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endlessthxxghts · 2 months

Text

Solace

Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x afab!reader || W/C: 4.3k

Summary: You help Din release his frustrations after he comes back from a weeklong hunt.

Content/Warnings: Canon divergent around season 3 (no Grogu here; one tiny reference to Living Waters). Reader is able-bodied, but there are no specific physical descriptions. Pet names for both reader and Din (fem pet names for reader). Implied established relationship (you've seen his face and call him Din) - THEY'RE IN LOVE. Reader knows a bit of Mando'a. Helmet comes off. 18+ MDNI. This is 100% porn. Boot riding...blanket..riding...(there's a lot of riding lolz). Multiple orgasms. Cunnilingus. Din is a talker when his mouth isn't occupied. Blow job/face fucking. Unprotected P in V sex. Reader is on whatever form of birth control they have in space LMAO, so #twinkie time😋. Hints of a breeding kink. Praise kink (lots of it). Switch BDSM dynamics. Soft Dom!Din along with subby/desperate!Din. Sub!Reader and soft Dom!Reader. Please let me know if I missed anything! Xx

A/N: First picture was made by @djarin-desires, and honestly, this whole oneshot was inspired by this post they made! I literally could not stop thinking about these pictures all day, so I just had to write my ✨thots✨ down. I hope you enjoy!! Other two photos are found on Pinterest - middle does not represent anything about reader’s physical appearance.

MASTERLIST || FIC NOTIFS BLOG

“Oh, shit-” you gasp. “Din, please,” eyes rolling back in pleasure, your body shivering in its nakedness compared to his fully armored form.

“What is it, sweet girl?” he coos, his fingers caressing your cheekbone, pushing the hair from your eyes.

“Need- stars- need more,” you cry out, your current situation proving to only bring you to the edge, but not carry you off of it.

“One more like this, cyar’ika, then I’ll give you what you want,” Din reassures you, his leather-clad thumb running across your bottom lip, hooking himself in your mouth for you to make a mess of. “I wanna see that boot soaked, you hear me?”

Din always gets like this when he comes back from a weeklong bounty hunt. He gets hard. Dominating. In need of control. To take back the situation that got out of hand.

You were sitting on the ground cleaning one of his blasters when he came in. He was tense. Weirdly quiet. He’s always quiet, but not with you, not for a few years now. He threw the bounty into the carbon and froze him, his chest plate rising with every breath. You knew him well enough now to know when he’s seething, and this was it.

“Din?” you called out softly.

He just points his helmet at you, the visor staring you down.

“Everything okay?”

“What do you think?” He responds rather harshly.

“...Din,” you whisper, feeling every ounce of anger in those four words.

You like how it ends in these situations, though. It always ends with him a whimpering mess beneath you. There’s usually some kind of switch. He takes a third orgasm out of you, and always on the third, he becomes needy. Desperate. He just wants to be inside of you. To be balls deep and stay there, to release all of his tension while being wrapped up in you.

You’re his solace. His warmth. His home. He always needs you. But right now, he needs his control back, so even though it’s you who’s in control by the end of the night, you stay prettily on your knees and obey dutifully.

“I hear you, Din,” you struggle to get out with his thumb holding your tongue down, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth.

Your thighs are on fire from your constant back and forth motion, the squelch of your slick rubbing across his shoe sending blood straight to his groin. He can feel himself itching to make you rise, to spread your legs and split you open until he can’t hold himself up anymore. But he knows you’re close even though you whine and plea for more. He knows your tells—the way your eyes struggle to stay open, the sweat beading at your temples, the way you slowly start to clamp down harder and harder on his thumb. His personal favorite, though, he discovered in this new position, is the way you start hugging tighter onto his leg, your chest rubbing against his thigh plate in an attempt to cool yourself off, but you’re just so close, the cool beskar doing nothing to ease the heat.

“Just like that, pretty girl, come on,” Din groans, the sight before him truly testing his strength. You two have done many things together, but this? This is something new, and Din isn’t sure how long he can last. “I know you can give me one more, baby. Just one more, and then I get to feel you, come on,” he pleads, voice bubbling up into a whine.

Oh, he’s starting to break, already?

The thought is what sends you over, your hips stuttering in their rhythm as your arousal pours out of you, your clit shooting a sharp sensation up your spine at the sensitivity. “Dank farrik, you’re so damn gorgeous when you cum all over me, baby, so so gorgeous,” he pulls his thumb out and spreads your drool across your mouth, cradling your cheek softly in his palm as you shake in his grasp.

“Oh, fuck- oh yes, yesyesyes, Din,” you sob, head falling back between your shoulder blades.

“Oh, my sweet girl, Maker, you’re so beautiful,” he coos, leaning down to let the forehead of his helmet rest against yours, your hot breath fogging his visor. He smiles to himself as his vision blurs momentarily.

Din’s hands situate themselves beneath your armpits, pulling you up to your feet and supporting you as you allow your limp legs to gain their strength again. “Can I taste you, cyar’ika?” He asks as he wraps his arms around your waist, guiding you to sit on the armory crate in the corner of the hull.

“Thought you said you wanted to feel me?” you retort, a small smirk forming on your flushed face.

“Yeah,” he says as he drops down to his knees. “My tongue goes first.” Even with his helmet on, you can still hear the shit-eating grin with his comment.

Din reaches for his helmet, the hiss of air signifying it’s about to come off never fails to cause butterflies to erupt in your belly. The minute his chocolate brown eyes meet yours, your heart grows two sizes greater. Your hands reach for his face. “There’s my pretty boy,” you whisper.

His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at your words. He turns his head to kiss your palm. “My pretty girl,” he responds, bashful. “Lean back, baby.” You lay yourself back, body resting against the metal wall as his hands settle underneath you.

Din brings himself forward, the flat of his tongue starting at the bottom of you and licking upwards—slowly, thoughtfully, calculated. He takes his time moving through your soaked folds, as if he’s mapping it out for the first time even though he’s mapped your body more times than the amount of bounties under his belt.

The way you moan under his touch has him groaning into you, his fingers tightening their hold, his face more flush against you. He can’t get enough. His licks turn less controlled and more hungry; he uses his lips to help rub the surrounding area as he suckles every part of you he can, drinking you in, bathing in your slick as if to reclaim himself, as he did not too long ago in the Living Waters of Mandalore. His nose nudges your sensitivity as his tongue claims your entrance, the softness of your walls dancing with the softness of his tongue makes you breathless.

Your fingers find their way into his curls, grabbing on in an attempt to ground yourself, to keep your soul beside him as he brings you to the brink of ecstasy for the fourth time since he’s been back. You whimper in distaste as his tongue leaves your hole, but the disappointment is quickly replaced by a whimper of desperation when his mouth wraps around your throbbing bud and he sucks. “Just- oh, fuck, Din- just like that,” you let out, your hips involuntarily lifting to buck into his face.

He’s quick to bring his mouth back down to your entrance, licking up every drop of the sweet nectar you always keep him full with. His nose massages your bundle as he drinks from you, and the action prolongs your climax and syrupy moans; Din works to pull as much as he possibly can from you. It’s been a week of rations and shitty meals he can sneak. So when such a delicacy is placed before him, solely for his taking, oh, he’s not going to waste a single drop.

By the time he’s satisfied, the bottom half of his face is covered in your shine, the armory crate’s ledge is soaked, and you’re completely blissed out—face flushed and sweaty, tired eyes, a weak smile… to the average eye, you appear properly satiated. Although, Din knows that you are far from it.

“You alright, sweet girl?” Din asks, rising to his full height again. He brings his hand out for you to take, pulling you up to stand. Delaying your answer, you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, all tongue with your flavor embedded in each and every one of his taste buds. You moan into the kiss, pulling away with a bite to his plump bottom lip. “Perfect, baby,” you smile, pulling him to the makeshift bed—a pile of blankets—in the hull that you two sleep in.

You drop yourself down onto your knees, beginning to work his armor off from his legs as he starts on his shoulders. With you helping, he’s down to his flight suit in no time, and your mouth salivates at the sight. As soon as the last clink of the precious metal leaves his body, you’re leaning your face into him, into his bulge, pressing sweet little kisses to its covered form. You can hear Din’s breath hitch, his cock twitching under your touch. “Need you in my mouth, Din,” you say as you look up at him, his eyes already hooded over at the sight of your mouth near his length. “My turn to taste you, huh, pretty boy?” You ask in a teasing tone, his face too hot to register that you’re waiting for a response from him.

He finally registers the question when your hand dips into his bottoms, his hardness meeting your hand eagerly. You look at him expectantly.

Although technically it’s his cock’s turn to feel you, he cannot bring himself to deny you or your skillful mouth. He cannot bring himself to deny anything you want, really. “Y-yeah- yes, baby, your turn,” he says shakily, the anticipation putting his body into sensitivity overdrive.

He helps rip the rest of his flight suit off, and without giving him a second to breathe, you’re already spitting in your palm and working the length of him the way you know he loves. You use your mouth in tandem, your tongue licking from his base to his tip, and instantly, a loud whimper comes from the back of Din’s throat at this particular touch.

You’re delighted by his reaction, so you repeat the motion a few more times to pull more of those sweet sounds out. “My baby is so sensitive here, isn’t he?” You pump him with your hand as you speak, placing a wet kiss to his tip when the foreskin pulls back to expose it.

“Kriff…” he moans, his head suddenly too heavy to maintain upright. “Mesh’la, please,” Din begs.

With one more kiss to the tip, you stop your hand’s movement completely. “Please what, baby? Use those words, honey,” you look up at him, eyes wide and full of promises to please—as soon as he vocalizes what he wants.

His chest is heaving already at the sight of you, on your knees and looking up at him again, yet this time around, you’re the one calling the shots.

He prefers it this way, he thinks. Sure, he comes back from a particularly frustrating hunt and ends up taking his stress out on you. Sure, it’s the most beautiful sight seeing you so worked up and at his mercy. But he is always the one in the driver seat—calculating everyone’s every turn, every action before they even have the chance to act. Din’s mind is always active, always alert. Yet, when you have him like this, in this yielding state, it’s like his mind gets to be quiet. With you, under your touch and under your gaze, Din is able to exist in your presence without a worry. He’s finally able to just be. Not a bounty hunter, not the big and tough Mandalorian everyone fears. No, he’s Din. Your Din. Your sweet boy. Yours. And that’s the greatest honor to ever bestow upon him. At least, that’s how he sees it anyway.

“Y-your mouth, mesh’la, p-please,” he says softly. Your eyebrow quirks up. You want just a little bit more. “Want your- need your mouth on me, baby, please,” he breathes out, attempting and failing to ease the neediness in his voice.

You hum triumphantly before you begin pumping him again, your hand focusing on his base while your mouth lavishes his leaking head. You swirl your tongue around, the salty flavor of him quick to override your senses, and Din lets out a strangled moan, his hips softly bucking in your grasp.

Your hand releases him, letting your mouth take full control. You grab onto his thick thighs for stability, breathing through your nose as you let the tip of him reach as far back as you can handle. He gasps when he hits the back of your throat, the twitch of his body triggering your gag reflex, your throat tightening in on where he’s most sensitive. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fighting his hips to stay in place and let you do your thing.

You garble something incoherent, humming into his cock as you pull yourself on and off of him a few more times. Pulling back for a small breather, you use your finger to collect up the spit-arousal mixture from the sides of your mouth and pump it on his erection, his hips twitching once again at your ministrations.

You know what he really wants right now, but with his head in cloud nine, you know he’ll never ask for it himself. “You wanna fuck my mouth, Din?” You ask bluntly.

His entire face and chest turn red faster than the speed of light. He sputters in his response. “I- oh my Maker, mesh’la, is that- are- are you sure? I-”

You cut him off by leaning in to kiss his thigh. He softens in your touch. “Din, pretty boy, it’s a yes or no. One word. Choose.”

“Yes,” he replies, not a single hesitation in sight.

“Good boy,” you purr. “See what happens when you say what you want from me?”

You shift yourself to a more comfortable position sitting on your haunches, fluffing the blankets underneath you to soften the ache of the metal floor. You look up to Din who’s watching you eagerly but with a softness that tells you to take all your time in the world. Doing this isn’t just for him, though. Letting him take control of you here turns you on just as much as it does him, maybe even more.

You take one more glance into his thirsty eyes, and, well, okay… maybe he enjoys this slightly more. Nonetheless, you don’t take your time because you can feel the butterflies in your core beginning to flap once again as Din brings himself closer to you, lining himself up with your mouth.

“Don’t waste this opportunity, Djarin. Better use me good, yeah?” You tease, leaning your head back slightly as you stick your salivating tongue flat out, waiting for him to enter.

His entire body shivers at your words. “Yes, ma’am,” he says under his breath, focusing on easing himself into your mouth as steady as possible, trying to maintain some ounce of self-restraint he’s inevitably going to lose.

Once his tip is in your mouth, his hands find their home rooted at the base of your air, his thumb reaching forward to caress the apple of your cheeks. He doesn’t move at first, apprehensive in the case he might hurt you. He’s always like this at the beginning, and every single time, you reassure him it’s okay.

