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pedge-page · 4 months

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Joel dealing with Preggo Wife # 7: House Pet

Can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight Daddy kink, suggestive of oral M receiving, annoying reader and annoyed Joel

18 + ONLY

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You watch one depressing commercial of shivering dogs left emaciated in the cold begging for love and care, and all the water in your entire body comes flooding out in tears.

“J-j-j"—snUFFF—“JOeeeOEeeeoelllLLLL!!!" You wail, wiping your snot on his shirt sleeve while curled up against him. “THEY NWEEEDDD MWEEEEE!!!!”

“You wanna donate?”

N-d—nooo--“sniffle—“wanna -wa-wanna aa-ad-ad-opt—“

He chuckles like its some obvious joke, but when he sees the absolute shine in your giant eyes staring pleadingly at him, he puts his foot down as gently as possible: “Honey, we can’t have a dog right now. With you—being like this, and a baby on the way, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. Wanna make sure you and babygirl are well taken care of first, okay?”

There’s a tense silence hanging in the air as you seize a breath in your throat.

And then you’re LOSING IT, whining and crying like a child into his face.

“Jesus,” he mumbles softly, gently stroking your hair, hushing little shhhhh into your forehead and rocking you in his arms like a baby in a cradle— a giant baby stuffed with another baby currently rattling the emotions of the big baby.

He's given you a cup of water for bed and tucking you in, picking up the litany of tissues tossed around you, while you refuse to quit your puffy eye’d and endless barrage of tears.

By the next morning, swollen lids yet calm, he thought he’d heard the last of it last night. And you were doing much better mood wise—no cries, though a little cold shoulder to him. He gives you a few hours till you’re over it and asking for ice cream like nothing happened.

Until now, five days later where every minute is just a retort to his face about getting a dog.

When you best friend comes over to give you extra baby clothes:

"Aww your girl named her puppy Winston? That's so adorable! Joel, ya hear that??” You peak loudly so he can hear from the kitchen. “Too bad I don’t have a puppy named Winston.”

"When you have our daughter, she can get a puppy named Winston"

"Oh! Already picking her over me for getting a dog?"

He rolls his eyes, tuning out to focus on making you biscuits that are too salty so you’ll have something else to whine about.

During movie night:

“…If only I had a dog to help keep my feet warm on the couch.”

He shovels a fist full of popcorn into his tilted back, wide mouth. “‘At’s what a blanket’s for.” he yanks your favorite soft one over your toes and keeps his eyes on the TV.

To the neighbor that just fucking moved in two weeks ago:

"Joel doesn't kiss me enough. If I had a dog, I wouldn't complain as much since the pup would love me unconditionally."

He grits his teeth, excusing himself to the bathroom.

At Tommy’s place for a Sunday BBQ:

“Bought the wood second hand—I re constructed our living room myself,” he says braggingly, drawing a beer from the cooler.

"Yeah, Tommy, it’s real nice.” You charm, and you can already see Joel's fist clench at his side. “Would look even better with a dog in the window."

“Wish I had a fluffy dog to cuddle instead of your big ass."

"My husband spoils me so much. He usually gets me anything I want without asking! Unless it's a dog ..."

Joel finishing adding furniture to the baby room.

"You know what else this room could use?”

"A dog bed, a dog blanket, a dog.”

"If you say-one more-god damn thing-about the dog..." he huffs.

"What dog? We don't even have a dog."

"We don't-need one. Got a cat in the house already."

He thrusts in again with a grunt, your trail of thought disappearing for a second just as Joel’s fat cock penetrates you.

The two of you are lying sideways on the bed, his chest pressed flush against your back. With your leg just barely propped up with his masculine arm hooked under your knee, a hand splayed protectively over your big belly, he has enough room to slot his length into your achy sopping cunt, slowly fucking you with harsh little jolts. You grip the back of his neck, fingers clutched in his sweaty locks, feeling his hot breath dampening your collar.

He lets out a pained hiss. “This lil pussy right here is all the animal I can handle now. Now quit it.”

His hips begin to crash lightly over your ass, rutting his tip deeper into you with muffled slaps. He loves the sight of your now largely grown thighs jiggling with each impact. Loves the feeling of your swollen breasts suffocating his other hand. Loves the knowledge of his wife so stuffed full of him for everyone to see.

You moan lightly, clenching around him at the leisure, unhurried yet pent up pleasure coursing through you. But your mind wonders again. “If you don't want a rescue we can get a certain breed: How about a malnoise? Or something smaller like a corgi? Or aussie. Oh Pitties are so cute!"

He rolls his eyes, nose buried in your hair. How are you even able to have a coherent conversation right now while he's rearranging your guts? Rather than hushing you with another quit it, he decides to entertain you. "Jesus woman. Ain't pitties all mean?"

"Nooooo —mmm baby, right there—“ you whine, panting in sync as you lowly try to hump him back. “Protective, intimidating looking.” You smile, mouth agape and eyes closed when he hits that sweet spot deep inside. “Just—like you, big ol sweethearts…Who give their wives exactly what they fucking want—like a dog."

“Christ.” The hand from under your leg glides over your wet clit, his rough digits rubbing fast circles while his other free arm unfolds from under your throat to grip it lightly. His knees bend so he can rock just his hips with ferocious power, railing with the intent to fuck you so dumb, you can’t help but shut up. “One more peep and I'm switching us up and gonna fuck you like one.”

You really didn’t want to —resorting to this lounging position because your back hurt too much to be fucked doggy, and the baby weighed too heavily to ride him. Thank God his cock was fucking huge—it could reach deep into you at any position. No fucking wonder you got pregnant so easily.

“no- no Daddy, I'll be good," you hum. "Unfff—mmm-yeah—yeah! Fuuuck—fuck me baby that’s it!” You shout. Joel’s hand works endlessly on your little nub, now at the mercy of his ministrations to get you off since you can’t reach yourself anymore. You grip your belly and cry, walls convulsing around his meat with a much needed orgasm. Joel follows suit not too long after, biting your shoulder as his hips still against your ass, pumping you full of his pearly cum.

The two of you stay in the same position, breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs.

His eyes close, breath slowing and getting deeper in relaxation as his fingers lightly dance over your swole bump.

You feel the gentle cooling breeze of the fan spinning above you. Sighing contently now filled with your husband’s love and caressed with his tender hands.

“…So I was thinking, when we get a dog..."

"WE ARE NOT GETTIN’ A DOG AND THAT’S FINAL."

Tommy comes over and can tell something is up between you two. When Joel leaves the room, he asks "so what is it this week with Joel?"

"He won't get me--what do you mean THIS week??"

"Nothing nothing, he won't get you a what?"

"A dog. I want a dog. He doesn’t want a dog. So I don’t understand why he can’t compromise and get a dog.”

He laughs. “Honey, cuz that’s not a compromise. You know why he won't get you one, right?"

"Cuz he doesn't want to take care of me, a baby, and the dog at the same time"

"Nah. He's worried you'll only want the dog’s affection, and the baby gets the rest of your attention. Then you won’t have anything left for him.”

“…Oh!"

Later that night, Joel is still steaming from your earlier conversation after sex, having no regard for listening to another thing you had to say the rest of the day. You waddle into the bedroom, looking apologetic as possible with your hands held behind your back. He only looks up from the bed to see you: in his large T shirt with nothing else, freshly lavender scented from your bath, and big pleading child-like eyes full of sorrow. He purses his lips before returning to his book, glasses perched on his nose.

You approach Joel with an apology gift that you hid behind your back: a stuffed wolf.

He smiles gently unable to even pretend to hold his temper against you. you kiss the tip of his nose as he caresses your smoothed bump. “You're my favorite dog anyway,” you say warmly. “Needy. Grumpy. Likes food. Gives me kisses."

