sunghoon, but it still hurt. It hurt so much that it suffocated you in a way.

"Fuck" you almost shouted in fright when your phone rang.

Watching the movie credits roll by and noticing that you'd rambled on so long that you hadn't even looked at the ending, but it didn't matter, that comedy had been seen so many times that you'd even memorized the line.

On the second ring, a loud music noise was heard for the first time. You even thought about saying something, maybe they'd hear you, but your best friend's voice was quick enough.

"Y/n? You have to come here" Callie practically shouted to overpower the music, which had worked because you heard her voice so well.

"I told you I don't want to leave…"

"No, you don't understand. You have to, y/n" she emphasized, and something inside you screamed. Jumping up from the sofa and not even knowing why, you ran upstairs to your room.

"What happened?" while you put the call on speaker, looking for an outfit, Callie seemed to be looking for a quiet place to talk to you. Finding the party bathroom, she locked the door behind her to continue the call.

"Well, let's say Sunghoon told your brother about you and him" she said, "and now Jake's furious and swearing to kill him."

You almost tore the T-shirt you were wearing, running to your phone with a hysterical scream.

"He what?" you reached for the handset before taking it in your hands "Shit, shit, shit. What did Sunghoon do?"

"Baby, I don't know. But you need to come quickly."

That's what you'd do, of course. You just didn't know that getting changed in five minutes, ordering an Uber in three, and being at the party in ten minutes would seem like an eternity to you.

Meeting Callie and Jay at the entrance, your friend hugged you quickly while Jay wrapped his arms around your body.

"I'm sorry, please y/n, I'm sorry" Jay said while still hugging you, slowly releasing your body until you could face him.

"For what, exactly?"

"For that stupid thing" he said as he walked you and Callie into the party "If we knew about you two, neither of us would joke about it."

The only thing you could do was agree and lean on one of Jay's arms so as not to get lost in the party. Thanking him for his words that had really made you smile, warming a little of your heart that was getting faster and faster as he guided you and Callie to a more secluded spot.

A corridor illuminated by red and pink lights, hurt your eyes so much that you wondered how people managed to stand there. It was almost impossible to walk past and not get a headache or something.

When you stopped walking, Jay stepped in front of you and you felt Callie's arms intertwine with yours. A way of saying that she was there without saying a word. That's why she was your best friend.

Everything seemed too quiet for your liking. Your eyes traveled from your brother to Sunghoon, neither of them with any bruises or cuts on their faces, everything intact and without any scratches. At least no physical force had been used.

Jake was the first to get up, walking towards you as he watched Callie disentangle herself to get some distance away from you.

"Jake" you called him.

"Y/n" he called back, taking your hand and clearing his throat in the process "I'm an idiot."

"What?" your eyes flicked past him and then to Sunghoon. Your heart raced and your legs trembled at the small smile that adorned your brother's mouth.

"I heard some truths from Sunghoon and I know I was extremely stupid."

"You… You two…"

You looked at Callie and Jay, the two of them close to the others while you were further away with your brother. Only Sunghoon looked at you and Jake.

"We got into a bit of an argument, but it wasn't that big" he said, "Heeseung had the idea for Callie to call you like that or you wouldn't have come to us tonight."

"I'll kill that asshole" you whispered, feeling your eyes fill with tears as Jake pulled you into a hug.

"I'm sorry if everything that happened hurt you, I really am, y/n" he whispered between your hair, wrapping his arms even tighter around you "I let my stupid jealousy speak louder and I didn't realize what was best for you."

"I think I can take care of myself and you can do it with me too, Jake" you whispered back before he pulled away to kiss your forehead "You just don't have to deprive me of a relationship…"

"Did it have to be with one of my best friends?" he whined.

"Of course! She can't do that to anyone else" you and Jake abruptly turned to Sunghoon. He had a faint smile at the corner of his lips as he looked at you both and then fixed his gaze on your face.

"Is this the time I go out and leave you two alone?" Jake asked, seeing you and Sunghoon agree "Okay. I'll be right there, whatever" he nodded, turning away from you and going to find the rest of the group of friends.

Sunghoon moved a little closer, his hands coming out of his pants pockets to reach for your hand and entwine your fingers in his, pulling you closer.

You thought about calling him, saying something or simply cursing him for telling your brother without telling you first. But as soon as his lips touched yours, the softness of his mouth against yours, everything was forgotten.

That's where you had to stay, that's where you belonged from the first kiss you exchanged. Sunghoon knew it too. He was sure that he had found everything he needed from the first moment he saw you, and touched you. He also knew that it would be a huge obstacle to tell Jake and try to get around his enormous jealousy of his little sister. But he didn't know how he'd managed it. The drink might have helped him a little to confess, even though he'd heard Jake swear at him a lot and almost threaten to hit him again.

But it would all be worth it if he had you in the end. He wasn't going to give up and that's what motivated him to do what he did. That's why he was sharing that kiss for the - second - first time in front of everyone.

"Sunghoon" you called after him as you ended the kiss, controlling your breathing as his hands went to your face and caressed your cheeks "Why did you do that? Tell Jake…"

"Because I want you, y/n. Since the first time, I've always wanted you" his voice lowered so that you could hear him, his lips still brushing against yours as he kissed you slowly once more "I was a coward not to tell your brother before and I almost had to lose you to realize it."

"But you didn't lose me, you idiot" his laugh tickled your lips, loving the way he was holding you so precisely.

Sunghoon left one last kiss on your lips before pulling away and entwining your fingers in his, pulling you into the group and sitting back down on the sofa. He pulled you along, and you sat next to him in the circle while smiling contentedly at the happy looks on your friends' faces.

They all shared in the joy of finally being able to see you and Sunghoon together. Jake controlled his jealousy because he trusted his friend enough to take care of his sister.

"You know, I should have taken that bat and hit that girl in the head" Heeseung finished his can of beer after everyone had changed the subject, congratulating you and Sunghoon on the secret that everyone had just discovered, except Callie.

"Heeseung!" Sunghoon laughed, slapping the arm of his friend who was sitting across from him.

"What? It's serious!" he sounded serious, which made you laugh too. Because Heeseung managed to lighten the mood while the conversation took another turn.

Now and then you managed to catch Sunghoon's eyes on you, and this time with the certainty that you could kiss him in front of everyone, without having to hide.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon angst #enhypen masterlist #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #sunghoon fanfics #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines

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zepskies · 4 months

Text

Show Me - Part 2

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: I know I said I'd release this on Wednesday, but I thought I'd get this out a bit early. Here’s Part 2! **Read Part 1 here.

Word Count: 5,300

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, body appreciation.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: “A Thorough Reminder”

It’s a few hours’ drive back to Lebanon.