You let out a muffled mhm, his signal to keep going. Din’s fingers flex, guiding your head further in as his hips slowly meet you halfway. He’s holding his breath, you can tell in the way his belly twitches. But the moment your swallow reflex triggers around him, he’s gone. “Oh, shit-” he moans ragged, his hips never fully retreating before he’s bucking into you again. “Oh, sweet girl, fuck-” he gasps. “Always so perfect, feel so perfect around me, stars, baby-” he praises, his hips moving at a comfortable, steady pace now.

You moan around him, eyes rolling back at how good and heavy he feels coasting the expanse of your tongue. Your spit drips further down your chin and neck with each thrust, the messiness of it all mirroring itself between your thighs. Your hands leave the expanse of your thighs and reach for the blankets underneath you. As best as you can, you shuffle them in between you, using it to grind your hips on it, giving you a much needed relief. The material catches on your clit deliciously, pulling a muffled gasp from your throat, sending the sensation up Din’s spine.

“Oh, fuck, look at you,” he groans, his eyes fighting to stay open at the raw pleasure coursing through his veins as he starts thrusting into you harder, faster. “So pretty, baby, fuck- thank you, pretty girl,” he rambles. “Maker, you feel so damn good.”

Your moans and whines don’t stop, they reverberate off each metal wall and into his ears, providing him with the sweetest song. Din, ever the talker, is long lost in the way you feel and the way you move.

“Keep moving those hips, sweet girl, rub that pretty pussy on our blankets, baby.”

“Gonna cum like that again, baby? Gonna make a mess where we sleep?”

“Shit, gonna make me lick it up and clean it? Please make me clean it, baby,” he whines, his hips beginning to falter.

The last thing he says to you is what sends you over the edge, your fingers gripping the blankets below you, bringing it flush against your core as if it were Din’s curls you’re hanging onto. Your hips speed up, chasing the orgasm that is just right there, and with one last thrust forward, you’re cumming. You’re breathing heavily through your nose, tears streaming down your face as you whimper around his dick, begging for the one thing you know he’s not gonna give you.

With a few more thrusts, you can feel his cock start to twitch, and just as you suspected, he pulls out of you before he can finish.

“Baby, no,” you cry, leaning yourself forward, chasing after him. Right away, he’s dropping down to his knees, hands still on either side of your face as he’s finally eye level with you.

“Baby, cyar’ika, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” he repents, his chest rising and falling heavily, still out of breath from edging himself. “I just- I didn’t- I… I wanted to cum somewhere else, baby,” his voice falls quieter, shyer.

Your scowl fades, forming into a more mischievous demeanor, more hungry. You can’t quite argue his reasoning. Because, you, too, would very much like him to finish… elsewhere. “Yeah, baby?” You taunt. “And where do you wanna cum, sweet boy?”

He swallows thickly, his needy eyes on yours, blacked with a ferality he’s addicted to. “In- inside,” he whispers.

“Inside?” you’re quick to repeat. “Wanna cum inside me, sweet boy? Fill me up? I’ve made so many messes today, is it your turn to make one, baby?”

He leans in to meet your kiss, but you pull away slightly. Answer me, your face tells him.

“Y-yeah- yes, stars, yes- fuck- please, baby, I wanna cum inside you, wanna make a mess of you so fucking bad, please-” he starts to answer. Satisfied, you cut him off with your lips on his.

You wrap your arms around his neck, lips never breaking the seal, you pull him over you as you lay yourself down on your guys’ bed, scooting farther up for your head to reach a pillow, your back barely missing your puddle of arousal. Din multitasks, grabbing one of the other near pillows and placing it underneath your hips as your body lands on the ground. Your legs are already hooked onto his waist, not giving him the space to stray too far.

Once you’re settled, Din’s hand is cradling the back of your head while the other reaches for his cock, covered in your wetness and leaking with his own arousal. He guides himself to you, running his tip along your slick folds, stopping to tap on your clit before bringing himself back down to your entrance. He breaks the kiss when he does this, his eyes laser focused on where you two connect. His hand on the back of your head pushes to angle you down, so you can watch, too, both of you observing and listening to the lewdness of it all.

Finally, his head catches at your entrance, pushing himself in slowly. He’s always a stretch, always something you’ll never quite really get used to, but you love the feeling. Obsessed, even. There are some days where you rile him up on purpose just so he gives it to you, no preparation or foreplay. On those days, he has you screaming, your fingernails digging deep into his back to tether yourself to reality in some kind of way. On his softer days, you have to beg him to, reassure him that it doesn’t hurt—in a bad way.

As soon as he’s seated all the way to the hilt, he pulls back out entirely before he thrusts back in. You both moan out at the action, your pussy immediately releasing a fresh new wave of arousal around him. “Oh, fuck,” you both mutter at the same time, your eyes meet, and a euphoric smile graces each of your faces.

“Y-you feel so good, baby, s-so fucking big,” you mewl, your hands tightening their hold around his neck, both the tips of your noses kissing each other.

“It’s like you were made- fuck-” he stutters, his hips slowing for a brief moment, allowing himself to really feel you. “It’s like I was made for you,” he corrects himself. “I was made for you,” he says again, leaning in to slot his lips against yours.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” you say against his lips. I love you. “And I was made for you,” you squeak out, your head bobbing back and forth as the pleasure brings your mind further and further into space.

“Shit, mesh’la,” he grits between his teeth. His hips speed up at that, loving the way his native tongue sounds on yours. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he repeats back to you. “I’m yours, cyar’ika. Yours,” he murmurs, his head crashing into the crook of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting at the sweaty flesh.

He sits up on his haunches for a second, hooking the crook of his elbows into your knees before leaning back over you—the angle allowing him to hit so deep and allowing his pubic area to stimulate your pulsing nerve with every thrust in—you scream out as he repeatedly makes you feel things that no one has ever been able to do, not even yourself.

“Din,” you keen, his name leaving your mouth like a sinful prayer. “Din, baby, please, I think I’m gonna- fuck-”

“Gonna cum again for me, pretty girl?” He smirks. “Fuck, I’m never gonna stop saying this- you’re so fucking perfect. Come on, baby, cum for me, fucking soak me. Soak me before I make you fucking overflow with me, my sweet girl,” he snarls, his lips meeting yours in a bruising kiss, truly a dance of tongue and spit as he fucks into you at the same pace that brought you to yet another climax.

Your hands yank on his fluffy curls, back arching into his body as much as this restricting angle allows you to. “Din, oh my-! Fuck- so fucking good, fuck-” you wail out, your heart beating out of your chest as your pussy pulses around his cock, making an utter mess between your two lower halves.

The flutter of you and the instant wetness consuming him is what sends Din to his finish line. He continues thrusting, shakily, through his own orgasm, his load coating every inch of you, both inside and out. You wanted a mess, so he truly gave you a mess.

He releases the hold on your legs to wrap his arms around you, his entire body flush against yours as your legs wrap themselves tightly around him again. He’s still inside you, his hips softly still moving in and out as he leaves kisses all along your lips, your jawline, your neck.

The way you feel, full of him and him, has your hips meeting his small advances, both of you reveling in the aftershock of your highs as you use the pleasure to ease you back down.

“You okay, mesh’la?” Din asks eventually when you both come to an exhausted, satiated halt.

“Perfect, my sweet boy,” you smile, repeating your sentiment from earlier. “You okay, though?” You ask hesitantly, and not about what you two just did together. He brings his lips to yours. Soft, and not in a way to arouse you again. In a way that says thank you and I love you in a way spoken tongue will never be able to convey.

“I will be,” he answers truthfully. “Pick a planet, you can pick me apart after we get food.”

“Sounds like a deal, baby.”

“Come, let’s get cleaned up.” He kisses your forehead before he untangles himself and pulls you up to your feet as well, both of you making your way to the refresher.

In the corner of his eye, he sees his now semi-shiny boot, starting to dry off in the midst of everything else you two did. He smirks to himself.

You catch it, of course. “What’re you smiling at, Djarin?”

“Nothing,” he says nonchalantly. “Just… I clean my armor and boots after every bounty.”

“And?” You ask, still not realizing where he’s headed.

“I don’t know if I wanna clean my boots anymore.”

Your eyebrows raise to the middle of your forehead, eyes bulging out of your face. “Din!” you slap his chest. Then, your face goes stern. “You will be cleaning those boots more often if you want me to do that again."

Oh.

“Yes, ma’am.”

End notes:

Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you guys enjoyed this one! Please let me know what you guys think, I really love hearing your guys’ reactions and feedback!🫶

Also, did y’all clock how many orgasms reader had in this damn thing?! Coochie of fucking steel fr 😭😭

Moon divider by @saradika-graphics 🩶

@pedrostories

713 notes · View notes

riksaes · 23 days

Note

Hii I'm not sure if you've written this but could you do the perks of dating enhypen? Like what type of boyfriend they are, cute things they etc!!

enhypen as your boyfriend ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩

fluff , soft : idol au : clingy bf

rq for any kpop groups 🤍

masterlist

a/n: this is so cute!! I love this sm thank you for requesting!! hopefully this is up to your standards 🐈 sorry if there’s mistakes im just tired 😴

heeseung | 희승

as a boyfriend he would be putting you first 100% of the time. always caring for you when times are bad which is literally likewise for you to him. he’s open to pda but if you don’t feel comfortable he’s totally okay with it. due to both of you being an idol, you had to hide the relationship for quite a while. how your relationship got rumoured was after seeing him appear in your group’s documentary on netflix. which his agency came out saying you guys were dating and for quite a while blah blah blah. he’s so happy he gets to post photos of you on his main account on insta now and would totally flex you. during your period he’s the type of man to go “what’s size is your pad?”. he’s definitely cute and loving throughout the relationship

read more under the cut!

jay | 제이

jay is the type of boyfriend to make songs about you and release them anonymously on twitter. everyone finds out after one of them blowing up and realising it was jay. but also because he played the tune during a weverse live. I feel like if you guys were out in disguise he would hold the belt loop on your jeans when standing next you. definitely cooks for you when the members are out of the dorm. would definitely refer riki as his kid half the time which made him your adopted kid and just went with it. he’s the type of guy to known your coffee order off by heart. “yeah can I get a caramel grappucino and a _______”. LIKE AHHHH!! he loves to hug you out of nowhere and kiss your forehead during this process sometimes, this could last for a good ten minutes.

jake | 심재윤

jake is a golden retriever boyfriend like there’s no complaints or anything. he’s such a happy boyfie and literally your number one cheerleader with everything you do. because he’s australian he teaches you all the slangs so when he takes you, you’ll know everything. I bet he takes you to karaoke and sings a solo but at the start says “THIS ONE IS FOR YOU BABY”. this man is up for anything like you want to bake a cake he’s helping you out, you wanna build lego he’s already ready sitting at the table. because you both are in the kpop industry that means you both have to go by the rules (you don’t) to not get caught. that doesn’t end up well because you both were found in a connivence store eating together and lots of pda. he LOVES pda and showing you off so expect a lot but if it is a lot he’ll tone it down (he won’t it’ll only last a day). the reason you guys came out as a couple was because jake was going to send a selfie of him onto weverse but instead it was a photo of both you and him. he realised and quickly deleted then posting the right one then trying to gaslight fans with “no you guys must of been dreaming” if they asked what was going on with the first picture. eventually it gets posted that you both are happy with each other

sunghoon | 박성훈

sunghoon is literally a pinterest boyfriend you would find if you looked up boyfriend. definitely is a bit scandalous with the paparazzi with you but definitely makes sure nothing goes out for your safety and well-being. teaches how to ice skate so you both can hang out a lot at the ice rink. I feel the reason why you guys were rumoured at first was because of koreaboo for no reason. it was a couple that looked like you but wasn’t due to you both being on tour in a WHOLE different country. which caused a lot of confusion for fans and the agencies involved. but then they came out saying you both were in a relationship and happy which caused you both being the top # for the week. he’s the type of boyfriend to spoil you to do your nails and you end up showing on weverse. “guys look I got my nails done bc of my boyfie spoiling me :3” LIKE CUTE CUTE CUTE!! I feel like there would be a anonymous account on youtube that arises from the first video which is just a camera vlog of you both randomly. he’s the type of guy to hold the your back in crowded places or just randomly kiss your shoulder when hugging the back of you in public. but he loves u heaps and would literally die for u

sunoo | 선우

sunoo and you were definitely were alike; soft, cute and lazy. I feel like you both were already friends from your group being in eno-clock videos but then got closer without anyone knowing. I feel like both groups would find out easily because of both of you. After a tiktok challenge both of you did to sponsor each others comeback albums people would point out on how sunoo would look at you differently at the end of the dance or during it compared to others he’s done with. I have a feeling sunoo would just post a photo of you both then leave the public eye for weeks. which obviously everyone realised you both were in a relationship. definitely the boyfriend to call you every night and talk for hours to the point it was like 3am. definitely hypes your group up during award shows which everyone calls the relationship cute and definitely wholesome. he’s the type to buy something you recommend and then ends up recommending it to engenes. “oh I would definitely recommend this because y/nie told me to get it and it’s really good!! 10/10 would get!” like how cuteeee!!!

jungwon | 정원

because jungwon was the leader of enhypen he wasn’t allowed to get in heaps of scandals. but the cute cat he is you guys definitely get in a relationship all because you said on weverse live that your type was boys were who remind you of cats. this is because you own a brown cat called sizzle. the reason why you guys got caught dating was definitely after you guys were found at a cat cafe near your agency. it was obvious it was a date but a lot of people defended you guys saying it was a enhypen vlog episode which eventually had to come out earlier due to the rumours. jungwon loves to hype you up in anyway which was caught on camera as well. I feel like you guys got caught a lot and people brushed it off because you both were close friends but I think there would be a statement coming from both agencies on a random day saying you both are dating. this blows up on tiktok, twitter, weverse and literally every platform. he loves to give big sloppy kisses on the cheek to annoy you but I feel like he would also be the type of person to stop and take a photo of a stray cat and send it to you. “baby look I saw a cat that looks like sizzle in ___!!” he such a cutie patootie : (

ni-ki | 니키

if both cat and a dog (TXT MENTION RAHHHH) were in the same room that’s literally the definition of both of you. ni-ki being the quiet cat and you the golden retriever. you both were known for being the youngest of your group but also the best dancer. you both were friends from training together back years ago but both lost contact during your way to the kpop industry. ni-ki even states that he was friends with a female idol who’s a year younger but lost contact which he wished didn’t happen because of how close you both were. after he said this everyone would try and figure it out until they realised it was you. a year younger, from the same training industry, same style, best dancer of your group but different personalities. this gets taken to koreaboo stating why it was you and different things. you both get caught out shopping in shops looking for certain items. I think as time passes by you both get together and just saying it both on a weverse live or at least one of you popping in one of them. it was obvious but cute in a way because of the backlash ni-ki gets for no reason with other girl idols which can come to a stop. he’s the type of boyfriend to let you play with his hair and choose the type of earrings he wears daily. he also definitely facetimes you every night just to do a face and say goodnight. “night ig.. 😛” LOL but deeply adores you in a way and gives a certain look whenever your up on stage for the new comeback.

