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pathologicalreid · 2 days

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heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.”

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

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foldingfittedsheets · 2 days

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My beloved requested we get pizza tonight from the place I got fired. It’s been long enough that I’m not salty, it’s good pizza.

It was packed which wasn’t too unusual for a Friday night but the line was crawling at a super slow pace which was unusual. As we got closer we realized there was a massive table full of uncooked pizzas waiting to go in the oven. Which like, how?

We also saw they didn’t have dough pressed and ready and were frantically doing that while restocking the line with pepperoni and mushrooms.

A harried man shouted it would be at least a 30 minute wait. After a moment he added that they were hiring. It took every ounce of willpower not to shout that that I’d been fired once already but I’d go for twice.

I kept looking for a reason for this predicament. What had happened to set them so far behind? Why hadn’t they had a ton of dough pressed and ready for a Friday night? It seemed absurd that they couldn’t handle a Friday crowd.

After waiting for thirty minutes in line, we got up to order. The girl misspelled my name in the most bizarre way I’ve ever seen in the manner of someone who’s brain has moved passed stress into madness.

She didn’t have dough to make our pizzas but was gamely pressing on with taking our order when the fire alarm got pulled.

The whole restaurant had to empty and the staff looked like they were at the end of their ropes. We got outside and my beloved was ravenous. They had sat in traffic for an hour to get here from work. I kissed their face and told them I’d go pick up pizza at another location and meet them at home. They thanked me effusively and we parted. I saw the fire truck arrive as I pulled away.

When I arrived the other location was *dead*. There were only three customers. But I immediately recognized one of them as the girl who had been behind us in line at the last place. “Are you…?” I asked

“Yes. What do you want to bet they pulled that alarm themselves?”

We laughed and finally got our pizzas, drifting our separate ways after our shared unreasonably long quest for dinner.

#ramblies #funny #it was bizarre

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supernovafics · 2 days

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𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k words

summary: in which it’s hard to see eddie with anyone who isn't you

warnings: friends to lovers to friends again (kinda), explicit language, alcohol consumption, very brief mention of weed, pining, angst

author’s note: this is fully inspired by the song "new love" by girl in red. enjoy<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“She’s right over there. Should I do it?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

Eddie nodded at your words and then he was standing up from the long patio chair that you, him, and Robin had been occupying for the past thirty minutes, and heading over to where his newest crush stood with a few of her friends.

Robin let out a laugh. “I don’t get it.”

You turned your head to look at her. “What?”

“How you guys can still be friends right now. You only broke up like two months ago.”

Making the promise to stay friends post-breakup was the only thing that made the breakup feel a thousand times less terrible. And it sounded easy enough— you and Eddie were simply just going to go back to how things were before you started dating.

“We’re better off as friends,” He had said to you that random Wednesday night back in January and you nodded understandingly. It was amicable and mutual, and eventually— maybe, hopefully— the barely five-month relationship would be a funny little story to reminisce about with each other years down the line.

You took a long sip from the red cup in your hand and then shrugged at Robin’s words. “I don’t know. This just works somehow. It’s better.”

You had been telling yourself that lie a lot lately— maybe almost too much. But, it was easier to pretend that that lie was the truth and that everything was fine, instead of thinking that maybe you made a mistake that night when you found yourself agreeing with Eddie and let things end between the two of you.

“No offense, but so weird,” Robin said with a shake of her head. “So, who’s this new girl he’s into anyway?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Eddie had told you a lot about her— how she saw one of his band’s shows recently with a few friends and how she kinda ran in the same-ish circles— but most of what he said about her went in one ear and out the other. Hearing him ramble on and on about a new crush hurt more than you thought it would. Even more than when you two were actually just friends and you were harboring what felt like a hopeless crush on him for years before finally admitting it.

Breaking up was supposed to save you both from more heartbreak in the long run, but most of the time it felt like it was only making things worse. Sometimes you wondered if Eddie felt the same way— if he regretted it as much as you did.

It was almost too obvious that he didn’t, though, because he didn’t waste a second moving on.

New girl, new crush, new love. All of which wasn’t you anymore.

You looked away from where he stood next to the girl— you were only fifty percent sure her name was Ally. She was happily laughing at whatever Eddie had just said to her, and he was smiling widely.

“I’m gonna go inside and attempt to find the bathroom,” You told Robin before downing the rest of what was in your cup and placing it on the ground, and then standing up.

She looked up at you. “Want some help?”

“No, it’s okay,” You shook your head. “I’ll be right back.”

You kept your eyes down and away from Eddie as you walked into the house, a place that was way too small to have this many people in it. The inside was packed to the brim with a bunch of unfamiliar faces, and that was the main reason why you, Robin, and Eddie immediately retreated to the backyard once the three of you showed up. The only reason you all knew about the party was because of a friend of a friend of someone that Eddie met at The Hideout a few weeks ago.

You maneuvered through the throngs of dancing people and groups of friends talking loudly over the blasting music and headed up the stairs, hoping that it would be a bit more calm.

The universe must have been somewhat on your side because you found the bathroom on your first try. You didn’t even need to use it, you just wanted a moment of quiet. And even though you could hear the muffled sounds of the song playing downstairs through the shut door, it was still good enough.

You leaned back against the sink and let out a long breath.

It was hard not to think about Eddie with Ally and how happy they looked, even though it was only one of their first few conversations. All you wanted to do was take her place. All you wanted was for him to want you like that again.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, this complicated. Being just friends again was supposed to be the best thing to do, and you now wanted to bitterly laugh at yourself for stupidly believing that thought two months ago. Most of the time, that night played back on what felt like a continuous loop in your head. You kept wondering if you should’ve done things differently; if you should’ve, maybe, fought harder to keep what you two had.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

You had immediately laughed at Eddie’s soft-spoken words, thinking that he was joking, but when he didn’t join in, you were furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“This just doesn’t make sense, y’know? We’re graduating soon, and then we’re gonna be going in completely different directions. You’re leaving Hawkins, and I already know that I’m gonna be stuck here.”

You were quiet because you had no idea how to respond to that. Maybe it was only half-right— yes, you were going to be headed to a college that was not in Indiana at the end of the summer, but you truly couldn’t imagine Eddie being “stuck” anywhere.

“We’re better off as friends,” He continued. “Neither of us can get hurt that way.”

It was all so surprising and felt entirely out of nowhere, but you could tell by how he said the words that he had been thinking about this for a while. There was a part of you that could understand what he meant, the sad why behind it all, so you decided to lean into that. Because, in a way, he was kind of right— the deeper you fell for each other, the more painful the heartbreak would be in the end, and the harder it would be to leave in August.

But, shit, you were already in way too deep.

You still felt yourself nodding in agreement with him anyway, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. “Okay.”

“So… just friends again?”

You simply nodded again and gave him a small smile. “Yeah, of course. Just friends.”

Now you felt so dumb for saying that, for agreeing to the idea. You couldn’t be “just friends” with Eddie Munson anymore.

There was a loud knock on the door that abruptly pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, one sec,” You yelled out to the person on the other side.

You let out another breath and didn’t bother looking in the mirror to see if the sadness you were feeling was written so clearly across your face. Mainly because you knew that it definitely was and it would be too hard to replace it with a fake smile, anyway.

A random girl was rushing in before you were even fully out of the door, and you hoped that she was doing better than you were at that moment, but it didn’t entirely seem like it.

You decided that you wanted to go back outside and settle yourself back in your spot on the patio chair next to Robin, and you also really wanted another drink. The idea of blurring your thoughts for the rest of the night didn’t sound like the worst idea ever.

You made your way to the stairs and before you even started heading down, you spotted Eddie walking up. He easily noticed you too and he smiled before meeting you at the top of the stairs after a second. He looked at you for a moment and then his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, reaching out to place a hand on your upper arm. It was such a subtle and simple action, but it still made you feel way too many things at once. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” You answered, giving him a weak smile, and then immediately changed the subject so that he wouldn’t question you further right then. “How’d it go with Ally? That’s her name, right?”

“Yeah, it is. But, that ask-out completely crashed and failed because she said that she just started dating someone.”

“Oh, sorry,” You told him, not because you actually felt it, but because it simply felt like the right thing to say at that moment.

“It’s fine,” Eddie shrugged. “What’s the dumb saying? There’s other fish in the sea or whatever.”

You let out a forced kind of laugh. “Yup, right.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

For a second, you considered lying again; it would’ve been the best and simplest thing to do. You could’ve said that you weren’t feeling well and you needed to just head back outside and get some air— you should’ve just said that. But then, suddenly, all you could think was fuck it.

“I can’t do this.”

He looked at you, confused. “Do what?”

“Be friends with you. I can’t go back to how things were with us before we dated. And I know that I have been doing it for the past two months, but I can’t anymore.”

“But, we decided—”

“I know,” You interrupted him. “I know what we decided, but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy to do this. To just turn off my feelings and pretend that I’m not still in love with you.”

Surprisingly, it actually felt good to finally be honest about everything that you had forced yourself to bury over the past few months. It felt as if a weight was being lifted off of your shoulders.

“It’s not easy for me either.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at Eddie’s words. “Yeah, because talking to Ally out there looked really painful and hard for you.”

“That doesn’t…” He trailed off as he shook his head. “That doesn’t mean anything. I promise. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you, or us.”

“Then why are we even doing this right now? What’s the point?”

You two had somehow moved away from the stairs and instead were standing further down the hallway, closer to the bathroom that you had left barely two minutes ago.

“I just,” Eddie began and then sighed. “I know it’s gonna hurt like hell letting you go in a few months, and maybe doing it this way is easier. It’s not at all easy, but maybe it’s better? I don’t know. Most of the time it feels so fucking stupid, and I feel like an idiot for what I did that night… But, maybe it was the right thing to do.”

You considered his words for a moment. Just like that night two months ago, a part of you could recognize that he was at least a little right. But, this time you decided against leaning into the small part of you that wanted to simply agree with him because it made things seem “easy.”

“You know me,” You ultimately said, stepping a little closer and finding his hand. “I overthink everything. I think about every possible outcome for any and every situation. But, this is the one thing that I don’t want to think that far ahead about. And maybe that’s stupid. And maybe we will end up feeling terribly heartbroken at the end of the summer, and we’ll regret not just leaving things like they are right now. But, I’d rather that, than to keep pretending that everything is fine and normal. Somehow that feels so much worse. Why can’t we just enjoy this, us, for what it is before we have to give it up?”

Eddie didn’t say anything at first and that worried you. You braced yourself for the inevitable rejection, and you were already telling yourself that you would be okay with it because at least you tried this time around— you had finally said the words that you wished you’d said that night.

But then he was kissing you. It was abrupt and sudden and you hadn’t seen it coming, even though it was exactly what you wanted to happen. He was pulling his hand away from yours and immediately reaching up to cup your face in both of his hands. They were cold, but you still felt as if you were on fire.

It was probably only him that could affect you this much and this easily. You didn’t realize how much you missed the feel of his mouth on yours and how much you missed having him close to you in this way until it was finally, finally happening again.

Your mind briefly traveled back to the last time this happened. It was the night before the breakup and the two of you were smoking weed in your backyard, sandwiched together in one patio chair instead of sitting in separate ones because it just felt right to do, and the close proximity allowed your lips to easily find his.

“I love you,” Eddie mumbled against your mouth now, which also reminded you of that last time. “I’m sorry I made us lose the past two months.”

Your hands were fisting themselves into his black t-shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “It’s okay. Doesn’t matter.”

And technically, it really didn’t, at least not in your head. You were just glad to be here in this moment with him. It wasn’t too late. You two still had time.

“It’ll be okay,” You told him in between kisses. Maybe you two should have found a bedroom or simply moved anywhere that was out of the dark hallway and away from potential prying eyes, but that didn’t feel like the most important thing to do right then. “Whatever happens in the end. It’ll be okay.”

Eddie was nodding as he pressed you back against the wall and his hands dropped to your waist. “Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut

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sftykth · 3 days

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milk and cookies ⟢ anakin skywalker i.

banner made by me!

╭ summary: your doll like face will be the end of anakin skywalker he was sure of it. however he must stay away from his disturbing thoughts as he was only your sugar daddy, and you two had agreed on a deal, no physical contact. Though for how long can you both resist the temptation?

╭ pairing: y/n x anakin skywalker

╭ genre: college au!, gap age (y/n is 20, anakin is 42), sugar daddy

╭ a/n: hi everyone! i couldn’t help but make another story as the idea sprung into my head. i would love to hear your feedback on it!:)

Today seemed like God was not on your side.

From the moment you had woken to your alarm not going off, to the precious sweat you had to break for chasing a taxi to meet him. You will admit you might have slept through the alarm this morning but that can't be entirely your fault. Your curious little mind just had to stay up and do research more of the stranger that you will be seeing for the first time today.

Anakin Skywalker. The name that drove you crazy for the past two weeks straight. A very well known man in Coruscant, the front leading man for ruling the state. To say you were quite intimidated by him would be an understatement, however you tried to ease yourself by reminding your little head that he agreed to this.

When you created an account for a sugar daddy website, seeing the man who was known for being cold and ruthless was the last person you expected. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, wondering if you should add him. Handsome wasn't enough to describe this man, he was absolutely divine. The blue piercing eyes had made your breath hitch, you had been aware of his overwhelming looks but seeing it up close still made your knees weak. The sunken smile lines revealed his age and instead of making you feel turned off, it inflamed something deep within you. Creating an account was purely for financial gain, as a broke college student you had listened to your friend and pushed yourself to try it out.

As you sit in the taxi on the way to the little cafe you both had agreed to meet, just on the outskirts of the city. Away from the prying eyes. You reminisce on the first messages you two had exchanged, past you not believing that the day will come were you will meet this man.

April, 2024.

[Sky] Hi.

[Dollface] hey! what's up?!

[Sky] You added me?

[Dollface] um well yea but just a polite thing to say yk..

[Sky] I see. I don't think I have you seen on here before.

[Dollface] come here often huh;)

[Sky] Funny.

[Dollface] sorry. yeah im new here. hoping not to run into no creeps haha

[Sky] Well, one thing I can promise is that I'm not a creep. So dollface, why are you here?

At the moment you were scared by his harsh tone but you grew to embrace it and it only made you tease him harder. Even his texting style made you think about how much older he was, nearly twice your age. Somehow it just didn't concern you that much, you knew that getting into something like this will most likely mean that the men on the website will be much older. You only ever had one boyfriend in your twenty ears, and that was when you were sixteen and he was around the same age. You shook your head at the thought, this man is not going to become your boyfriend. This is a pure transactional relationship, something he made to stress.

Him being a known figure had its advantages to that you were able to get every detail of his life, from a young age he was put into the world of leadership and wealth. Age eighteen he had already won the elections and was announced as the youngest ruler of the state. Married at twenty one to the daughter of the ruler of Naboo, Mr Amidala and having twins just at the pure age of twenty three. You shuddered at the though of having to raise children so young. Though an unexpected divorce at the age of thirty had made you raise your eyebrows, even though you knew of the power couple you were never really into politics, the topic being all too confusing for someone like you. Leaving twelve years of being single, you wondered what caused him to join such website, he didn't reveal much through messages.

"Miss, we are here." You heard the driver speak up, you shook out of your thoughts and thanked him before handing some cash and leaving the car.

You shivered at the cold breeze that swept by you, you tugged your little pink skirt further down. Hoping that warmer days are coming, you hated the cold. Finally, the realization that you will be meeting this man that you have been messaging hit you like a ton of bricks. You gulped, as you peered at the cafe in front of you. Without another thought you rushed through the doors, feeling bad you that you must of have left him waiting. From the research you had done you knew he was a punctual man, always the first one ready for every event.

Scanning the area around you before you spotted the tall figure sat right at the back booth. You didn't even realize he was already staring you down like you had murdered his whole family, speed walking to the table.

"I'm so sorry Mr Skywalker, I slept through my alarm this morning and I didn't realize how long the ride will take." you rambled on, cheeks turning red being under his intense stare.

He hummed and pointed to the seat in front of him, not saying a word yet. Your hands shook slightly at the silence he was giving you, taking the seat he was pointing. Expecting the cold shoulder but still slightly hoping that the messages you had exchanged had encouraged some form of lightheartedness.

"Twenty minutes. That is how long I have been waiting for you. I must say I'm very displeased by this." Were his first words to me, oh that sweet honey voice rolling smoothly of his tongue. You took every word in carefully, gazing up at him you tried not to get too distracted by his good looks.