Dean stops at one of your favorite restaurant chains for takeout, though he notices how you only eat about half of what you ordered. Even he managed to eat all of his bacon cheeseburger, and that was after an entire afternoon of snacking and day drinking.

“Thought you were hungry,” he says.

You shrug as you package up the rest of your dinner and lean back in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. Guess I don’t have much of an appetite today.”

You’re normally a stress eater, by trade. But today, a familiar anxiety has crept in, taking root in your chest, and creating a mental block between your throat, your brain, and your stomach.

Despite what some people might like to believe, Dean does notice the small things, when it matters.

He glances at you, catches the way you rub at your tired face and release a small sigh.

“You okay?” he can’t help but ask.

You nod absently. “I’m fine, Dean.”

His lips press together. That doesn’t sound like fine. It sounds a lot like Winchester fine.

“I didn’t know he was a hunter,” he remarks.

You both know who he’s referring to. You look over at him, resigned, and a little annoyed.

Dean’s palms lift halfway off the steering wheel as he shrugs.

“You made it seem like he was a normal Joe,” he says. “Some dude you met in Miami.”

“We did meet in Miami,” you confirm. Part of you falters with another sigh. You don’t want to talk about this, but you suppose you might as well get it over with. Dean deserves an explanation.

“Okay, here it is,” you begin. “Carter came into town on a job. I caught wind of it not long after he did, and when we eventually ran into each other, we agreed to work the case…”

And you and Carter were good together, at least on the hunt. There had been a certain rugged charm and confidence to him that had drawn you in (apparently, you had a type). When he’d asked to stay with you for a few days, you hadn’t been able to say no.

“I thought it was because…he wanted to see more of me,” you explain. Your expression turns dry. “Maybe that was part of it, but mainly, he was broke. He literally couldn’t leave. Not until he scored some cash.”

Dean doesn’t want to think about how that guy charmed you, luring you in with what he thought you might want to hear. Though he processes all this with a nod. You’ve filled in most of the gaps, and he thinks he knows where this part of the story leads to: the one thing you did tell him about your ex.

“So you helped him get a job,” Dean supplies. His wry gaze meets yours. “At the local strip joint.”

“As a bouncer,” you specify. “He wasn’t qualified for much else. As it was, he needed me to talk to the manager for him. It was a Miami club run by Latinos. They weren’t going to hire a random white guy off the street who didn’t even speak Spanish.”

“Not until you finessed them,” Dean smirked.

You flash him a small smile. “I’m good with people.”

You hadn’t realized it at the time, under the haze of a hunters’ romance, but everything with Carter had been at his convenience, and whatever he needed from you. A hunting partner. A bit of money (a loan, he’d claimed). Some good food and a place to stay, free of charge. Not to mention a warm bed.

The giver in you had been all too ready to oblige.

“And when he got enough money to hit the road, he asked me to go with him,” you continue. “My grandma was still alive at the time. I had never left the city for more than a few days before, in case she needed me, but she told me to go. To live my life…so I did.”

You turn to Dean then. You suck in a breath as your eyes begin to sting.

“It’s my biggest regret,” you say. “She was gone by the end of the year.”

Dean sobers. His eyes soften, and he reaches across your thigh for your hand. You lace your fingers with his.

“I told you, she basically raised me,” you say. You brush away a tear from your cheek, sniffling. “…I should’ve been there.”

Dean raises your hand to his lips. “That’s not on you.”

You shake your head instead of answering. You’d been on a hunt with Carter when you got the call from your grandma’s neighbor. For almost a year, you’d lost what you hadn’t realized was precious time.

Meanwhile, you’d become what you’d thought was a partner, both on the Job and in life. Turns out, you’d been more like a sidekick, allowing Carter to tell you where, when, and how. It took your grandmother’s death to snap you out of the trance.

So you went home, picked up the pieces of your life…and you started again, somehow.

“A few months later,” you say, squeezing Dean’s hand. “I met you in a dirty bar in Las Cruces.”

He shoots you a more amused look.

“You mean you tried to hustle me,” he says.

Your lips curve into a grin. “Oh, please. You knew what you were getting into.”

Dean chuckles at that, tossing his head back against his headrest.

“Well, not exactly,” he says. Your hand is still tucked in his, and his thumb draws back and forth across your fingers.

He hadn’t known you were a hunter at first. He’d noticed your curves in those tight jeans and fitted top, your red lips, the shade of your hair, the perceptive gleam in your eyes—he’d liked it all.

Still, after he watched you hustle a guy out of all his money that night, just to give him $30 back so he could afford to get home…he’d known then that there was something special about you.

Then you’d slid into the seat next to him at the bar. Your English had been as smooth as your Spanish, and he’d been all too willing to get hooked into a game of pool with you.

He hadn’t known then that he was staring into the face of his future.

“I knew I wanted you in my bed that night,” Dean says. His easy smile is flirtatious, but his eyes are honest, finding yours. “I just didn’t count on you being even more badass than I took you for.”

Your cheeks warm as you fight a deeper smile, shaking your head.

You lean over as far as you can with your seatbelt on and press a kiss to his cheek. You linger there, with your hand reaching out to caress his face. You don’t want his eyes to leave the road, but you want him to know what he means to you right now.

After you pull away, he gives you one of those grins, and his eyes are dancing. It makes him both a giant dork, and incredibly charming all at once.

Not for the first time, you’re grateful to know this man—let alone be with him.

And yet, Dean knows.

Something’s not quite right with you.

He feels it in his gut when you two get back to the bunker that night. You shower quickly and alone, and you took a change of clothes into the bathroom with you, like he’s never seen you naked before.

By the time Dean finishes his own shower and gets dressed, you’re getting ready for bed as you putter about the room. He eyes your long pants and sweatshirt.

“You cold?” he asks, while digging in his dresser for a clean pair of sweatpants.

You spare him a glance, but you don’t fully turn to him while you go through your skincare routine with your hair clipped up.

“No, I’m good,” you reply.

“So why the long johns,” he quips, gesturing at your pants. He can’t remember the last time you wore anything but a shirt and underwear to bed (or less). He catches the look on your face in the dresser mirror: a slight pause, a press of your lips, but your face is otherwise guarded.

“I guess I am a little cold,” you say. You head to the bathroom again to finish the rest of your nightly routine, but you don’t see the way Dean’s frown follows you.

He later waits for you in bed. He pauses in his iPad scrolling when you slip in beside him under the covers. You've let your hair back down, nice and wild the way he likes it.

You heave a sigh. “Good night.”

“Hold up,” Dean says. With a hand on your shoulder, he stops you from facing away from him. He leans in and caresses your cheek with his thumb. You give him a small smile.