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nescaveckwriter · 27 days

Text

Lighthouse

A/N: 🐞... Okayz my dearest love bugs, 💕 another one done for @jacklesversebingo 🥰 yayaness, I know its been a while though, But I hope y'all are gonna enjoy this one, I must say I'm super proud and, a little terrified as this is 'Supernatural' based 🫣🤭, so let me know what y'all think.🥰 Okayz much love🥰❤️🩷

Warnings: *18+ Only* Horror, Thriller, Mentions of blood, violence, angsty, little fluff, heartbreaking, drama.

Line: Tree, Clock, Rope

Characters: Dean x Fem Reader, Sam, Benny, Cas, Crowley

Words: 6700 😱🫣 I know I'm sorry.

Cover & Pictures: Pinterest, Canva, Google

Side Note: Please check out my Masterlist for more, epic stories🐞💕

The sky has turned into grey, dark clouds threatening too cover the earth with its darkness, the smell of rain is everywhere as it nourishes the earth, as you stand under the pouring rain, listening too him say, goodbye, letting the rain mix with the tears on your cheeks. Not being able too move a muscle, you just stood there unable to make a single sound, unable to ask him why, why after this long, did he want to break up with you, did he want to throw away the life you built. Weren't you enough for him no more,? Is there someone else? Why Now?

The way he said goodbye wasn't with a voice filled with anger, no, his emerald green eyes was sad, his voice almost breaking when he said "I need too let you go sweetheart" and his lips found yours instinctively, it was a soft, kiss, mixed with the taste of him, salt and rain. You didn't want him too leave, you wanted to grab ahold of him, and beg him too stay, but before you could, he got in that Chevy Impala, the engine roared and the tires screeched, as he drove off into the darkness, not a single star in the sky, its almost as if the magic of the moonlight left with him.

Its been a little over three months since he left you standing in the rain, like some dumb country song, but you somehow found a way too move through your everyday life, you were a hunter before you met Dean, and you still are, well in all honesty saving people is the only thing that got you through the days.

It isn't really a job you tell everyone about, oh heck no!, its more a work you keep too yourself, letting your family believe, your just a traveling failure, well you always did kind of feel like you lost your way over the years, but these days your numb. Your best friend Sam doesn't even talk too you anymore, you don't really have a lot of folks who you could call, and say "hey, ya know I'm not really doing well, I need a pick me up or a damn hug" no you always kept too yourself, not trusting anyone, but the day you met Dean and Sam on a hunt it changed.! Sam quickly became your best friend and well Dean soon became the only man you'll ever love, even though he had his issues. And then there was Castiel the angel, he has always felt like a beacon of hope, making you laugh with his "I don't understand that reference" sayings. But the day Dean walked out they all left, leaving you completely alone in this damn scary world. It's not the monsters that scares you, no that you get, but it's the people. Every single person you have met in your life has a hidden agenda, why can't they just be good people.

Sitting at the diner in the small town, were you were investigating strange disappearances, ordering a black coffee, the display with the different pies catching your eye. Your mind wanders off to Dean's birthday... You prepared all his favorite foods, burgers, bacon, fries, the greaser the better, and then you started with the making of his favorite pies. But somewhere along the way you forgot about the pie's in the oven, letting them burn to a crisp, after you rushed in, trying to save what's left of the charred goods, seeing it was disaster, you wouldn't be able to save it, you burst into tears, cussing yourself for messing up what's supposed to be the perfect day, you felt his strong arms pulling you towards his chest, staining his shirt with the wetness of your cheeks. He's breathe hot as he kissed you, in a loving, comforting way, reassuring you everything will be okay, it's just pie's not the end off the world.

He always did know how too comfort you, how too chase the darkness away, he was your lighthouse, so to say, showing you the way, back too the light. And now, now there's no more light too go home. No more home, just nothing.

Taking a sip of the now cold bitter coffee, that kind of taste like, old shoes, not that you'll know how that would taste like, but betting its something like this. Placing the cup down, sliding the dollar's underneath the half full cup on the diner table, you get up, throwing your ball cap on, hair hanging loose on your shoulders, taking your leather jacket and phone, you start too head out of the small town diner. Walking towards your Harley Davidson, you've always liked the way, that bunch of metal, felt roaring as you sat on that leather seat, the wind rushing through your hair, the way those gas fumes, flowed through your veins, not even to talk about the adrenaline that went with it, oh damn, you felt about your Harley like Dean felt about his impala. Seeing a giant creep checking out your bike, leaning on it, irritation in your voice "excuse, what are you doing?"

His voice rough and unpleasant "why do you care, little missy"

Walking closer, your eyes darker than usual "that's my bike"

The bald man, with his long beard, hiding his tatted neck, started to laugh "No way such a small little thing can handle that sort of horse power"

"I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, get off my damn bike!"

Crossing his arms in front of him, "Or what? You gonna call the little cops"

"No! I'm going to make you get off my bike"

"I'd like to see you try missy"

She really wasn't in the mood for this. So she tried to shove him off, but he was on the larger side and didn't really move a single damn inch. It just made him irritated "hey come here missy" he said as he grabbed a hold of your arm, you smiled, that made him look at you all confused, but he soon realized, he should not have messed with you, as you took his fingers, and started bending them backwards, bringing the big guy down to your size. With your free hand, you punched the sucker in the face. Got up on your bike, and drove down the road too the nearest bar you could find, for information and while you where there you might as well get something to drink.

The Black Chevy Impala roared as it parked in front of the diner, Dean and Sam got out, a big guy, with a black eye, just got off the ground as they started making their way towards the door, Dean looked at the guy a smirk on his face "What happened to you buddy?"

The man mumbled "crazy biker chick"

Dean just laughed, as he figured this chick was probably part of his gang, as the beaten up guy had a biker jacket with their logo on. He still smiled but he felt stabbing pains in his heart. His sweetheart was a 'biker chick' a swell, she could handle that roaring horsepower better than most men, and man!, was she tough, so fierce and fiery, so passionate and yet so gentle, vulnerable at times, so fragile, she cared more than most, people, and beautiful, so freaking beautiful, her smile could light up a room, he fell hard for her the first time he saw her, and it just grew from there he loved her , he still loved her, but he just had too walk away, for her own safety, everyone close too him get hurt or dies. And especially with everything going on, he couldn't risk it, if someone found out, that she wasn't just another hunter, no she was the love of his life, he'd never forgive himself if something would happen too her. Sam calling his name for the fourth time pulled him out of his deep thoughts, "Hey man, you with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, just thinking I need a drink not coffee"

Sam gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing his brother probably thought of her again, he just nods and says "okay sure let's go"

The only information she got was that, some of the missing folks were last seen close too a pig farm , on the outskirts of this town.

And now, now she just sat here swallowing the vodka, it was easier than too think that Dean aren't coming back, hating how she felt , how alone and miserable, how heartbroken, she really thought that she was stronger than this, but no, she's weak and pathetic, sobbing about a man, a damn man who left her in the pouring rain. What the hell was wrong with her, she never was the kind, to be good little wife material, who would cook for her husband and bake brownies for her children's school, but the sad truth was she wanted too be all that with Dean, she would've gave up hunting, too be his wife and the mother of his children. But clearly he didn't feel the same. Thumbing away a stray tear, she gestures to the bartender , for another. The music was loud and the alcohol made her slightly lightheaded, she knew she needed some air, sliding off the barstool, walking towards the exit, fumbling in her pockets for a packet of cigarettes, she only smokes when she drinks. Some guy, lit her cigarette, she just nods, thanking him with a smile as she stood in the crisp evening air, the air mixed with nicotine hit her lungs, letting a little cough escapes her lips. As she blows out the smoke, she heard that damn Chevy pull in, she couldn't miss it , Dean had a certain way if driving and it was him for sure. She just stood there, frozen in the darkness. "What the hell is he doing here" whispering underneath her breath. Hoping that he doesn't see her, knowing that she will burst out in tears the moment she tried to speak too him.

He wales past a couple of bikes, that's when he saw it, her bike, hard too miss it, on the rear bumper the lyrics of her favorite Bon Jovi song. He elbows his brother "Sam, she's here"

Sam looked at him shocked, "What? Are you sure"

Running his hand over his face "Of course I'm damn sure" clearing his throat "I can't see her, man, I just can't, I've missed her so much, it was hard enough too walk away from her that night, I won't be able to do it again"

Sam places his hand on his big brother shoulder "Don't you think, this whole protection thing your trying is dumb"

Dean's jaw clenched, "No, Everybody around me dies, and there's nothing I can do about it, I have to let her go"

Sam just shook his head, his known his brother felt like this for a while now, but it's gotten worse, his unsure why, but he will try and get through too him, Dean's only been happy, whenever he was with her. "Okay let's go"

Dean and Sam made their way towards the car, they're about to get in when they heard a spine chilling scream , Dean recognized her voice. He searches in the darkness, when he catches a glimpse of four men, throwing her in a black van. He didn't even realized it but he started running towards the van, as the last of them jumped in, he saw a glimpse of her, the last thing he heard, was her screaming his name and a gun shot, which brought him to a stop as he fell to the ground, chanting her name over and over, until his eyes fell closed.

Sam fired his gun towards the van, but couldn't get decent shots from that angle. He fell to his knees next to his brother, glancing at the bullet wound in his chest, the blood gushing out, he applied pressure on the wound, he could feel the life draining from his brother as he begged Castiel to come. Sam's eyes damp with tears, his heart pounding in his throat, a silent scream escaping his lip "Cas, please man, I need you Dean need's you"

You could hear the flutter of wings, when the celestial being landed, his face struck with concern "What happened?"

Sam glanced at the man in the trench coat, holding his brother in arms, "please, just help him Cas"

The angel approached his best friend, there was nothing quite as bad, as seeing him, in pain, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder and Sam's, the three men found themselves in a motel, Dean was still unconscious but breathing, Sam glanced at the angel, mouthing a "thank you"

Traces of the tears still evident on her cheeks as she recalled Dean getting shot, he was there, running towards her, he stilled cared. The four men watched her like a hawk, she cradled her legs in the corner, as if she's a animal trying too hide herself from the prey.

The van came to a stop, she knew something had to be done, so she took the knife she hid in her boots, covered it in her hand, she knew taking all four men was asking to much, so she'll have to isolate them. Take them one by one. The men double, maybe triple her size, but she aren't going down this way, without a fight.

As the two men , opened the door, she saw what looked like a barn, there where cages, with other people inside, seeing she's not the only one that needed saving, she slid the knife back in her boot. She needed more information than this, so she went with it. The man held her by her hair, threw her into a cage which had two other girls probably about round about 16 and 18, and much older man, in his late 60's maybe. Hitting the the floor, scraping her palms.

The older man helped her up, "you okay?"

"Yeah thanks never been better" the sarcasm rolled over her pressed lips.

A big guy, came standing against the cage, with a stupid smug on his round face. "When Ricky there told me about this little woman, who punched him, just for leaning against her bike, I knew I had too throw you in the ring"

She got to a standing position, striding closer, too this gigantic man, "What are you? A human trafficker , organ? What"

He laughed "None of the above, just a business man," he started walking away.

"What is he talking about?" Her eyes intensified "Does anyone know why we are here?"