"I'm sorry... I will do better next time. I promise Mr Skywalker." you mumbled, biting your lip as sudden shyness took over your body.

"Not so bold now are, dollface? I must say the nickname does match the face." he added as he toyed with the coffee cup in his hand. The compliment had made you blush harder, not being able to look into his eyes no more as you shook your head carefully. The way he said the nickname had made your thighs clench together beneath the table, hoping he didn't notice the action. He did.

You were unsure how to reply, not really expecting for him to be so forward, before you could say anything he begins with a "So, are you ready to go through the rules?"

This made you look up. Rules? He was really an organised man afterall. "Yes." You replied, unsure what possible rules he will be giving you but still ready to hear what he wants from you. The intention of why you were on the website in the first place was known to him but you were yet to learn what he wanted from you. He said he would only discuss it in person which encouraged the meeting in the first place.

"Okay good. So as you know already my job requires of me to attend to many different events. Not just around our state but to others as well." He carefully listed, his eyes never leaving yours. Though you were taking every word in carefully, knowing you couldn't afford to anger him. Being late already set you back in your eyes, so you had to try harder to impress him. You scoffed inside, you didn't have to impress him, this is not a date. You had to remind yourself once again.

"My uncle, well he is a very persistent man and as much as I try to push his talks away it seems impossible. He wants me to marry again. This is something I cannot do, but to push those frustrating talks away I thought you could be an actual help here." Furrowing your eyebrows, you added puzzled, "You want to marry me?"

He scoffed at the words. For some reason that made your insides feel weird. You shook your head, this is not a date. You kept repeating in your head. "No, of course not. I meant that you could play a pretend girlfriend or some sort. Only for a while, until he backs off and I can finish off my tasks without having to hear his talks." He answered, taking a sip of his coffee. You licked your lips in response, you felt crazy for finding any action of his so sexy. You had to control yourself.

"I see. So what would be rules I would need to follow?" You asked, still unsure about this whole thing but deep within you knew you wanted to keep seeing this man. Something about him made you question your morals, wanting to do absolutely anything to please him. Once again you had to shake your head at such disturbing thoughts appearing in your head.

"Well firstly, you will and must attend every event that I have scheduled. No matter last minute or not, those events are super important for me and my job. And that way the media will be able to spread the word of their leader in a relationship and my uncle can finally back off. There will be no physical contact between us besides a typical hand hold, and only for such contact to made will be at those events. And for your attendance you will be payed as discussed prior of course." This seemed so easy for him as he spoke, always so professional.

You had to take all the information in, this was such an unusual situation. When your friend said to join the website you were expecting you will have to get some form of sexual interaction but this, this was so different. You can't lie, it was really an amazing deal. Though you cannot lie that the last rule made you slightly disappointing, you didn't know how you will control yourself next to this man and not be able to touch him.

"Deal" You squealed, throat dry from not speaking up for a while. Embarrassment took over you, hoping you didn't draw too much attention to yourself. You saw a slight smirk appear on his handsome face, "That's good, I'm glad." You still couldn't look into his eyes for long before staring at the table, playing with the hems at the end of your skirt.

"It was nice meeting you, dollface. I hope that our next meeting will be with you on time." The comment made your head shot up, face flushed as your doe like eyes stared up him, you saw his adams apple wobble as he swallowed, adjusting his tie he stood up, ready to leave.

"Oh and nice shirt, dollface." Were his last words as he turned away and walked out the doors. Leaving you speechless and embarrassed, you looked down at the shirt and saw you had forgotten in your late process to put a bra on, your white shirt clearly highlighting the hardened nipples from the earlier cold you felt.

You cursed yourself, this is going to be the hardest thing you will have to do. You were sure of it.

— i would love to hear your feedback on it:) and let me know if you like another part to it.

#anakin skywalker masterlist #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #star wars #hayden christiensen imagines #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin fanfiction #anakin imagine

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motelofmermaids · 2 days

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part ii of this ♡︎ (+18)

notes: dbf! james kelly… reader is in her early 20s & james is 36, dddne, reader’s dad is a drunk & kinda sexist. reader is a virgin. slight daddy kink if you squint… this part is longer! there’s a buildup!

(i was not expecting people to want a part two! omg! thank y’all so dearly & i hope y’all enjoy ♥︎) (if you see any grammar mistakes… no you didn’t… 😇 #englishmajor)

when the door opened, you were holding two beers, doe-like eyes wide and skin flushed warm. “james?” your tone was quiet, shy… whiny? he looked down at you, eyebrows knitting together as he parted his lips to speak, fearing you heard him. but before the tension could even be fully formed, frankie yelled some incoherent bullshit from the kitchen—somethin’ about a beer, and he pulled his gaze away from you. fuck, he jus’ couldn’t do this. not right now. so like any sensible man out there who fantasizes about fucking his friend’s young and sweet daughter, james excuses himself. shaking his head slightly, eyeing you one last time, his legs move—fast. he goes straight for the front door ‘n leaves, the screen door slamming shut behind him.

that was three days ago, and you haven’t seen james come ‘round. you lie on your bed, kicking your legs gently as you stare at the photo on your dresser. you, james, and your dad. james… you wanted to cry, wondering why he left like that after seein’ you. you can’t help but wonder if you did something. he appeared so conflicted… so disgusted, but the way he looked at you? james looked at you as if you were delicious, like a sweet apple pie on a summer’s day. did he… find you pretty? the thought alone makes your body melt into the bed, your thighs clenching together gently. it’s such a conflicting concept that you can’t ignore now.

it’s been a week now, but you know he’ll be over soon. seven days without seeing him… without james. even your dad was confused, given he was always a little hazy, of the absence of james kelly. a lot of time to think, to pick apart interactions and behaviors, time to have your hand trace your body, play with your sensitive lil’ clit and pretend it’s him. time to imagine him above you, tellin’ you things that would need to be confessed to a priest. you lingered around your dad, mentioning james every once in a while, asking when he’ll be over for the game. ‘so… when does the game start again? and he’ll be over before that, right?’ already three beers in, your dad just smiles and tells you he should be here in an hour.

you spend the next hour dolling yourself up for a thirty-six year old. a thirty-six year old who practically helped raise you—which should disgust you, it really should, but he cared for you so deeply. by the time you had finished your hair and makeup, picking out another slip dress—shorter, pink, and lacy—james was helping himself into your home. you heard him, calling out for your dad and telling him to ‘turn the damn TV on!’ you slipped on your pink slippers and made your way downstairs, trying to control your breathing.

your dad was already seated on the couch, finishing the beer in his hand. and james? he must’ve been in the bathroom, because the six pack he brought was sittin’ on the table and he was nowhere to be found. so, you took it upon yourself to unbox the beers and put them in the fridge, bending over as you do so—your dress riding up your thighs. you hear the bathroom door open and click shut, shoes hitting the floor as james walked and it forced you to stand upright and turn around. he was lookin’ at you, a disapproving expression on his face. “what are you doing?” his voice was quiet, and he licks his lips as he looks over to the couch. “‘m putting the beers away…? sorry—was i not supposed to?” and he wants to rip his hair out, his gaze back on you and traveling down your body. “this… this is the problem,” he starts, large hands reaching to adjust your dress that had ridden up. “d’you usually have your panties on full display?”

and it clicks. it finally sets into place… you were right. james did think you were pretty. but it was more than that. james wanted you, with the way his hands lingered and how he swallowed real hard when he pulled back and put distance between you two. you blink, processing the hundreds of thoughts consuming your mind. you can play this game, you decide—and you can play it good. you shake your head softly, a small pout gracing your lips as you hand james a beer. “sorry, i don’t know what you’re talking about… i’ve always dressed like this.” closing the fridge, you walk over to the couch to sit in the middle.

james—poor, poor james—he was fed up already. he watched as you made yourself comfortable on the couch, crossing your legs as you stared at the TV with that fuckin’ smile on your face. oh, he wanted to put you in your place, have your mouth be useful for once as you choked on his cock. it was a thought that made his stomach hurt. irritated, he walked over and sat next to you, eyes never once meeting yours as he opened his canned beer. it didn’t take long for the game to start, and as much as you didn’t care about football, both your dad and james were immersed. yelling at the screen, throwing their hands up… you jus’ rolled your eyes.

“there’s a reason girls like you don’t enjoy football,” your dad slurred out, patting you on the shoulder. “it’s because men like these are big, strong, and dominant—y’all don’t like that shit anymore.” he isn’t making any sense, but it was enough to make you snappy. “seriously? that guy?” you point at the screen, giggling as you side eye your dad. “he’s smaller than james… i could take it.” and james nearly chokes on his cheap beer, eyebrows knitting together as his head snaps to look at you. he just wants to get up and leave at this point, but all your dad does is shrug and say, “ain’t that right, jimmy?!”

“hey, be a peach ‘n get another beer for your old man.” your dad mumbles after a silent ten minutes, eyes heavy as he mindlessly stares at the television. he unabashedly adds, “see, this is what women are made for! to please—and my sweet has always been a big pleaser… surprised no man has snatched her up…” you stand up, slippers quietly pattering against the floor as you walk to the kitchen to grab another can. when you return, two beers in hand for your dad—because ‘another’ usually means two—you dramatically sigh. “‘m surprised, too… i mean, i am the sweetest girl in town. right, daddy?” but you weren’t lookin’ at your dad. no, you were staring at james with that innocent little smile adorning your beautiful face, and he had the grip the handle of the couch because he was fucking exasperated.

“well… ‘m gonna go now. this is extremely boring,” you chew on your bottom lip in an attempt to hide how pleased you were with james’ reactions. turning on your toes, you walk down the hall to the stairs as you sway your hips. and james has had enough, moving on his feet quickly and waving off your barely conscious father as he followed you to the bottom of the stairs. he corners you into a wall, forcing a small gasp out of your lips. “you don’t even,” he inhales sharply, stepping closer as he points a finger at you. his jaw clenches, his voice low and accusatory. “you don’t even know what you’re doin’, doll.” the tip of his finger digs into your chest as he leans in closer. and you bat your eyelashes at him, your back pressed against the wall as you stutter over your words. “don’t know what you’re talking about…”

and he laughs in your face, all frustrated ‘n deep and your legs nearly give out. your face feels like it’s on fire, and your thighs clench together because you’re so, so wet for him. “what? you’re gonna act as if you didn’t just call me ‘daddy’ like some cheap hooker?” after a moment, he sighs out your name, his knee moving to slowly spread your legs apart. “you’re makin’ me feel crazy.” and it nearly makes you whine, the way he says it—deep and breathy. leaning down, his lips meet your neck gently, before he quickly pulls away to look down the hall. your father was already snoring, how perfect.

“james,” you whimper quietly, both of you staring at each other before the tension finally breaks—and he leans in to kiss you. it’s rough and passionate, just like james. he groans against your lips—soft and plump—and he was losing it. his hands come up to cup your cheeks, and you flutter your eyes shut at how breathless he’s already left you, your heartbeat pounding against your chest. he furrows his eyebrows, his lips moving aggressively against yours as your hands grip at his unbuttoned over-shirt, creating fists as you pull him closer to you. his tatted hand moves down from your cheek to the curves of your breasts, to your stomach, and slipping underneath your slip dress. he pulls away, barely so, his lips ghosting yours as he opens his mouth to let out a strained, “fuck, baby…”

his fingers gently trace the damp spot of your panties, and he sharply inhales through his nose. “this all f’me? so fuckin’ wet,” his eyes are half-lidded as he gazes down at you, taking in the way you can barely form a coherent thought as he slowly slips the fabric aside to run his fingers through your soaked folds. “you ever been touched like this?” he asks in a whisper and you shake your head, your eyes opening to look into his and james swears this is what an angel looks like. your eyes are so heavenly, wide and doe-like, your plump and stained red lips are parted as you let out shaky puffs of air. and your body, fuck, he cannot get enough. his other hand, still on your cheek, moves until his thumb is running along your bottom lip. “do you wanna stop?” you shake your head again.

he nods his head slowly, his lips curling up. and suddenly his hand, large and scented strongly of cigarettes and oil, is covering your mouth. his fingers move slowly, sliding between your slicked folds and teasing your clit—your eyelashes fluttering at the feeling. “sorry, doll… as much as i’d love to hear your voice, we don’t wanna wake up your real daddy.” your moan is muffled when his fingers rub against your clit, his calloused fingers moving so perfectly that you swear you see stars, and james moves so close that he’s caged you against him and the wall. your grip on his shirt tightens, your eyes on his—deep, blue, and piercing—as he finally slips a finger in your tight, sopping cunt.

you watch as james grits his teeth, muttering something about being ‘so fuckin’ tight,’ as he stuffs another finger inside your heat, slowly moving them so you can feel his long fingers reach places that yours could never. it was too much, yet so little. he needed to be inside you, needed to taste you… to fuck you proper. but he was nice, having a soft spot for you, and wouldn’t let your first time be against a wall while your dad was passed out on the couch down the hall. james’ cock was straining against his pants, hard and throbbing and begging to abuse that little pussy of yours, but he was nice. for now, he’s content with fingering you, giving you a sweet taste of what it’s like to be treated right.

“next time,” he starts, his movements faster and more punctuated, “‘m gonna use my cock… it’ll feel s’good, bein’ stretched out and taken care of.” next time? your heart flutters at the thought, your mewls and begs quieted as you feel the warmth low in your stomach grow. your legs begin to tremble, the stimulation of both his touch and words leaving you drooling against his hand. james leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you gonna come, doll? that’s it. come on my fingers, be good for me. you’re always such a pleaser, right?” and your walls clench tightly around his digits as your body tenses up, your orgasm leaving you lightheaded and soundless.

his fingers slow down before completely pulling out—leaving you feelin’ empty—but instead of giving you the chance to calm down, he rubs your puffy clit, your hips trying to squirm away from the sensation. you breathe heavily through your nose, one of your hands quickly moving to grip james’ wrist as you feel yourself become overstimulated, whining softly and eyes pleading. he licks his lips, before hesitantly stepping back from you, taking his hand away from your mouth as you slump against the wall. “james,” you whine dumbly, tone high-pitched and so fuckin’ sweet; your mind hazy as you look up at him through your lashes. he can’t help himself, of course he can’t, not when it comes to you. he closes the distance once more, kissing you quiet.

when he pulls away, he adjusts your dress, tapping your thigh gently. “go upstairs and rest,” he mutters, his breathing just as ragged as yours. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

and you will… ❤︎︎

#kel’s concepts ♡︎#james kelly #james kelly x reader #james kelly x you #james kelly smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin smut #james kelly is my man #i need to repent #and pray

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thecapricunt1616 · 1 day

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Cinnamon - (c.b. one-shot)

♡ One Shot Inspo: Cinnamon invokes lust and is considered an aphrodisiac. It can be used in love spells as well as for sex magic. Burn cinnamon to stimulate your spiritual powers and increase your psychic ability and awareness.

♡ Summary: Carmy hasn't had pussy in 2 weeks....he nearly died (he's a drama queen, but you love it) So, being the loving amazing GF you are you Mountain Dewed it up down left right (oh!!) switched it up like Nintendo - and did it so well you put his ass to sleep. (I listened to Espresso the whole time writing this its literally all I could think about hahahah)

♡ W/C: 4,140

♡ Posted Date: 05/12/2024

♡ A/N: HEYYYY!!! Okay okay so MORE STAGEFRIGHT because the amazing wonderful talented goddess level writer @l4long-winded sent in ♡THIS♡ big brain beautiful ask, and let me tell you I had some THOUGHTS!!! I have such a worship kink so .... yeah this was v fun to write. I hope you love reading as much as I loved writing. My dear please send in a request whenever you want!! Requests are open per usual :D

♡ Warnings for BTC: Kinda Sub!Carmy, Smut, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, No use of Y/N, No use of physical descriptors, Black!Fem!Reader friendly (i'm pretty sure pls tell me if smth needs editing!), Kinda Virgin!Carmy, Not edited (we die like men)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

It had been quite literally a fortnight since Carmy had been able to fuck you. It was all he’d thought about, well - when his brain wasn’t busy going a million miles an hour about the restaurant, which is exactly what had taken up so much of his time lately. He’d usually be grateful for this kind of work, the kind of work that he’s going in at 3:15 and not getting home until 11:30 pm or midnight when you were already fast asleep.