And he gives you a slow, purposeful kiss. He pulls away, just enough to see your eyes, beautiful and warm. He leans in again and angles into a new kiss, one that deepens with a spark of heat. He props himself up with a forearm above your head, digging into your pillows.

His thigh slots between your legs. For a reason you don’t want to name, you fight the instinct to press your center against him. His hand on your cheek slides down your neck, down the front of your close-necked shirt, between your breasts. He finds purchase on your hip and squeezes soft, tender flesh.

That’s when you stop him with a gentle push on his chest.

You slowly break from his kiss and lick your lips. Your eyes are apologetic.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m just…I’m tired,” you say.

Dean nods and lets out a sigh through his nose. He shifts more fully onto his side, lifting his weight off of you, and brushes your hair back from your face.

“You sure you don’t have anything you wanna talk about?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “Like what?”

“Like how you’re letting that asshole get back into your head,” Dean replies.

His gaze feels heavy on you, and you pause, staring back at him in soft shock.

“I’m not—”

“Look, I know you. And whatever this is, it’s more than what we talked about in the car,” he says, with a firm, yet gentle gaze. “If there’s something else you need to get out, you can tell me.”

Dean has worked hard to help you through the mental roadblocks you’ve had in the past—about you being comfortable with yourself, and with him. He’s not going to let some dipshit like Carter undo all of that, unraveling you with a single thread.

But your mouth works as you start to get annoyed, and even a bit angry at his accusation.

“Just because I don’t want to have sex, doesn’t mean I’ve got a problem, okay Dean? I just want to sleep,” you say tersely.

Dean’s jaw clenches at your tone. His head quirks, and he nods.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll sleep.”

He turns around and shut off his beside lamp, casting the room in darkness. You huff and turn onto your side, away from him.

You cover yourself with the blankets up to your shoulders, but the longer you lay there in silence, the more that guilt prickles in your chest, along with the tightness of anxiety that welled up when he started to touch you.

Fuck, what’s wrong with me? you think, trying to work through the emotion clogging in your throat. You haven’t felt like this in years…

Slowly you turn back towards Dean. By now your eyes have adjusted enough to see the outline of his broad back in his gray shirt. You steel yourself with another shaky breath, and you scoot forward across the bed. Your curled hands rest against the middle of his back, where you also press your forehead. You feel his body tense up a little.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper in the dark.

After a beat, you hear him sigh. Dean reaches out to turn the lamp back on, filling the room once again with soft light. He turns and finds you haven’t moved, though you stare up at him with shining eyes.

His own soften. He takes one of your hands and presses the back of it to his lips.

“Talk to me,” he says, and he waits for you to gain your courage.

After another couple of steadying breaths, you begin.

“There’s too many things I didn’t realize at the time,” you say. “He didn’t force me to go with him, to stay with him… Even when I felt like shit inside, I thought he was right about me. I thought he needed me, and that made everything else okay.”

You sniffle, and a tear rolls down your cheek. Dean’s hold on you tightens a fraction. He’s listening intently, but in his silence, there’s anger. He wishes he really had broken that guy’s hand. Or at least his goddamn mouth.

“I mean, what the hell was I thinking?” you ask, laughing a bit through your tears. “I always thought I was stronger than that, you know? I just realize now that…I must not have liked myself very much.”

Dean lets go of your hand, just to dry your face. He’s no stranger to looking in the mirror and not liking the man staring back at him, but he doesn’t think that’s your problem.

He caresses your cheek, shakes his head, and he offers a rueful smile.

“Nah. You just have a habit of fallin’ for poor sons of bitches who don’t deserve you,” he says.

You read between his self-deprecating lines there, raising your brows at him.

“Hey. That might be true, but you better not be lumping my boyfriend in with the rest of them,” you say firmly. Your arms slip around his waist, and you press yourself in close.

Dean chuckles and welcomes you into his arms as well. His hand tangles in your hair, and his lips find your neck with a deep inhale.

He knows what kinds of thoughts are likely plaguing your mind, just like he knows that whatever he says will only go so far. He presses a kiss to your neck that grazes with teeth. You let out a little hum of surprise. He smiles and begins to move down, letting his lips brush across your skin.

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower and brushes the side of your breast. “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

His grin deepens, teeth shining. “Yes, ma’am.”

This man is nothing if not endearing, and it earns a giggle from you as he moves down your body. First, you help him with getting your sweatshirt up and over your head; the collar is close to your neck and he doesn’t want to choke you (yet).

His gaze focuses on the rise and fall of your chest, the familiar sight of your full breasts, waiting for him to touch and tease.

Before he can start to follow through with his mental plans, you sit up with him and your hands dive under his shirt, both to start inching it up, and to feel him. His stomach clenches under the soft graze of your nails, but he gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

“What’d I just tell you?” he chides.

You give him an incredulous smile. “What, I’m not allowed to touch you?”

Dean reaches up to pull his shirt off from behind his neck. It’s a smooth move, and your eyes roam over his chest, and lower still.

He smirks. “Just be a good girl and wait your turn.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh. You let him finish undressing you by peeling off the sweatpants. You were getting hot in those anyway.

He leaves your panties on for now, but he travels back up to slot himself between your open legs. With a forearm braced above you, he starts again from the top.

He caresses your cheek, and begins with a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You sigh at the attention, tilting your head to make room for him. The sound of your voice is just one thing that he loves (and you know it), but Dean also loves the smoothness of your tan skin. He doesn’t mind a few faded stretch marks here and there, the lower he gets. He’s got a few scars and worry lines himself.

What matters to him is the sounds he’s able to pull from you as he nips and licks down between your breasts. He massages and teases one with his hand, while his tongue lavishes attention on the other. He earns a breathy sigh, a moan when his lips find the hardening buds, your knees starting to bend and squeeze his waist. He already feels the dampness of your clothed core brushing his thigh.

“Already squeezing on me, huh? I’ve barely touched you,” Dean teases. He nips at a plush spot on your left side, below your breast—something you might’ve been insecure about, if his thumb wasn’t also still distracting you by swirling over a nipple. His hands are sinfully good (something you love).

You utter a small moan and grasp his wrist just for something to hold onto as his mouth continues worshipping every curve of your body. Even the parts you’d usually rather him steer away from.

Dean senses your tension, however, when his teeth graze your soft stomach. He glances up at you, finding a bit of insecurity in your eyes.

“Here’s the thing,” he says, and his lips move against your skin. “You act like I haven’t already seen and conquered every square inch of you. Like I haven’t torn you apart, time after time.”

He sits back up, and his hands squeeze your hips and thighs and ass. He moves up to look down on you with almost predatory focus. Like he’s trying to determine what part of you he wants to devour next.

It’s a look you’ve seen before, though it still makes your face warm and your pussy clench on nothing. Your mouth parts with an unsteady laugh.