“Thought I didn’t give ya enough kisses? Least that’s what you told neighbor.”

“That was—a lie.” You bat your eyes cutely. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, his eyes raking over your curves just barely covered now due to your size. “I don’t know, Daddy might need more apologies — ya did treat me real bad this week.”

You hum sadly, nuzzling yourself against his chest. your hand trails down his firm middle, all the way to the growing tent sticking up from his boxers.

“I can lick it better,” you whisper seductively in his ear, nipping at his pulse point.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

And after one of your famous deep throated blow job with Joel's balls happily emptied in your already full belly, he leans over to his side table and pulls the drawer open, holding something tight in his hand.

You just barely stop yourself from falling asleep with your head on his lap when he dangles a dog collar above your head. You sit up, inspecting it with grubbing hands: it has your home address etched on to the metal plate, but no name on it.

“What you want me to be your dog? I’ll wear the collar but I’m not getting on my knees, nor crawling around and drinking from dog bowls and shitting in the yard—“

“No angel,” he shushes you. Although the image of you wearing the collar, naked and heavily pregnant on your knees in front of him wasn’t a bad idea at all…he shakes his head from the delusion. ”Aint for you. Thought about it—but ONLY after have the baby and are settled, and ya know IF —and that’s a mighty big if—we find one that’s not too rough shape, got a good sense about ‘im, then MAYBE I’ll consider it.”

"Oh my god! Thank you! Thankyouthankyou--"

"I said IF sweetheart. Got along road ahead till then."

"I'll give you as many blow jobs as you want."

"You already do that for yourself."

"Yeah but... how about I sit on your face? Fully?"

His ears perk up. "Yeah?"

"After the baby is born," you quip, smirking with more confidence then your swollen body can muster trying to wiggle away from his grasp like a devious chubby oompa lumpa. He just laughs to himself as you slip down the bed, and the sudden urge to pee has you B-lining to the bathroom.

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@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005

#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #last of us fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #joel dealing with preggo wife

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greatooglymooglyyy · 3 months

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Like I Do (Chris Sturniolo)

summary: Chris and I have been best friends our entire life but what happens when things start to feel way more than platonic for me? (Based on I Do by Renee Rapp)

contains: fluff, pining, a little bit of angst ig, bestfriends to lovers, kissing, nothing serious, 1k words

"I leave the key in my mailbox just for you. So you don’t call when you’re coming over, you just do."

I sigh deeply, tossing my phone from hand to hand and debating calling Chris. My brain has been replaying the last time we hung out on a loop, and I can’t figure out if I’m overthinking it or not. I know Chris has always been effortlessly affectionate, but there was something different about the way he cuddled up to me last week as we watched movies.

The way he’d pulled my legs across his lap, mindlessly running his hand up and down my thigh as if it were the most casual thing in the world. The way he’d fallen asleep and pulled me close, refusing to let me go when I tried to let him have the couch. I just can’t figure out if I’m losing my mind or if it means more. Just as I decide my crush on Chris has officially rotted my brain, I hear the unmistakable click of my door unlocking and Chris singing out my name. Oh, I am so fucked. I scramble up and go out to my living room, where he has already made himself comfy on the couch with a bag of fast food on the coffee table.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming over.” I say nervously, taking the seat on the couch furthest from him. He gives me a strange look, like I’ve grown an extra eye or something. “When do I ever?” Very valid point. If I had a dollar for every time one of the triplets let themselves into my apartment, I could buy a house in their neighborhood. “I dunno.” I mutter, reaching for my food, completely unsurprised that Chris has my order memorized. I glance back over at him, trying not to stare as I take in how good he looks in his simple white tee, his gold chain swinging as he fidgets. He catches me staring and gives me another weird look before stretching his legs out, intertwined with mine, and grabbing the remote. I try to calm my heart down, reminding myself that he’s like this with everyone.

Chris turns on my TV and goes through the apps until he finds HBOMAX. “If we start Game of Thrones, will you explain it to me?” He asks, cocking his head to the side as if already confused. I smile at his expression, despite myself, and feel some of the weird tension between us loosen. “You got it, dude.”

“This is why I love you.” He says, grinning, throwing his hand over his heart. And I feel his words like a dagger in mine. I don’t reply; I can’t. Because I mean those words completely differently than he does, and it makes my whole body ache.

As the episode starts, I feel Chris’ gaze bore into the side of my head, so I sigh and turn to meet his eyes with my eyebrows raised. He looks like an absolute meme right now, his face scrunched up like he’s trying to figure out something impossible. “You are being mad weird.” He says finally, pausing the show and scooting closer.

And I know this is the moment. Me and Chris have been friends since before either of us could even tie our shoes. Our friendship is one of the most constant things I’ve ever had in my life, and I think it’s because we’ve always been honest with each other. Even if it was scary. Except for this.

I take a deep breath and turn back to Chris, squaring my shoulders. “Can I be real with you for a second?” I ask, maintaining his eye contact even though I’m dying to look away and drop this. “Crazy that you think you have to ask?” He moves even closer, a small worry line gathering between his brows as he gives me his full attention.

“It’s fucking me up that we see each other so differently.” He leans forward, his face even more confused than before.

“Chris, I’m so fucking sprung over you, I can’t handle it. And I don’t need you to say anything. I don’t need you to feel the same. But I need space to get past this so we can go back to normal. I need to take a breath that’s not full of you so I can figure out how to get over this.” I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head as I finish so I won’t cry.

“Yeah. I need you to open your eyes and look at me when I say this.” He says before reaching out and taking my face in his hands. I peel my eyes open and meet his, praying he lets me down easy."

“If you don’t think I’ve been in love with you for half of my life, you need way more than those glasses you wear at night. I feel like all I ever do is chase your high. I’m drunk on you half the time.” As he speaks, he runs his thumb up and down the side of my face, his touch so light it feels like snowflakes falling. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. Waiting for you to say the word.”

I’m stunned into silence as I try to process his words and the enormity of what he’s saying. “You love me?” I whisper, still in disbelief. He grins and leans in, brushing his lips against mine briefly before answering. “I love you. And you love me. You admitted it. No take-backs.”I laugh and slip my hands around his neck, pulling him in to press my lips against his now. He smiles against my lips, deepening the kiss slightly, but then pulling away.

“Alright, so I get that this was a whole thing, but I really do wanna know what all the hype is with Game of Thrones. So are we done being gushy or-"

“Boy... not you ruining the moment-"

#christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo oneshot #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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zepskies · 5 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows.

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere.

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny.

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said.

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind.

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.”

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.”

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him.

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either.

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called.

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear.

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said.

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick.

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail.

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep.

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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#Boiling Point #Smoke Eater #Part 13 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #zepskies writes

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blueberrylemontea-fanfic · 1 year

Text

Sidenote

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, oral sex (male & female recieving), fingering, piv, unprotected sex (DON'T)

Summary: When your boyfriend cheats on you, you turn to your best friend for comfort.

Eddie had hardly heard the knock on the trailer door over the clattering rain. He was a little confused who'd be showing up here at 12:30 at night, especially in this weather.

"Y/n? What are you...?"

"Can I come in?" You interrupted him.

"Yeah, of course. Come on in."

Eddie stepped out of the doorframe to let his best friend pass. The water ran of your leather jacket, but the rest of you was entirely soaked.

"I'll go get you a towel," Eddie offered, but before he even turned around you interjected

"Ryan cheated on me."

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks.

"Ryan what now?" He fumed.

"Ryan cheated on me. With Stephanie of all people. I got to Michael's party tonight and he was fucking her in a bathroom. Real class-act."