He was exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually - but sexually?! He wasn’t sure he had ever been so wound up before. His nightly sessions of jerking his cock in the shower, biting his hand to keep as quiet as he could while he thought of the view of you when he came in that night. One leg hoisted up, nightgown ridden up over your ass. The one you knew he loved, and some of his favorite panties.

You called them your lazy girl panties because you told him you only wore them when you weren’t expecting anyone else to see them, but that very fact meant drooled over them. The slight discoloration from being so old, the little threads hanging off the leg holes and waistband. The tiny hole right in the waistband that he loved to thumb with while cuddling in bed.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours. Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes.

That had been how long he had gone without being inside of you. He didn’t know his dick could get depressed, but his dick was fucking depressed. Getting off felt like a chore. When he’d jack off, he took an extra 15 minutes yanking on the thing because he could barely cum anymore, even though his balls were aching like he needed to.

Every time he got home, he’d stand in the doorway, just watching you. You would be peacefully asleep, chest lightly rising and falling, your beautiful body covered by some loose sleep thing. A loose sleep thing that he fantasized about ripping off into shreds.

Tonight though - he could cry. You were up - you were fucking awake. Through his own selfish desires he didn’t even realize it was abnormal, the only thing he could think about was the blood rushing to his cock at the mere idea you could possibly potentially be in the mood. “Baby?!” He nearly tripped over his own two feet rushing to your shared bedroom.

You were sat up on the bed, book on your thighs - a loose nightgown that accentuated your curves and hugged your peaked nipples uncovered by any bra. He could bust in his pants and all you were doing was reading. Reading what? He could care less honestly because his cock was starting to hurt.

You sat up, putting your legs over the side of the bed to get up and greet him “Bear! How was work love? I wanted to stay up so that we could - what’re you…” you trail off confused as he slinks to his knees before you, between your thighs and lifting up your leg, putting the top of your foot to his lips.

“In…22 minutes” he starts between kissing up your bare ankle and calf “it..will have been..15..days..” he stopped at your thighs, his cheek smushed against the flesh, he looked like he could both cry and that he was coming home. “Since I touched you. Please. Please baby - can I make you feel good? Mm?” He mumbled into your skin. “Please princess? I’m dyin’ here. I’m fuckin- I literally cut my hand t’day thinkin’ bout you. I fuckin need you” he kissed over each little tiny inch of your flesh. He was…worshiping you.

The idea sent waves of warmth flooding your core. “Yeah baby?” You took his hand, seeing a bandage over his knuckle and kissing it gently.

The feeling of your lips to his skin made him whimper “please- please please please” he begged, sitting back on his feet and looking up at you through his bangs, pushing his hair back quickly before his hand found your calf once again, rubbing little strokes into it “please?” He asked softly, his big blue eyes blown wide with lust.

You gently cup his cheek “and who’s fault is it?” You were teasing now. But you knew the bastard loved a challenge, and you also had been horny and your fingers were nothing compared to Carmys.

“Mine. It’s mine. My stupid fuckin job angel I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, how can I make it up? What can I do pretty? Mm? I’ll do whatever you want” he begged you and kissed over your knees and calves, pressing short little pecks to the skin. You grabbed his greasy curls at the root, raking through a few of the knots gently before pulling him to look at you and he moaned gently at the sudden firmness

“Do you know I’ve been fingering myself to fall asleep. All alone - for all those days you said. My poor hand” you held it up and he brought it to his lips on instinct, kissing the pads of your fingers before opening his mouth expectantly. “Good Bear” you purr and his eyes flutter shut as you stuck in your middle and ring fingers, slipping them over his tongue. He moaned at the contact, not holding back.

You smiled a bit, tugging his jaw open and he looks up at you, cheeks flushed and drool beginning to drip down his chin. “You’re pretty” you said softly and he swirls his tongue around your fingers before sucking on them gently, not breaking your gaze. Your stomach flips with excitement, your panties becoming uncomfortably wet but you weren’t going to let that show. He deserved to beg.

“Do you deserve to be sucking on my fingers though?” You pull them away suddenly and he gasps a bit a the unexpected emptiness of his mouth, a pathetic little pout appearing on his lips.

“No” he said softly and you grab his cheeks, smushing them gently “but I can make you feel soooo good - you deserve it” he told you and you pat his cheek gently with your hand, your wet fingers leaving a glistening streak on his cheek.

“I know I do. Are you gonna eat me out? Like a good boy?” You laid back on your elbows, spreading your thigh and resting one of your feet on the edge of the bed, showing your panties that had grown a large wet spot during your conversation. He watches every move you make, his eyes focusing on the wet spot you sighed softly, deciding to take pity on him. “You can sniff my panties, you little freak” you giggle and he looked up at you like a kid on Christmas

He wasted no time shoving his nose right in the wetness, inhaling your sweet yummy scent and groaning “thank you” he mumbled into the curve of your ass, his hot breath against the skin causing your clit to twitch and goosebumps to appear on your skin. You feel him taking another deep breath and nuzzling his nose back and forth to get deeper like a dog and you couldn’t help but giggle, raking through the knots in his curls as he stuck out his tongue and caught the fabric of your panties with his teeth, sucking the juices out of the fabric and moaning hotly.

His hands were everywhere, rubbing over your calves, your thighs, your stomach, pushing your nightgown over your tits and rolling a peaked nipple between his fingers. You bit your lip, head falling back slightly and grinding your hips into his face, using his nose to get yourself off. “Go ahead Bear take off your jeans, you’ve been good t’night and I know you’re probably hurting” you told him

He sighed into you gratefully “y’too nice t’me” he kissed over your clothed pussy a few times as he unbuckled his belt with shaking hands, the anticipation was killing him.

“No me being nice would be telling you that you could touch yourself. And no dripping on my carpet” you told him as he pushed his boxers and jeans enough to let his cock free that was indeed dripping already. His boxers were creamy and wet with pre, he had been pathetically grinding against the boxspring as he sucked your panties like it was his life source.

“Shit-“ he said, wrapping a fist around his weeping tip as he continued tonguing and nosing at the fabric between your legs. “Can I- c-can I please?” He begged pathetically, that softness to his voice you loved so much. A sweet whiney grunt leaves his lips as you pull his hair, forcing him to look at you.

“What have we talked about? Use your words.” You said firmly.

“Can I- take your panties off…p-please?” He asked shyly “wanna make y’feel good - wanna taste your pussy I miss it s’much - tastes so good baby please lemme taste you” he said and his whiney husky voice mixed with his breathlessness from being shoved into the fabric of your dripping cunt made you clench around nothing.

“I wanna cum twice before you even think about touching yourself. Also take your shirt off you’re way overdressed for my taste.” You dropped his hair and he nods obediently, standing and shoving off his jeans and tugging his shirt off by the neck in that stupid jockish way that had you wanting to shove him down back first on the mattress and ride him until his balls were empty.

Instead you kept your cool, crossing your arms over and slipping your nightgown over your head before taking off your panties, flicking them at him playfully to which he balled them up and pressed them to his nose, inhaling deeply. This caused you to laugh as you adjusted your pillow to lay back, spreading your thighs and gathering some of your wetness from your hole, dragging it up to your clit and rubbing little circles into it.

“Mmm are you gonna keep sniffing those like a pervy-puppy or are you gonna come make good on your promise. I’m surprised this poor hand hasn’t fallen off” you teased and he dropped the panties where he was standing, coming and crawling on the bed, laying in front of you and hoisting your thighs over each of his shoulders

“Mmm” he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut and leaning in, resting his cheek on your thigh and inhaling. “Smell so fuckin’ good” he mumbled “mouth is literally watering” he kissed your inner thighs sweetly, ravishing the skin in gentle affection. “God I missed this fuckin missed this s’much. Every morning this pretty fuckin pussy is just beggin me” he kissed your mound gently, dipping his tongue out and moaning at the taste of sweat and lotion on your skin, lapping it up like a life source.

“Yeah? I think you’re the beggar” you mused, jaw falling slack as he licks a stripe up your heat, moaning pathetically at your taste. His eyes rolled back slightly before fluttering shut in pure bliss “mmm so pretty baby” you coo and he smiled slightly, his cheeks a blushy pink that matched the tops of his ears. He nuzzled into you, nose rubbing over your clit in the way that made you gasp, your toes curling lightly “good boy” you praised, voice breathy and light

“Taste so good” he mumbled into your cunt, squeezing your thighs gently with his tattooed fingers. He moaned into you, watching you with wide lustful eyes.

“Those pretty eyes” you said softly, gently brushing his warm cheekbone with your knuckle and he hums into you gently. He sucked your folds between his lips, pulling away slightly and rubbing your thighs up and down with his calloused palms, squeezing gently. You moaned hotly and couldn’t contain the cry that followed when he finally stuck his middle finger in your dripping hole, hips bucking to try and get more of him.

“So soft, so so soft” he mumbled into your clit before kissing it gently and taking the now swollen throbbing bud in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it quickly. His fingers twist and curl as he pumps them in and out at a languid pace. You felt that familiar jolt of pleasure as the pad of his finger brushed your g spot.

“Augh- ah- yes bear” you mewled, “right there- there” you grab his wrist and squeeze it and in response he curled his fingers the same way and you dug your feet into his shoulder blades in pure extacy, causing him to grunt into you and curl and uncurl his fingers in a rhythm that had your eyes screwing shut and loud strings of curses and moans tearing from your chest as you came undone over his fingers, dripping down his wrist already. But with how long it had been since you had him this way, that was to be expected.

“Good - good bear good bear” you mumble praise as your orgasm washes over you he works you through it, resuming pumping his fingers - your dripping arousal being able to be put to use as lube. The schlick,schlick,schlick sound of his fingers is what you come back to, your mind fuzzy and swimming through a warm sea of pleasure, sweet jumbled moans and whimpers coming from your lips.

“God you sound so fuckin’ pretty baby I love you so fuckin much m’so sorry m’so sorry I haven’t been around as much” he mumbled into you and you shake your head

“S’okay shhh- shh just keep doin’ what you’re doin’” you push his head back down, watching as his eyes flutter up to look at you and he sweetly offers his other hand for you to hold, your heart melting at the gesture. “Such a sweet boy” you coo, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He smiled a bit in response nuzzling his nose against your clit, his lips making cute little smacking noises against your cunt.

“You’re so messy” you giggle a bit, seeing as the tip and bridge of his nose were wet with your slick, as was his chin and entire mouth area. “Your face is so wet baby” you told him and he looked up at you

“Mmm m’neck is wet too” he paused to say before resuming and you gently caress his cheek, the only sounds filling the room being the wet drill of his fingers and the smacking of his lips, like he was trying to devour a popsicle before it melted.

You felt your second orgasm quickly approaching, your walls fluttering around his fingers, he curled up into that spot and that was your undoing once more, your hips pushing back into the mattress and spine arching off the bed towards the ceiling slightly as your orgasm crashed over you with no mercy to be had.

“Jesus- fuck!” You cried out and he held your thighs open for you so you wouldn’t crush him by mistake, your hands shaking as you went to wipe the tears that had gathered in your eyes that were screwed shut from the intensity and Carmy stops you, carefully wiping your cheeks with his dry hand and removing his other carefully, wiping it dry on the sheets he always changed for you afterwards and cupping your face while you came down.

“You did so good baby, so so good” he kissed your forehead gently, rubbing your hair and caressing your back with loving strokes. When you were finally coherent enough once again, although you were exhausted - you realized Carmy was still rock hard, pitching a full tent in his boxers that were wet with pre as he coaxed you through your orgasm.

“That’s gotta hurt” you told pull the fabric, causing his cock to come down with it and when you release it it springs back up to full standing causing you to giggle a bit

“Mm does but m’back. I can’t go t’night babe. I was gonna go take care of it in the shower don’worry” he yawned, rubbing over his face you furrowed your brow, slightly offended.

“What? Is my pussy not good enough?” You teased

He looked at you quickly “wha- no - I mean- I mean yes? No- no your pussy is good your pussy is- is perfect I fuckin’ love y’pussy but I can’t go tonight baby my back fuckin’ hurts” he explained

“I can ride you you know” you said and his big blue eyes widened a bit. You’d been together for 6- no 7 months, and it was true you’d never ridden him, not yet anyway.

Carmen was a missionary man, not in the boring way, in the way that he’d get home from work and fuck your brains out while going on and on about his frustrations from the day.

People wouldn’t usually call it dirty talk, but something it turned you on more then anything that between calling you perfect and beautiful and made for him that he was just casually going on about his shitty day like his balls weren’t essentially spanking your ass with how hard he needed it.

“Uh- oh-o-okay. Yeah. Sure- I. Mmhmm” he said and fixed his pillow, adjusting his hips for you “hop on I guess” he said shyly and you laughed at his sudden switch in attitude.

“Have you never been ridden you poor thing?” You asked and his cheeks went cherry red as well as the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose as you straddled him easily, resting your hands on his abs for leverage.

“No.” He muttered. “I- I just…I dunno it never..came up” he swallowed thickly, averting your gaze nervously.

“Hey.” You said “eyes” you told him and his eyes met yours immediately, “I’m honored to be the first person, yeah? I’ve told you a billion times bear - I love you. I love being able to show you new ways to feel good, it makes me so excited” you held his hips gently and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, needing to be touching you somehow.

“It just…it doesn’t make me seem like…like a bitch does it?” He mumbled shyly, insecurity lacing his voice. You tucked your hands under his warm back, laying yourself over him fully, embracing him and resting your forehead on his.

“You know how I feel about that word, and no it doesn’t make you seem less manly baby. If anything, it’s super sexy and it’s so sweet that you felt brave enough to tell me. Thank you for telling me. I’ve heard for the guy it feels really good cause all you gotta do is lay there, you wanna try sweetheart?” You ask softly, kissing the bridge of his nose gently and a small smile forming on your lips when you tasted yourself on your lips upon pulling away.

“Yes please” he said softly, eyes fluttered shut as you cover his face in little butterfly kisses.

“That’s my brave bear” you place a kiss to the base of his throat and he smiles a bit, cheeks going redder by the second. It was adorable how shy he got when you showed him affection like this, you knew he adored it more then anything - but he’d never be brave enough to ask for it - at least not yet.

You sit up, “can I touch you baby?” You confirm, rubbing your hands down his stomach and his abs tighten at the contact. In response he nods, swallowing thickly and goosebumps rising over his skin. His cock twitches as you grab the waistband of his boxers “so sweet and responsive” you said softly, tugging them down easily as he lifted his hips for you slightly.

“Jesus” you mutter at the sight of it, the tip weeping and pink crying to be touched. “Poor thing, you’ve been neglected- has Carmy been abusing you in the shower huh?” You said in the direction of his cock with a playful voice of concern.

“Jesus fuckin Christ-“ he chuckled, covering his face with his arm a big goofy smile on his face. “You are gonna kill me”

You smiled big, leaning down and licking a stripe up his length and he whimpers softly, abs and stomach clenching at the contact, a large bead of pre gushing from his slit that you catch with your tongue. He shivers adorably, groaning at the feeling of you licking over his sensitive tip. “If y’keep fuckin doin’ that ‘m gonna cum” he breathes, the vein in his neck present seeing as he was holding himself back, his balls drawing up and releasing in a rhythm.

“Jesus baby i dunno if you’ll last that long we’ll have to do this again so you can get the full experience mm?” You grab his shaft, lining you two up and slipping it through your soaked folds, he let out a breathy moan, back arching slightly and you let out a sweet ‘mmm’ when his tip bumps your clit.

“Please please please can I be inside you please” he begged pathetically, voice whiny and shaking - he was going to be coming undone very soon you could tell, which is why he was desperate to be inside of you before he was too soft to do so.

“I dunno can I see those pretty eyes?” You asked, he was still hiding behind his arm, likely still feeling embarrassed this was his first time but you weren’t going to allow that. He shyly removed his arm, looking up at you and swallowing nervously.

“H-hey” he said softly and you smile softly

“There’s my bear” you leaned in, kissing him lovingly as you sink down on him fully, his jaw goes slack so you settle for kissing his chin and cheeks and nose “Feel good?” You giggle into his skin and he lets out a pathetic little ‘uh-huh’

“H-holy oh god” he groaned when you simply roll your hips, getting yourself off with the friction of the curly patch of brunette curls at the base of his cock. You sat up, using his chest as leverage to find a good rhythm bouncing on him and he nearly growls, a sound you’d never heard him make.