She heard a man's voice coming from another cage, he was beaten pretty bad, "We are here too fight against each other, like the movie Condemned, apparently it happens in really life" he let out a defeated laugh. The whole barn filled with chatter, people gasping for air, as the initial shock took over. Those who haven't seen the movie, quickly got enlighten by those who have, the rich of the rich, places bets on the person, who they think will survive and it gets streamed on the dark web for everyone to watch.

There's a clock with a timer and the one who have killed all the other 'players' in that amount of time, gets to live another round. Some just cried, the others just quietly, sat in the corners of their cages, holding on too their knees, as if that's going to help, everywhere in that barn there's cages filled with silence and then those with chatter.

Then in the cage she's in, the two young teenage girls just hold on too each other, clinging for dear Life. The grey old guy, just kept mumbling too himself, "I can't kill these people" over and over.

Probably not the most polite thing in this situation but damn, it worked on her nerves, she's trying think of a solution, a plan something to save these people. But she was all out of ideas, to be honest, except maybe one, her back was against the cage, she silently started to talk to Cas, asking him to come and find her, but nothing, he didn't hear or he didn't want too, either way it was up too her.

Glancing down at the ground, then her leather boots she remembered the knife, she could use that too unlock the cage door, then start freeing the others, she took the last bit of hope in her hand, starting to put the blade in, turning and wiggling it, until she heard the click sound, she was overjoyed, she slowly opened the screeching steel door, every noise sounded as loud as thunder.

She could see the different keys, close to the barn entrance, almost walking on the balls of her feet, so that she didn't make a single sound, reaching for the keys, her fingertips barely touching it, she jumped into the air, grabbing ahold if it, she started making her way towards the first cage. Searching for the key that fits, the barn doors flung open, she recognized the guy, Ricky from earlier, and some other dude, who made her skin crawl , "Hey how'd you get out?" Ricky shouted.

"What you can see me?" She joked, something she always did, when she was very nervous.

The other guy ran to her, but she kicked him before he even could touch her, she still had the knife in hand, this big fella didn't say, much, he charged towards her, when that silver blade touched his arm, it made him squirm, "Oh that's just freaking lovely, what are you, a vamp? A wolfie?" She sneered

The moment he showed his, teeth she knew it was a werewolf, the other folks in the cages screamed, as they never saw such a creature.

"So this games rigged? Normal human being and creatures from the night, joining the game"

Surprised the wolf looked at her , a growl "your a hunter?"

Mischievous smile on her lips "why would you say that?" The wolf growled once again, as he charged towards your position, clawing your back, as he flung you against a cage, everything is swimming before her eyes, all you could make out was that she was flung against the beaten up man, he had the bluest eyes, which kind of reminded her about Castiel's eyes.

The wolf like creature came closer, looking for your blood, that's when the man stood up, black coat drenched in blood, unsure if it was his own, or some of the creature's his killed, the last time, his blue orbs, illuminated, bloodshot veins stretched like a roadmap in his eyes , his fangs came out revealing that his a vampire.

Laying there, you where left at the mercy of these two, but you were surprised when the vamp, took ahold of the wolf, smashing his head against the bars, he had this deep old time southern voice "leave her alone"

The man, glared at her and the vamp, picking her up, letting her sway like a sack of potatoes in the air. Ricky quickly came to open the cage, throwing her in by the vampire, "You can have her".

Knowing the open wounds made the situation worse, as it was like a magnet for the vamp, she tried too get up, too defend herself but, in that moment she was too weak.

The vamp, came closer towards her, his features returned to those of a man, his voice kind "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm Benny"

Shocked "Benny, like in Benny Lafitte? Dean's friend?"

He smiled, "I thought I recognized you, saw you once on his lock screen, asked him about this new women in his life, he told me you are the love of his life"

Smirking, "Yeah that's awhile ago I guess"

Confusion written all over his face, but before he could ask, the barn filled with gas, hearing Benny say "its to knock us out so they can take us to the next location" before you could find out more, the knock out gas started taking its toll.

His eyes flutter open, Sam and Cas both sharing the same concerned facial expressions, his voice croaky "what did something happen? Is.." struggling to form the words "is she gone?"

Sam spoke quickly, trying to reassure his big brother "No! We don't know, Cas can't pick up her location"

Cas spoke "Wherever she's at, must be warded off with sigils"

Dean groaned when he sat up, "we have to save her, I can't loose her"

The three of them turned their heads when they heard the familiar phrase from Crowley "Hello Boys"

Dean immediately got up, pointing a finger at him, "Do you have something to do with her disappearance, tell me now!"

Crowley gave him a sympathetic look, that lasted about an second "Squirrel I had nothing to do with her, but I know where you can find her"

Dean could not control the anger that intensified in his chest, he smashed Crowley against the nearest wall, his arm pressing against his throat his forest green eyes pierced the black ones, his voice low, and stern "Crowley if your messing with me, I will kill you, I swear I'll kill"

With the flick of Crowley's fingers Dean flew across the room, he shouts, this whole situation clearly upsetting him as well. "She saved my damn life, why would I want something to happen to her, she cared enough to save me, ME!!!" Crowley shouted.

Sam hurried to help Dean up, recalling the saving Crowley is talking about, he was stuck in a devils trap, bounded with chains around his hands and neck, as some other hunter took out all his anger on Crowley, stabbing him over and over, when she came in, tried talking the man down, but he didn't see any reason as he thought Crowley was to blame for the death of his family, but he wasn't, he had nothing to do with it. As she was talking to this guy, she slowly started to scratch the round red chalked circle on the floor with the heel of her boots, so that Crowley can break free, the line was finally broken, by clicking his fingers the chains shook loose and fell into a thousand pieces, the other hunter saw what she did, ran towards her, pushed the blade right through her upper torso. That's when Dean and Sam ran into, her for the first time, they where hunting the hunter who they thought was possessed but turns out he had such an amount of rage inside him, that whom ever got in his way, he'd kill.

Dean's harsh voice pulled Sam out of his thoughts, "Where is she Crowley"

"Well not only her , but other people as well, even Werewolves and vampires, you named it they have it, I know the location, but we have to go now," he clears his throat, "there's only one snag, neither can I nor Cass get in their, the damn sigils on the barns wall, wont let us through"

Dean's already halfway across the room, towards the door, "what are we waiting for"

In a matter of seconds the four of them stood In front of the barn on the pig farm, Sam is busy discussing a plan of action but Dean, already pushed the barn doors open, "what the hell Dean" the loudness in Sam's voice makes Dean face him, but he just shakes him off, not answering, too determined to safe her, he walks in, gun in hand, ready for anything, everywhere you look, all the cage doors stands open, not a single trace of anyone, something glistening on the floor catches his eye, its a rose gold chain with a heart shaped locket, he didn't need to turn it around, to see the engraved 'love you always D.W' to know its hers, he opens it anyways, glaring at the picture, both off them laughing, the way they looked at each other, you could feel the electricity, the love they shared, he folds it closed in his fisted hand, his eyes damp with emotion. He runs outside, punches Crowley straight in the face. Cas takes ahold of Dean's arm's demanding him to stop. The defeated look on his face is too much too bare for the three men looking at Dean, disappointed and unsure where to look next they start looking around the farm for clues, for something that can give him a glimpse of hope.

The strong sunrays, burning her eyes, as she opens them, the pain from last night's fight, let's her realize what's happening, she tries too move, but can't, searching for the reason, she sees the rope wrapped around her arms, and waist, too a tree, she tries too wiggle, to get out off the tight grip, that's when she hears a ticking of a clock tick-tock, tick-tock, it sounded incredibly loud, looking up to where the sounds came from, seeing giant speakers blaring the sound of a clock. A rough unpleasant voice spoke, game rules: "Everything goes, you can use any weapon you can find, to kill your opponent, and also remember the last one standing gets too live" he lets out a snotty laugh. "Oh yes, and contestants, we made the first kill very easy, if you can find contestant five, she's tied up and ready to kill, oh and give us a show" he laughs harder, then all of the sudden its dead silence, figuring she's contestant no: five, she'd better think of something to get out if this situation. Her words barely a whisper, "I don't even know why I try, but Cas are you there, Crowley, can someone hear me? Please I need someone"

The rustling of the leaves, let's her know there's someone, maybe it's Cas or Crowley, maybe its someone's who wants to take her as their first kill.

The large man with his black coat walks towards her.

He's voice hushed, "let me get you outta here"

"Oh darn, I'm so thankful its you Benny"

As he unties her, they hear rustling in the bushes, he hands her a knife, and they stand ready for action, back against back, three people came closer, it's the three she shared the cage with, she and Benny suggested they walk behind them, so that the two of them can protect them.

The further they walk the more danger they seem too run into, Benny takes the most werewolves, windigos and Leviathan's , as for you, you take most of the other human beings, who wants to attack the two teenage girls and old man.

You are bruised, beaten and torn up, unsure if your body is covered in your own blood or those of the enemies, you keep on going, grateful, that you had these people to protect, because if you had to be honest, if it weren't for them, you wouldn't fight so hard to survive, every now and then you get flashbacks of how Dean got shot, knowing it was fatal, you don't want to allow yourself to think that he could be really gone, there's this glimmer of hope that he might still be alive, maybe Sam helped him, maybe Cas or Crowley.

Resting against a tree to catch your breath, you see the blood gushing down your arm, one of the men came at you with a damn axe, and in the fight he threw the axe towards you, pinning you against a tree, it must've been the adrenaline but you wiggled that axe, out of you arm, screaming while throwing it back at him, which ended up between his eyes. You fell too your knees, the emotion welling up behind your eyes, you get caught off guard when someone or something picks you up in the air. A little weak, and confused all you can see is that your draped over the large man, with multiple tattoos shoulder, it didn't take long, too lose consciousness.

Dean could not believe what he just heard, both Cas and Crowley told him, that they heard you call out too them, they knew where you were, you where caught in Purgatory, damn Purgatory. What the hell is going on. It felt like someone took his very last breath. His been too Purgatory, It's no joke for sure, it changed him, the only person who made him whole was her, his sweetheart and now, now she's going through all of that.

Crowley spoke with his people, which revealed, that the one and only Dick Roman sits behind it all, with a connection in the real world, who takes normal people, of all ages just to make money, and feed his obsession of killing people.

His quiet, as he drives too the place where the portal opens to Purgatory, thinking about all the things there, so many monsters, dangers around every corner. He just hopes, his going to make it in time, she just has too be okay, has to be alive, squinting his eyes as he recalls what he had too do, too survive.

"Sweetheart you awake?" Rolling over too the right side of the bed, emerald green eyes looking back at you, "Baby?"

"Why do you look so surprised sweetheart"

"Uhmmm I'm not really sure, it feels so right yet so wrong" she smiled

Without a single word, Dean cups your face, places his lips on yours, its sweet, it's sensual, yet filled with passion. Breaking the kiss, you look at him, studying his face, the speck of hazel around the black pupil, the way, his freckles runs across his nose, almost like the milky way, the corners of his mouth, that is slightly curled in a smile, his plumps lips, that's slightly swollen from the kiss, the little stubble on his chin and cheeks, the way his jawline just kind of frames his picture perfect face, the way his deep smoky voice fills the air, and your body with a exhilarating energy, "Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked.

Your voice barely audible and brittle, "I just love you, I love you more than life itself"

His voice calm, but certain "Marry Me"

Your jaw dropped, "What?"

He started to kiss your lips softly, his breathe hot as he said "Yes babe, I want you to be my wife?"

Searching his eyes your lips crept upwards into a smile, your voice sounded more brittle than you intended "Yes, yes Dean Winchester, I'll marry you"

The joy dancing in his green eyes, made you happy, even though a few stray tears rolled over your cheeks.

Feeling like your walking on cloud nine, then all of the sudden, you get this sharp pain in you ribs, unwillingly your eyes flutter open, gasping for air "what the hell?"

Looking around you, seeing your in some kind of room, chains around your wrists, hanging from what looks like the ceiling, clothing blood-soaked. Hair sticking to your face, sweat mixed with blood. Your feet barely touching the floor, it feels as if your arms is getting pulled out of their sockets if you move to much, your throat dry, realizing you must've been passed out, it wasn't really a dream, more like a memory, Dean did ask you too marry him, and then outta nowhere, two days later, you where left standing in the rain, the tears streaming down your face, unsure if it's about the way Dean left things, or the situation your currently thrown in.

Sighing, whispering to no one really "I'm tired, I'm so tired, I can't anymore and I don't want to anymore" head hanging down, looking at the floor, closing your eyes, wishing all this could be over, you heard heavy footsteps, laughter filling the dark air.

His voice smooth "All this turned out better than I could've imagined"

Confused you glare at him "okay, fine you win, get it over with"

Walking closer towards you, big smug on his face, "see, I can't deal with you yet, I know who you are" getting angrier now "I'll finally get my revenge, Dean will watch you die, he wanted to send me here, now I will take something precious from him"

Shocked to hear that he thinks Dean is still alive , she plays along maybe, it's her way out, Scoffing "Well sorry to hear you think he'd be coming to look for me, because we aren't together no more"

He laughs, "oh no, he is already here, searching for you, my men left him a little bread trail, as to where you are"

Furious now, you shake, trying to get loose, shouting "You leave Dean alone, kill me , but let him go please"

Clapping his hands together, "Ah, young love" he laughs harder "I am going to kill you, but Dean needs to watch, then I'll kill Sam, Cas and even Crowley, all while Dean has to watch"

Eyes wide, barely audible "They're all here"

His smug smile never leaving his face "oh yes, all of them, clearly they care, its so pathetic, you humans, you know that?"