“You’ve got a point,” you nod. Dean shoots you a smirk, but he still takes your hand from where it’s been tangled in the sheets. He presses a kiss into your palm.

“You don’t gotta hide from anybody,” he says. “For damn sure, you ain’t hiding from me. You're too damn beautiful for that.”

You smile up at him, softer now as you thread your fingers with his.

He soon lets you go though. Because his hand moves down and down, to brush his fingers along your clothed core. You breathe deeper in anticipation, but his grin tells you that he’s not going to make this quick.

“Dean,” you implore him.

“Yeah, baby,” he answers. The pads of his fingers stroke and press into you. You lean into his touch, wanting and craving more. But he doesn’t give it to you just get.

He keeps teasing you, brushing your clit through the soaked fabric of your panties. It’s sort of what you want, and yet nowhere near enough. You can taste the edge of pleasure, just starting to make you squirm against his hand.

“You’re killing me here,” you whine.

“I’m ‘a need you to be patient,” he says.

You laugh, both incredulous and frustrated. His grin is damn near insufferable now.

Dean’s fingers move your panties aside, but they do no more than brush against the wet seam of your pussy. You hum and try to press into his hand. He doesn’t heed your unspoken demand.

He thinks you’re sexy as hell like this, writhing and waiting for his touch. He just wants to savor that for a bit longer—that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. He’s the only one who gets to tease you, to be with you, to love you.

You’re getting impatient though. With a ragged sigh, you sit up and hook a hand behind his neck and pull him down into your kiss. He chuckles against your lips when he feels your hand sliding from his chest to the generous bulge in his sweatpants. You stroke up and down the full length of him with a practiced hand.

“I get it, baby. I do,” you pant, “but I need you.”

He falters for a moment, grunting when your hand slips into the front of his pants and boxer briefs and takes his cock firmly in hand. Your touch is soft and warm and you know how to elicit a shiver running down his spine.

Dean has a plan though, and he forces himself to focus through gritted teeth. He takes your wrist, carefully guides it out of his pants, and pins it beside your head, using his strength against you. It’s as frustrating as it is hot, making your skin flush as you stare up at him.

“We’re not there yet,” he tells you. Amusement gleams in his eyes. “But I like the enthusiasm.”

Without warning, he pulls away from you. He sits up on his knees and grabs the nearest pillow. He grasps your thighs and raises you up enough to slide the pillow underneath your ass, which he bares after snatching off your panties. You yelp and the suddenness of your underwear sliding off your legs. He tosses them elsewhere.

“What, now you’re speeding things up?” you remark.

Dean raises his brows at you. “What gave you that idea?”

He shifts down the bed and sinks down between your thighs. You lean up just on your elbows so you can try to figure out what he’s about to do (though you have a pretty good guess). For a delicious moment, you feel his warm breath against your pussy. You clench in anticipation…

Until he veers further down the inside of your thigh. His hand moves smoothly underneath one of your thick thighs and hooks it over his shoulder. He starts with wet kisses from the inside of your knee, steadily moving up your thigh. Your eyes close as your breathing shallows.

You force yourself to take deeper breaths as the gentle feeling of his lips, and a hint of teeth, continues to make your body tingle with pleasure. You feel warmth and wetness pooling between your legs. Your core is already throbbing with need.

Just as Dean draws near to the apex of your thighs…he changes course, starting the same path of kisses up your other leg. You blow out a shaky sigh and have to clench your hands into the sheets. His name falls from your lips, both a reverent sigh and a plea.

You know what he’s doing. He’s worshipping your body in the sweetest of ways. You knew he was going to take his time with you, working you up, but this is both heaven and hell.

“Would you relax?” he says, chuckling into your skin.

You release a breathy giggle. “Yeah, right. I love and hate you right now.”

Dean’s shoulders shake with near silent laughter. His free hand soothes up and down the thigh he holds propped up on his shoulder.

“As long as it’s more of the first one, we’re good,” he teases.

You groan, but eventually you relax against the bed. You realize now that you’re more comfortable, more focused more on the pleasurable sensations he’s giving you than on how exposed you are right now. You smile begrudgingly, as you realize that’s probably what Dean wanted all along.

Just when your body is starting to settle into this, you gasp when you feel his tongue finally lick a warm stripe up the seam of your pussy.

Your head raises, and you see your man’s mischievous green eyes and the edge of his smile between your legs. Your mouth opens to say something petulant, but you cry out when his fingers slip past your wet folds and find your clit.

He knows where you’re most sensitive, what’s going to have you even more slippery and pulsing with need. His tongue replaces his hand, licking and sucking at your clit, while his fingers slip into your tight entrance and fuck into you slowly.

“God, Dean,” you breathe. Your nails dig back into the mattress.

You feel his voice reverberate inside you when he says, “Relax…”

He's already hooked your thighs over his shoulders. The pillow under your raised hips just gives him even more leverage to work you over. His mouth is noisy and makes you blush down to your neck, but you can’t help fisting a hand into his hair and clenching tight as he brings you right to the edge…

And he tumbles you over. His fingers brush deliberately and firmly against that sensitive spot deep inside you, until your inner walls quiver and your legs shake around his head.

Then you’re coming all over his hand. Your whimpers turn into a moan of release as warmth travels from your center, throughout the rest of your body. His tongue doesn’t stop, and your skin tingles, causing a shiver to run up your spine and arch your back as you moan.

He doesn’t pull away until your clit becomes oversensitive, and you start to squirm away from his hold. When he finally gives you reprieve, your body sags on the bed and your head rolls to the side as you try to catch your breath.

Dean’s panting hard too by the time he’s done. He has to wipe his mouth, nose, and hand, but he still strokes your thighs after he guides your legs off his shoulders and back to the bed.

Since you’re incapable of speech at the moment, you tug more gently on his hair to get his attention. He greets you with a grin as he takes in how wrecked you are.

You smile back and beckon him with a curling finger. “Come ‘ere.”

Dean obliges you, moving up your body to prop himself up on a forearm, next to your head. You grab his chin and bring him down to you for a searing kiss. You shudder a little, as you can taste yourself on his tongue. The press of his fingers along the small of your back brings more tingles across your skin.

You feel him hard and heavy against your thigh. You let your hands run down his back as well. Down the slope of his spine, and under the waistband of his sweatpants.

“I need you,” you whisper, in the small space between your faces.

“Yeah?” he pants, though his tone is teasing. “Where?”

“Inside me,” you reply. Your thighs squeeze his hips, pressing his length against your center and earning a groan out of him. “Fuck me ‘til it hurts.”

Dean’s grip on your hip tightens. He drops a biting kiss to your throat and nods. He quickly gets the rest of his clothes off, then he directs you to move onto your side. You’re a bit confused at first, but you oblige him. He kneels between your thighs, straddling the bottom one, then hooking your top leg over his.