“Ooo am I releasing the bear?” You teased and he chuckled a bit

“Shut up- fuck Jesus oh god” his head falls back on the pillow “i-i-shit” he rambled and you giggle a bit, causing him to whine at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you continued to ride his cock with all the tricks you could remember.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fucked you so quiet before” you tease, sure your hips and thighs were burning from how quick you’d built up to moving, but his eyes were practically rolling back and the whimpers you were drawing out of him were nothing short of heavenly. He was shaking for Christ sakes. “Are you gonna cum? Mm? Y’gonna fill me up baby?” You asked him, rubbing his chest gently

He finally opened his eyes, looking up at you with those big blue eyes, blown out fully with lust, pants falling from his lips and his dirty blonde curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Mm-mmhmm” he moaned out, grabbing your hips to have something to hold and the action making him realize he could help you move. His jaw dropped slightly at the realization and he looked up at you for approval.

You smiled and nod a bit “you can help honey- that’s really nice of you” you said and he helped push and pull you off his cock, he looked down, mesmerized by the view of his cock burying inside of you, he pushed you down with more force and you moaned, “just like that baby, you want it harder huh?” You ask and he nods quickly so you rolled your hips a bit harder.

He bit his lip, nose scrunching up cutely. He was holding back. “Bear- I know it feels good but you can cum, you need to sleep” you cup his cheek gently and he looked up at you like a sad puppy

“It feels s’good baby” he whined and you nod, stroking his cheek gently.

“I know honey. We can do it again t’morrow night yeah?” You kiss his forehead and with that he releases into you with something resembling a cry covered with a grunt, of course he had to cover it. He pulled you into a deep messy kiss, wrapping his arms around your back, rubbing gently and reaching down to squeeze your ass, feeling cum dripping out of you down over his balls. He smiled a bit, pulling away to ask “Mmm can we sleep like this?”

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lordprettyflackotara · 2 days

Text

breath away || chris sturniolo & colby brock

SMUT. 18+. MINORS DNI. this is fluffy smut ngl to you guys. no actual sex sorry :( to my beloved readers: yes there will be a part two. yes i also have a spin off concept with sam & matt. writers block has been a BIG BITCH you guys. hope everyone’s summer is going well. enjoy!!

Parties were not your scene by any means.

You were new to the Youtube community or the whole ‘content creator’ thing. A career you thoroughly enjoyed, but was not built for the weak. You tended to be more of a recluse than a social butterfly. Tara Yummy was the first creator to attempt to befriend you, her attempt successful. Your collab broke the internet, Tara ecstatic for you. The two of you became quick friends, spending copious amounts of time together.

Your friendship and trust in her is what led you to this party, the blinding purple lights enough to give you a headache. You felt like a lost puppy, awkwardly trailing behind Tara as she introduced you to people. You knew she didn’t mind, but you felt out of place. Your head was spinning, meeting so many people in such a short amount of time. The place was huge, seas of people at every turn. Once Tara had circled back to Jake, you cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna go use the restroom i’ll be back,” You say, halfway telling the truth. You needed a moment to breathe, a moment to think. “Take the elevator down to the fourth floor, that’s the cleanest one,” Tara suggested, the two of you going your separate ways. You squeezed through the obnoxious couples making out, wheezling your way through the crowd. You almost tripped over your heels as you reached the elevator, two familiar faces waiting for it as well.

“Going up?”

Colby Brock. Handsome. Tall. Older. You were sure you had met him before. But where? You didn’t have time to think about it, realizing you needed to answer the question. “Down actually, fourth floor,” You replied, awkwardly standing beside him. The building Tara had booked for this party was insanely tall. You didn’t even want to think about how many floors this building actually had.

“You guys are lucky, i’m stuck going to the twelfth to try to find Nick.”

Chris Sturniolo. One of three triplets. Outgoing. Handsome. Charismatic. Tara would be freaking out for you right now if she saw this was the line up for your elevator ride. “Yeah I think Sam’s on the fourth floor trying to find his ex, i’m trying to find him and stop him,” Colby sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. You weren’t sure what to say, the dinging of the elevator snapping you back to life.

Chris gestured for you to enter first. “After you m’lady,” He said, causing you to shyly smile. You walked in, pressing the four button and leaning against the back wall of the elevator. Your feet were killing you, the heels you borrowed from Tara promising an inability to walk in the morning. Colby strolled in, Chris following behind him. He pressed the button for twelve, the three of you briefly standing in silence. The boys stood on opposite sides of the elevator, all of you facing each other.

“You and Sam just went to the Lizzie Borden house again right?” Chris asked. Colby smiled, his blue eyes addicting to look at. “Yeah, we felt like revisiting it alone. It’s such an interesting story,” He replied. Chris nodded, readjusting his backwards hat.

“Matt’s obsessed with that case, he thinks that-”

You could faintly hear both of the boys talking, your hearing dulling as the elevator slowly began to move. The stained yellow lights were off putting, the space suddenly seeming a lot smaller than it did when you entered. Your eyes flickered to the row of buttons, numbers one through thirty listed on the panels. Jesus fucking Christ. The elevator felt insanely small, the walls feeling like they could close in and squeeze you to death at any moment. You knew this was irrational, a fear you had developed when you were a kid.

You swallowed, your mouth running dry. Your eyes squeezed shut, the unsettling jolt of the elevator coming to a stop ensuing. You waited to hear the familiar ding of the elevator, followed by the sound of the doors opening, but you didn’t. You opened your eyes, the boys conversation long discarded as they stared at the elevator doors. “Is it supposed to do that?” Chris asked. If you weren’t so afraid you would’ve rolled your eyes. Colby approached the row of buttons, pressing the one to open the metal doors.

Nothing happened, the elevator appearing frozen between the ninth and eighth floor. You could see the digital number stuck, your heart beginning to race. Your ears began to ring, your eyes seeing Colby and Chris’s lips move with no words coming out. You leaned back against the metal railing, bracing yourself from falling over. You felt an unsettling dizziness wash over you, your gaze glued to the dirty elevator floor. What had you gotten yourself into? What if you died in here? What if the cord snapped on this old ass box and you all fell to your tragic deaths? What if-

“Hey! Are you okay?”

You blinked a few times, Colby’s large hands grasping your shoulders. He was shaking you, your vision faintly seeing stars as you looked up at him. His and Chris’s faces were full of concern, looking down at you. You nodded, swallowing. “She doesn’t look so good dude,” Chris commented. Colby elbowed him, before returning his attention back to you. “We’re gonna be okay, alright? Chris is gonna call somebody,” Colby said. Chris took the hint, whipping out his cell phone and beginning to make calls.

Colby’s blue orbs studied your face. “What’s wrong?” He asked softly. You were struggling to find the words, your mouth running dry. “Claustrophobic,” You sputtered out. Colby brushed a few stray hairs out of your face, tucking them behind your ear. “It’s gonna be okay,” He reassured, turning to Chris. Chris angrily shoved his phone in his pocket. “I have zero fucking cell service in here,” He sighed. Colby took out his own phone, his touch straying from yours.

Oddly enough you missed his touch, his hands on your shoulders providing comfort. “Chris she’s claustrophobic, I need to try to get help, can you talk to her?” Colby asked. He was aggressively typing away on his phone, trying to achieve one bar of cell service. Chris nodded. The boy before you was maybe your age, maybe a bit younger. You could never tell. “Hi ma,” He greeted. You gave a small wave, before your hand resumed its grip on the railing. Your knuckles were borderline turning white, Chris not failing to notice.

“Hey hey it’s alright, what can I do?” Chris asked, alarmed. You couldn’t find the right words, your eyes flickering around the elevator. It was so small, the walls threatening to close in every extra second you three spent hanging by a cord. You felt two hands softly cup your face, your gaze landing on their owner. Chris stood before you, his hands soft to the touch as his thumb grazed your cheek. “You’re okay,” He whispered. The strangers words were comforting, your breathing beginning to slow back down to a normal rate.

Chris had decent knowledge of anxiety, even if it wasn’t the claustrophobic kind. He knew the in’s and out’s of how to help Matt calm down. But you? You were just a pretty girl he was locked in an elevator with. Sure he knew your name, who didn’t? But your personality? Your ticks? How to calm you down? He didn’t know any of that. All he could truly speculate, was that you seemed to respond well to physical touch. He cleared his throat, the sound of Colby talking into his phone bouncing off of the small walls.

“Can I hold you? Is that alright?”

You nodded, murmuring an agreement. You weren’t sure what to expect, your cheeks beginning to turn bright pink. Chris’s hands strayed from your face, much to your dismay. He gently guided your hand to release the railing, sliding in behind you. Your back was pressed to his chest, his slender arms wrapped around your waist. “If you need to grab something, grab me. Don’t hurt yourself,” Chris mumbled. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his touch comforting. You felt tense for a moment, having a stranger so close to you. You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself as you decided to focus on Colby.

The brunette finally turned around. “I managed to call Sam. They’re looking into the elevator but they don’t know when it’s gonna be fixed,” Colby sighed. You tried to refrain from looking scared, ultimately failing as Colby walked over to you. “Hey it’s okay. What can we do to distract you?” He asked. Noting you were comfortable with Chris touching you he cupped your face, looking down at you with concern. Your mind was swarming with a thousand thoughts, ones of fear, terror, more fear, more terror. But you then remembered why you were there in the first place: Tara fucking Yummy.

And what would Tara fucking Yummy do if she was trapped in an elevator with two insanely hot guys?

“Kiss me,” You whispered. Chris turned his head to look at you, brushing your hair away from your shoulder. Colby’s eyes widened, as if he didn’t believe he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

Colby slowly leaned down, his lips almost touching yours. His eyes flickered to yours for reassurance, before flickering back down to your lips. He closed the gap between you, pressing himself against you. Colby Brock tasted sweeter than you expected him to, the faintest taste of oranges crossing your tastebuds. You involuntarily bucked your hips between the two boys, your ass rubbing against Chris’s shaft. He took the hint, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your collarbone. You softly groaned in Colby’s mouth, grabbing handfuls of his shirt.

You briefly pulled away, heat rushing to your cheeks as you met Colby’s gaze. “Oh my God i’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me. I-” You began rambling, unable to stop the words from spilling out. Colby gently grabbed your chin, guiding you to turn your head. Chris’s lips eagerly met yours, his kisses much rougher than Colby’s. You melted into the kiss, Chris’s hips grinding against you from behind. Colby’s hands grabbed your waist, his body against yours. They felt intoxicating, Colby’s lips placing open mouth kisses on your neck.

“Just tell us if you want us to stop,” Colby told you, kissing you up to your ear. He began nibbling on your ear lobe, one of your hands entangling itself in his hair. Chris pulled away from your lips, admiring how swollen they were. “We just wanna make you feel good ma,” Chris purred. His hands slid down to the hem of your short dress, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. You moaned as Colby resumed his assault on your neck, sucking at your sweet spot.

“May I?” Chris asked, his breath hot against your ear. You whimpered as Colby released your neck with a pop, your body quivering with desire. “Fucking please,” You whined. You could feel Chris’s hard cock from behind you, poking you. He slowly pulled up your dress, just enough to where your panties were exposed. Colby admired the view, smirking. “Never thought an angel like you would be wearing something like this,” He teased, stretching the band of your black lacey thong. He released it, the material snapping against your skin.

You felt like you could melt any moment, your body on fire. You were engulfed in the flames the boys had surrounded you with and you loved every second of it. “Can we play with you baby?” Colby asked, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You nodded eagerly, awaiting them to touch you where you desired. One of Chris’s hands slithered up to your neck from behind, tenderly squeezing your throat before releasing. “Words ma,” He purred, noticing how eagerly your hips buckled with his hand on your throat.

“Please, touch me,” You whimpered. Chris grinned into your neck as he pushed your thong to the side, rubbing slow circles around your clit. “Fucking shit,” You moaned, tilting your head back. Colby smirked at your reaction, running two fingers down your remaining slick. “So wet for us, what a good girl,” He mused, slowly pushing two fingers inside of you. Colby bit his bottom lip as your walls squeezed his digits, your body melting in between the boys like butter. Chris drew faster circles around your clit, helping you adjust.

“Doing such a good job ma,” Chris praised, relishing in the sound of your sinful noises as Colby curled his fingers. Colby couldn’t help but think of you as angelic, your walls milking his fingers and moans sounding like holy water. He began curling his fingers faster, watching as you gripped onto Chris for support. “Fuck, feels so good, Colby, Chris, fuck,” You moaned, gripping onto Chris like your life depended on it. His fingers were abusing your g spot, Chris’s circles only getting faster by the minute.

Colby grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Look at me, look at me as you fall apart on my fingers,” He ordered. He could feel your walls tighten at his words, a smirk creeping across his lips as you forced yourself to maintain eye contact with him. Chris’s hand on your throat came back to life, squeezing your airway. “Dont forget about me ma, you’re so filthy, letting two strangers play with you like this,” Chris said, his hips grinding against your ass as you stood in front of him.

Colby brought his lips to yours, swallowing your moans of the boys names as your legs began to tremble. You could feel the cord inside of you tighten, your body almost to the delightful edge you needed. “Awe did we make your thighs shake? You poor thing,” Chris teased, placing sloppy open mouthed kisses to your neck. You were sure your neck was going to be covered in hickies, ones you were going to have to explain later. But right now? All you could focus on were the thick fingers buried into your cunt and the friction being provided to your clit.

You playfully bit Colby’s bottom lip, releasing it with an involuntary moan. “Fuck i’m so so so close,” You panted, Chris’s grip on your throat tightening. You were seeing stars, the restriction of your airway only bringing you closer to your orgasm. “Go on, don’t be shy. Cum for us,” Colby encouraged, his blue eyes keeping intense eye contact with yours. You squeezed Chris’s wrist, leaning onto him for support. “You heard him. Cum,” Chris agreed. Their permission was all you needed, Colby’s eager lips swallowing your sinful moans as you came around his fingers.

You were seeing stars, euphoria washing over you. Chris was quick to release your throat, helping Colby hold you upright. You leaned your head against Colby’s shoulder, attempting to catch your breath. You were on cloud nine, your body craving more of the two men you were in between. “That was-” You began, the movement of the elevator cutting you off. The three of you jumped, Colby’s fingers quick to exit your cunt. Chris pulled down your dress, the boys quick to attempt to make you look decent.

Disappointment ensued as the three of you disbursed, awkwardly standing on opposite sides of the elevator once again. You took shaky breaths, clearing your throat as the elevator doors finally opened. Relief washed over Sam Golbach’s face as the doors opened, his face immediately lighting up. “Holy shit dude! We were so worried!” He said, going to hug Colby. Nick and Tara weren’t far behind, Tara giving you a big hug. “You need to call me if that shit happens again, I know the owners of this building. I can personally give them hell,” She told you. You nodded, your face flushed pink.

Tara looked at Colby and Chris, noticing your odd expression.

“Hey is she okay?”

“Yeah I think what just happened took her breath away.”

You shot Chris a warning look, before looking at Colby. “I’ll uh, see you guys later?” You asked cautiously. Chris shifted awkwardly, pulling his hoodie down to cover his raging boner. “The nights still young party girl, why don’t you come see us in the red lounge after you find the restroom you were looking for?” Colby suggested. Tara linked her arm with yours, beginning to talk away at a hundred miles per hour. She was leading you to the restroom, the one you were supposed to be hiding in to begin with. You looked over your shoulder, Colby shooting you a playful smile and Chris subtly winking at you.