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. He's an absolute moron, you know that, right?"

Eddie's arms engulfed you into a tight hug, his shirt getting soaked in a matter of seconds, but he didn't care.

"What can I do to cheer you up? Want to watch a gorey movie? Pretend everyone that gets dismembered is him? I don't have ice cream or any of that stereotypical break-up crap, but I've got beer."

You gave a non-committal shake of your head, so Eddie continued.

"You wanna numb the pain? You know I've got the best medicine in town." He smirked as he pulled an old joint from his front pocket.

You nodded and Eddie's eyes lit up, glad he was able to help.

"I don't want weed though," you said, clouding Eddie's face in confusion.

"Alright. Did you come here for something stronger? 'Cause I thought you didn't do that."

You shook your head.

"Okay... Then I'm confused, here. How can I help, angel?"

You caught his gaze, looking at him so intently that for a moment he stopped fidgeting and floundering for something to get you. Just long enough to make him suddenly aware you'd never stepped back from the hug, your waterlogged shirt still pressed against his chest.

"I want you to fuck me, Eddie."

Eddie's heart caught in his throat.

"You...what?"

"I want you to fuck me," you repeated.

"Why?" Eddie was having a hard time focussing. He hated to admit how much he wanted you to be serious about this.

"Because I'm hurt, and I wanna feel good. Because otherwise this is just going to be a very sad night and I don't want that. And a little because I want to hurt him. That okay?"

Instead of answering your question, Eddie asked you another one

"Why me?"

"Because I like you. Because I trust you. And because, between you and the girl's bathroom, I hear things. I know you're the best kept secret in town."

Eddie smirked at your seductive tone, he knew you weren't exactly wrong either.

"Y/n, are you sure about this? You're upset, I don't want you to do anything you'll regret in the morning. Besides I quite like being your friend."

"And you still will be. You're my best friend, Eds. There's nothing you can do that'll change that. It'll just be a sidenote in our friendship. We'll just be friends that fucked that one time."

Eddie chuckled.

"I'm here because I want this, Eds. I want you."

"Fuck, say that again."

"I want you, Eddie."

His mouth was on you before you'd finished saying his name.

You felt a wave of relieve when his body covered your own, the tension flowing right out of you.

Eddie had you pinned against the cupboards, the edges pressing into your head and upper legs, but you couldn't care less. All you could think about were Eddie's hands on you, one on the small of your back, pressing you impossibly close to him, the other wound tightly in your hair.

The kiss was rough and needy.

Eddie was kissing you like he needed your air to breathe. You gladly threw yourself into the kiss just as passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of your legs around his waist.

You needed him closer. You needed to feel every inch of him against you. Flames bloomed on your skin in every spot he touched.

Eddie's fingers slipped under your wet shirt, trailing a featherlight pattern up your sides.

You hummed at his touch.

You tugged on the bottom of your shirt, signaling to Eddie to take it off, which he wasted no time at all with. His hands trailed up your body, hiking your shirt along with them. He pushed your shirt over your head and wrapped his hand around your neck. He gave you a searing kiss before letting his lips trail down your neck. His teeth scraped against your skin, marking you up.

You threw your head back against the cupboard when Eddie nipped at your collarbone. His kisses dropping down to your cleavage. He thumbed your nipple through the fabric of your bra softly, sending a small shiver down your back.

"Can I take this off?"

You nodded. "But only if you take off yours too."

Eddie tugged his shirt over his head in one swift motion before undoing your bra. Eddie slowly slipped it off you, admiring you as he did.

"Fuck, your tits are perfect," he sighed as he took one of your nipples in his mouth.

You could feel Eddie's right hand slip down your stomach, his fingers just breaching the elastic of your panties.

"This okay?" He mumbled, his face still occupied with worshipping your nipples.

"Please don't stop," you whispered needily.

You felt Eddie's self-satisfied smirk against your skin.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."

He slipped his fingers further down your panties, the cold of his rings giving you goosebumps. His middle finger found your clit. You let out a breathy moan as he rubbed slow circles on you.

"You're so wet already, baby. I've barely even touched you yet."

Eddie grinned smugly as he pushed a finger into you.

"Eddie!"

"Hmm that's right sweetheart, say my name."

You moaned his name again as he picked up his pace, the palm of his hand pressed against your clit.

Eddie was a wonderful multitasker. His mouth had restarted its assault on your neck and his left thumb was still stimulating your nipples as he added a second finger to your pussy.

Your entire body was electrically charged. You knew you weren't going to be able to hold out for long.

Eddie's pace was brutal, but it still wasn't enough. You nudged Eddie's cheek with your nose, his eyes locking on yours, following them as they travelled down to where his hand disappeared in your underwear.

"More. Please," you moaned lowly.

This time you caught Eddie's wicked grin.

"You want more, baby?" He teased.

You nodded desperately, not even pretending like you wouldn't absolutely beg for him if he made you.

"Ask me nicely."

Your whole body seemed to whine. "Please, Eddie. Please give me another finger. Please."

It should have been embarrassing how quickly he had you begging for him, but it turned Eddie on to no end.

Effortlessly, he pushed a third finger into you, relishing in the sound that escaped your throat.

"You like that, baby?" Eddie whispered in your ear. "You like it when I stretch you out."

You nodded feverishly. "Yes, Eddie."

Eddie licked his lips, his tongue brushing the edge of your earlobe.

"Well then you're gonna love what I've got in store for you later."

The bottom of your stomach nearly dropped out at the thought.

Eddie nipped your earlobe unexpectedly and you yelped.

"Are you close, sweetheart?"

Eddie sensed the slight clenching around his fingers, the increased rhythm in your panting.

You nodded.

"You want to cum for me?"

Another nod.

"Good girl" he cooed. I

f you weren't sitting down your knees would have given out for sure.

" 's okay, baby. You can cum for me soon."

The glint in his eyes would have been a warning if you hadn't been so close to the brink of euphoria.

Without a word, Eddie hooked your left leg over his shoulder. A scream ripped through your throat as Eddie's fingers shifted deeper inside of you. You were stretched around him so good, it felt like he was splitting you open.

"That's it, Y/n. You can cum for me now on one condition, baby. Scream for me." Eddie whispered in your ear as you finally let go.

You dug your nails into the kitchen counter as well as Eddie's shoulder as your orgasm burst through you. You screamed out Eddie's name followed by a string of profanities as you pulsed around Eddie's fingers, which were still buried deeply inside of you. He held them firmly in place until you had ridden out your orgasm.

You leaned against the cupboards, a heaving mess when he pulled his hand away.

He held your eyes as he pushed one of his fingers past his lips, sucking it clean before doing the same with another one.

With a smirk and a quirked eyebrow he held his middle finger out to you, watching in awe as you painstakingly leaned forward and sucked his finger all the way into your mouth with ease.

Your tongue swirled around his finger, licking up your own juices before you popped your mouth off of his hand.

"Jesus Christ, you're so hot." Eddie smiled like a fox in a henhouse. "You ready for round two, angel?"

Your eyes widened, but before you could answer Eddie swept you off the counter and carried you through the trailer. He tossed you on the bed, watching you bounce slightly before settling into his mattress.

"Hey, Eds?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Cuff me."

Eddie licked his lips. "The cuffs? Really?"

You nodded gingerly, "Yeah, I always thought that sounded really hot."

"My, my, Y/n... never would've guessed you were a freak like me."

Eddie grabbed the handcuffs from their hook on the wall and ran the chain past one of the radiator pipes.

"Hold out your hands."

He clicked the cuffs shut around your outstretched wrists. The cuffs had a pretty long chain, but they did link your wrists pretty close together.

Eddie took your hand and pushed your arms up over your head, his body pressing down on yours.