Squinting her eyes, trying too fight the tears threatening to spill over, you care about all of them, more than you care to admit. He just simply walks out of sight. The silence is deafening, the only thing she can hear is her heart racing, Dean's alive, he came looking for her. Somewhere between the excitement of hearing Dean's alive and the spine chilling silence, she lost consciousness.

They hardly had too beat the crap out of some of the men, on their road to this half torn down, factory like building, all of them agreed, it felt like a trap, but Dean didn't give a damn, he needed to find her, save her and bring her home, he has been cursing himself internally, the whole damn way, if only he didn't freak out, but the moment he realized he wanted to marry her, be her husband, wishing he never said that, went on that hunt, saw how that ghost threw her against the wall, the pain she must've felt, he couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt or worst getting killed, just because that's what he did, so saying goodbye, felt like the best thing to do, hoping she'll give up hunting, but he should've known better. He should have stayed by her side, he should have discussed his fears, the way he felt, but instead he went and broke her heart.

The four of them split up, there's to many halls, and doors too search, mostly the halls are filled with darkness, its filthy and disgusting, dried splattered blood on the walls, scattered human bones on the cement floors. There's scratching sounds coming from one of the rooms, the gun in Dean's hand is loaded, opening the door, unsure of what he's going to find, he's skin crawling as a bunch of rats, runs past him, some over his feet, slapping against his legs, whispering underneath his breath, "damn filth". He's heart, beating out of his chest, the more he walks in the darkness the more he can feel the darkness entering his mind, his heart, every grain of his very being.

He stopped in his tracks, the moment he saw her, hanging by chain's, her whole body is slumped over, hair covering her face, he can't make out if she's still breathing, for what felt like an eternity, he froze, almost too afraid to take a closer look. Striding closer till he's right in front of her, he gently takes her face in his hands, concern painted on his face, a burning pain in his chest, her beautiful face is bruised, and bloodied, her breathing faint, but still there, his voice hushed "Sweetheart, can you hear me"

Watching her open her eyes, was a beautiful site, she looked tired, a smile across her busted lips, "Dean,"

"Yes sweetheart I'm here, I'm sorry, I love you" he declared.

Sobbing now, "I... I thought I lost you forever"

"Baby, you'll always have me, always you hear me" he pleaded

Before she could answer a couple of men appeared out of the shadows. There were maybe six or seven, Dean got up, in a fighting stance ready to beat the crap out of them, he started punching and kicking his way, through the men, it wasn't until the last one hit the ground that he'd stop, blood splatters across his face, glancing over at her, he hears the familiar voice of Dick Roman "crashing the party are we?"

"Yeah well I didn't receive an invite so thought I'll invite myself" Dean smirked. He drew his gun, knowing it won't really help, but it's more a habit, "What do you want?" He questioned

Crude laughter fills the air, "I want you to pay Dean" he snapped his fingers, more men came running towards Dean, he tried his best, but he was one against, all of them, they over powered him, one clocked him against the head, in his unconscious state, they were tying him to a chair with chains, facing you.

It didn't take long before they were beating you, biting your lower lip, not wanting to give them the pleasure of seeing you in so much pain, you could taste the blood on the tip on your lip.

Dick Roman came walking towards you, dagger in hand, hoping he couldn't see the pain, and fear in your eyes, your eyes pierced his, he didn't say a single word, he pushed that dagger, through the skin and bone, wedging it between your ribs. Your scream filling the dark room.

Dean's eyes flung open, he's jaw clenched, he's voice angered and defeated "NO BABE" he shouted.

"Ah poor Dean Winchester" he laughed

Dean's green eyes, now almost black, "I'm going to kill, I promise you that"

Laughter filled the air, once again, it didn't last long though, surprised he glanced at them, Sam, Cas, Crowley and Benny, all four off them stood their bloodied and beaten, but ready to fight. All four of them started fighting and killing their way towards Dean and you, Crowley was the first one to stand next too Dean, his British voice almost inaudible "This belongs to you" he's face lit up with a sly smile.

Dean looked at him all confused, "I thought you threw this in the sea somewhere"

Crowley just shrugs his shoulders. The moment he placed that blade in Dean's hands he could feel the mark, turning a fiery red, the power pulsing through his veins, it didn't take long for the effects to take control of him, breaking loose out of the chain's, he faces Dick Roman, a smirk on his lips, he's features darkens. Taking that blade right too his chest, he kept going over and over, not stopping for a second, driving the blade further and deeper into his now lifeless body.

Sam tried to make him stop, even Cas, Benny and Crowley, but it didn't work.

Your voice brittle, revealing the pain, "Dean stop, please Baby"

Immediately stopping, he threw the blade down, running towards you, his eyes pleading, his voice soft "Sweetheart I'm so sorry" cupping your face, kissing your lips, holding you close to him, as Cas and Sam unlocks the chains, your body went limb, all you could feel is his hands holding you upright. Staring into his emerald green eyes, mouthing "I love you" the last thing you catches a glimpse off, was the light in his eyes as he replied "I love you too, Sweetheart, come back to me, come home please"

It's been almost three years since that dreadful day, smiling now, if it weren't for Dean begging Cas to save you, you wouldn't be here baking your husband his birthday pie, getting ready for the barbeque, with your good friends Sam, Cas, Benny and yes even dear old Crowley.

Did you and the Winchester Brothers stop hunting, no, of course not, but the two of you have each other and that's all you'll ever need, whenever your lost, knowing Dean's your lighthouse showing you the way home, with those beautiful green eyes.

#jacklesversebingo23 #nescveckwriter #lighthouse #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #spotify #jared padalecki #sam and dean #dean winchester imagine #benny lafitte #castiel spn #spn #Spotify

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seancekitsch · 8 months

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Hi if you're open to requests: could you do an Adrian x fem reader with the premise of them having known eachother in highschool and sticking together as ostracized weirdos. Reader leaves evergreen after graduating HS and comes back 10 years later and runs into Adrian. I love your writing and how you characterize Adrian!!

hi hi hi i hope you enjoy this it got away from me and now its a full blown fic

A Homecoming

warnings: best friends to strangers to lovers, gut chase is his own warning, maybe ooc, angry drunk sex, bad speeches, love confessions, angry fluff if that makes sense, happy ending even tho both idiots are in their bag down bad

“How the fuck did Laura meet Gut Chase of all people?” you whisper to yourself as you pick out produce to stock the fridge of your Airbnb. It's a crappy one bedroom house on what was once the nicer side of town, the side with lovely little suburbs away from all of the apartments and trailer parks that people turned their nose up at. You remember those noses turned up at you for your lovely little apartment that you called a childhood home. Now it feels freaky to be on the other side, in a rancher in a suburb with cute little pinterest craft-esque decor on the walls and a Friends reference as the wi-fi password. Fucking yuck.

You never expected to be back in Evergreen after high school, especially not for a wedding. You flew across the country for college to basically avoid this very situation, but here you are. Your college roommate who got a job in Seattle bringing you back to your home town to marry easily the biggest douche from your high school. Your invitation to the fifteen year reunion came in the mail and was thrown directly into the trash several months ago muttering about how they even fucking found your newest address, and then the fuckin save the date from Laura came behind it. You’d known Laura was dating some gym trainer, you knew she said he was from a small town. She’s always been one to fall fast and hard, and you can count on more fingers than you've got the amount of times through college and grad school she had cried over a failed date with “the one” before getting back in the proverbial saddle.

You fondle an onion and think about the last time you saw Gut Chase. It was… the morning after your graduation. The morning you left for Gotham. He was sat at the breakfast bar of their house sipping coffee and raising an eyebrow at you trying to sneak out of his house for once instead of into it.

Now having taken that trip for the first time in reverse, your long taxi ride from the airport to the airbnb felt like a death march. You’d left behind so much and burned any bridges that could have been left here.

June 2008

“The guys are never going to believe this.”

“Dude, you’re not telling any guys about this,” you laugh, wrapping yourself around Adrian’s torso, the lean muscle taught under his skin as he laughs with you. You weight dips and moves on the trampoline below you, the stupid double wide sleeping bag doing nothing for your back, especially after you’ve been standing in heels all day and sweating in your graduation cap and gown.

“But then I can finally tell Gut and Chris it’s just that I’m a late bloomer! And if I don’t tell them it was you they won’t believe me!” Adrian exclaims, not at all worried by the open windows of his own house or the other backyards that the dawn is going to slowly creep over. You roll your eyes, your best friend always consumed with impressing his older brother and his friends.

“That's not a thing. Isn’t it enough that we had this?” you ask, you cheek pressing into his bare chest. His legs tangle in the early summer heat under the cheap sleeping bag.

“No!” He exclaims, laughing like you should be in on it too, but you don’t laugh with him. Your virginity was never important to you, it’s just that everyone else in Evergreen sucks. He’s the only one that you would have deemed worthy anyway.

You figured: You leave for college tomorrow, he’s the best person you know, and he’s hot even if he doesn’t know it. You’re both virgins- or- you were until you dragged him out into the backyard around two in the morning after passing back and forth a bottle of peach schnapps that he had been arguing about with you all night until he figured out it tasted like candy; the party his older brother hosting in yours and Adrian’s name very quickly became not about you and about him and his friends who had graduated a few years prior.

Tomorrow you’ll be a month away from being eighteen and across the country by yourself and you haven’t told anyone but your mother, but it hasn’t quite hit you yet. It can’t when a sticky condom was thrown across the yard twenty minutes ago, and That’s Not My Name by the Ting Tings is bass boosted and floating in the air from the house, and Adrian Chase just gave you your first orgasm.

“Maybe it is,” he admits, his voice now heavy with sleep. You don’t know when he falls asleep, but you leave before he wakes.

Your hand shakes at self check out, wondering if Adrian and his brother patched things up enough to be a groomsman. Laura made you a bridesmaid over FaceTime, talking your ear off about how much Dorian wasn’t her normal type but when you know you know, you know? And even then it never struck you to remember that Gut’s real name is Dorian. Maybe you’d be paired up, and maybe Adrian had changed enough in this span of time to forgive you and look you in the eye. You don’t count on it, honestly, you expect him to throw a fit the second he sees you. You don’t blame him for that hypothetical reaction either. It’s been over a decade with two degrees six terrible boyfriends and only one friend who ever came close to how special Adrian was for you. And now she’s marrying Adrian’s dickhead brother.

Its only a few minutes after you load the dirty old fridge of your airbnb (definitely only getting three stars, the place is sketch) that you phone rings, Laura’s contact illuminating the dull lighting of the kitchen. You put her on facetime while you load the pantry.

“BITCH!” she screams, her smile illuminating a dim screen as her voice cuts through all of the loud background noise, “Where are you?”

You laugh, tossing the veggie chips into the back of the pantry.

“Where am I?” you scoff, “I’m at my Airbnb, I was about to throw on a bad movie and drink some wine. Where are you, Miss Bride?”

She puts the phone up close to her face, only her eye showing as she fake whispers into the mic.

“I’m at Hooters,” she confides like its the funniest secret.

“Oh, with Mr. Groom?” you ask, teasing her as you reach for the bottle and the corkscrew, one of the few amenities left to you in the drawers.

“With tha whooooole wedding party,” she draws out the words without taking the phone away from her eye.

“You had their LIT’s, didn't you?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her.

“And I just bought one for you,” she confirms, “So you better get an uber or I’m going to switch out your bridesmaid dress for an Aquaman costume.”

“You slut!” you shout, swiping up on her call to obey her and pull up uber, “You wouldn't. Aquaman is such a chump.”

“So get over here!” she laughs, and it's infectious. God, you've missed Laura. Sure, you facetime twice a week, but she lived with you for six years and it's like losing a hand to lose her being just a few layers of drywall away at all times.

“I am, I am! Its ordered,” you assure her, and a comfortable silence settles, she sips her drink, her hand clawlike to hold both hers and yours so she can hold her phone in the other.

“You know he fucks the fish, right?” you ask.

“You're the second person to say that tonight!”

The uber to Hooters is quick, thank god. The bright lights feeling harsh on your skin and you really wish Laura hadn't threatened you with the costume. It’s manipulation at its finest. You had the most recent kissing booth movie right there ready to be made fun of over your coffee mug full of wine. But no, you have to stand around in a Hooters in your hometown. Youre flooded with relief, however, when you walk past the hostess stand and clock that theres a touchtunes machine in the corner so you can at least entertain yourself with awful song choices. You know who would love hearing the Monster Mash followed by Call Me Maybe? You and Laura. Especially after she tries to pour that LIT down your throat the moment she sees you.

“There she is!” Laura shouts, helping you tilt back the glass immediately. It's just like college again, your days back in Gotham where you’d wander away from the college bars and see how much liquor you could get for your money.