You pretended to listen to Tara’s story, only one thought on your mind. You had to get to the red lounge. You needed Chris and Colby, no matter what it took. As you dipped into the restroom after Tara, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

#colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock x reader #colby brock smut #colby brock #sam and colby #sam and colby smut #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo

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okwonyo · 2 days

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CELESTIAL BALLET — an okwonyo event

there is a legend about a ballerina .. who lived 3000 years ago and who loved ballet so much, that her soul turned into a music box after her lips let escape her very last breath. she spins and spins; nourishing herself with love stories and music— don’t you want to make her spin as well?

terms and conditions

first › follow me, not forced

second › choose a song in this playlist.

second › comment “joining + the song you chose”

third › reblog and tag at least three people (the more we are, funnier it’d be !)

fifth › your work can be; a thought, a drabble, a timestamp, reactions, headcanons, an imagine or an smau, ot7 or one member— solely inspired by the song you chose.

sixth › your work can be angst or fluff but, keep it sfw and member x reader.

seventh › you work must have a description before it’s start : member, genre, word count and which song it’s inspired by — putting a ‘keep reading’ sign is up for you to decide.

eighth › your entry should be uploaded before june thirtieth and drop outs are alright until may thirty first.

nineth › put the hashtag “⠀okwonyo’s 🩰 ( 천상의 발레 ) ⠀” in the first five hashtags and use this divider below and have fun !

perks

one. a customized theme, two thoughts and one reaction two. a drabble, two thoughts and one reaction three. a drabble, a thought and one reaction four. a thought and one reaction five. one reaction

૮ ․ ․ ᪲ა please join ! big or little account, anyone is welcomed and it’ll be really fun ! i promise ><

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cognacdelights · 3 days

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play wicked games, win wicked prizes [2]

gif by @spacedean.

my supernatural masterlist

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [1]

summary: she craves male validation. he's the best high she's ever gotten. now they're both stuck in a sick and twisted game of foreplay that neither are willing to lose.

warnings: a whole fuck tonne of daddy issues. self-esteem issues. abandonment issues. i am well aware that this is not a healthy relationship and is for entertainment purposes only. sexual content and themes. praise kink. mentions of death and grief. swearing. alcohol use. religious undertones. small age gap romance.

author's note: sorry that it took so long to post. i had a few issues. but we're here. also, i got carried away. it's now going to be in three parts, but i promise that the final part will be worth the wait. minors have been warned. do not interact.

Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel out of boredom. His heavy metal mixtape filled the background as he watched carefully out the windscreen, observing the world before him. He was always watching. Scrutinising. That’s how he managed to stay ten steps ahead — by knowing his environment, noticing when the tiniest of details were off. His eyes scoured every inch of the scene that unfolded in front of him, followed people and their every movement, and noticed every little detail.

The faint smell of chlorine hung in the late-spring air and smoke-like clouds loomed in the distance; there was a flash thunderstorm brewing nearby. The bearded barista’s apron pocket was stuffed full of dollar bills, yet in the six hours that he had been parked there he’d only seen six or seven customers wander inside the upmarket coffee house — and one of them was Sam; he was most likely stealing from the cash register. Short-changing customers and pocketing the difference. And the cops were clearly rattled by the deaths at the boarding school; three patrol cars had cruised past in the last thirty minutes, and there were extra patrols on foot. They were on high alert.

The door to the Impala opened, and Dean instinctively whipped his head towards the passenger side. His malachite eyes found Maggie — dressed in a modest, high-neck blouse and a long, flowing skirt that grazed her ankles. Her dark locks were neatly braided into a sensible bun at the nape of her neck, and a natural layer of make-up cleverly hid the garish welt that stained her cheek. She looked positively prudent. Respectable, even. He almost didn’t recognise her.

“Nice get up,” he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a half-smirk as he turned the music down.

Maggie responded with a tight-lipped, sardonic smile — then flipped him her middle finger — as she climbed into the passenger side. She reached into the depths of her leather purse and retrieved two matching pieces of cloth; they were tied neatly into parcels and wreaked of flower-like herbs. She threw them carelessly towards Dean as the door slammed shut behind her.

“Hex bags?” Dean raised an untamed eyebrow. He curiously untied the leather string that held the cloth together and peered inside at the contents. Rabbit’s teeth, bird bones, and lavender.

“Hex bags,” the feisty brunette confirmed. Her fingers found the clear buttons of her blouse and swiftly began unbuttoning — the high-necked garment uncomfortable and suffocating around her throat. “Matching, best friend hex bags. I found them in both their dorm rooms.” Oh, the irony of a witch in a Catholic boarding school.

Dragging his tongue along the dry ridges of his bottom lip as his gaze followed her quick-moving fingers, he watched in anticipation as she exposed her chest to him once again without any hint of hesitation. As the black, lace fringes of her bralette were exposed he cleared his throat and diverted his attention back to the contents of the hex bags. “So, uh—” he twiddled with the bird bones, fighting the urge to take her half-naked body in once again, “—that’s great. We just find the jealous third wheel and case closed.”

“If only it was that easy.” Maggie ridded herself of the god-awful, itchy blouse. She clumsily kicked off the kitten heels that had rubbed her heels to glory and pushed the waistband of the skirt down her thighs. “Missy Braun was a resident Regina George, and Imogan was her Gretchen Weiners.”

Dean peered towards her out of the corner of his eyes and simply blinked; Maggie may as well have been speaking a foreign language.

Rolling her umber eyes at his lack of pop culture knowledge, she explained, “Missy and Imogen terrorised the school.” Her long, pleated skirt fell into a crumpled pile in the footwell and was soon joined by her tan-coloured tights. “There are about three-hundred potential Sabrina the Teenage Witch’s on roll that those girls have humiliated in some kind of way, and we only have two days to find her. They’re shipping them all back to Mommy and Daddy for an early summer vacation come Friday.”

“Looks like we got some work to do,” he mused in his usual, sarcastic tone. It was then that he caught sight of her in the rear-view mirror — round ass shamelessly in the air and covered only by the thin string of her thong as she leant over the seat, reaching for her clothes in the backseat. Jesus Christ, she really was going to be the death of him. He adjusted himself in his seat, finding a more comfortable position that kept his semi-erection a secret.

“Where’s Sam?” she questioned casually. Maggie had noticed the empty coffee cup that had his name and order scrawled across the side, discarded in the cup holder, and the noticeable lack of his presence. There was an unmentioned tension that hung in the air between them; it surrounded them, holding them in a tight coil and squeezing until the pressure overflowed in way of a petty sibling squabble. Even though Maggie had grown up with the Winchester Brothers, their bickering still drove her to the point of insanity.

“Gone for a walk.”

“Okay—” she twisted her half-naked body back around and slid into a sitting position, t-shirt and shorts in hand, and asked directly, “—what the hell is going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Dean deflected, folding his arms across his muscular chest in an obvious display of defence, “we’re fine.”

Maggie sent him an unrelenting glare. One that Dean was no match for. He broke instantly with a long exhale and threw his head back against the leather seat.

He was quiet for a second longer, formulating the words in his mind. “He shacked up with Amelia when I was in purgatory,” Dean admitted with a careful choice of words — cleverly calculated to keep his deepest and darkest emotions from surfacing.

“I know.” That was all she said. I know. It was tactical really. She knew Dean Winchester far too well. In fact, she knew the man better than he knew himself, and this was one of his best self-defence tactics. Give just about enough to satisfy them without giving anything away at all. Keep everybody at a distance so when you give an inch, they’ll think it’s a mile. But that didn’t wash with Maggie. Maggie knew better. Maggie used the same damn tactics herself.

She merely shimmied a pair of ripped, denim shorts up her thighs.

It took several moments of an awkward silence before Dean broke once more. “So—” he reluctantly delved further, “—instead of looking for me, he was holed up in a motel room doing the horizontal line dance with Florence Nightingale.”

“First of all—” Maggie pulled a t-shirt that he distinctly recognised as being one of his own over her head, “—Florence Nightingale was a human nurse, not a dog nurse. You’re thinking of Dr Doolittle.” She tied the hem at her abdomen into a crop. “And secondly, I know.”

“If you know all of this, then why are you asking me what’s going on?” His head swivelled to face her abruptly in frustration.

“Because you’re being an asshole, and you’re fobbing me off with some bullshit excuse to shut me up,” she answered, casually shrugging her shoulders. Tugging at the elastic in her hair, she released the braided bun and combed her fingers through her long, sleek locks. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Dean.”

He threw his head back against the seat once more, rubbing the palms of his hands over his face. A loud, defeated groan echoed throughout the Impala; this was the last conversation he wanted to have with a half-mast hard on. “Can we just drop this already?”

Of course, in true Maggie May fashion, she ignored his very obvious pleas to leave this subject well alone. “You’re hurt that he didn’t come looking for you, aren’t you?” she spit-balled her thoughts on the situation, “you’re upset that he moved on without you.”

Dean sent her a look. It was one that she couldn’t quite interpret. A cocktail of emotions swirled around his tired eyes as they glazed over ever so subtly. His stubble-lined lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke, voice considerably timid. “I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d gotten Sam back if he was the one stuck in purgatory.”

“Dean—” her whole demeanour shifted, softened, as she scooted closer to him. Her arm rested atop the back of the seat and her body twisted towards him, her legs haphazardly hanging over his. “There’s a few things that you need to remember here. Sam isn’t you. Your childhood was a lot different to Sam’s. You were raised to protect him at all costs — hell, you raised him yourself. You weren’t just his brother. You were Mom and Dad too. Yeah, Sam was taught family above everything, but he didn’t have the responsibility of someone else’s life in his hands.”

He watched cautiously as she leant forwards, the gentle palm of her hand resting on his shoulder. It was such a simple gesture, but the warmth of her touch comforted him immensely. “It just—” he really did struggle with emotions, even if it was easier with Maggie, “—feels like a punch in the gut.”

“You know, deep down, that Sam never wanted this life. He went to Stanford. He applied to law school. He wanted to be a lawyer, and get married, and buy a house with a white picket fence, and have two point five kids. The whole shebang. He wanted a normal life. And Sam grieved in the same way that a normal person would. He put you to rest and built a new life for himself, and he just so happened to find someone that he really cares about in the process. I might not like her, or agree with what he did, but I understand why he did it. He made a normal life for himself.”

Gradually, he melted into her delicate touch; he found solace in her words and the strokes of her fingers against his skin. He knew that what she was saying made sense, and he knew that she was right, but it didn’t curb the anguish that consumed the very pit of his stomach.

“Sam loves you very much Dean, and he idolises you. Hell, that’s probably why he left this woman that he loves to jump back into a life that he doesn’t want. To be with his big brother. And yeah, he probably feels guilty for not looking for you. For being happy with Amelia whilst you were fighting for your life in purgatory. But you can’t blame him, or even hate him, for going after what he really wanted. He thought you were dead. We all did. You just disappeared. How was he supposed to know where you were, or what happened to you?”

Dean simply exhaled in response. Words were too difficult in that moment. Mostly because everything that Maggie was saying was right. She had rationalised everything for him, plain and simple for him to understand. Now he just had to come to terms with it.

“I’m not taking his side—” Maggie reaffirmed with a tender tone, “—I’m actually on your side.” She dragged her finger carefully down the length of his neck and traced the glimmering metal chain of his cross necklace, toying with it. “I’m on the side of you not holding onto all this resentment and hatred for your brother, that I know you love very deeply. I’m on the side of letting whatever this right now is go and moving on with your own life. You’ll regret it.”

“And what about you?” his eyes flicked up to meet her own.

A reticent laugh spilled from her throat, “that’s a lot to unpack and we’ve had enough chick flick moments for today.” She couldn’t ignore the obviously elephant in the room any longer that she herself was harbouring a stubborn grudge against the youngest Winchester, too. But she was going to give it her damned best effort. She chose to ignore the disapproving shake of his head that she’d earned.

The fox-eyed brunette reached upwards and placed a loving peck against his cheek before he could respond, signifying the end of their conversation. Her gentle lips lingered against his skin, replaced only with a fervent burning sensation. She untangled her bruised legs from his body and shuffled back into the passenger side.

Dean gave her thigh an appreciative squeeze. A silent thank you, and a hopeful reminder that he was there to listen whenever she was ready.

Maggie’s lips twitched ever so slightly into a smile as she peered out the window. Suddenly, she was one with the clouds. That familiar jolt of electric that she felt every time he touched her.

Maggie and The Winchesters had committed numerous crimes over the years. Breaking and Entering. Impersonating a Federal Agent. Grand Theft Auto. There had to be a case for kidnapping in there somewhere with all the times they’d shoved a demon into their trunk and hit gas. However, stealing confidential information about private school girls and proceeding to stalk them in every area of their sordid lives might just take the biscuit. If anything, this was the one that was going to get them caught. This was the one that was going to stick. It didn’t look good from any angle, and there wasn’t a single explanation that was going to make it any less creepy.

Maggie sat in the leather armchair — her bare leg pulled up in front of her and her spine arched at an unhealthy angle as she scrolled through the social media site. An open, room-temperature beer stood beside her laptop, always within touching distance, with a crumpled-up register of all three hundred and sixteen students beside it. Condensation from her thawing beer had dribbled onto the paper, staining and blurring the ink of her rambling notes. They would only make sense to her anyway.

Sam perched opposite her, fixated on his own laptop. His long hair was dishevelled and tucked behind his ears, and his pin-strip shirt had been unbuttoned to reveal the navy t-shirt beneath. His own beer had gone relatively untouched, now flat and bordering on stale.

“Well, it looks like the field hockey team were out of town during both murders,” his smooth voice filled the room, airing out his findings. His bloodshot eyes peeled away from his brightly lit screen long enough to meet with hers and capture her attention. “We can rule out an Emmy Palladino, Victoria Harding, Shannon Brackenridge, Kayleigh Dougherty, and a Fallon Carpenter. There’s others but they’re not tagged.”

In one swift motion, she placed the pen between her teeth and pulled the ball point free. She searched through the seemingly endless list of suspect names and crossed them off as they appeared.

The harsh taps of Sam’s fingers hitting against the keys sounded through the motel room. Then, he spoke again, reeling off another list of names at an unhelpful speed, “—ah. Verity Montrose, Daphne Alcott, Annaleise—”

“Slow the fuck down,” Maggie grumbled as she tried to keep up with him. Her pen scratching against the thin paper, and the hard wood of the table, filled the awkward silence between.

Until it didn’t. And Sam was left uncomfortably waiting for permission to continue. He looked anywhere but the laptop screen before him as an icky feeling swirled in his stomach; there was just something about digitally stalking teenaged schoolgirls that made him feel dirty. Even though it was rationalised as being a part of the job, it still wasn’t his favourite thing to do.

“You know—” she piped up, popping the cap back on her pen with a purpose, “— you really hurt him, right?”

“Him, or you?” Sam questioned. His dark, thick eyebrows furrowed together, almost accusingly as he stared towards the petite brunette.

“Both,” Maggie admitted candidly. Her posture straightened as her shoulders fell backwards in a defensive move and a blazing glare bounced back towards him. “But this is about Dean.”

“Yeah—” he let out a breath, unfamiliar with the vicious heat of Maggie’s anger being directed towards him, “—I sorta gathered that. He’s giving me the cold shoulder and benching me on cases like he’s Dad.” He sat back, his back falling against the stiffness of the chair. “He won’t talk to me.”

“It’s Dean, he isn’t going to.”

Sam shrugged his broad shoulders out of exasperation, a look of helplessness etched into his fuzzy features. “I don’t know what he wants from me anymore,” he admitted solemnly, “I left Amelia for him. I jumped back on the road at the drop of his hat. I gave up my job, and the first place that I’ve called home in… forever. I don’t know what else he wants me to do.”

“He’s a stubborn asshole sometimes—” Maggie agreed, “—but it only ever comes from a good place.”

“You’re telling me?” he let out an indignant scoff, his voice raising to a pitch he never thought he’d take with her, “—if he’s not digging me out for stupid things, he’s giving me the silent treatment. He won’t listen to anything that I say. Everything is done Dean’s way, in Dean’s time, exactly how Dean wants it. Whether it’s right or not. I’m almost thirty and still being treated like a child. He’s no better than Dad at this point.” His boot-clad foot propped against the wooden leg of the table as he leaned backwards in his chair. “I should have known you would take his side. You always do.”

“This isn’t about taking sides. This is about you two not killing each other so we can get this job done and move on with our damn lives.” She was surprisingly calm in her response, despite her defensive flags being up. The very tips of her ears tinged an angry shade of rouge and her pruned brows dipped inwards. Her tone wasn’t it’s usual melody by any means — and her tongue dripped with poison — but she refrained from raising her voice. “Dean raised you. Dean dragged your ass up and did a damn good job of it given the circumstances. So, excuse him if the lines between brother and father are a little blurred here.”

Sam ran his fingers through his long locks, frustration evident in the way his face contorted into a frown. He opened his mouth to reply but was abruptly silenced when she continued; she wasn’t afraid to speak over him and make sure that her opinion was heard.

“You know, Dean told me that he wouldn’t have stopped until he found you. He would die for you — hell, he has died for you. He sold his soul for you. He went to Hell for you. And you just gave up on him at the first hurdle.” Maggie grabbed her beer and took a long sip, allowing the rage that was slowly building in the pit of her stomach to subside before proceeding. “Dean has a right to be upset that the brother that he loves, that he gave his life for, didn’t even bother to go looking for him. He has a right to be upset that the same sentiment wasn’t returned.”