"Remember, Y/n," he whispered in your ear, "I can take these off whenever you want."

You smiled as Eddie kissed down your body again, teasing every inch of you until he reached the hem of your jeans. He slowly undid the button and pulled down the zipper.

He snapped the waistband of your underwear softly. "Can I take these off?"

You chuckled softly "Hurry up already, would you?"

"Oh you're gonna regret that, sweetheart, believe you me..."

Eddie grinned as he eased you out of your clothes. He pushed your legs up as he settled between your thighs. He trailed kisses along the insides of your thighs, moving closer and closer to your entrance until you were squirming with anticipation.

"You're a needy little thing, aren't you?"

"Eddie..." You whined.

"It's alright, angel, it's alright. I'm right here."

Eddie's tongue licked over your sensitive folds. It wasn't long before he had your back arching of the mattress, his tongue delving into you expertly.

Your fingers tugged on Eddie's curls as he brought you to the brink off another orgasm. You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, more intense than your previous orgasm.

"I'm so close Eddie," you moaned out. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum so hard, please don't stop."

Eddie loved to hear you talk, lived for the sounds he could wrangle from you.

You felt the dam burst inside of you as Eddie pushed you over the edge. Your thighs clenched around his head as you screamed out his name once again.

Eddie watched you as you came down from your second high of the night. Your eyes were clenched shut, your head thrown back as your body convulsed.

He studied you as you panted and heaved. But most of all, he committed to memory the absolutely blissful smile on your lips.

"Holy shit, I can't wait to fuck you. You are just the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

"Nobody's stopping you, Munson," you were still breathing heavily, your legs trembling softly.

Eddie smiled a Cheshire cat smile.

"You sure you can handle it, sweetheart?"

His voice was sugary sweet.

You knew exactly what he wanted from you.

"You want me to beg for you, Eds? Want to hear me say how badly I want to feel you inside of me?"

"Look who's suddenly got a big mouth. You didn't sound so tough when I was making you cum, darling. That's alright, angel, I'll make you beg for it, no worries."

Eddie circled your sensitive clit, the overstimulation making you hold back a moan. He sofltly grazed your thigh as he picked up his speed. No matter how you tried, you couldn't hold back a yelp.

" 's Too much Eds," you gulped.

"You sure about that, angel? Really can't take anymore?"

You wanted to, so badly, but the pressure was too much...

So you said the only thing you could think of.

"How about you give my big mouth something to do first?"

Eddie genuinely laughed.

"You really are an angel, huh? Alright, sweetheart. Let's put that mouth to good use."

Eddie slowly removed his pants before moving over you. He leaned in for a soft kiss.

"You sure about this, Y/n?" He whispered in your ear.

"I wanna know what you taste like, Eds."

Eddie nearly died.

You moved your cuffed hands forward and held them out to Eddie's face. He raised an eyebrow at you and was met with an expectant look. He grinned before he spit in your hands.

"We should've done this a long time ago..."

Your hands wrapped around his cock, spreading his spit along his length. You moved your hands along him, revelling in the sounds he made, before pushing yourself up slightly and wrapping your lips around his head. You moved along his length, taking more of him into your mouth with each movement.

Eddie was trying not to move his hips into you, you could feel him straining against you. You pulled your mouth off him with a pop.

"You want to fuck my mouth, Eds?" You asked innocently. "All you gotta do is ask."

"You are so incredibly hot, Y/n." Eddie's voice was hoarse. "Would you do me the incredible honour of letting me fuck your mouth, angel?"

You nodded eagerly and licked down the underside of Eddie's cock before sucking him back down, agonizingly slowly.

"Sweet jesus, Y/n, you feel so good," Eddie groaned.

He slowly pushed his hips forward, you hollowed your cheeks and swirled your tongue around him. Eddie was rolling his hips into you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other holding himself up against the wall.

He looked at you adoringly while you stared up at him. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Y/n. You look fucking fantastic in between my legs."

His hips moved faster, jerking almost out of his control. "Fuck, angel, I need to fuck you so badly, and I can't do that if I keep doing this."

You increased your pressure for just a second before popping off of him.

"Fuck," Eddie groaned. He was on top of you in a second.

"You want me to fuck you, Y/n? Because lord Jesus, I don't think I've ever wanted to fuck anybody so badly."

"Fuck, Eddie, I need you inside of me, please, baby, I want to feel you."

Eddie moaned as he slipped into you. He snapped his hips up into you as you cried out his name.

"Fuck, Eddie, yes," you moaned.

Eddie was stretching you out so well, you could feel him everywhere.

"Harder, please," you begged.

Eddie moaned out your name as he pounded into you faster. You wrapped your cuffed arms around him, straining against the restrictions.

Eddie pressed needy, sloppy kisses against your neck. You moaned out his name over and over again.

"Fuck, angel, I'm so close," he sighed.

"Me too, Edds. You're so good. Feel so fucking good, baby."

Eddie groaned as he pushed your leg up between you. You cried as he hit deeper inside of you. Eddie snaked his hand between you and started rubbing circles on your clit.

You screamed out his name as your orgasm took over you. Your nails dug into his back. You thought you might pass out. Eddie let you ride out your orgasm as he kept circling your clit. It was too much. Too good.

Eddie came with your name on his lips. He was stunning, pure bliss washing over his face.

He leaned down, still buried deep inside of you, and kissed you, slowly, tentatively. "You're incredible, angel."

"Best kept secret in town," you whispered back at him.

Eddie pulled out and undid the handcuffs. You both got cleaned up and dressed again.

You kissed him softly. "Thanks, Eddie."

"The pleasure was all mine, fair maiden. How you feeling?"

"Like you turned the worst night of my life into the best. He never made me feel like that."

Eddie shrugged. "You were too good for him anyways."

"You mind if I stay the night?"

"Mi trailer es su trailer."

You hopped back onto the bed, thumbing through the dvd's on the floor in search of something that was both gorey and funny.

Eddie dropped down next to you.

"So, this whole sidenote-thing, you sure you meant a sidenote and not, let's say, sidenotes, plural?"

You turned to him, grinning.

"I think we've got room for a few more."

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #eddie x reader smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

Propaganda

Isabel Jeans (Gigi)—gigi is not a good film but I think she’s absolutely stunning as the courtesan aunt! i want her entire wardrobe and then i want her to tell me how to sniff cigars and determine which diamonds are the good ones :3

Sophia Loren (Marriage Italian Style, Houseboat)—Major Italian star, first actress to win an Oscar for a performance not in English (for Two Women (1960)) and later when Roberto Benigni won an Oscar in 1999 he jumped over the chairs towards the stage going "Sophia Sophia!!" because he was running towards Sophia Loren and said he cared more about her than the Oscar, that's the effect she had on people. She was big in the 60s already even though she gained a lot more notoriety after that. And I mean. Can we take a moment and just.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Isabel Jeans:

Sophia Loren:

im submitting her in honor of my dad bc she was the first celebrity crush of his he ever admitted to me and my sister :) and he was right. shes so pretty

She has maxed out all her stats: beauty, elegance, sensuality, she's got it all. her mesmerizing eyes, her sensual mouth, her sharp face shape, her everything is so striking and unlike any other beauty in films. she was also voted the world most beautiful woman when she was freaking 65

OSCAR WINNER. Worked with some of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but remained faithful to her husband whom she had a loving marriage with till he died (even though Cary Grant almost tempted her once, it's complicated)

One of the most well-known sex symbols of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and unlike some unfortunate others, she seems to have been pretty well at peace with occupying that status. She made assertiveness and a tempestuous temper seem glamorous, and although she's famous for side-eying Jayne Manisfield's cleavage, honestly? She's one to talk.