He pushes his cock into you slowly, making you both breathe harder as he stretches you and finds his way home.

This angle is different, but it’s good. You feel him bottom out deep and snug inside. Already your inner walls respond to the feeling of him, and you tighten on reflex.

Dean makes a sound of pleasure and presses his forehead against your shoulder for a moment.

“What’s this, like doggy style?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he says, giving you a grin. “This way, I can still see your pretty face.”

You can’t help a giddy burst of laughter, even though your face warms. Yes, he still manages to make you blush when he talks like that.

Dean smirks in amusement. Once again, he swipes a thumb across your cheek and presses a kiss to your lips. You hold him there and lick into his mouth. When he starts to move, rocking out, then back inside of you with ease, you shudder at the feeling of him. Your thigh curls tighter around his hip, and he squeezes your soft flesh there.

“I happen to like a little give,” he says, with a lusty gleam in his eyes. “You know why?”

You’re already panting for breath. His slow strokes make you feel every inch of him, but you lick your lips and meet his hot gaze. You start to smile as you humor him.

“Why?” you ask.

“Call it a ‘soft landing,’” he grins. “Makes it feel that much better when I fuck you good and deep.”

Your mouth falls open, this time more in shock as you blush further and shiver in arousal—not only at his words, but the sound of his voice, and his sincerity. You unintentionally clench on his cock, and he groans. He gives your ass a heavy smack. You jolt with a gasp.

“Keep that up,” his voice deepens, rough with pleasure. “’Bout to fuckin’ wreck you.”

All you can do is nod and hold on tight for the damn ride.

He builds up the pace, until he needs a hand on the headboard for balance. The old mattress creaks to the tempo of his pounding strokes, and he’s hitting your G-spot with every single one of them. Your toes curl and you grab onto his thigh to help keep both of you steady.

You feel that coil starting to tighten, but you’re not quite there. You reach down between your bodies and massage your clit in time with his thrusts. Your eyes close on a gasp.

And the coil eventually snaps. Your inner walls spasm and flutter around him, making his hips stutter.

“That’s it, baby. Let go for me,” he grits out. He chases his own release as well as yours. “So fucking sexy like this, coming apart for me.”

He's spurred on by the way your voice echoes in his ears. A few more hard thrusts, and he’s spilling into you. He fills you up with his warmth and makes a shiver run through your body.

You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you’re probably giving him bruises, but it’s not unlike the fingerprints you often find on your ass and hips (and probably will find tomorrow).

You finally twist onto your back and relax. Dean catches himself against the bed before he crushes you with his weight. You welcome him anyway, with your hand soothing up and down his back.

“You okay?” he asks. Somehow, his gruff voice is still soothing to you.

You smile, giving a teasing squeeze on his arm. “Much better.”

He chuckles at that. His skin is dewy and sticks to yours, but you don’t mind. In turn, he brushes your now frizzy hair away from your face and neck, so it fans out on the pillow instead.

After he untangles from you and rolls onto the bed at your side, he lays there on his back and tries to regain his breath. You turn toward him and press a kiss into his shoulder.

“Thank you…for reminding me,” you say.

For making me feel beautiful, wanted, loved…

You try to blink past the sting of tears, but you know your eyes are shining.

“I love you,” you remind him.

Dean’s face warms and softens. He reaches over and takes your hand. Again, he presses it to his lips.

I love you too, that gesture says. Then he smiles.

“Any time you need a little show and tell, I’m here.”

AN: 😮‍💨 Well then! lol I hope you liked this! For me it was equal parts fun and cathartic, being a plus-size girl myself. 💗💗

I was definitely thinking of that scene in 9.13:

Mala: "What can I say? Sometimes it's nice to feel a little give."

Dean *has an epiphany*: "Oh. Yeah, I get that. A little extra cushion for the, uh..." *fist pounding motion* (lmfao)

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "Get Stuffed":

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

▶️ Next Story: Get Stuffed

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Show Me #Part 2 #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x latina!reader #dean winchester x plus sized!reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #Midnight Espresso verse #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x poc!reader #poc!reader #latina!reader #plus sized reader #zepskies writes

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wave2tyun · 3 months

Text

make your heart stop | ☆

pairing: yeonjun x reader

genre: friends to lovers, fluff<3

prompts: - “are you jealous?”

- “you’re blushing”

- “stop looking at me like that”

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 1.1k

a/n: comforting kitty anon THIS ONE actually goes out to you!!!!😼😼💖 i don't know if you had a chance to see my silly little mishap- i think my brain was just not working properly in the morning asbdhjab i was looking through my old docs trying to find something when the realisation hit and my face dropped.......😭😭

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

you don’t know how, or when, but late-night karaoke with the tubatu boys somehow became a regular friday thing. ordering unreasonably priced alcohol, sharing food, screaming your lungs out as you sang trot songs together- it was possibly the best activity to shake off all the stress accumulated throughout the week.

the owners already recognised you as regulars; every week, they would make sure to have at least one booth free for the six of you, catering to all your needs. it was heaven- and you could barely bring yourselves to leave.

this time though, you ended up parting ways quite early, the reason being beomgyu drinking one can of beer too much, falling down to his knees whenever he tried to take a step. he insisted on singing to you all one last song, despite stumbling over each and every word he said even in casual speech. soobin and taehyun were the ones to carry him out, shily apologising as they exited through the door. meanwhile, kai took videos of the drunken boy, the joy of teasing him in the morning already bubbling up in his chest.

yeonjun, however, remained with you and walked you home. he ended up staying over at your place, as neither the singing nor the alcohol were enough to tire you out. turning on the tv, you decided to end the day by watching a movie together, hoping, that at some point, the two of you would doze off.

slumping onto the couch, you searched for the movie you agreed on as yeonjun took care of preparing the caramel popcorn.

“taehyun killed it tonight” you exclaimed, eyes gleaming as you reminisced the earlier events “like seriously- his voice suits that song even better than the original singer. and that high note at the end? how are his vocal chords even able to do that?”

yeonjun stared at his reflection in the microwave, shifting his focus to the popping sound coming from it rather than your voice. he loved hearing you talk- but now? his left eye was twitching, and he didn’t get why.

a mixture of anger and something he couldn’t quite pinpoint was spreading throughout his chest, starting from the heart, then all the way down to his stomach, creating an almost nauseating feeling. was it jealousy? hm, no. he knew very well himself that his fellow members were great singers, their capabilities were definitely worth praising- he just wished that you’d have paid more attention to the way he, too, sang his heart out in that tiny karaoke room. okay- maybe yeonjun was, indeed, jealous. maybe, just slightly- actually more than slightly, he was quite very jealous.

yeonjun seemed a bit out of it ever since he returned to the living room with the popcorn bowl, his lips were stuck in a pout even while talking or eating. at first, you didn’t give it much thought, assuming that the exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on him.