“Maggie, that’s not what happ—”

“I’m not finished,” she cut him off curtly. Her dark, cinnamon eyes bore into his as she spoke soberly. “And he’s right to bench you from the job. You’ve been out of the game for a year. You’re out of practice and your head isn’t in the game. You’re still caught up on Amelia and that’s going to get somebody killed. The best place for you right now is doing research. And it’s just tough shit that you don’t like that.”

He was left in a pensive silence; she left him to soak up her words, to digest them fully. And he did. Sam saw things a little clearer, but that didn’t mean he liked what he saw. He often liked to live in a world where Dean, his father, and the lifestyle that he had been born into were the root cause of everything that had gone wrong in his life. And, most times, one or the other were to blame. However, Sam often failed to accept his own responsibility in things. After all, it was easier to blame Dean and his father.

Although, after several, drawn-out seconds, she couldn’t resist spilling the words that flooded her brain once more. “Maybe I am taking his side—” she contemplated aloud, “—but, this time, he deserves it.”

“So, what does he want?” he asked genuinely, “an apology?”

Maggie merely shrugged her petite shoulders. “An apology wouldn’t be the worst place to start.”

He raised an untamed eyebrow as he questioned cautiously, “and what about you?”

She stared at her beer on the table. The label was soggy and peeling off the side of the bottle. Small, carbonated bubbles rose from the very bottom of the bottle to the quarter line, where the liquid stopped. “I want the last year of my life back,” she told him. The viper had retreated and had left a door mouse in it’s place.

“Mags—” Sam breathed out unsteadily, still feeling the heat of their exchange, “—I’m sorry.”

“You turfed me out on my ass and told me to git,” Maggie recounted with a detached tone. Her cold gaze peeked above the rim of the bottle and pierced through him. “Dean was gone and you just left me. Alone. You, of all freaking people, left me alone. It took me weeks to catch up with you in Texas. Weeks. And when I finally did, you tossed me out like I was some piece of trash. I had no one, and I needed you. But you were too busy cosying up with Amelia. You didn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

“You ever thought that, maybe, I didn’t want to be found?” he spat back with sharp words, each syllable lacerating her diminished defence. He dragged his tongue along the upper row of his teeth. “I was grieving for my brother in my own way, and that didn’t involve you, Maggie.”

She was overcome with emotion. A fuck tonne of heavy, painful emotions. All of the grief that had consumed her — strangled her, choked her, suffocated her — over the past year had finally come to a head. It had churned her stomach sick for twelve long months; it had burned the inside of her throat; and it had decayed her insides until she was nothing but a walking meat sack of anguish and despair. Not anymore. She was about to expel that demon.

“So was I,” she screeched, her bottom lip rippling ever so slightly as her eyes burned with salt-laden tears, “I was grieving Dean, too.” Her chest heaved up and down as she took deep breaths; exhaustion poured out of her from every angle as all of the pent-up emotions from the past year began to creep to the surface and seep out.

“That’s enough—” Dean’s gravel-like tone filled the motel room as he appeared in the doorway, a take-out bag full of waffle fries and chicken tenders clutched against his chest, “—the both of you.”

The palms of her hands pressed against the table as she pushed herself to standing. Maggie made for the motel room door, a well of tears fighting to escape against the barricade of her waterline. Her heart thudded tenfold against her chest when she felt his ring-cladded fingers wrap around her wrist as she attempted to slip past him, and a high-pitched ringing blared through her ears. She simply shook her head at him, and slid herself from his grip, before disappearing out the door.

Maggie had vowed to sleep in her truck that night. The stubborn, defiant side of her had reared its ugly head and was seemingly there to stay. A permanent scowl had etched itself into her fair features — her full, rose lips pulled into a downturned pout and deep-rooted frown lines crinkled her forehead. Her umber eyes were reddened from the sting of tears, and her flushed cheeks were stained with streaks of strays that slipped past her reinforced defences. An empty cone of waffle fries and a half-used barbecue dip occupied her passenger side seat, as an empty beer bottle sat, in pride of place, in the cup holder.

However, as the clock ticked over into the am and the temperatures ran cruelly bitter, Maggie begrudgingly relinquished. She tip-toed back into the dark motel room and slipped into bed, beside Dean. She was careful with her movements, slow and steady, as she lifted the quilted blanket and nestled herself inside.

Dean stirred when he felt the spring-filled mattress dip, yet his eyes remained closed. A shiver danced along his spine in an elegant ballet sequence as she burrowed her ice-like toes between his legs, pressing them against his calves. His sweltering skin burned at the contact and felt her feet thawing against him. God, he hated with an undying passion when she did that.

“Maggie May—” he let out a low grumble, “—get them goddamn feet off me.”

“It’s just until they warm up,” she whispered back, her voice dainty and quiet. It was never just until they warmed up.

His burly arm casually stretched across the flattened pillows in an open invitation to the petite brunette. She currently resided on the opposite side of the bed, clinging onto the edge of the mattress. He knew that she would come to him in her own time — when she was good and ready. She always did. However, for the sake of an extra half an hour of much-needed shut-eye, there was no harm in hurrying that along. “Get here,” he rasped deeply.

Maggie shuffled closer, nestling into his side. As she laid her cheek against the bare skin of his chest, it burned. Dean emanated heat, from everywhere. Her arm lay casually across his stomach as she burrowed her feet further between his legs. She felt the gravelly vibrations of his disapproving grunts as a small smile curled the corners of her lips upwards.

The palm of his hand found her back — his thumb gently caressing the bumps of her spine. Slow, tender movements eventually faded into nothing as he fell back asleep. The sound of his soft breaths eventually turned to gruff snores.

When Maggie woke in the morning, it was abrupt. She turned herself over, eyes remained closed as she desperately grasped onto the frayed strings of a peaceful slumber. She poised her bare leg, ready for her thigh to fall over Dean’s thick, muscular ones. But it didn’t. All she felt was the cool crumples of the bed sheet, where he once laid. There were no chainsaw-like snores reverberating around the room. There were no cadenced breaths that fanned against her forehead, tippling down to the very tip of her nose. There were no calloused palms caressing the lengths of her half-naked body. There was no feverish heat radiating from his side of the bed.

Her sleep-filled eyes peeled open instantly and she propped herself up by her elbows. Her heartbeat pounded with rapid thuds and her stomach churned with bile — forcing it up into the crevices of her throat. Static coated her exposed skin, making the hairs stand on end. In a bleary haze, she scanned the room and her gaze fell on the nightstand. Car keys. Phone. Gun. All still laying, haphazardly discarded, exactly where Dean had left them. A long exhale deflated her lungs as she allowed her eyes to wander the motel room further, feeling the trepidation slowly leaving her body; it seeped out through her pores, evaporated off her skin into the musty motel air. His boots lay at the foot of the leather armchair and his jacket lay in a rumpled heap over the arm.

She let out another deep breath and let the relief overcome her. It gave her more clarity as she spied the harsh, white lighting emerging from the cracks in the doorway to the bathroom. The sound of the running shower soon filled the room, alongside the grating echoes of Sam’s snores.

There was something that that just drew Maggie to him. It was an ever-present presence, a sensation, a feeling. The invisible string. The slightest of tugs had her gravitating towards him, and vice versa. And that moment wasn’t any different. She felt the ever-familiar tug in the very pit of her stomach, and she answered to it. There was no use in fighting with it.

Climbing out of bed, she made her way across the motel room. Her feet were bare and padded lightly against the dull carpet until she reached the bathroom door. Carefully, she turned it and slipped inside. Sam remained sleeping not so peacefully, and none the wiser.

It was considerably warmer than outside in the main living space; the room fogged over with tepid steam as condensation laced the mirror. Maggie stepped onto the apricot bathmat and slinked out of her sleepwear. The old, logo-printed t-shirt and her plaid shorts ended up in a crumpled pile on the floor. Her lemon-coloured thong skimmed her bruised thighs as it dropped to the floor, and she stepped out, embracing the nakedness.

Maggie slowly peeled back the curtain and stepped inside the tub.

Dean turned to face her — his eyebrow arched questioningly, and his body draped with glistening water droplets, “can I help you?” His voice was low and scratchy; just how Maggie liked it. He’d caught the soft click of the door as it opened, and the blurry outline of her silhouette as she undressed herself out of the corner of his eye.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” she answered with a reticent tone. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she felt a wave of nervousness; Maggie was in a newfound state of rawness. She was riding the wave of raw, untouched emotions and with that came a raw sense of vulnerability. She spoke her truth, even if hesitant. It was as though a dam had been broken the night prior, and all the pent-up emotions had been released.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he told her, stepping aside, “I thought you could use the sleep.”

Her slender figure slipped past him, under the water stream. Immediately, she was overcome with a warm and comforting feeling. Her dark lashes fluttered closed, and her muscles relaxed, her shoulders dropping backwards. She took a moment to relish the peacefulness of it all; the water pattered against her back at a heavenly pressure, and the warmth of the water felt like a loving embrace.

Dean took the opportunity to admire her naked self. Her breasts were full and pert — her taut nipples a glorious rose colour as the silver bars reflected under the harsh lights. Her curves were spectacular as an hourglass figure carved out her waistline. Her thighs were thick and juicy, and her pussy was freshly shaven. She truly was a sight to behold; full lips parted ever so slightly, dark locks slicked back, and a hint of a flush rouging her cheeks. He would savour this moment for the duration of his lifetime with several mental polaroids. Mentally framed and displayed in his Hall of Fame. He’d waited years for this moment, and it suddenly all became worth it.

Feeling the sear of his lust-filled eyes tearing her naked body apart, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I thought you’d left me,” she admitted quietly, chewing involuntarily on her bottom lip.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured. She needed that.

Dean reached his thumb upwards and, with one gentle motion, pulled her bottom lip from between her teeth. He then, ever so tenderly, placed a finger against her shoulder — guiding her to face away from him. She complied without question in her fragile state. His ring-clad finger meandered slowly down the length of her spine, until he reached her rounded ass. He wanted to give it a rough and playful squeeze — digging the crescent-shaped tips of his nails onto her fair skin and leaving his mark. But now wasn’t the time for rough; now was the time for tenderness. Maggie was delicate in more ways than one, and she needed soft. She needed comfort. She needed to feel his presence.

“You know—” he began, running his fingers through the lengths of her wet hair, “—you should take your own advice every once in a while.” He combed her chestnut wisps until they were sopping wet beneath the warm streams of water.

“What do you mean?” Maggie asked in response. She allowed herself to indulge in the feeling of the tepid water running along her body; it was calming — restorative even. It was as though she was washing away the memories of her emotional outburst from the previous night.

“You should let this thing with Sam go. Not for him, but for you.” Dean squeezed a generous dollop of her fruity-smelling shampoo onto the palm of his hand before massaging it through her hair. The tips of his nails grazed against her scalp in a gentle massage, working the product into a lather. “You told me to do it for me because it’s bad to hold onto so much anger and resentment. That same sentiment goes for you. It’ll eat you alive in the same way it would me, Mags.”

Her long lashes fluttered closed as she melted under his touch; the way in which his fingers worked her scalp scratched at her soul. “I can’t—” she deflated with a saddened exhale, “—I just can’t.” Her head tipped backwards as his masterful fingers found the sweet spot, a soft purring noise slipping from between her parted lips. “He was all I had left, and he still chose to leave me. I’ve spent the last year alone because of him. I needed him. I needed you.”

“Hey—” his palm carefully covered her forehead as he rinsed the shampoo from her roots, “—I’m here now.”

“But nobody was here this past year—” her voice cracked, making way for the heartache that she had held so deep inside of her, “—nobody was here when I needed them the most. Nobody was here when I bumped into my father on a hunt. Nobody was here when I was stabbed by a demon and was laying in the hospital as a Jane Doe for weeks. Nobody was here on the anniversary of Bobby’s death. Nobody was here on my freaking birthday. But Sam should have been. He promised me he would always be here.”

He continued rinsing down to the ends of her sopping locks, ensuring that he had gotten all the suds. “I agree. He should have been.” Placing the showerhead back in the holder, he picked up the bottle of conditioner. He squeezed out another generous blob and started running it through the ends of her hair. “Just think about it, yeah?”

Maggie stayed silent. She didn’t want to make any promises that she couldn’t keep — and if there was one thing about Maggie, the girl could hold a damn grudge.

Dean didn’t push her; he knew that would only push her in the opposite direction. Maggie did as Maggie pleased — or Maggie did as what made Maggie feel the least shitty about herself. She may know him better than he knows himself, but he knew her just as well. He knew her like the back of his hand; he knew the games that she played and exactly why she played them. Sometimes it was just a case of playing into them games. Sometimes it was anything to put a smile back on her face, and pull her out of the gloomy funk that she’d gotten herself in.

He simply rinsed the condition from her long, luscious strands. He took extra care to ensure that he’d got it all before reaching for her loofah. He lathered it with a sweet-smelling body wash and began scrubbing down her skin. He ghosted over her petite shoulders and arms, caressing each breast with an acute attention before continuing down to her stomach. He could feel the scald of her attentive eyes as she watched his every move. He continued down her body — seizing the opportunity to fondle her pert ass and exploring every inch of her juicy thighs. He reached her lilac-painted toes before trailing the loofah all the way back up. He skimmed the inside of her leg, grazed the mound of her pussy and past her naval, and brushed across her rigid nipple. She was enjoying that.

Once more, he detached the showerhead from the tiled wall and aimed it at her body. The pressure was just right as the stream hit against her shoulders, washing the suds away. He moved down to her ample breasts. A haughty smirk quirked the corners of his lips upwards as a low hum vibrated through her chest — the water hitting perfectly against her pierced buds. He took a half step closer to her as he slowly swirled the jet around her nipple, her back pressing against his sculpted chest. His hand snaked slowly around the concave of her waistline and settled against her hipbone as he continued downwards. He gently rinsed down her thighs.

Then, with one soft but commanding movement, he nudged her bruised thighs apart.

Maggie, consumed by the drips of dopamine coursing through her, obliged immediately. She spread her thighs apart, just enough to give him access to her aching cunt.

“Atta girl,” Dean praised with his usual, gravel-like tone. He aimed the water jet between her legs, letting the stream hit against her.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden contact. A familiar tingle crept along her spine and down into the very tips of her fingers. Her skin tinged with the fire that she had been keeping at bay — locked within the dark, dingy caverns of her soul. Her eyes fluttered shut as heavy breaths slipped from between her chewed-up lips. The jet circled around her clit in lazy ministrations, forcing a strangled whine to claw it’s way out of her throat. She caught it with her hand, pressing her dainty fingers against her lips in a knee-jerk reaction.

Arching her back at an unholy angle, she threw her head back against the robust muscles of her shoulder. Her mahogany tresses splayed across his tattooed chest as her hand reached up to grip onto his collar bone. She needed an anchor as the tension began to build up inside her. Her fingernails sunk into his wet skin, scraping and scratching until she broke the barrier. Heavy, sordid pants spilled from her mouth as the metaphorical rope began to coil around itself in the very pit of her stomach. It knotted once, twice, three times as her hips bucked candidly against the water stream — hitting her most sensitive of nerves.

“Dean,” his name rolled so effortlessly off her tongue with a salacious whine, her voice barley above a whisper. Her breath-like pants grew faster, and the metaphorical rope pulled tighter and tighter. Until her hand found her mouth once again, capturing the sinful moans that carelessly spewed from between her lips. Her curvaceous hips rocked back and forth in frantic motions, her back leveraged against his solid body, as she rode out her orgasmic high.

Dean eventually placed the showerhead back against the wall when she let out an overwhelmed whimper. His calloused palm still gripped her waist, keeping her naked body pressed against his own. His jade eyes peered downwards at the beauty before him, brimming with pride at the mess he had created; her cheeks were stained a fervent rose and her chest rose and fell in a rapid cadence as her lungs desperately pleaded for air.

Maggie nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, her eyes still closed. She felt the warmth of his lips as he placed a soft kiss into her hairline. Oxytocin and dopamine drowned everything surrounding her out. Everything but him. For several moments, the only sound she could hear was the gentle thuds of his heartbeat; the only thing that she could feel was the delicate traces of his fingertips against her hipbone; the only thing to exist was him.

Then, she felt a surge of adrenaline and her natural instincts took over. No thoughts or considerations of the consequences — just pure desire. She pulled herself from his tight embrace and turned on the tips of her toes. Her fix-like eyes gazed upwards into his as her arms wrapped around his neck, her bare silhouette pressing against his own. Her full lips ghosted against his, caressed them with a sweet embrace. It was nothing like either of them had anticipated; it was loving, and tender, and fragile. She continued with her soft touch as his hands clung onto her waistline — securing her in place. Their tongues moved together as one. Exploring. Tasting. Embracing.