“Mm, holy shit,” you cry out, barely able to down the drink in one go, “That's how you snagged your groom?”

She crinkles her nose at you,her blonde hair falling in her face as she leans in close.

“He happened to like my squat thrust, I know I have to work harder than that to win you over,” she quips, and you rub your nose with hers before pushing yourself out of her arms reach.

“Now where is he? Who are these bridesmaids I’m sharing my spotlight with?” you ask, letting her lead you further in towards the bar.

Gut Chase himself meets you halfway across the restaurant.

“Y/N!” He shouts, “You’re kidding me! I thought Laura-girl was joking when she said she knew you.”

“Gut!” you shout back, surprising yourself that you're actually sort of happy to see the familiar face. He pulls you under his bicep quickly, ruffling your hair as if you were his little sibling.

“She was so weird after she got kicked off the cheer squad,” he explains to his fiancee, “She spent all her time in my basement with my little brother! This one lived with us.”

“Oh, Adrian?” she asks hesitantly trying to remember his brother's name , and something weird twinges in your chest.

“Yeah,” you manage to get out, your voice and your breath practically leaving you.

Is he here? Does he hate you? Does he miss you? The first few years without him were tough, you would turn to tell him something or think of something funny you had to say and it all just had to float into the wind, forgotten. Then Laura sort of filled that gap. Then your D&D group. But the Adrian sized hole can only be squeezed into, never full filled, never a perfect fit.

“Yo, Adrian!” Gut calls out before you can stop him, “Get your ass over here!”

Gut releases his grip on you and a man across the bar looks up from his phone.

And it's like time slows down, and as he slides off the barstool “Foxy” by Jimi Hendrix floods the air like that scene in Wayne's World. Its like he moves in slow motion, his sweater doing nothing to obscure his physique and muscles, his glasses doing nothing to hide those beautiful eyes of his. He's changed so much, but not at all, just filled out what was already there. You're not sure if it's the LIT or the sight of him that's making your knees feel like they’re buckling.

“Why is she here?” Adrian asks his brother, his posture straight and tone unreadable, and Gut gives him a warning look. You almost pity Laura that you didn't brief her on on your intimate knowledge of the family she was marrying into.

“Bro…” Gut warns him, less than subtle. You've seen this before, but in high school, Gut would have just hit Adrian already or called him a pussy.

“Hey, uh, Gut? Sorry, Dorian?” he turns his attention to you as you correct yourself, “Why don't you take my dear Laura for another LIT? I could use another one too.”

Laura looks at you like you've got three heads for commanding the situation, but gladly lets her fiance lead her back over to order another, whispering to you that she’ll bring yours on Gut’s tab.

Adrian stares at you, looking you up and down, sizing you up… not sexually, maybe… maybe? Wouldn't be the worst thing, he’s always been handsome to you, but he's really filled out.

“Why are you here?” he asks you directly, his knuckles turning white around his beer.

“I….,” words fail you for a moment, breath hitching in your throat as a million things want to spill from your lips.

I’m sorry, I’ve always regretted leaving you, I wanted you to come with me, I wish I took you with me, I compared even the stupidest tinder date to you, I want to make you laugh, I loved you since I was a kid, Even Laura doesn’t get me like you do.

But you don’t say any of that. You can’t.

“I’m here for the wedding,” you say, holding it all back even though you could collapse into his arms at any moment.

“Me too,” He says, “Only I’ve been here and who knows where you were.”

Okay; you deserve that snark from him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

An understatement of the century but it’ll do for now. If you say too much, you’ll cry. You cannot cry in a Hooters.

“Or say goodbye?”

“I know, I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry for everything.”

Adrian’s arms fall around you, the cold heel of the bottle of the glass digging between your shoulder blades as you lean into the hug against him. It feels like home being in his arms again, only now the arms are filled out with muscle and he

“I’m sorry too,” Adrian offers, but there's no real emotion behind it. You can tell he doesn't really mean it; an empty thing to say just because he thinks he should, but that doesn't bother you.

“There's nothing to be sorry for, “ you console him genuinely, your hand rubbing up against his henley covered bicep.

“I know, I’m just saying that. I’m not the one who abandoned my best friend. Now I have a new best friend!”

You pull back, not at all upset because you expect that too, and at this moment Laura comes back with your LIT.

“For courage,” she whispers not at all subtly in your ear before kissing your cheek and running back to her fiance.

“Why do you need courage?” Adrian asks, not pretending he didn't hear that.

“Cause I never should have left… and you look really good.”

It's definitive, it's out there. You can't and you won't take it back for anything. It's the truth. You love Laura and the fact that you met her but you absolutely should not have left Adrian to do it.

You take the straw to your mouth and suck, not pulling away from Adrian, instead your hand still around his back clawing into his sweater to keep him there.

“You look really good too! Pretty, because women don't like being called hot.”

You dont know where he got that from, but you accept the compliment nonetheless.

“You know, I was really mad at you for like a year, but then I just got over it, I figured you were trying to teach me some weird lesson about missed opportunities or acting out part of some romantic comedy but then you didn't come back and… I’ll shut up now,” he says, misreading your attention on him as a bad thing.

“I wanted to call you back,” you admit, “But how do I call you and say: Hey, I’m in Gotham now! Even though we were supposed to get dinner tonight I guess I wont be making those plans. I didnt know what to do.”

“I could have come with you!”

You both know thats a fucking lie.

“I’m glad I got to see you,” you offer, the words so bittersweet on your tongue. His eyes search your face, and you realize then you probably should have re-applied some make up. Its set into your face from the flight this morning and all of the errands you've run. You probably look like some kind of victim.

"Me too, because honesty I've thought about that night a lot. I've tried to rank where it falls between all the threesomes I've had."

Weird flex, but, okay.

"I do too," you admit as you grab the straw for another sip, "not the threesomes thing, but I think about it... about you."

Something about Adrian's gaze has you open and honest, moreso than you would normally be with a man. But then again, Adrian isn't just some man...

“Finish that,” he tells you, his eyes zeroed in to where your lips and the straw connect. You obey, drinking what you can before putting the glass down on the nearest empty table.

“Adrian I-” You get cut off by his lips capturing yours; Adrian kisses you with a passion you haven’t felt in fucking years, the passion of someone who actually cared. Sure, you've had boyfriends and girlfriends, but none have kissed you like this.

Instead of hot and bothered you feel cold… and wet.

“Adrian, what the fuck-?” you whisper when you can break away, something dripping down your leg. His beer spilling as he tilts the bottle carelessly to grip you better. You break away from him to shake the beer off of your jeans, a puddle forming on the ground. He scrambles to right the turned bottle and place it on the same table as your LIT.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m not good at understanding people,” he admits to you as if you didnt spend all of high school attached at the hip, and this time you kiss him, your hands coming up to cup his clean-shaven jawline.

The next thing you know, you're back at your airbnb, having Irish goodbye’d to Laura and Gut and without meeting or talking to the rest of the wedding party. Youre being a bad friend and a bad bridesmaid and you know it. You hadn’t had the chance to ask Adrian why Gut was so friendly to him, though Laura might have a hand in that. You hadn’t had the chance to ask where he worked, what he liked to do, who Adrian now was really.

Adrian’s mouth barely leaves yours the second the door is closed, instead backing you quickly into what he correctly guessed is the bedroom of the house. His reflexes are sharp, unlike the awkward teen he was, and he knows how to perfectly steer you to your bed for the next week.

You walk backwards awkwardly until your calves meet the boxspring unceremoniously. He tilts you back until you fall on your own, your elbows catching you as he follows suit and crawls on top of your figure. You don't know where the confidence comes from, but then again it had fifteen years to form in him. Adrian pulls off your shoes and your pants quickly as he moves up the bed, not even trying to hide his prowess, moving like some kind of well trained machine. He’s come to impress even though he's done more than that by simply not snubbing you or telling you off in the middle of a Hooters, although both would have been deserved.

But you; You feel like you're back out on that trampoline again, your graduation dress pushed up around your waist, all too bare under him. No time has passed, it’s all so familiar -

“I should hate you” he states, his lips hovering over your navel, “But it's weird, I don't! In fact, I feel like I should be thanking you. If hadn't left and rejected me so hard I wouldn't have gotten so buff and good looking.”

“You should hate me,” you agree, your breath and your words feeling lost in your chest under the weight of him on top of you. His lips travel from your navel to your ribcage, pushing your shirt up as he goes, leaving a trail of fire in their path. You arch your back into his motions, your hands helping him pull the shirt off, awkwardly shuffling until you can fling it to some random corner of the room. Adrian’s eyes widen when he sees your bralette, mesh and flimsy and hiding nothing from him.

He pulls one of the dark blue mesh cups down, immediately latching his lips around your pert nipple, sucking and earning a sharp inhale of breath from you. He chuckles against your skin at your reaction to him, and then does it again. Cocky asshole. You can't help but compare this to the trampoline. He was so unsure, fumbling and almost tearful at the fear of fucking something up. You led the way, urged him on. Adrian now needs no urging, no guidance in making you squirm beneath him. His lips release your nipple, and he bites down at the top of the swell of your breast, sure to leave a mark. Youll have to remember to put a spoon in the freezer tomorrow morning or else you could end up with a wardrobe malfunction for the wedding. Cocky bastard, you think, leaving his mark on you.

But really, he’d left so many marks on you that still havent faded. Its the way your ringtone from high school never changed, its the way you bought only the brands of locks Adrian said were best for each apartment you've had, its the way you buy things in teal if theres the option. Your fucking spatula back home is one of his many marks.

“Ah!” you yelp when his bite gets a little too hard, your perfectly manicured fake nails digging into his back. Adrian laughs again and pulls himself up to reach your neck, his hands exploring everywhere they can, teasing at your chest, your waist, your hips.

“Fuck me,” you plead as his lips connect with the pulsepoint on your throat.

“Youre sure?” He asks, “You know, you shouldn’t fuck someone who should hate you. That's just asking for complications.”

And although he gives you an out, he’s already gone back to kissing and licking at your throat and groping at every curve of your body. You're thinking with your pussy, not your mind right now. You know there should be a conversation instead of whats happening right now. Maybe some tears shed, maybe a nostalgic movie and some honest explanations on your part.

But you don't initiate any of that.

“Then fuck me like you hate me,” you say instead.

Adrian grinds his jean clad length against your core, and you whine, girlish and high pitched and embarrassing. He shushes you, removing himself from your grasp to yank off his sweater and undershirt, then his jeans all discarded over the edge of the foot of the bed.

He moves to you, working your panties down your legs until you can kick them off the bed at your ankles, and sheds his boxers with them. His eyes follow the trail of your legs to your center, already dripping and ready for him.

“You really want that?” he asks, and it sounds rhetorical. You didnt know Adrian could do that. He traces his calloused hands up the insides of your thighs, letting his fingertips tease you where you need him most. You nod fervently, arching your back to try to reach him, bring him closer.

“Please?” you ask, wanton and pathetic under him. He draws his thumb between your folds, testing the metaphorical waters. He draws low, anticipation laced moans from your lips, teasing and slow.

And then without warning pushes two fingers into you.

Your gasp echoes against the cliches wall decor, rattling the glass of the live laugh love frame, shaking the flimsy bedframe.

He does not start slowly, no, he gives you no mercy in his motions, his smirk teasing and taunting you as he thrusts his hand.

“Adrian, I- Fuck!” you struggle to find the words, your hands moving to his forearms and digging your nails in, trying to hold on for dear life.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asks. Fuck, you didn’t know Adrian could talk like this. And to think, you could have had this the whole time if you just stayed here.

“Yeah,” you whine, “Yeah, please.”

You're not sure what youre begging for. To cum? To feel him? You just want more.

“I’ll give you exactly what you want,” he leans down like he’s going to kiss you, and then instead nips at your lip before pulling back. Its cruel.

His fingers move in, out, in, out, inout, and then slow to a halt inside you. You squirm under him, needing him to do anything. Anything.

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he says, and you flush in embarrassment, neediness and heat settling in your chest.

“Adrian, I need you,” Your voice sounds far away, underwater, foreign to your ears. Who is this person? How and when did you ever get this needy, this desperate? His smile grows, but it does not give you any comfort.

Adrian removes his fingers from you, lifting them up to his nose to smell them.

“Like fucking candy,” he remarks, and pushes his boxers down, easily discarding them.

He leans back down, his weight on you once more. A weighted blanket, a comfort as his chest presses against yours. You kiss him, the way a smoker needs a cigarette, pulling and all consuming; your hands find purchase in his hair, your body fully reactive to every tiny movement of his lips against yours. His tongue sweeps across your lips, easily parting them the same way he easily parted your legs. He moves against you, rock hard in the crux of your thigh, his big hands holding your hips in place as he finds his way. Adrian probes along, pushing his hips in slow teasing motions until he finds his rightful spot at your center.

“I’m gonna make you hate me,” he whispers between kisses, and you brace yourself against him, foreheads touching and his glasses fogged.

He pushes into you with a groan, bottoming out and giving you the grace to adjust before he starts to move.