Absolutely, drop-dead sexy, also a hard working, extraordinarily talented actress who didn't shy away from the less glamorous roles to gift us some gritty, memorable performances

JUST LOOK AT HER Y'ALL

Submitting this on behalf of my dad, who knows nothing of tumblr or this blog, but I remember being a kid watching Houseboat while my mom thirsted after Cary Grant, dad thirsted after Sophia Loren, and I was excited that they lived on a boat. Anyway, she's extremely beautiful and was an international star, doing a ton of movies in Italy before being recognized in the US.

Global superstar and my late grandfather's long time movie star crush and for a man as quiet as he was, and as hopelessly devoted to his wife as he was, the fact that I know that means she was EXCEPTIONAL.

Very smart and beautiful, the characters that she played (I mean those in the movies that I put in the previous question) are as strong and determined as her which I think adds to her hotness.

Big in the chest, snatched in the waist, pretty in the face 😳

Her performance in "Man of La Mancha" is just so very captivating. Dubbed as "the Italian Marilyn Monroe", she looks beautiful in any movie and at any age.

Sexy, beautiful, deep. A real star.

Forget the exotic sexpot of her Hollywood films and go back to her Italian career: sparking with Marcello Mastroianni as the woman who drives him mad and outwits all his fumbling attempts at macho posturing in their early films, and showing a tender side in their 1970s films. Sophia isn’t self-conscious about who she is or her beautiful body: she enjoys being herself and she wants us all to enjoy ourselves too.

She starred in films as a sexually emancipated persona and was one of the best known sex symbols of the time. She is a great cook and her filmography is immense.

On the misattributed quote that Sophia owed everything to spaghetti: 'Did you actually say the quote frequently attributed to you, "Everything you see I owe to spaghetti"?' "Non è vero! It's not true! It's such a silly thing. I owe it to spaghetti, no, no. Completely made up."

#sophia loren #isabel jeans #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1

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v3nusstardust · 4 months

Text

🤍”Somethin’ stupid”🤍

Pairing : BF!Niki Nishimura x DEPRESSEDreader! (Real) 🎀

Genre : fluff <3 sad af tho idfk what the genre is

WARNINGS : mentions of self harm, depression, anxiety

A/N : SRRY I usually post like once a week and I forgot to this week I think… Idrk I literally have a fucking concussion rn💀 happened bcs lowkey thought I was in a music video and did cartwheels in my room at 3 am and smacked the shit out of my head and then hit my head on the floor and woke up seeing Gojo Satoru shakin ass 💀😜 anyway enjoy yawl😳

•

In the car with your boyfriend Niki, heading to the movie theater, the atmosphere was perfect –soft music, and a feeling that made life worthwhile. It had been a month since you’d seen him. These small moments you had with Niki made your life worth living. Most of the time he was busy or away for his idol duties and you’d miss him so badly. You would wonder if him being away for so long would end up with you both breaking up or you both falling out of love. The thought always made you feel nauseous and overwhelmed. Your overthinking would get the best of you sometimes, and you would result to self harm. Niki had no idea though and you never planned on telling him.

"Y/n, you might want to ditch the hoodie; it's getting pretty warm in here. You're sweating," your boyfriend chuckled, casting a glance your way. "No kidding, it's hot as hell." You sighed wiping your forehead with your sleeve. As you started to pull down the zipper your hoodie, the memories of your scars made you hesitate. “Actually I’m fine. I can handle it.” You reassured Niki. “Huh? Don’t risk a heat stroke, take it off,” he insisted, concern etching his face. “No I’m literally gonna be fine trust me.” You countered, zipping your hoodie back up quickly. “Y/n. It’s the middle of summer and you’re wearing a hoodie darling. You might wanna take it off.” Niki suggested, a puzzled look was painted on his face. “I’m gonna be alright trust me.” You gave Niki a sweet smile, trying to look unsuspicious. “Whatever you say Y/n.” Your boyfriend sighed.

You and Niki finally arrived at the movie theater. You checked in, got tickets, got snacks and headed to your movie. The air-conditioned theater promised relief from the summer heat, but your hoodie remained a steadfast companion.

Inside the cool, dimly lit theater, you found your seats, the contrast between the chilly air and your hoodie creating a cozy bubble. The movie previews flickered on the screen, and the scent of buttered popcorn filled the air.

Niki leaned over and whispered, "Are you sure you won't overheat in there?..”

“It’s cool in here Niki! I’m fine.” You softly giggled. The movie began, and you got so into it that the hoodie wasn't on your mind anymore. The plot grabbed your attention, and the cozy warmth just blended into the background.

Midway through the movie, Niki gently reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your initial reaction was surprise; you were aware of Niki's habit for tracing his fingers along your palms and wrists. Softly pushing his hand away, you met his gaze. He looked absolutely ethereal in the dim theater lighting.

"Do you not want to hold hands?" Niki whispered, pouting with a hint of sadness.

"I do, just... not right now," you replied. Niki's worried expression prompted him to ask, "Is there something wrong?"

You hesitated before responding, "No, no, I just... don't worry about it."

Your words, though intended to reassure, unintentionally stabbed at Niki's heart. His love for you was profound, and while he knew he could be clingy, he never imagined it could "annoy you." The worry in his eyes lingered as the movie played on.

You both went back to the apartment after the movie. The car ride was quiet because you pretended to be asleep, avoiding a talk about why you didn't hold hands. Niki spent the entire ride overthinking what he might have done wrong.

“Niki. I’m gonna go take a shower.” You said, walking off to your room to get your clothes. “Oh okay. I’ll make you some tea for when you get out.” He replied.

When you stepped in the shower, the warm water stung your fresh cuts. You held your wrists and winced in pain, small tears ran down your cheeks. Staring at your wrists, you wondered how you could be so stupid. You regret doing it , because now Niki might see them. The thought made you softly cry. Thank God the shower water was loud enough to cover up your soft muttering and sighs.

After your shower, you returned to the kitchen. Niki was busy cooking dinner and brewing tea for both of you, a delightful surprise that warmed your heart. Soft music played from his speaker next to the stove.

Curious, you asked, "What are you making?" Sitting at the table, he chuckled and replied, "Pasta, I’m trying out new things." The song changed to your favorite, "Somethin’ Stupid” by Frank Sinatra. Excitedly, you exclaimed, "Niki, you added my favorite song to your playlist!"

With a smile, he admitted, "I really like this song. Isn't it your favorite?" You giggled, "Duh! I play it all the time in your car." Niki turned off the stove and approached you. "Is the food ready?" you inquired. "Not yet, but how about we dance?" he suggested, extending his hand with a gentle smile, eyes filled with admiration.

In the soft glow of the dim kitchen light, you and Niki began to slow dance. The soothing melody of the song filled the air as he held you close. The ambiance was warm, and the subtle scent of dinner in the making lingered.

Niki led with gentle grace, swaying to the music with you in a tranquil dance. The rhythmic steps mirrored the easy connection between you two, the worries of the day fading away in the embrace of the moment. His hand rested on the small of your back, fingers delicately entwined with yours. As you swayed together, his other hand found its place on your waist, the closeness allowing you to feel the comforting warmth of his touch. The subtle aroma of the cooking dinner heightened the sensory experience.

Niki's gaze, brimming with stars and admiration, locked onto yours as he gently took your hand in his. However, reality snapped you back, and a sudden fear of him discovering your self infliction made you pull away. You pulled your hand away from his gently. Niki stopped dancing with you, his eyes locked onto yours with concern. "I'm sorry for asking, but why don't you want me to hold your hand?" he inquired.

A tremor ran through you, fear intensifying. Taking a deep breath, you hesitated before admitting, "I... I just," struggling to find the right words. The fear of Niki discovering your scars weighed heavy on your mind.