After what felt like a hundred lifetimes, Dean retreated slowly. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her jawline. “We better get you back to Mary Magdalene’s, Sister Maggie. We’ve got a witch to find.”

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles

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usereddie · 2 days

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buddie high school au

au where buck and maddie are only two years apart in age and move to texas the summer before maddie’s senior year, right next door to the diazes.

buck was prepared for tacos and cowboys, not for his next door neighbor to be the prettiest guy he’d ever seen. to no one’s shock or surprise—least of all maddie’s—buck falls for eddie in about three seconds flat and spends the entire summer pining after him.

eddie doesn’t know what to do with the unfamiliar flutter that tickles its way down his spine every time buck smiles at him, but he does know if he has to go more than thirty minutes without seeing said smile he’s pretty sure he’ll die.

and maddie’s just glad eddie’s friends, hen and chimney, are cool, because if she had to deal with her brother being an idiot by herself she wouldn’t make it to graduation.

(and if chimney asks her to be his homecoming date and then kisses her in the car when he drops her off well…that’s pretty nice, too)

#sorry to enjoy high school aus on main unfortunately i love YA romance #buddie #madney #be quiet bia #i’ve always wanted to write a hs au for them too </3 sigh #in this au buck’s a sophomore eddie’s a junior and everyone else is a senior #bobby obviously is buck’s english teacher who he imprints on #ALSO maddie a cheerleader. eddie and buck are on the football team. chim and hen are the health aids. i forgot what they’re called.#taylor would be in yearbook. she’s not in this au but she would totally be in yearbook.

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scoonsalicious · 1 day

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5.4 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, explicit sexual content (hand stuff, fingering) Minors GTFO: I don't serve your kind here.

Word Count: 900

Previously On...: Lily knows Bucky's been lying to her, and she's surmised he's on a date. That's got to end.

A/N: Posting a little early today to make up for yesterday being so late!

I've decided to postpone my break by a few days, so I will give you Chapter 6 in its entirety before I take my mini-hiatus. It's only three parts long, so I will start my break on Thursday, 5/16 and resume posting on Thursday, 5/23. It's a better place in the story to leave you, a little bit more dramatic than at the end of this chapter, like I had originally planned, lol. It felt off leaving you all here.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You flopped your body down onto your bedsheets with a giggle. “Full marks, Sergeant,” you gasped between panting breaths. “Once again.” It was all the two of you could do to get back to your apartment without ripping each other’s clothes off.

Bucky laughed and came to lay down alongside you, propping his head up on his vibranium arm. Leaning over, he bent down to kiss you. “I couldn’t have done it without you, doll” he said with a grin, but then his face grew serious. “Seriously. It’s never been like this with other girls.”

You blushed and playfully pushed at his rock hard shoulder. “Come on, Bucky,” you said with a laugh. “You’ve already got me naked and exactly where you want me; you don’t need to sweet talk me.”

Bucky placed a hand on your sweat-slicked hip, gently turning you to your side so you were facing him. “I’m not,” he told you, searching your eyes with the utmost sincerity in his expression. He pushed back a strand of damp hair away from your face. “I’ve been with… well, a fair number of girls over the years.” At the raise of your eyebrow, he held his flesh hand up defensively. “What? I’m 105 years old, doll. I’ve been around the block.” You couldn’t hold back your laugh at that, and he kissed your nose before continuing:

“Like I said, a fair number of girls. And none of them, not a single one, ever made me feel the way I have when I’m with you.” He cupped your cheek in his hand and you felt your cheeks flame in a blush. “Come on, sugar. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. That this,” he took his hand off your cheek to motion between your two bodies, “isn’t something special.”

“It’s been a little over a day, Bucky,” you chastised him gently with a smile, afraid to admit that you, too, felt this was something unique. “Maybe thirty hours?” Thirty hours in which the two of you had somehow managed to have sex eight times, not that you were counting. You couldn’t believe how quickly he was able to get it up again after he came, but he’d assured you that was his favorite side effect of the serum that had made him a super soldier. It had quickly become your favorite, too.

Bucky’s face fell, and you realized that he wasn’t going to judge you if you told him the truth, because he felt it just the same. “The best thirty hours of my life,” you clarified, tucking your fingers under his chin so you could bring his gaze back up to yours. “And yes, I feel it, too. It’s never been like this before. Not with anyone else.”

“Not even with your ex-husband?” Bucky asked with a playful smirk.

“Especially not with Conner,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “Took me years to teach that man where my clit was, and even on his best days, he still needed a map.”

“Oh, you mean this, right here?” Bucky deftly slid his hand between your thighs, finding your hub of nerves almost instinctively and began to lightly trace it with his finger, sending an electric tingle through your body.

“Fuck, yes,” you exhaled, reaching up to grab Bucky’s shoulder for support as he increased the pressure. He moved his metal arm from under his head and slid it behind your shoulders as he pulled you flush with his chest.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured into your hair as he moved his fingers faster against you, occasionally dipping them down to your entrance to collect some of your slick for lubrication. You hitched a leg up over his hip to allow him better access to your core.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you moaned, feeling yourself building to the crescendo. Taking your hand off his shoulder, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his movements so you could grind your desperate cunt against his hand.

“Do you want my fingers, sugar?” Bucky panted. You looked up at him to find his gaze locked on where his hand had vanished between your thighs, his pupils completely blown from lust. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you squirt all over me?”

You couldn’t even get out a coherent word, just a pathetic whine that turned into a near scream when Bucky plunged three of his digits into you. The air was full of the frantic sounds of your combined breathing, along with the rapid squelch of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt with a speed you didn’t know was humanly possible. It felt like he was hitting every part of you, even parts you didn’t know existed until now. Every time with Bucky felt that way.

“How you doing, sugar?” Bucky asked as he continued to drive his fingers home. “You okay?”

You nodded and grunted in the affirmative, loving how he always checked in on you. You were so much more than okay. You were transcendent.

Soon, you felt that intense, unfamiliar build up that only he had been able to pull out of you once before, on the living room floor. The pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t see straight and you were exploding all over again, clinging to Bucky for dear life as you screamed his name.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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bookuce · 1 day

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Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book also uses the actual names of the wrestlers. Gionna is Liv, Austin is Xavier Woods, Josh is Jey Uso, Jon is Jimmy Uso, Trinity is Naomi, Alina is just Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO POST MY WORK ON ANY SITE*

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 2,297

PART ONE

PART TWO

“One! Two! Three!” Shouts the crowd. The bell would ring, signifying the end of the tag match. The Usos rolled out the ring quickly before an angry Street Profits could reach them. The tag match ended dirty. Montez’s shoulder was up, but the referee didn’t see it. Josh and Jon knew they got off without being caught and were celebrating on the ramp without care. They would eventually run to the back, vanishing behind the curtain.

Alina is informed to be at the gorilla for Josh and Jon for a backstage interview, and she can hear them as rowdy as ever, drawing near. They would pop out from the dark ramp, bouncing around with their championships in their hands. “Jimmy, Jey, can I get a word? What happened out there?” She says, catching their attention. Jon would drop his sweaty arm across her shoulders while Josh snatched the mic and her hand up.

“What happened out there? What happened out there, Uce, is that we won! Ain’t nothing else happened out there. The Street Profits thought they could hang with us, and what happened!”

“They got dropped!” Jon chimed in.

“They got dropped!” Josh repeats. “Ain’t no one taking these from us, Uce!”

“Yeet!”

“And if you think you got a chance,” Josh takes the mic out of Alina’s hands, blocking her from the camera. She took this as a chance to rid her hand of the sweat he left behind.

“Yeet!”

“You can get dropped too!”

“Yeet!”

“Cause at the end of the day, Uce, you the number twos, and we the ones!” Josh would end his promo with a raise of his pointer finger. His twin would follow suit before they both walked off towards the locker rooms. The cameraman would put his camera down, and the light on its head turned off.

“That was good.” Alex, the cameraman, would say, causing Alina to nod in agreement.

“Ay, Lina!” Josh shouts from across the large hall. “We going out tonight! Don’t make no plans!” Every time they successfully defended their championships, they wanted to go out. Though their night was ending, Alina had to stick around for the last two matches in case the company needed her for backstage interviews.

“Too late!” She teases.

“Cancel that shit, Uce!” Jon shouts, making Alina chuckle softly.

“Text me the details!” She shouts back.

———————————————————————————

Alina didn’t do much clubbing anymore. As she got older, she noticed the club crowd got younger. At thirty-two years old, she just didn’t see the hype anymore. That and it always took her days to recover. Getting her out of the house or a hotel room wasn’t an easy accomplishment, but somehow, Josh could do it every time. Maybe it was because he would harass her until she said yes; He always knew how to make her say yes.

She didn’t like that, but he loved it.

Here she was, standing in a nightclub surrounded by sloshed party-goers, and she had no idea where her group was. What she did know was that she needed a drink. If she was going to be able to tolerate being here, she needed to join the masses. She moved through the crowd, her eyes fixated on the glowing bar at the back of the large room. She hadn’t received any text messages from Josh in over forty-five minutes. All he had to say the last time they spoke was that he was here. When she gets to the bar, she squeezes between two people. They didn't pay her any mind, but the bartender saw her just as she got in.

“What can I get for you?” He asks.

“Vodka sprite, please!” She answered. The bartender quickly moved from her sight to prepare her drink for her. While Alina waited, she took her phone out of her pocket. The screen lit up, showing that she still had no new messages. Her thumb swipes up to unlock it, tapping the messages icon immediately after. Josh’s name was at the top of her inbox, her last message still there. She’d click on the message thread to type up a new message.

Alina: Hey, I’m here at the bar.

The screen would go dark after she sent the message, but she would keep the phone in her hand. The bartender would return with her drink, a smile on his face. “Thank you.” She says. She’d hand over her debit card, allowing him to swipe it. He asked her if she would want to start a tab, but she’d declined. She knew her drinks were on Josh once he found her. She glanced down at her phone; Still no new messages.

A hand would touch the small of her back, causing her to jump. Alina glanced over her left shoulder to find a man who wasn’t her best friend. This man towered over her. If she had to guess his height, she would say he was six foot five inches. He gives her a grin. “Hi,” He greets her.

“Hi.” She returns.

He leans down slightly; his mouth is in listening shot of her ear. “I’m Gavin, and you are?” He holds his hand out for her to shake.

“Alina.” She says, taking his hand. She shakes it gently before letting go of it. “Am I in your way? I can move.” She begins to make space for him. Gavin’s hand rests on her shoulder, stopping her from moving more.

“I came over here for you,” He starts. “I couldn’t walk away without telling you you're beautiful.” Heat began to rise in Alina’s face as her eyes shifted to the floor.

“Thank you.” She says, looking up at the guy again. Gavin wasn’t bad-looking. His black hair was shaggy on his head, his eyes a deep brown that looked almost black. His skin was pale, but his cheeks were faintly pink. He had a nostalgic feel to him overall.

“Are you here with anyone?” He asks.

“I…”

“Yeah, she’s with me, Uce.” A familiar voice chimes in. Josh eyes the man in front of him before holding out his hand. “You good, baby?” He asks, glancing at Alina. Took him long enough, she thought. She slips her hand into his warm one, instantly pulled to the Samoan. Once she was near him, he would slide his arm around her waist. Mentally, Alina took a deep breath to steady her now racing heart.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She says, leaning in to kiss his earlobe. Josh’s collected demeanor wouldn’t falter at the action, but boy, was he doing somersaults in his head. Gavin glances between the two before letting his brown eyes settle on Alina.

“Lucky man.” He says before turning to vanish back into the crowd.

Alina turns to look at Josh. “Damn, I thought you forgot how to use a phone.” She takes a step away from him.

“My bad, I didn’t know you texted me.” He says. Josh takes in Alina’s appearance. He couldn’t verbally tell her how good she looked, but he’s sure she knows. Of course, she knows how attractive she is. He was always having to fight off men on her behalf. Was he fighting off men for his sake or her own? Both? Both. He was selfish like that. Selfish, possessive—whatever you wanted to call it, he was that.

Alina noticed his staring. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide that he was doing it. He was blatant about things he did when it came to her. “Where is everyone?” She asks, snapping him out of his trance. He looks in two directions before allowing his eyes to settle on her.

“Oh, uh, we got a section. Come on.” Josh snatches up her hand again, pulling her through the crowd. They would zigzag through the dancefloor before making it to a set of stairs. A security guard stood there, blocking people who weren’t them from going up. He would step to the side to allow Josh and Alina to pass. They’d climb the stairs, finding themselves in an area lit up blue. In the corner was a bar that resembled the same as the bottom but smaller.

“Yay, he found her!” Gionna exclaims, jumping up from her seat on a white couch. With one hand, Alina hugs her friend. Josh stood to the side of them, watching the two women interact.

“You gonna let her go, Uce?” Jon shouts at him. The eldest twin always had time to tease Josh and Alina about their relationship. It wasn’t a friendship to him. He was beyond calling it that, as was everyone around them. The only two that were fighting for the title of friendship were the two people involved. Josh reluctantly lets go of her hand, and Alina notices instantly. Her eyes meet his back as he’s walking towards the couch.

“Have you gotten a drink yet?” Gionna asks.

It was then Alina realized she left her drink downstairs at the bar. She looks over the ledge, spotting the small cup sitting at the bar with no one around it. Well, she wasn’t going back for that. “No.” She answers, looking at the petite blonde in front of her. Gionna snatches up the same hand Josh previously held and pulls her over to the bar.

“Alina looks good,” Austin says, watching Alina and Gionna walk towards the bar. Josh and Jon look at each other before Josh looks off in the distance. He could feel his blood pressure rising by the second.

“Not too much on my sister-in-law, Uce,” Jon says. Trinity would slap Jon’s chest, making him bring his hand up to cover himself. Josh looks at his brother, pointing his finger at him.

“Quit playing with me, Jon! I done told you!” His brother would laugh, kicking his feet slightly at the reaction he’d gotten from his little brother.

“Oh, so she’s free game?” Austin asks, standing up.

“This ass whooping can be free game.” Josh snaps, rising with him. “Try it if you want to.” He warns. Austin lowered his eyes at Josh, a mischievous grin on his face. Slowly, he sits down. He wasn’t in the loop about what happens within The Usos friend group, but this little interaction told him everything he needed to know.

“So, like I said, not too much on my sister-in-law,” Jon repeats with a smile. “He don’t play about her.” Josh shoots a glare in his brother’s direction before sitting down.

Gionna ordered a tray of tequila shots at the bar for their group. She got twelve shots for six people. She was on an unspoken mission to loosen everyone up. Now that Lina was here, Gionna knew that the energy in their space would be different. Without fail, Josh and Alina always get weird around each other. “What’s new with you?” She would ask, making a quiet Alina speak up.

“Nothing,” She breathes. “I’m not complaining, though. After that last attempt, I decided to take a break from dating. It’s not worth it.”

“Why? Because of Josh?”

Alina was quiet for a moment. That was part of the reason, but not for what everyone’s thinking. She brings her index finger to her mouth, rubbing slightly at the bottom of her lower lip. It was something she often did when she was choosing her words. “I’m due for some much-needed reflection.” She settled, glancing at her friend. Gionna grinned, her lips twitching as she fought a laugh. “What?”

“Whatever the fuck that means.” She says, laughing at Alina. “I mean, I’m not one to judge…”

“You are right now!” Alina exclaims, causing Gionna to laugh more. The bartender places a tray of shots on the bar before them. Gionna grabs them, moving off her seat. Without another word, she turns to go back to their group. Alina follows behind her, quickly downing the Sex On The Beach cocktail she purchased. She’s going to need more by the end of the night.

“I come baring gifts!” Gionna shouts when they get back to their section. She places the shots on the table and drops down next to Austin, leaving a spot next to Josh open. She sits down, her body turned in towards everyone. Everyone reached for their two shots.

Josh sniffs his shots. “Girl, is this tequila?” He asks.

“Oh, hell nah, Gigi,” Jon says, shaking his head. “This ain’t gonna work for us.” The twins are both leaning to put their shots down.

“No balls.” She says. They pause, glancing up at her.

“Who!?” They shout in unison. They sit up again with their shots in their hands, ready to toss both back. Reverse psychology beats their asses without fail each time.