Adrian’s hips rock you, the whole bed, your whole world, your hands tighten around his curls as they pick up in pace, the rhythm of the bedframe banging against the bed punctuating each of his movements. He picks up his pace quickly, and you move in time easily, rolling your hips to meet his with each thrust.

“Fffffuck,” you stutter, losing control of your lips, your tongue, both moving of their own accord and saying shit. There’s a war in your brain, part of you wants to stay in control, wants to make sense of this; the other side wants everything Adrian to overtake everything you.

“I’m gonna make you hate me,” he repeats, switching up his angle to make your next moan a pitiful squeak in your throat.

“You,” you gasp again, “You said that.”

His hands roam the geography of your body, mapping each curve and dip of you, not missing a single centimeter. Everything he touches turns to flame, hot under him and hot under his touch, pushing you closer and closer to your boiling point.

You won't last long, you know that. Adrian moans above you, dragging his lips against the corner of yours as he moves, closer and closer.

And then he pulls out. You whine at the missing contact, the chill that sets in without his heat in your orbit. You pout, lips messy and swollen.

“Turn over,” he demands, moving his finger in a circle to demonstrate his intention. You obey quickly, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. His hands land first on your ass, smacking both sides of your cheeks and whispering “hell yeah” in a tone you're definitely sure you weren't supposed to hear. His hands then slide from your ass to your hip, then to your back. He unclips your bra and lets the straps fall down your shoulders.

He bends down over you, letting his chest press into your bare back as he presses a kiss to the space where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Down, girl,” he says, as one of his big hands starts to push your shoulder down until you cave into his movements, folding into the bed until your face hits the pillow.

Fuck, all control of the situation you had, you’ve lost. The ground crumbling out from under you and Adrian can mold and manipulate you any way he wants to, and you want him to.

His free hand strokes down the curve of your back, and then leaves you, only to position himself back at your entrance.

“Oh, you look beautiful like this,” Adrian sighs, sounding strained. You've always trusted Adrian to be honest, and you can believe he means it, like he would worship you face down ass up.

He presses his length into you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, a glacial pace until he’s fully sheathed.

Adrian wiggles his hips when theyre fully against your ass, and you huff in laughter, giggling into the pillow before he silences you with a rough thrust.

This new angle feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, but in a way that you want to feel over and over again, in a way that makes you feel breathless and alive. The next thrust and the one after that leave you gasping and struggling for air, the ones after it drawing high pitched whines into the silk of the pillowcases.

He pistons into you quickly after that, like a man with something to prove. He presses his full length into you each time, and each time hitting a spot inside you that has you feeling fuzzy and hot all over. His hand returns to your hip to guide his motions and yours.

You chase your high, rocking back into his thrusts and meeting each of them half way. Your moans are swallowed in the silk, wrapped and buried down deep into the mattress, rooted in him and the moment.

“How am I doing?” he asks, and sensuality gone from his voice, but thats just Adrian.

You moan in response, his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave crescent moons in your skin that would last far into the morning.

“Close,” you manage to squeak out, your voice barely audible, but Adrian picks up on what you're trying to say.

“Yeah? You wanna come on my dick?” he asks, but doesn’t give you a choice otherwise. Adrian moves his hand from gripping your hip to between your legs. His fingers circle your clit, just the right amount of pressure to make it feel like you're about to snap.

“Please,” you whine, arching your back further into the friction.

“Let go, baby, let go,” he coaxes you, his lips against your spine and you finally give in to him.

He slows and kisses your shoulder while you ride your high, whispering praise against your skin as you shudder beneath him, his whole frame bent over yours. His hand leaves your clit and both come up to hug around your waist, anchoring you to him and the world and bringing you back down. All you can think of is that you could have had this the whole time. Fifteen years of this.

But then he returns to his former position, the hand on your shoulder returning there as he picks up the pace again. It stings when he starts to move, but not terribly. A soothing burn that you find yourself rocking back into without a second thought.

“Where can I?” He asks through gritted teeth, lifting his hand off of your shoulder so you can lift your head up.

“Inside,” you answer, voice still muffled by the pillow, "I'll get plan b, there's always a coupon for that shit."

“Got it,” he confirms, and then speeds up his pace again. This time his hips are messy, without rhythm as his body meets yours, his voice uncontrolled as me moans without restraint.

Even overstimulated and tired, you rock back in time to meet him, moaning each time his hip bones meet your ass.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-” he stutters, and pulls back unceremoniously, heat streaming and filling you only seconds later. You shift slowly, trying to get your knees out from under you.

Adrian stops you though, one of his hands a soothing comfort on your hip to guide you to a comfier position as his other hand dabs a tissue from the bedside on your back.

He cleans you off remarkably gently, moving over you to throw himself down on the blankets beside you, his head hitting the empty second pillow. Your back feels sticky and cold, but you don't mind at all. You turn your head so at least one one your eyes can peek out at him from where you lay spent and tired, a mess of sweat and spit and butterflies in your stomach. He lays in a similar state, breathing deeply with a lazy smile across his features.

It feels right.

“Stay and cuddle?” you ask, voice wary from use and the need for sleep. You feebly move your hand toward him, reaching out to straighten his glasses.

“Sure,” he says, “But I won't be here when you wake up.”

He puts his big arm across your back, and where you should feel the familiar warmth you only feel ice.

“Really?” you ask, but fuck, thats a mistake. You shouldn't say anything. It's an instant realization you don't want to hear anything he’s about to say.

“It’s what we do, right?” Adrian says it like it’s a joke, but there’s venom in his words. It drips through, from his teeth to yours, and sinks in.

He pulls you close, his actions not matching his words, and snuggles in, his hot breath fanning out against your face. His eyes close and he lets his body relax quickly. You try to do the same, but you end up staring at the ceiling fan, trying to think of any reason why Adrian would actually stay. You don't know when you fall asleep, but it's long after he does.

True to his word, he’s not in the airbnb when you wake up. Just cold sheets and an empty glass of water and a half eaten green apple on your counter. That's all to signify he was even here, that you and your best friend had a sleepover after fifteen years. No real evidence, no trophy, not even his phone number, not even a cup left in the sink for you to clean when you do the dishes. Even the marks of his nails are fading away into nothing.

You deserve that, you think, all of Adrian’s talk of hate fucking of course wasnt a joke. When had he ever not said what he meant? He’d always told you what was on his mind, no filter and often TMI. But that doesnt stop the tears that fall, the streaking of last night's mascara down your cheekbones and the messy foundation you didn't take off.

True to your words last night as well, before you even brush your teeth you order a plan b kit from Doordash. Now you wait, and wallow.

It comes quickly, you take it, you feel no different.

You lay on the couch, the bed feeling weird and wrong now that it's been used and abandoned by Adrian. It's definitely going to be a long week, you think, and you debate trying to contact the airbnb host to see if you can check out early. Maybe you can take a rental car up to that town they shot Twin Peaks in and stay at the hotel or something.

This was a mistake. All of it. You shouldn't have let Adrian kiss you, you shouldn't have kissed him. You shouldn't have wanted him. You shouldn't still want him.

Your phone rings. Laura.

“Holy shit,” she sighs, her voice shaking, “Can I ask you the biggest favor?”

You have nothing to lose at this point, besides your comfort in the stilettos she has you wearing for the bridal party.

“Yeah, whats up?”

“I need,” her voice breaks, and you can tell it's serious.

“Whoa, what do you need? I’ll drop everything,” you interrupt and reassure her, and it's not like you had anything scheduled but self pity until the rehearsal tonight and the dinner at Fennel Fields afterwards. Laura’s not someone you've ever liked to hear or see cry, because she never does so unless she has a good reason.

“Gina’s plane got delayed,” she explains, “You remember Gina?”

You remember Gina well, Laura’s best friend since diapers, your Adrian basically. She was the maid of honor and you were basically second in command to her.

“Babe, I know Geen,” You remind her. Gina gave you your first pot brownie.

“Well her plane got delayed and she's stuck in Metropolis on her layover until the morning of the wedding and then she still might miss hair and make up but she's not here for the rehearsal dinner speech and I don't know what to do,” Laura sucks in a desperate breath, “I don't want to cancel the dinner speeches I know Dorian's best man had a plan.”

“You don't have to,” you tell her, “You made me second in command.”

“I know, I need you to write a speech if you can.”

At this point you can tell Laura is crying on the other end of the line.

“It's done. Don't worry your sexy little face about it,” you comfort her, not really thinking about what you're signing yourself up for but your undying loyalty to her taking over the rational thought in your mind.

“That doesn't make sense,” her voice is still watery, but you can hear the smile through it.

“Hang up on me and go make out with Gut,” you tell her, “Leave the amateur hour to me.”

And she does just that, whispering her thanks to you as she cuts herself off.

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?

This fucking speech, your saving grace of a distraction. Fuck, fuck, fuck what do I say? You think. You wrack your brain on what to say, you practice, you write line after line in green glittery gel pen on a piece of stationary you found in the homes kitchen. You treat it like a stand up set, ‘yes and-ing’ yourself to death to try to think of something that doesn't sound stupid. You've never been in a long term relationship that was ever actually going anywhere. You're so incapable of wording what love is…

No, thats a lie you tell yourself. The words come easily now, the words flow like water from a fountain.

It's not clear how you're going to go through the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Knowing Adrian will be in the same proximity as you; Knowing that with Adrian one kiss is too many and a thousand is never enough. You want to bash your head against the wall, but instead you save your airbnb fees and focus on doing your hair and makeup and getting dressed.

You look at the dress you brought for the rehearsal, one of two garment bags hanging on the top of the closet door. Your bridesmaid dress; an olive green, low cut, with a soft flowing skirt. And then the dress for tonight, one that was already in your closet at home from your thrifting as a broke college student; navy vintage polyester taffeta, with an extremely tight square neck bodice and a tea length skirt that puffed out. You had sewn a comically big pink heart with white lace into the bottom of the bodice a week after you had gotten it. Laura came home to you sitting with fabric and thread strewn across the floor of your shared apartment. You knew this dress was a memory between you two, and that's why you picked it for tonight. Putting it on alone is a little difficult, but you manage. The only thing Laura asked out of your comfort zone was that all bridesmaids wore silver stilettos. Fucking evil, but you throw those on the passenger seat of your rental car.

You crinkle the paper with your speech in your hand as you clutch it against the steering wheel, and pull out of the driveway of the rancher.

The rehearsal goes smoothly, but that wasn't the part you were worried about. You only wrinkled part of your skirt under your sweaty hands but for the most part it was salvageable. You're walking with one of Gut’s coworkers, a nice guy named Mike who has also never been in a wedding before and he’s easy to use as a distraction from those green eyes you can't stand to feel on your skin. Laura is happy and that's what matters. That's what you tell yourself every time your smile falters.

You avoid his eyes at all costs as you enter the back room of Fennel Fields, taking your seat next to Laura’s mother, taking the Maid of Honor seat and looking at the fixed course menu after a polite hello to the woman who helped you find a Gotham apartment without remnants of fear gas in the venting. Adrian sits at the table diagonal from you now, a slight relief from the onslaught of him and everything about him. Your clammy hand reaches for the menu, passing it to the waiter nearby after clarifying that everything looked fine with no substitutions; everyone does the same and you try to keep yourself preoccupied by any means necessary to avoid that gaze.

Champagne is poured and you want to drink it down, want to take the edge off in any way possible.

But you don't. You can't. The note in your dress pocket prevents you from doing that.

Gut’s best man goes first. He gives a lovely speech, you figure. He talks about how Laura and Gut are like puzzle pieces or something and how she’s been such a light in his life. It's odd to think that Gut’s friends know so much of Laura, that she’s become one of their group. Her other bridesmaids are even Gut’s friend’s wives and girlfriends except for you and Gina and one other girl, her coworker at this new job.

You keep your eyes trained on him, and on Gut and Laura. They look so in love, so genuinely happy. Fuck, its beautiful.

“So I’ll end this trainwreck on a toast. To the lovely Bride and Groom: may they make their honeymoon flight, and not lose their luggage!”

You laugh, whispering a cheers before tapping your flute on the table and finally sipping champagne yourself.

Now it's your turn. On unsteady legs, whether from the stilettos Laura has you wearing or your emotional state, you rise from your seat and pull the grossly crumpled piece of paper from your dress pocket.

The microphone gets passed to you and you steel yourself to do your best stage face and voice. Give them senior year at Gotham University’s production of Miss Julie.

Here goes nothing.

“Hi,” you start, clear and confident, “I’m not Gina. I’m sorry, I wish I was.”

Laura’s mom and a few of the wedding party laugh. You don't look at Adrian.

“And to make matters worse, I’m not even qualified to give this speech.”

You earn another laugh, this time from more people, and Laura snorts and slams her hand down on the table. She can correctly guess how you screamed in your airbnb trying to write this, having watched you struggle through editing stand up sets for years. She knows you probably talked to yourself in the mirror to get this right.

“I’ve sabotaged my chance at love but these kids? They know what they’re doing.”

What the fuck does that next line say, you sweaty bitch? Why the fuck did you use gel pens for this?

“Before I moved into my studio in Condiment King’s territory—“ you pause for laughter and get some, “— I lived with Laura. And she was good, I guess.”

You stick your tongue out at her, winking.