After a moment, you decided to face it. "Actually, you know what? Hold hands with me," you said, mustering a smile and intertwining your fingers with his. It was a fleeting decision, hoping that the dance would end before he’d notice. He brought a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Your hair smells good.” He nestled his nose into your hair. The song made the moment vulnerable. You found yourself forgetting about all your worries once again. He brought his lips to your wrist, you didn’t even catch it either. You were too busy humming the melody of the song into his chest. Niki pressed his lips to your wrist. He quickly pulled back and examined if, squinting his eyes. You suddenly realized what he was doing. You pulled away from his arms and held your wrist. His face looked indescribable. Worried, sad, confused all at the same time. The song had stopped already, and the room fell silent. "Y/n," Niki uttered softly, his voice carrying a mixture of concern and care. Before he could say more, your lips began to quiver, and tears welled up in your lashes. A gentle cascade of tears spilled from your eyes.

Niki, swift in his response, hurried over and enveloped you in a warm embrace. His chin rested on your head, and his hand traced soothing circles on your back. Anxiety gripped you like a constricting fog, the weight on your chest almost suffocating. Tears stained Niki's once-white shirt, but he paid it no mind.

"It's okay. I'm not upset," he reassured, planting a tender kiss on the top of your head. "My poor, beautiful girl. When did you do that?" he asked, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. Your hyperventilating made it challenging to speak, rendering you silent in the vulnerability of the moment.

Your hyperventilation began to subside, allowing you to regain some composure. "I..was just.. overthinking," you finally managed to admit, your voice still shaky.

Niki's expression softened, a mixture of empathy and a determination to be there for you. “Was it because of me?” he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear that lingered on your cheek.

You hesitated, the weight of your emotions pressing against your chest. "Yes?... no," you stumbled over your words, struggling to articulate the whirlwind within. "I just miss you so much when you're gone for so long. I feel so lonely again. You're... you're my only light, and the only one in my life who actually makes me happy. I can't stand it when you're away."

Niki's gaze held a depth of understanding as he gently cradled your face. "Y/n, I didn't realize. I'm here for you, always. I’ll bring you with me next time, and the next one after that. I promise my love,” he reassured. His words soothed the ache within your heart. “I’ll be back,” Niki gently pulled his body away from yours. “I’m gonna go get bandages from the bathroom. Sit down,” he kissed your cheek before leaving the room.

When Niki returned, you couldn't help but chuckle at the state of his shirt, soaked with tear and snot stains – undeniably gross. Standing in front of you, he gently took hold of both your injured wrists, his eyes carrying a mix of hurt and pain. Soft elastic bandages in hand, he began to wrap your wrists with a delicate touch.

As he worked, you noticed a subtle glisten in his eyes. His fingers traced along the palms of your wrists, a silent acknowledgment of shared pain. You looked up at him with teary eyes and saw the vulnerability in his gaze.

"Promise me you'll never do this again," he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. Small tears escaped his eyes, tracing down his cheeks. Overwhelmed, you apologized, "I... I'm sorry. I promise. I'm so sorry."You rose from your chair, embracing Niki tightly, the shared pain and promise binding you together in that moment. “I love you so much darling you have no idea. To know that you’ve been hurting yourself like this.. it kills me.” He whispered softly. “I love you too, Niki.” You placed a soft kiss to his chin.

"Do you wanna finish making dinner, and then we can cuddle after?" you proposed.

As Niki's sniffles gradually subsided, a tender smile graced his face, the corners of his eyes still dampened. Niki's smile widened as he looked down at you. "Of course," he agreed, his head tilting slightly. In that gentle tilt, he closed the distance, leaning in for a long, reassuring kiss.

Together, you continued with the meal, the kitchen filled with the comforting aroma of food and music. You showed Niki more songs you liked and he added them to y’all’s new slow dancing playlist.

As you placed the finishing touches on the meal, Niki slid his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "Smells amazing in here, thank you for helping me darling.”

The conversation during dinner went smoothly. You both talked about stories of the past and dreams for the future. Niki's eyes, still holding a glimmer of tenderness, locked onto yours, reinforcing the unspoken understanding that this moment, amidst shared laughter and a table filled with love, was truly special.

Cuddling on the couch, the outside world faded away, leaving room for the intimacy of shared comfort. “You’re so pretty y/n” Niki admired your facial features. The smell of his fresh Basil and mandarin cologne brought you comfort. You threw your leg over his and snuggled closer onto him. He could feel your soft breaths on his neck. Niki peppered kisses on your temples. He was humming a gentle tune to one of your favorite songs. The moment made you realize how lucky you were to be with someone like him.

A/n : erm I literally fell asleep writing this w my hard ass fit on and makeup bruh my skin is breaking out hella someone come kill me. Srry for the amount of mistakes btw I did not read over it 🤓🤓 I raw dogged this it might be shitty Also I hope y’all liek:3 i put my whole venussy into this. Xoxo💋💋

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webslingingslasher · 11 months

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i imagine peter to be the sweetest ever. imagine hes been pinning over you for years and eventually after another failed first date, you announce youre done with love. then peter stands up and declares hes gonna show you how its done. and thats how you start dating peter

working on a lot of stuff, i promise i'm doing the best i can atm!

You’ve been in love three times.

Number one was Conner Fields. He was your first boyfriend, it was all innocence and excitement. The first time you felt nervous to hold a hand and you were locked up with jitters the entire night after your first kiss. Awkward middle school dances and staying up all night texting, pure childhood love. It didn’t work out, but a part of you will always love Conner Fields and you can hope the same for him.

Number two was Dustin Powers. He was your highschool love, it was all exploring and discovering. The first time you felt lust, a feeling that made you kiss until you couldn’t breathe and felt like your lips would fall off. Questionable moves that turned into breathy sighs and shaky hands as you undressed another person for the first time. Unsure movements that became bold and calculated. The first time you had real trust for someone, the first true love you ever had.

Number three was Peter Parker. He was your best friend, it was all comfortable and peaceful. The first time you felt homey and peaceful, like nothing could touch you or wreck you ever again. The first time you felt someone truly had your back, someone who defended you with a cardboard sword. The first time you felt love first, words second. The first time you had someone forgo their own needs to carry yours. The first time you felt breathless by a kiss. The first time you felt numb and buzzed and high all at the same time by a hand on your lower back. The first time someone said they weren’t going anywhere and you believed them.

There were guys between boyfriends two and three. Nothing serious, a couple dates and it fizzled out. One guy refused to buy you your meal, and you wouldn’t mind, you can pay for yourself. However, you did mind that he made a point to tell you after you had paid that you passed the test, and when you asked what test he shrugged and told you it was so he could tell who just wanted a free dinner and who wanted a real date. You didn’t respond to his texts after that.

One guy quite literally forced his tongue down your throat and you couldn’t have noped out faster.

One guy flirted with the waitress, bartender, movie theater popcorn maker and then told you at the end of the night he took a chance on someone who isn’t on his regular scale of hotness. You almost burst a blood vessel while withholding your hand from smacking him.

The final straw was when a date showed up an hour late, you couldn’t have felt more embarrassed. Correction, you could when he showed up obviously freshly fucked and when you pointed it out he stated that men have needs and it was his ex so it didn’t count. You stuffed the complimentary bread in your purse and took the nearly full bottle of wine off the table and walked away, no words needed.

Peter watched you chug at the bottle, you wiped your mouth when you ripped it away.

“Love is a lie, and it’s pointless in trying to believe in it.”

“Hey now, love is very real, it's just hard for you to find it right now.”

You searched for the bread basket and set it on the coffee table, you immediately ripped a piece apart and stuffed it in your mouth, “I’ll die alone with my bread and wine and I’ll probably have to start adopting cats now if I want to reach my one hundred goal when I’m sixty.”