“Ooh, let’s toast, y’all!” Trin shouts, scooting to the edge of her seat. She holds a shot glass up. “Congrats to my honey and his brother for retaining their championships! Here’s to another successful defense and friendship!” She exclaims. Everyone cheered, leaning in to toast their glasses.

Josh turns to toast his shot glasses at Alina before they both toss them back. The alcohol warms their chests, but they both make a face of disgust before setting their glasses down. “You want another drink?” He asks, tapping her leg. “Vodka Sprite?” She nods. He stands to his feet, moving around her to the bar. Alina watches after him, a soft smile on her face.

“Alina,” Austin sings, sliding over to her. “How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good,” She answers. “You?”

“Oh, never better.” He replies. “Say, I have a question for you…” The pair wasn’t aware, but Jon and Trin were watching. The eldest twin had a grin on his face, not because Alina was talking to anyone, but because Josh was going to lose his fucking shit when he got back.

A/N: Hi! This chapter is a little long! It would’ve been longer but I chose to stop here! I’m sorry if it’s awkward or anything!!

Jey (Josh) is gonna blow a gasket LMAO

Comment to be in the tag-list!

🏷️ list: @wrestlingprincess80 @venusesworld @fearlesschimera @tbmotw @paigereeder @yana3sworld @truefant4sy @sisinever @empressdede @thesamoanqueen

#jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x oc #jey uso #main event jey uso #jeysuso #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #jey uso fic #jey uso fanfic

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toji-girl · 2 days

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it's okayy!! i'll send it again :)) it was something like jjk characters falling asleep on reader (anyone u got in mind, i don't have a particular in mind atm but i would love to see it with nanami !!!), could be an established relationship or pre dating era, just something really fluffy and cute <333 i love you, have an amazing day ahead angel 🩷

I love sweet fluffy moments like this 🥺🥺🩷😭 I love you too sweetpea! you're so kind, I hope you have an awesome day too! also, these are kinda short and I only wrote for three characters! my mind blanked for Sukuna 🤧😭

Kento

Your fingers threaded through blonde locks further relaxing your boyfriend who ended up with his head in your lap during movie night, his eyes began to droop when the movie played and his cheek started on your shoulder then he ended up here.

He didn't mean to either.

When you invited him for dinner, Kento wanted to see you, to soothe that ache in his bones and hands that would be able to finally hold you, instead, he was fighting to not fall asleep. "Kento, sleep baby."

All he did was hum, his eyes fluttered open barely to look up at you. "I'm not sleeping," Kento told you with a warm smile that made you giggle as you continued to scratch at his scalp, "resting my eyes."

This time you threw your head back laughing at the old-time excuse. "Oh, I'm sure." You teased and let him get back into position, his head fit perfectly on your thighs and you smelled good and felt so warm.

Sleepiness lulled him in like a siren to a sailor, it welcomed him with open arms that he fell into gladly, he couldn't help it around you, he felt safe enough to let his guard down and you loved it so much.

You watched him knowing how exhausted he was and how taxing his job was as well. You grabbed the blanket and tucked him in before leaning back to get more comfortable.

Toji x Shiu

Dating two men means you get double love or double whatever it is, and like now you were getting a headache that split your skill listening to your boyfriends argue with each other while packing for your yearly getaway and you knew it was from being tired.

The three of you had stayed up late last night going down the list and then somehow you ended up falling asleep on Shiu while Toji laid his head on your ass using it as a pillow while you all sprawled out on the couch.

Now they were going back and forth on who needed to grab what and who was in charge of what. "If you don't shut up and listen-"

You stopped folding a towel to whip your head to look at Toji who looked back at you cocking an eyebrow. "Got somethin' to say princess?" He asked earning an eye-roll knowing he was tired.

"Nope, but you two should stop being asses to each other. We have thirty minutes before the taxi is here." It was all you said before leaving the bedroom with your suitcase and stuff, their argument still could be heard as you walked into the living room with a heavy sigh.

It was silent and it made you drowsy, your sleep wasn't the best, and neither was theirs and they had a plan to propose on the trip so their nerves were a little grated against and raw leaving them a bit bitchy.

Ten minutes into packing you were done and while making sure everything was correct Shiu emerged from the bedroom first and right over to you where he sat down pulling you into his chest. "I love you." He murmured nuzzling his nose into your neck kissing it.

"Shiu....we have twenty minutes, and our quickies are always not quick." You hummed wrapping your arms around his neck just in time for Toji to join and take his seat next to you.

He watched you both feeling his stomach twist, tomorrow they were going to ask you to marry them. "We're shitheads sometimes, ain't we?" He asked holding the back of your neck softly when you turned to look at him and kiss him too.

"Sometimes, but I am too. I love you both so much. Now let's get ready, please before we miss our taxi." You hummed and got up from between them to grab your suitcase and wheel it outside to wait.

Both men followed after and helped you inside first away from the scorching heat while they loaded the back up, then they got inside on either side of you. "How long is the ride to the airport?" Toji asked laying his head on your shoulder the best he could.

Shiu followed suit and his eyes were already closed before his head hit. "Forty-five minutes, we have enough time." You hummed and patted both their cheeks hearing both men start to snore softly after ten minutes into the car ride as their hands rested on your thighs.

Toji's fingers brushed along Shiu's and soon enough their fingers found each other and were interlocked which you snapped a picture of to show them later and to use as your screensaver as well.

#💌incoming #jjk fluff #kento x you fluff #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #toji x you #jjk x reader #toji x reader #shiu kong x reader #shiu fluff #toji fluff #kento fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #shiu kong x you fluff

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seat-safety-switch · 7 hours

Text

Working at a dog daycare (for cash, under the table) has taught me a lot about man's best friend. Primarily, it's that dogs have one hell of a PR team working the job. For one thing, virtually every pup would sell you down the river in exchange for a single bite of Snausage.

Like many of my part-time jobs, I came by the dog daycare gig honestly. I realized that their parking lot was empty most of the day, except at pickup and drop off, and then proceeded to fill up that parking lot with shitbox cars.

Sure, it's a lot of work to shuffle them in and out, but it was better than paying for parking, a concept which I avoid with an almost religious fervour. They figured out what I was doing around month three ("What's with all the puddles of oil and coolant in the parking lot?" "Why are all the cars out there brown and tan?") and I had to think fast.

Turns out my definition of "think fast" is simply to tell them that I'm the new dogwalker, and then pick up a batch of leashes from the front. Pleasure walking is something I usually avoid, because I get enough of it already trying to get back from wherever my car has broken down, but in this case it was really nice.

Pleasant spring weather. Slowly taking in the city instead of being in a go-go rush all the time. A squadron of dogs at my command, pissing in unison on whatever lightpole I so deem a suitable victim. And getting to scope out alleys and parks for additional unguarded street parking spots, without drawing the attention of nosy neighbours and bylaw enforcement like usual. Everyone loves a guy with like thirty dogs.

Will I keep doing this forever? No. Eventually it's going to get cold again. For the time being, though, it breaks up the monotony of the day. And the other day, I found an old Honda lawnmower that someone just threw away in the alley. A Honda, can you believe it? I'm thinking of starting my own dog-operated lawnmowing business, if only I can manage to train the little bastards into adjusting a carb properly.

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andi-kook · 1 day

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HOPELESSLY CAPTIVATED (01) ✦ Jungkook

SUMMARY: A series of drabbles featuring you, a twenty-five year-old high school Literature teacher living on the same floor as Jeon Jungkook, a thirty-one year-old single dad and filmmaker living with his eleven-year-old daughter Yuki, and your encounters that leads the both of you to be hopelessly captivated with each other. Based on Niki’s Take A Chance With Me.

DRABBLE 01: A panicked Jeon Jungkook knocks on your door for help.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Angst, Fluff, Slice of Life, Single Dad AU, Age Gap AU

WARNINGS: Suitable for all ages. No specific warnings for this drabble. Dad!Jungkook, maybe? Oh, and talks of menstrual period and allusion to complicated family relationships. Not proofread!

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

Your peaceful Sunday afternoon consisting of catching up on the episodes of your comfort series while eating your comfort food with a bottle of cola on the side is interrupted by a set of knocks on your door. Your eyebrows meet in confusion, not expecting anyone to come over nor did you have any deliveries. And even if you are expecting someone, they would have to use the intercom before the security lets them in. So, while you’re walking down to answer the door, you can only deduce that whoever is knocking on your door must be a neighbor. Your theory is proven correct when you open the door, and you see Jeon Jungkook – or should you say Mr. Jeon Jungkook – standing on the other side with an apologetic smile plastered on his lips and his eyes wide and panicked.

“Y/N, hi, I’m so sorry for bothering you. I just really need your help,” Jungkook states immediately, rubbing his palms against his loose black pants.

“It’s okay, Mr. Jeon. What is it?” You ask politely, placing your hand on the door.

“It’s Yuki. She’s-She’s calling for you. I think she’s gotten her period and is terrified,” Jungkook explains, biting his lower lip as his chest rises and falls heavily. He’s clearly concerned and worried.

You perk up, recognizing the seriousness of the situation. “Okay. Yeah, that can be terrifying. I have some pads she can use – they serve the same purpose regardless of age, don’t worry. I’ll just grab them and meet you at your apartment?”

A look of relief washes over his face. “Thank you, Y/N, seriously. This means a lot.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Jeon,” You reply.

You make your way to your room and grab the unopened napkin from your shelf before making your way to the Jeons’ apartment three units across from yours. You knock, as a sign of respect, and Jungkook immediately answers the door and leads you to the bathroom. Your apartment’s floorplan is slightly different, you notice. His is clearly more spacious than your studio-type.

“She doesn’t want me anywhere near her, but if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know. I’ll be right down the hall,” Jungkook tells you softly to which you nod.

You wait until Jungkook is at the end of the hall before you softly knock on the door. “Yuki? Hi, it’s Y/N from Apartment 609. Your dad says you called for me. Is everything okay?”

You hear sniffing on the other side and your heart breaks just a little. Children crying are always a weakness of yours. “Y-Y/N? Is that really you?”

“Yes, Yuki, it’s really me. Can you tell me if you’re okay?”

“No, I’m not,” Yuki replies honestly. “I-I don’t know what to do!” She begins to cry again.

From your peripheral vision, you see Jungkook about to walk but you put up your hand to stop him, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Yuki. I was like that too when I first got my period. I was clueless on what to do.”

“I-I’m scared.”

You nod even though she doesn’t see you. “It’s alright to be scared of something you haven’t experienced or seen before, Yuki. If you let me, I can help you be a little less scared of it.”

It’s quiet for a moment then you hear the soft click of the door unlocking. The door opens slightly, and you take this as a sign to slip inside, seeing the dark-haired eleven-year-old sitting on the toilet with her face buried in her hands. When she hears you close the door, she looks up at you, eyes red and swollen, cheeks stained with tears. Her shiny black hair is all over her face and she’s still wearing her matching blue pajamas with little various kinds of shark printed on them.

You smile as you lower yourself in front of her to meet her eye-level, placing the napkin on the sink. “Hi, Yuki.”

She sniffs but politely returns the greeting. “Hello Y/N.”

“It’s scary, isn’t it? Waking up and seeing all this blood?” You ask and she nods. You hum. “Has your teacher or parents talked to you about getting your menstruation during puberty?”

“Yeah, my Science teacher, Ms. Cho, gave a lecture about it last semester,” Yuki answers, eyes similar to that of her father’s lowering as she fiddles with her fingers. “Mom and dad never really did.”

You nod in understanding. “I see. I learned about it through my teacher too.”

Her eyes shoot up to meet yours again, wide and filled with validation. Your heart breaks again. “Really?”

“Yeah. My mom passed away when I was young, so she never got the chance to teach me about periods and napkins and all that stuff. My dad – he was working so he wasn’t able to teach me about it too.”

It’s a watered-down version of your childhood, but you’re not about to trauma dump to an eleven-year-old.

“Can we clean you up? I’ll teach you everything I know about dealing with this every month,” You say, sucking your teeth. Yuki nods. “Okay. Do you wanna take a shower so you can get cleaned up? I’ll be outside with your clothes and towel once you’re finished.”

“Okay. Thank you, Y/N.”

“No problem, Yuki. I’m glad to be of help.”

You leave the bathroom to give Yuki privacy and spot her father leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. When he hears the door close, his head shoots up at your direction.

“Everything is fine, Mr. Jeon. She just got shaken up, but she’s already taking a shower. Can you prepare her clothes and her towel?” You ask, placing your hands on your hips.

“Yeah, her room is the one on your right,” Jungkook says as he points at it. “You can come inside if you want.”

So you do, looking at the ocean-themed room from the blue walls, the shark-printed bed sheets, whale-printed curtains, the sphere lamp covered in different marine animal stickers.

“She’s currently in her marine phase though it’s gotten a bit longer than I anticipated so maybe it’s not a phase after all,” Jungkook shares as he grabs clothes from his daughter’s cabinet then takes the towel hanging on it.

You nod, completely getting it. “I’ve had my phases too. Some I never really grew out of.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Jungkook asks, sending you a smile.

You can’t help but return it, albeit a teasing one. “It’s a secret, Mr. Jeon.”

He laughs a little, nodding as he grabs a pair of clean underwear from Yuki’s drawer. “Alright. I respect that.”

Once Yuki finished showering, you hand her the towel to dry and cover herself before you enter and tell her some tips on how to handle her menstruation, demonstrating how napkins work and telling her when to change it so she won’t get any sort of rashes. You also tell her about cravings and mood swings. Once she’s all done, you and Yuki step out of the bathroom, her hiding behind you and only peeking through your arm to look at her father who has lowered himself on the door, an encouraging smile on his face.

“Go on, Yuki. There is nothing to be ashamed of towards your dad,” You tell her gently. “But if you’re not ready, it’s okay too. I’m sure your dad will understand.”

Yuki contemplates before ultimately deciding on running towards her father who greets her with his arm wide open. You watch as Jungkook embraces Yuki warmly, eyes closing and pressing kisses on her cheek. Yuki buries her face on the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not mad. I understand. I’m just happy you’re okay now,” Jungkook soothes, rubbing Yuki’s back in circles.

At that moment, you feel a tug in your heart. You’ve never really looked at Jeon Jungkook before – your paths didn’t really cross despite living on the same floor. You would only get a chance to talk to Yuki when the two of you would be walking up the hill to your apartment building after school ended. Maybe it was because you were a homebody who spent your free time in the comfort of your home. But now that you had gotten the chance to really see him – you couldn’t deny that he was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen.

You quickly shut down this thought. He’s a married man for crying out loud – it’s not right for you to be thinking about him in any way.

“Did you say thank you to Y/N?” Jungkook asks Yuki.

“She already did, and really, it’s not a problem. Glad I could be of help,” You say with a smile. “Anyway, I guess I’ll be on my way. I still have some papers to grade.”

“I’ll walk you back,” Jungkook offers.

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“No, please, let me. It’s the least I can do for your help, for now, at least,” He insists. “I prepared your favorite snack in the kitchen, Yuki. I’ll just walk Y/N back to her apartment then I’ll join you, okay?” He tells his daughter, kissing the top of her head.

“Yes dad,” Yuki answers with a nod.

She gives you a hug on your way out.

“There’s really no need for you to walk me back, Mr. Jeon,” You say as you scratch the top of your head awkwardly.

“We are walking now so too late,” He quips, a lopsided smile forming on his lips. You only now see his piercing. Damn. “I’m serious though. This won’t just be the last thank you you’ll receive from me. You helped us out so much. You deserve better than a walk.”

“It’s really okay. I’m just happy that Yuki is fine,” You say as you reach your apartment. “Here I am. Thank you for walking me back, Mr. Jeon.”

“Thank you for everything, Y/N. If there is anything you need – anything – I’m just at 613, okay? Please don’t hesitate to knock on our door.”

You smile, nodding. “See you around, Mr. Jeon.”

“See you, Y/N, and if you’re comfortable with it, please just call me Jungkook.”

“Okay,” You say. “See you around, Jungkook.”

His smile widens – or at least in your mind it does. “Great. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Y/N.”

When you walk back inside your apartment, you press your back against the door, heart beating faster than normal. Why do you get the feeling that you’ll be seeing more of the Jeons? And why does it make your heart race?

ANDI: I need this while working on something as dark as Dead Kids so I won’t be too burnt out when writing it. I hope you guys liked it and let me know what you think! 🦉

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