15 minutes further into the movie, he still had that same absent-minded expression on his face, now combined with a frown. it was clear as day that his attention towards the plot had simply perished, eyes preferring to watch his own fingers fidget with the blanket on his lap.

did you say something out of pocket? it was never your intention to make him feel bad in any way. you backtracked a little bit, thinking about your earlier conversation. you got to your apartment, picked a movie and snacks, then waited for the popcorn to be ready. did you talk about anything else during that time? hm- you scratched your head, trying to concentrate better. then, it was like a lightbulb had been turned on inside your head.

“are you jealous?” you said, almost shouting the question. (how discreet-) the realisation hit you like a truck, and you spoke without thinking. the chances of finding out the truth from him could be close to zero now.

“no” yeonjun was quick to give you the answer you expected. he jolted out of his seat, like a cat taken by surprise. for a second there, he actually wondered whether you were able to hear his thoughts, or whether he had been unknowingly speaking out loud this entire time.

unconvinced, you continued to stare down at him. that ‘no’ was a pitch higher than his usual voice and it was only adding more to your suspicions “i’m not jealous-” he spoke again in that same tone “y/n, come on- stop looking at me like that” he whined, giving your shoulder a slight push as he sat back down on the couch.

“jun? you sure you’re not jealous?” you inched your face closer to his, yeonjun moving his head back at the same time. he was unaware of his surroundings, too focused on keeping some sort of distance. you cupped his cheeks to stop him from slipping away any further, afraid that, at some point, he would fall off the couch. his cheeks were squishy, and you pinched and stretched them like a kid playing with pizza dough. his constant yearning for your attention was becoming -somehow- fulfilled, and he didn't know how to handle it.

as his heart felt close to jumping out of his chest at any given moment, he placed his hands over yours, muttering a quiet “stop that” before breaking eye contact with you.

“you’re blushing” you chuckled, your fingertips brushed against his soft, reddened cheeks. yeonjun wasn’t one to easily get flustered. he wasn’t a great liar either- not in front of you, at least.

“you were sitting too close to me- it was suffocating me” he attempted to defend himself.

“oh?” you tilted your head, as you reduced the gap between the two of you once again, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips “since when does me sitting close bother you?” his chest was beginning to raise up and down more rapidly underneath you. yeonjun gulped, the audible sound giving away his sheer nervousness. it didn’t bother him- he liked it. in fact, he was more bothered by the fact that he didn’t have the guts all night to just hold you in his arms.

your tongue darted out to wet your lips, taking away all of his focus. he couldn’t take it anymore- it was getting too much, too overwhelming: the scent of your perfume, the warm breath on his face, the rosy lips sitting just a few centimeters away from his. sighing, he gave in, his hand coming to the back of your neck as he closed the gap that kept on tormenting him. your eyelids fluttered shut, taking in the slow rhythm of his kiss, indulging in the way your lips felt against his.

and once he parted away, he admitted, completely out of breath:

“okay. maybe i was a bit jealous”

taglist: @huekalover3000

#wave2tyun #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt fic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smau #txt headcanons #txt yeonjun #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fic #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun headcanons

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daysofyellowroses · 4 months

Text

toast

carmen berzatto x reader | 3.8k | 18+ minors dni | tw: mentions of death, overdose, shitty behaviour, smut, mostly implied but a little more explicit at the end

Going to bed alone is not ideal when you have someone to share that bed with you, but it's par for the course in certain relationships, such as the one you have with Carmy.

Well, if it can even be called a relationship. From the outside it certainly looks like a relationship, two people who sleep together, eat together, make each other laugh, make out on the couch like horny teenagers and send silly little messages to each other. That's a relationship, right?

Even if you don't technically sleep together, (not always, anyway but usually someone is getting out of bed and picking their clothes up off the floor fifteen minutes later), if you eat leftovers because cooking is too intimate, if the laughter can just as easily turn to empty silence, or frustrated yells. If the messages become less silly and more sparse (you're not quite at "you up?" but you're not far off it) it's still something, right?

Okay, okay, hands up. It's not exactly a relationship, but that's not from lack of want. It's just..Carmy. Fucking Carmy, and his fucking restaurant. Those two are intertwined, bonded for life, never leaving each other.

In an ideal world, Carmy would be intertwined with you, bonded to you, would never leave you. But it's not an ideal world.

If anyone knows that to be true, you certainly do. Ideal worlds don't exist, you learned the hard way. Parents who barely notice you exist because they're caught up in their own shitty behaviours. Those same parents divorcing, one dying of an overdose followed by the other dying in a car accident. Being sent to live with a grandmother you barely knew when you were at the start of your teens.

There were some tiny silver linings, of course. Your grandmother turned out to be the most gentle, loving, compassionate woman with the patience of a saint when it came to you. You were not exactly easy to deal with as a teenager. After growing up around shitty behaviour, it took root in you and you followed suit. After moving to Chicago you started hanging around with the "wrong" crowd, smoking, drinking in abandoned houses, staying out til all hours and no doubt worrying your grandmother sick.

Slowly, though ,she started to get through to you. She never screamed or dished out punishments, never gave you a lecture or told you how disappointed she was, but you could always sense it. You were almost 18 before you realised she waited up every single night, refusing to go to bed until she knew you were home safely.

There was no big emotional sit down, no heart to heart. You just started making small changes, implanting them over time. Coming home at a decent hour, making dinner, watching wheel of fortune.

Not every single night, of course, but you made an effort. One day you happened to pass by a gym and saw an advertisement for a receptionist position, couple of days a week.

To your surprise, you got the job. It was an easy gig, sitting behind a desk and getting to people watch for a couple of hours. There were little bits and pieces of administrative work that you did when you were really bored, but you started to enjoy having a focus, having little achievements.

College was never going to happen, you knew that. "Intelligent, but does not apply herself" was the constant remark from teachers. What was the point of spending endless hours trying to get into college just to spend a fortune dicking around when you could do that for free at home?

But that didn't mean you didn't rule out any further options. You took work more seriously, got more hours when you graduated high school. Applied for community college, got accepted much to your shock.

It wasn't the most amazing student experience, but you made good friends, pushed yourself to apply that Intelligence, and couldn't deny it was an amazing feeling to see your grandmother be so proud, feeling like you weren't disappointing her anymore was the ultimate benefit.

She didn't get to see you graduate, but she did leave you an amazing parting gift, her home became yours. It pushed you to keep going, to not let yourself fall back on old habits. You got a job in an office, got a coffee every day, started going to the gym you used to work in, all in all you were living a perfectly ordinary life.