Peter shoulder checked you, “we could get a cat.”

Your best friend is right, love isn’t a lie because you feel it with him. You don’t think a love with absolutely no conditions existed, and even though it’s a friendship it’s always felt a little deeper than that. Soulmates even, and you swear you’d find each other in any life or timeline. Sometimes you think about what it would be like if you had met under different circumstances, maybe if you met in college instead he’d be something more than a friend.

It’s not like you were in love with Peter, but it’s a passing thought that circles from time to time. Sometimes you even wonder if he thinks the same, some nights you find yourself drunk and you look at Peter in a different light, and think of giving him a kiss, if it didn’t change everything that’d be fine, but at least you would know instead of always thinking of a ‘what if.’

You were best friends, always have been. At least since high school, it’s been six years. Now in your second year in college and closer than ever you think it wouldn’t be weird to kiss him, and that should be weird. But it wasn’t.

“Do you ever think about kissing me?”

Peter hitched his breath, “what?” There’s no way you said that to him of all people.

“I dunno, I feel like that’s normal, right? I mean we're best friends of the opposite gender, don’t you ever think about the what if?”

“What’s the what if?”

You shrug, “if we met at a different time our relationship might be different.”

He does. He thinks about it too, the first time was in high school and he buried it down. Sometimes it’s better to just think about it, he liked you too much and he wasn’t prepared to lose you as a friend, it was better he stayed quiet and protected what you had. But since college, it’s been a rampant thought. Some nights he’d catch himself holding you close and playing guard dog to any man that walks your way, sometimes he likes to pretend he’s your boyfriend, even if just for a night.

Peter can’t admit that, he’d be a psycho. He has to play it cool.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. You mean if we’d be boyfriend girlfriend instead?”

“Yeah.”

You feel him looking at the side of your face but if you look at him you’ll feel hot.

“Yeah. I do.” He nods, sure of his answer.

Interest piqued, “which one?” Does he think about what it’d be like if you dated or kissed?

While he thinks it would be fun to be your boyfriend, he can’t lie.

“I think of kissing you a lot more.”

That should be questionable on its own, but it’s not. You nod and accept the answer, you loop back around to your original thought. It would be weird for a second, but it would answer everything you wanted to know.

You turn to face him, you sit up straighter and give him a smile when you feel nerves creeping up because it’s just Peter.

“Do you want to kiss?”

Peter feels his eyes widen, “right now?”

“Yeah. We can give it a try.”

He’s hesitant, sometimes wanting is better wanting. “Is that a good idea?”

Peter watches you think it over, and it looks like you really are. Thoughts race through your mind and there's two thoughts, you love and trust Peter. Either you laugh it off or move forward as something else, you don’t think you could live without the answer.

“Yes. Yes, I think we should kiss.”

You’re sure of it, it takes Peter a second of lag time before he processes your words. His shoulders square and he twists so he’s facing you more on the couch, he clears his throat and leans in slightly.

He’s hesitant, he’s not sure where to touch you or how to kiss you. He’s kissed people before, he has that part down, but how? Sensual, flirty, fun, innocent, platonically?

Peter’s hand cups your face and his eye dart from your mouth to your eyes, you’re holding your breath with anticipation. He thinks he’s going to kiss you with the exact emotion he feels for you. Love.

The moment you connect you melt, everything you wanted or needed amounted to this second and you can’t believe you waited so god damn long to ask Peter Parker to kiss you. His mouth lined up with yours, his bottom lip favoring your top, you weren’t sure how he was feeling but you can hope it's the same passion.

You see colors behind your eyelids, you find yourself only locked in the bliss of your best friend's touch.

Peter pulls away, he knows how he feels, everything he thought he knew about his feelings were amplified by a million. If you didn’t like it he doesn’t think he could go back to how it was.

Breathless, he’s desperate for the answer. He wants to drink you back up.

“Thoughts?”

You nod your chin at him, “you first.”

“I think I want to keep doing that and take you out to dinner to show you love is real, and it can be yours, if you’d like.”

Your eyes sparkle, you pull him in by his shirt collar and mutter at him before locking your lips again.

“I’d like. I’d like very much.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #my writing

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mcyt-trios · 7 months

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PROPAGANDA:

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss:

Listen to me closely. There is no other alliance on the whole Traffic series as based as them. They did EXACTLY what they set out to do. Did they Gaslight? Oh fuck yeah. Did they Gatekeep? You better believe it. Did they Girlboss??? By the good grace of god they did!!!!!!! They are simultaneously the blueprint for every trio of mean girls in a 2000s high school movie and the most genuinely devoted alliance on the whole server. They trust and respect and love each other in ways beyond mortal comprehension. Vote them please I'm begging you.

They were an absolute powerhouse! Also also, Cleo finding herself a group of people who were properly loyal to her after being betrayed for the healing arc. Scott telling them he was the boogieman and refusing to kill even if it meant going red. They're just so hhhhhh

cleo is gaslight (setting things on fire), scott is gatekeep (protecting the base), and pearl is girlboss (girlbossing).

Quite possibly the most ride or die alliance of Last Life. Consistently sharing lives, helping each other get boogey kills, refusing to hurt each other… they were just such a feel good team up for the entire series :] and then they kicked Pearl out in double life :]

Listen they are the EPITOME of ride or die. They love each other so much during that time. Do you hear me. Dear God they are the most precious

Best faction on Last Life. Set the template for pretty much everything Scott and Cleo do together, and set us up for 5AM Pearl.

Boreal Trio:

look. look okay so youve got two battle hardened at least mildly immortal warrior brothers-in-arms slash best friends slash partners for life, and then youve got this anxious, queer wet cat of an enderman who lives in their shed. oooh my god this is gonna be so incoherent im so sorry. ranboo was doing soooo awful when doomsday happened and both techno and phil immediately went him. that one. he needs to be safe and supported and away from all of this he should come with us. only if he wants to. and he did want to!! he was soo anxious but he got more confident!! none of them are great at expressing their feelings verbally (techno is but he also does other things) so they do it in other ways! phil rushing over as soon as he hears ranboo CLOSE to water because he knows it hurts him! techno moving the prison break up from 'some time soon i guess' to 'now now we are leaving now we are doing this RIGHT NOW' as SOON as ranboo gets detained!! avenging his ghost, throwing any and all hesitation about tubbo away to work with him because that was what ranboo wanted, that was what he asked. always checking in and making sure he was okay. all three of them are soooo dysfunctional but i love them so much. think of the mansion raid streams!! techno and ranboo off adventuring, phil taking care of the animals and getting up at 3am real time to trigger their stasis chambers!! they care about each other all so fucking much and they are a family! please vote for them i will be very sad otherwise :(

#mcyt-trios #mcytblr trio bracket #polls #round 3 #mcyt

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luellasplanet · 4 months

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opposite’s attract. (aggie beever-jones)

word count: 1.9k

i think i changed the tense in this about ten times so let’s ignore that shall we x

aggie and y/n were never ever seen without each other. the duo were so similar yet so different. people often wondered how they became such good friends and later on girlfriends.

aggie was always with the boys at lunch time, jumping in the mud and leaves, creating an absolute mess of her uniform and overall being a total pain to the teachers, who were always shouting at her to behave herself.

whereas y/n was softer spoken than aggie, rather preferring to sit under the trees during lunch and talk about what she was going to do at netball later on that day or preferring to have her head stuck in a book and her head in the clouds.

the duo met on one random thursday in year three, aggie watched on from behind one of the trees as y/n gave into one of the year sevens who wanted her lunch. passing along the sandwich and chocolate bar with ease. the girls were easily a good half a foot taller than the year three so they towered over poor y/n.

from that day forward aggie vowed to be y/n’s knight in slightly muddy armour, always keeping an eye on her at lunch if she was by herself. forever standing up for y/n if someone was bullying her.