Nothing to write home about, really, but it meant a lot to you. It meant you being able to say, 'I am not my parents, I am not destined to end up like they did. I am doing good.'

In the relationship department..you always felt like you'd frontloaded all your experience when you were in your teens. You had some fun, did your thing, never really had anything too serious. You dated while in community college, met some nice guys. They bought flowers, made stupid jokes you politely laughed at, got excited talking about craft beer/football/whatever TV show was big that month. One or two relationships, but they didn't really last that long. Still, they made you realise what you wanted, and what you didn't want.

Then..Carmy came into your life.

The funny thing was, you weren't actually looking for anything when you met him. You'd decided to sell your grandmother's place to buy your own apartment, which felt painful but you kept her most precious belongings to make your new place feel more like home while still being a new start. Work wasn't particularly exciting but you were doing well, and one of the girls you'd become close with at college had started working with you, which made it more tolerable.

The last thing you'd expected was to discover that same friend was dating someone, someone you never would have paired her with.

Richie fucking Jerimovich.

You had noticed she'd been smiling at her phone more, had mentioned she was seeing someone, and you were happy for her of course but when she suggested going to the Beef one day for lunch the last thing you expected was that it wasn't for the food.

Of course you'd been to the Beef before, it would be a struggle to find someone who hadn't. But it wasn't exactly close to the office, and you hadn't been for a while. Not out of choice, just..it hadn't been somewhere you'd dropped by.

Still, you figured you were overdue for a sweet beef sandwich, so had agreed to go along. When you'd walked in and Richie had smiled so genuinely at your best friend you immediately knew what the situation was.

"Still the only person who can genuinely surprise me, Rich," You had grinned. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"You know me," Richie shrugged with a grin, flipping a towel over his shoulder. "I always got something up my sleeve."

Fucking Richie.

You'd been there, before. The two of you had been at some house party or other, you couldn't remember why or how you'd even ended up there. But you'd found yourself sitting on a couch with Richie, excitedly telling him you recognised him from your favourite sandwich shop. He'd made you laugh, excitedly telling you his Bill Murray story. He was wearing a nice cologne, and he was actually a good kisser, you would give him that. One thing led to another and you ended up upstairs in whoever's house. It had been fun, you didn't regret it, but it had definitely been a one time only thing.

About a week after you heard Michael had died, you'd bumped into Richie again in the supermarket. He seemed to be his usual self on the outside but the spark was gone from his eyes. You hadn't been by the restaurant much since.

Until you went along with your best friend and apparently Richie's new girlfriend.

You had ordered a sandwich and left them to it while you went to have a cigarette. You'd tried to quit several times, but could never quite do it. And no matter how many times they were suggested, you refused to give in to vapes. So it was out in the breezy air, round the side of the restaurant, searching around in your bag for a lighter.

The cigarette between your lips was begging to be lit, and memories of passing your lighter to Deb from HR that morning hit you. She never had given it back.

You had been about to admit defeat when you heard him.

"Need a light?"

That was it, the most basic question and you could have fallen to your knees with relief. Then you turned and saw him and could have fallen to your knees anyway.

He offered you his lighter, which you took with a grateful nod. You had closed your eyes as you inhaled, letting the smoke fill your lungs before breathing it out. He was looking at you intently when you opened your eyes.

You returned the lighter, offering your thanks. He lit a cigarette himself, and you stood in a strangely comfortable and electric silence for a few moments.

You couldn't really remember what who had spoken first, maybe he had asked you if you were eating at the restaurant, maybe you asked if he was a chef. Either way, conversation was sparked and you felt a growing attraction for him, physically at least. You made him laugh, you knew that. He looked cute when he laughed, you wanted to make him laugh and smile and a whole lot more.

At some point you had both gone back inside, and that was that.

Until the next day, when you went back again for lunch. Richie teased you about being a regular, you gave him the finger as you went to have a cigarette. No sign of life that time, to your disappointment.

So you went back again, and again. Sometimes he would be out for a cigarette already, sometimes he would join you.

Carmy, you learned. It suited him, you definitely thought that. He was already in your thoughts, then his name spilled from your lips at night, alone in your room.

After a week, heading into the second, you were surprised that he hadn't asked you out, or even asked for your number. Not that you were being conceited, more..the two of you had developed a flirtation. Eyes lingered, fingers brushed against skin when the lighter was exchanged. Comments were made, bodies moving a little closer together each time.

Yet, nothing.

It was halfway through the third week when you got a message out of the blue from an unknown number. Evidently your bestie had given Richie your number to pass along, because apparently you were all still in high school.

Still, it meant you were invited out for a drink. Late, but you figured he worked late, he would only be free late. You had one drink, maybe a couple of sips of a second before you were walking out of the bar and pulling Carmy into an Uber. Maybe he was pulling you, either way you both knew exactly what you wanted.

It was almost like stress relief for you both. Desperate and hot and messy. Neither of you said much beyond 'fuck', 'harder' and moaning, but it was the best you had had in a very long time.

When you woke up alone the next morning, you couldn't help but feel a little confused, and little cheap. You didn't expect him to be laying there looking at you like a lost puppy but you at least expected him to be there. But he was gone, had he stayed and slipped away early or did he wait until you fell asleep and make a run for it?

You tried not to think about it too much, it was what it was, these things happen. Still, if it was half as good for him as it was for you..he would surely want more.

And, it turned out, he did.

You got a classic late night text, and made your way to his place. You barely saw more than his front door, he pulled you in so quickly. It was even better than the first time, and you knew you were already in danger of becoming addicted.

It took some time to get used to, finding a balance between relationship and fling, but slowly a little routine developed. Not a relationship but..all the elements of one, like a deconstructed sandwich. Which is how it started. He had randomly offered you a PB&J while you were putting your bra back on and you agreed. He didn't have much bread left so you had open faced sandwiches on the couch in your underwear.

Sometimes when he came to your apartment, you would be in the middle of watching something and he would watch it with you, tattooed hand on your thigh waiting patiently til one of you broke and lunged at the other.

So that was it. There was you, there was Carmy. You did things together, but you were not together. It was just how it was.

Probably for the best, you tried to tell yourself. After all, it's not like Carmy was easy to be around constantly. He could drive you crazy, to the point where you would end up screaming in frustration, have him scream right back at you. Doors would slam, days would pass in silence, then one of you would be standing in the other's doorway, profusely apologizing until there was a trail of clothes leading to the bed/kitchen counter/nearest surface.

But..the funniest thing happened, something you never would have expected.

Richie popped the question. For real. And got a yes.

Of course you were thrilled, how could you not be when your best friend in the world was engaged? But..it made you reevaluate your own situation. You didn't want to marry Carmy, but..you at least wanted to eat together at a restaurant, sleep in the same bed, watch a whole fucking movie together.

The engagement party pushed you to the edge. The music was blasting, the food was incredible, you felt great in your dress..but the knot on your stomach wouldn't go away. Here was a couple on the verge of committing themselves to each other forever and you couldn't even get Carmy to commit to sleeping next to you. It was your own doing, you knew. You could have ended it when you started wanting more, but you couldn't do it. And now you had to pay the price.

You picked a fight about something stupid at the party, unable to stop yourself. You suspected Carmy knew what was going on but had the tact not to say it. You almost wished he had. When you felt you were about to get really angry, you'd gone for a cigarette, the lighter shaking in your hands. He'd followed you, and you let it all out at him, feeling like a damned hypocrite but refusing to give in to the feeling.

You went home alone after that, wondering if that was it between you and Carm. If you wanted that to be it. You had been spiteful, petty, but honest.

And now, here you stand in your bathroom doorway, exhausted and emotionally drained.

Sleep is all you want, all you need. So you tell yourself.

The bed feels cold, too big and too small at once. It's a struggle to sleep, and when you do it's restless and plagued with nightmares. You wake up when you hear something from the living room. Too tired to get up and investigate, awake enough to feel nervous.

"It's me," A voice calls, sounding closer. It takes a second to register, but it's Carmy, you know it. You frown, wondering how he even got in. You never gave him a key, figuring he'd run a mile if you did.

"Got a key from the bride to be," Carmy explains as he opens your bedroom door. "Hope you don't mind."

You can barely keep your eyes open, frowning slightly before taking a breath.

"Mm. 'S fine," You murmur, resting your arm over your eyes as you roll onto your back.

You hear his footsteps move closer to the bed.

"Just wanted to check on you."

He keeps talking when you don't respond, takes a step forward.

"I say a lot of shitty things, I know I do. I can't stop myself, though. They just..they come out before I can stop them and I don't want you to think I mean to be such a fucking asshole."

You slowly lower your arm, resting it on your stomach as you let out a breath.

"What is it you want, then?"

He doesn't say anything, and you feel a knot twist in your stomach as you think he'll leave. After a moment he moves closer, carefully sits on the edge of the bed. He smells like cigarettes and grease and cologne. You hate that you love it. That it does it for you every time.

"You," Carmy murmurs after a moment. His hand lightly rests on your arm.

"That's what I want. I want to stop fucking this up, and I don't know how. I'm not the guy who's gonna buy you flowers and write you poetry, I'm gonna plan a date with you and forget to show up, I'm gonna be unreliable and selfish and a pain in the fucking ass and because I'm selfish I want to keep you even though I know I'm fucking it up and screwing you over. But I want to try and be less of a fuck up."

The words hang in the air, your sleep-addled brain tries to make sense of it all.

"You are going to fail horribly," You sigh, reaching out and taking his arm when he moves it away. You can feel the guilt radiating off him.

"But I know that. All I ask is you learn from your mistakes. I don't expect flowers, and I would rather die than have you write me a poem, but I do ask that you spend the rest of the night with me, then in the morning when I wake up you'll be here. We'll eat toast and watch the news and probably have a fight because we're being too fucking domestic too soon but..it will be a start. Okay?"

You slowly open your eyes, seeing a small smile on Carmy's face that grows when his eyes meet yours. "Okay."

"Good," You nod, slowly moving yourself up on your elbows. "Now..since you so rudely woke me up, you can help me go back to sleep."

"Yes ma'am."

He doesn't need to be asked twice, immediately diving in to kiss you and pin you down on the bed. All you want is to fall asleep feeling him deep inside you, but it seems he has different plans.

He takes his time, kissing your neck and peeling back the neck of your pajama top to lightly nip and suck your tired flesh. Your eyes close as his large hand snakes under your top, skilled fingers lavishing attention on your already hardened nipples. You feel like you could fall into the most wonderful sleep but force yourself to stay awake.

“Carmy,” You moan softly, your hand finding his hair on the dark. “Please..’m tired, you know what I want..”

He doesn't stop, and you feel a growing slickness between your legs.

“I know what you need, baby,” He murmurs softly into your neck. “Let me take care of you.”

You don't object as he moves down between your legs. You realize, with a tired smile, that you two have never been this gentle with each other. It feels good.

“Mm..fuck,” You moan as strong hands spread your thighs,hot breath ghosts over your most sensitive parts. He doesn't even have to do all that much to have you melting. “Carmy..”

“I got you,” He murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs. Your hands rise up and under your pillows as the tip of his tongue slowly touches you. “My perfect girl..”

You want to cry and scream and sleep, your body feeling wonderfully weak. He doesn't rush, tasting you slow and delicately, a low heat rising and twisting in your stomach. His hand moves from your thigh as his lips find your clit, your eyes flutter open as warm digits push into you.

“Oh god,” You whisper, closing your eyes and resting your hand in your forehead. “please..please..”

You feel him nod, and answers your request by not speeding up or slowing down, rather continuing to do what he's doing and doing it very fucking well.

It doesn't take long before the law heat in your stomach becomes a raging fire, your heart racing like it will burst from your chest.

“Fuck..’m so close,” You moan, eyes shut tight, hand reaching down to lightly grip Carmy's hair. Part of you wants to pull him away, part of you wants to push him closer. “I..I..”

“Shh,” Carmy whispers, his voice pushing you closer to the edge. “You can..just let go for me darling..”

You come with a soft cry, your whole body feeling like it's about to sink into the mattress, a heavenly feeling. Carmy slowly moves slowly, you open your eyes as he moves on top you of. You crane your neck up to kiss him and he hesitates for a moment.

“Wanna taste myself,” You murmur softly. He lets out a groan and kisses you before you can even breath. Your hands move into his hair as he kisses you slowly and wetly, it's lewd and gentle at once.

Your hand moves between your bodies, lazily palming at Carmy. He pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“We don't have to..”

“I'm still awake,” You murmur softly, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “don't break your promise..”

He doesn't break it.

You don't have your usual sense of urgency, he keeps his shirt on and your pajama top rides up over your chest. But it feels like a new level of intimacy as you wrap yourself around him, as he whispers in your ear that he needs you, he wants you, he won't ever mess up again.

He will, and you will, but in that moment you let the fantasy breathe.

He moves slowly but deeply, each thrust hitting the spot perfectly. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Carmy's lips against yours, the perfect knot in your stomach that almost unravels, the belief he will stay.

In the morning you don't have toast.

You are surprised with pancakes in bed.

The news is on, but neither you nor Carmy pay attention, the pancakes half-eaten on the bed, a trail of clothes leading to the shower.

#the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #smut #nonsense #men being shitty #but fucking cute

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