21 DECEMBER 2014

“aggie no! you wouldn’t!” the shorter girl was currently being pinned down to the bed as aggie threatened to pour the glass of water on her.

aggie was insistent that y/n had to be her defender for her in the garden, so that she could practise her shots. it was pissing down with rain and there was simply not a chance in hell that y/n would be getting sick this close to christmas.

y/n’s screaming and laughter had alerted aggie’s mother as she peered into the doorway. “aggie get off poor y/n right now.” the woman always had a soft spot for y/n, she was practically her third child after all.

grumbling under her breath, aggie flopped to the side and off of y/n, placing the glass down next to her. “dinner will be ready in five! come and set the table please.”

despite their differences in the sport they liked what the two had in common however, was their shared love for food. the duo raced down the stairs eager to eat supper.

after a more than filling meal and a very intense game of footsie under the table, tiredness starting to settle into their systems, a movie in front of the fireplace was just what was needed.

the four beever-jones’ and the honorary beever-jones all settled underneath various blankets and cushions on the two couches and love seat.

fire crackling softly, lighting the entire room is a soft orange hue while an old christmas movie played on the tv.

19 MAY 2017

today should’ve been one of the best days in y/n’s netball career, but instead after arriving at the wrong netball courts, then her team losing three out of four matches and her not being able to shoot more than five goals into the net, she was simply done with everyone and everything.

not a single word was spoken in the car on the way back to the y/l/n house, the only thing that could be heard was the soft buzz of the radio and the sound of other cars on the highway.

there was simply nothing anyone could say to make her feel better. seven months of training, for the biggest u14 netball competition, down the drain in a couple of hours was the most soul crushing experience for a fourteen year old.

the orange and pink uniform was digging into her shoulders and the seventh place certificate was placed haphazardly on the seat next to her.

y/n’s older brother tried to make a small joke but seeing the glint in her eyes he shut up immediately as he didn’t want to upset his sister even more.

the car ride was half an hour but it felt like an eternity. time didn’t feel real for y/n as she exited the car and grabbed her bag from the trunk.

taking refuge in her room when she got home, all she wanted right now was to have a nap and suddenly realise this was all a sick dream and she would wake up and all would be fine. but it wasn’t a sick dream it was a reality that she would have to face sooner or later.

loud footsteps could be heard from the staircase before her room door was roughly shoved open. “there’s my favourite netball star!” the sob that followed shortly after erased the smile from aggie’s face very quickly.

clearly no one had told her how the tournament had gone.

one look at y/n’s tear stained face and wobbly lip was the only thing that aggie needed to see before she dropped her sleepover bag on the floor and jumped onto the bed next to y/n.

“i messed up everything aggie, i’ve never seen my coach so upset with me in her entire life! i couldn’t even shoot properly and i kept getting blown for contact and stepping and-” aggie’s soothing hand on her back quickly stopped your rants. although your words were muffled because your face was smothered by the fluffy pillows, she could still make out how upset you were.

“oh y/n/n, i’m sure no one is upset with you, it’s only one tournament. i’m sure no one will remember this in a few months.” an idea struck to mind and with a teasing smile plastered on her face, aggie whispered to y/n “and besides you’ve been so busy crying you haven’t even noticed i’m sitting on your bed in my sweaty and muddy footy clothes!”

your head shot up immediately to notice that aggie was indeed sitting on your bed in her football clothes. it was tradition every saturday the two had a sleepover, rotating every week who’s house they would sleep at. “agh go shower you dickhead.”

placing a hand on her heart aggie placed a faux look of hurt on her face “you wound me y/n/n, you really do.” before getting up and going to the bathroom. where of course you had already laid out a fresh towel for aggie to use.

30 DECEMBER 2019

you had long grown out of her timid phase and was now the confident young woman your parents always told you she had to be.

your sixteenth birthday party was hopefully going to be the highlight of the entire christmas break, well besides christmas itself.

a rooftop party where none of your siblings would be present and no parents in sight sounded like the perfect idea to get a little drunk. (spoiler it wasn’t a little)

music blared out of the speaker, the base from the speakers sent shivers up everyone’s spines as they all mindlessly danced. after maybe four too many shots and a whole lot of encouragement from some out of school friends, y/n found herself in between a whole lot of sweaty bodies swaying and jumping to the music.

“i’m just heading to the bathroom quickly, i don’t feel too good.” you said to no one in particular before rushing off the dance floor and into the bathroom. the music in there was much softer and more calming, which helped with the upcoming headache forming behind your eyes.

barely managing to run into the nearest bathroom stall, back slumped against the wall as your hands gripped the porcelain toilet seat. trying to control your breathing and gain back the ability to see straight.

“y/n open the bloody door, right now!” aggie’s urgent voice and fist rattling hard against the wooden door increased the banging sensation in your head. blindly reaching up towards the lock of the door, you barely managed to turn the lock in order to let aggie into the small bathroom stall.

muttering a few curse words under her breath, aggie let herself into the bathroom before closing and locking the door behind her. bending down to your eye level. “who are you? i’m not sure my girlfriend would like it if she knew i was in a bathroom stall with a stranger you know…” y/n’s vision was blurred so she couldn’t quite see that it was her so called ‘girlfriend’ next to her.

“your girlfriend mm, now who would that be?” teasing tone very evident in aggie’s voice, but of course that completely washed over y/n’s head as another wave of nausea hit.

even with your head over the toilet seat and tears prickling in the corner of your eyes you still managed to mutter out how much you loved aggie and how extremely mad your dad would be if he saw you like this.

but of course this small interaction between the two of you would not be remembered in the morning, or how you had made it home in one piece after the night's events.

you didn’t remember how aggie had to keep her arm tightly around you as the two of you walked (stumbled) across the pebble stone sidewalk, how aggie’s jacket was draped over your shoulders and most of all when aggie dropped you off at your front door. the lingering kiss that you left on the corner of aggie’s mouth which sent butterflies into the blonde’s stomach.

CURRENT DAY

all those little memories were often reminisced at family dinners with both beever-jones and y/l/n family members present.

or in hushed conversations as the sunlight started to set on the bustling city of london, soft conversations about anything new or old as the room slowly began to lighten. rustling of freshly washed sheets and quiet laughter, before feet padding against the wooden floors and music could be heard.

the sounds of the frying pan sizzling with butter and the shower being turned on full blast.

y/n and aggie worked in perfect harmony, knowing each other's schedules like the back of their hands. you were fortunate enough to have an extra twenty minutes at home before you had to leave. which meant that you assisted aggie’s getting ready.

making sure the blonde had her protein shake prepped and ready, as well as making sure that her kit bag was clean and organised.

it was simply the little things that y/n did for aggie that meant the most to her. aggie would always press a lingering kiss to your lips before leaving the apartment, never forgetting to say “bye, i love you, see you later!” before she left.

then when the two of you got home later that evening, after giving the house a bit of TLC and aggie preparing dinner for them both. you would both settle down on the couch with a fluffy blanket draped over your legs.

a movie or series on in the background as the light from the tv, light the room in a soft hue of different colours. although the routine may seem boring and tedious to some, aggie and y/n wouldn’t have changed anything for the world.

the random saturday night dates, shopping on a wednesday or thursday, offering to pet sit y/n’s brother’s dogs when he was out of town and even the late night walks hand in hand to whatever destination their legs took them.

simply just y/n and aggie against the world, forever and always.

#luella’s fics #aggie beever jones #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #aggie beever jones x reader

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