“She showed me how to use a hair straightener and how to shotgun a beer, but most importantly she showed me what it looks like to actively be vulnerable and put yourself on the line for love. She faced the dating world before tinder, but she also extended that vulnerability to me. With her making soup for me when I’d had a crappy day, and calling me out when I’d done something wrong to put me back on the right path, she always loved me fully and with care. Not gentleness, though. After a frat formal she threw a glass at me once.”

The room erupted in laughter and Laura looked fake-embarrassed.

“But I have also had the privilege of knowing the groom. Dorian, or as I know him, Gut Chase, was someone I always knew would make sure I didn’t end up dead in a ditch. I was briefly a cheerleader, he was in football and a few years older, but I had someone close to him that I held dearly and he kept that in mind. I don’t think he liked me much when we were growing up, but he always made sure I had a ride home and a place to stay. I wasn’t allowed to speak to him in public but I wasn’t going to get hurt around him.”

The room laughed again, although you only focus on the smile of one of the groomsmen who doesn't meet your gaze. You crumple the paper further because you can’t even read it at this point and you don’t remember what it said.

“The point is, I don't need to have some love story of my own to know what care and love look like when it comes to these two. I know I could have had something like this and I'm endlessly jealous of my prettier college roommate. And judging from last night and today I’ve never seen such explicit love between two people, the way they orbit each other and care for the people in their lives. They've found someone who is not only going to be there at night for them when things are fun, but they've found someone who’s going to be there in the morning. And someone they're going to be there in the morning for. Someone that's going to take care of the good and the bad and someone that they're going to show up for in that way, too. It’s fucking beautiful. I’m sorry for cursing. Let’s get hammered.”

You knock back your champagne and remind yourself to call an uber and leave your rental here. Maybe it's heavy handed that you mentioned the morning. But really, had you stayed that morning with Adrian you would have never left. You would have thrown away college had he kissed you again the morning after. People cheer and you scurry to get away from the spotlight, people start to stand from where they were and waiters start to clear plates and people begin to go to the bar. You're one of the first.

You order another glass of champagne. Had Adrian asked, you would have stayed. You know that. You've always known that, and that's exactly why you had to leave before he woke up. Fate is cruel, bringing you back here.

“Baaabe!” Laura shouts, Gut in tow, and throws her arms around you.

You hug her back with the arm not holding your glass.

“That was amazing,” she says, and you can only scoff, not willing to take the praise.

“You did good, Runt,” Gut offers, patting your shoulder with a fond smile on his face. Maybe people can change.

“Thanks guys,” you sigh, and try to gulp down this next glass as well.

“Who were you talking about?” Laura asks.

You choke on your sip.

“Who?”

“In the speech, you said you blew it with someone, who was it?”

Gut’s grip on your shoulder gets a little tighter.

“Do you want a tequila shot?” you deflect, and never one to turn down a challenge, she accepts.

You shoot Gut a thankful glance, although he actually didn't do anything.

The next morning you wake up to your alarm with the slightest headache, two full glasses of water and a bottle of advil on your bedside table that you don't remember placing there but you also don't expect to with all the champagne and tequila going to your head.

It's still forty five minutes before you have to be at the wedding venue but you shower in under ten minutes and call an uber (thankful for your foresight to leave your car last night) the second you're dry. It's a good thing the ride is quick to the venue and they dont mind that you've thrown your bridesmaid dress and shoes and an additional backpack across the back seat. The uber driver is far too loud and friendly for this hour, your headache starting to get stronger even though you took the advil.

Laura’s already there and panicking, her lashes done and her immediately screaming at you to get into the hair chair even though it's technically not correct on her schedule. Janessa should be going first but you don't question a bride thats near tears. You hop in and close your eyes, and combing or prodding is fine with you, as long as you don't have to be standing.

By the time your hair is done other bridesmaids trickle in, and by the time everyone is done Gina finally is able to make an appearance and you all breathe a sigh of relief at Laura’s worry finally dissolved. You all look nice. Laura looks like a princess. You're not sure if you can get through this wedding without crying like a baby now that you see her all done up. Fuck. She ushers you all out as she stays behind, a smile that finally looks genuine plastered on her face, ready for her first looks with her new husband before the rest of the world gets to see her.

“Thank you,” she whispers one last time to you, and you squeeze her hand before you leave the bridal suite to go line up in preparation for the actual wedding itself.

“— You moron!”

You catch the end of whatever Gut is whisper-shouting at Adrian in the lobby, handsome in his suit and anxiety painted on his face and seeping from his gritted and bared teeth.

You walk the rest of the way over after getting down the rest of the stairs, skirt of your dress fluttering as you move, and put your hand on Gut’s arm not unlike the way he did to you last night.

“Hey, whatever's going on, I got it,” you tell him, not looking Adrian’s way still in fear of your own emotional state. You aren't sure why you offered to help at all, but there's no backing out now.

“He wants to switch partners to walk with you, which is stupid and not part of the plan,” Gut explains. What the fuck. Actually what the fuck.

You shake your head, and you bury the pit in your stomach. Your emotions aren't the most important ones today and others are at stake. Fuck it, you’ll take one for the team and maybe cry in the bathroom later and blame it on the alcohol, as long as it doesn't stop you from the cotton eyed joe at the reception.

“Let us switch, your bride is upstairs waiting, we’ll handle shit down here,” you tell him, voice already exasperated, and that seems to light a fire under his ass. He moves to the staircase without another warning and salutes towards you and his little brother.

His little brother whom you still cannot look in the eye.

The rest of the bridal party starts to get themselves together at the disappearance of the groom, and you sort yourself in order. Shoes are good, hair is good, dress is good, you are good to go; and once youre over this hiccup you can party with Laura and the other bridesmaids.

“Look, I’m sorry-” Adrian starts as you link your arm in his own. He looks so fucking good in the suit, so good you need him to shut up before the last of your dignity leaves you.

“Don't even worry about it,” you say, still not looking at him, “We’re even, remember?”

Adrian seems to deflate at your words, but if you know Adrian you know that doesn't mean he’s given up.

“I’m just saying, you didn't deserve that. I should have stayed.”

You eye up Gina in front of you, her long hair cascading down her back, happily joking with the best man. Mike’s now behind you, with Laura’s work friend. Adrian’s arm feels like a cage around you.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, trying to focus on how it feels to be hungover in stilettos. Bad, but you can use that pain as a distraction.

“See, you say that,” you're in for an Adrian rant, and you wish you could appreciate it, “But you won't look at me, and then your speech last night had me thinking, and then you didn't let me talk to you about it after you drank a lot of tequila with my brother and even though I drove you home you wouldnt let me make sure you drank your water.”

He looks at you with expectant eyes, asking you to crack.

He says it so easily, as if his mini rant doesnt throw a spear through the heart of your barely calm and cool persona. As if your blood doesn't run cold knowing Adrian was in the airbnb again, only to care for you and look out for your safety. Adrian is a good guy, and as your pinky toe pinches in the straps of the stiletto while you rock away from him, you regret never calling most of all. Your eyes search his face for an hint of a lie, but you can't find one. So you do what you can, you look away from him.

“I drank the water,” is all you can say, the tip of the iceberg of what you really mean. His free hand squeezes your elbow, an exchange.

The opening chords of the organist strike, and you recoil at the sound, sighing deeply as everyone readies themselves.

Gina is all you want to focus on, her two braids tied into the curls the stylist sweat over in a half up-do that would rival what the wig makers on Game of Thrones could do.

“But anyways, I’m trying to apologize.”

You can't even find a bobby pin sticking out on her whole head.

“I don't want an apology.”

You want to run away again. You want to fuck him in the bathroom of this venue. You want to fight him to the death. You want to stain his clean shaven cheek with your lipstick.

“Then what do you want? You're torturing me, and I would know, I’ve been tortured. This is like emotional though, not physical.”

Ignore whatever that means.

“I want to know what you would have done if you didn't leave.”

Fuck, why did you say that? Quick, think about escape routes, find fire exits. Run for Mount Rainier, burn down the airbnb. Goodbye!

“Well, not fucking leave,” he starts, lowering his voice to a whisper when the doors open to reveal all of the guests.

You just tilt your head, yeah, figures.

“You like everything bagels with chive and onion cream cheese, and I would have gotten you one. They make your breath smell like shit but I would have kissed you anyway just to prove a point.”

That's basically a confession of love right there.

You and Adrian walk down the aisle, a smile tugging at your lips, but you refuse to let it stick. The venue is beautiful, sage green and pink everywhere, a flower arch out of some perfume commercial and trendy reclaimed wood galore.

“Can we just talk?” he asks, his voice rising and you immediately try to shush him as discreetly as you can.

“Save a dance for me at the reception,” you whisper to him, preparing yourself to take your place in the line up at the altar.

“But I wanted to talk-”

You shush him again, a little harsher than you mean to, but he seems to get the idea.

“Oh! duh— I didn't bring a date! I don’t have a dance partner to begin with,” he answers, and the smile you’ve been trying to hide breaks through. You squeeze his arm as you leave his embrace and go to stand on your side.

You look out at the crowd, a lot of them unfamiliar faces. A few friends from Laura’s major and their partners, a few cousins and kids you met when you went to her summer house, a few of Gut’s friends on the other side (save for Chris Smith, thank fucking god, you would absolutely not be surviving this if you had to hear him say anything about your tits) and Gut’s cousins from Northern California. You stop for a moment on two empty chairs, for Gut and Adrian’s parents. Suddenly you're sixteen again, watching Adrian push you away for the comfort of shooting ranges instead of talking about his own parents' deaths as a result of a car chase gone wrong. Your eye’s flicker to Adrian, his eyes already set straight on you, his smile not matching how his eyes scan you. Gut enters and practically power walks down the aisle, and you mote that theres already a noticeable amount of lipstick on the corner of his lips.

The music changes.

The most beautiful woman you've ever seen walks down the aisle.

You can feel Adrian’s eyes on you the entire ceremony.

Adrian doesn't leave your side the entire cocktail hour, following you around and asking about all of your drink and snack preferences.

“I like pomegranate martinis, you know, a little Hades and Persephone thing going on?” You joke, and he orders you one from the drink station without a second glance.

“You mean like Hercules, the Disney movie?” he asks when he hands you your glass, hand steady and careful not to spill it.

You could scoff, or make a joke, or correct him, but instead you just smile and say, “Yeah, Adrian!” just to see his smile get even wider.

“Thats a really good movie, even if its for kids,” he muses.

“So what does Adrian Chase drink?”

He pauses and thinks it over for a minute.

“Yeungling,” he says, but he doesn't try to hide his grimace at the answer, his teeth bared and his eyes averted.

“So thats a lie,” you point out immediately over the rim of your glass. Adrian’s eyes dart over to where Laura and his brother are talking to some distant relative, definitely from Laura’s side. They're both the happiest you've ever seen them and you can’t help but to thank whatever cosmic power led them to meet.

“Yeah, Gut says a bay breeze is chick stuff,” Adrian admits, and you figured this was the case. He was always pulling you down candy aisles or getting the really sweet stuff as far as slurpee flavors went.

“Get the fucking bay breeze,” you tell him, and his whole face lights up. When was the last time this man got himself a girlie tropical drink?

“Okay! I mean, I've gotta hide it, but if you won’t judge me then I’ll do it,” he turns away from you, already ready to get the bartender’s attention again to order.

Theres a million things you want to say and all you can come up with is talking about his drinking habits? You only know where the guy works because you asked one of his cousins why the rehearsal dinner was at Fennell Fields and she told you he basically was allowed to book the back room for free because he worked there. You have so many things to ask him, so many things to say, and you ask him about a fucking drink.

“You were right, this is way better. You said we could talk now?” he asks, not hiding his eagerness as he talks with the bendy straw still between his teeth.

You exhale harshly, pushing the air through your nose, nodding.

“Yeah,” you mumble, not wanting to correct him that the cocktail hour technically isnt the reception. Thats an easy mistake to make, its close enough.

He nods his head towards the back doors, leading out to the gardens that a few people are at, but its much less crowded than the venue proper. At least hes giving you that safety net.

Each step feels heavier, and you once again curse the fact that Laura is a stilettos girl and made you be the same for a weekend. But the garden is beautiful, it looks like a small town in Washington’s version of the Versailles gardens, which you've never seen outside of Google images so it doesn't matter to miss out on the real thing.

He leads you to a bench, and pats it as he sits down on one end. You sweep the flow skirt under you and sit too, thankful to be off your feet after the past few hours.

"You can take those off if you want," he points his glass at your heels, "We can swap? They don't look comfy."

"We can't swap," you chuckle, but you unbuckle the heels and stretch your feet on the pavement.

“Well, we should talk,” he says, as if prompting you. The whole situation feels like there’s some kind of teleprompter you should be able to read, some magical thing to say, but there’s not. You don’t have words, just feelings. The anxiety, the joy, the ecstasy, the profound sadness and emptiness of the whole thing. There’s no way to put it into words. You don’t know how to word that you’ve forgotten him for maybe only ten of the months you’ve been away. Often wondering with other dates if Adrian was nicer than them, if he was dating. Wondering if Adrian was having a good life, if Adrian made friends. Seldom you forgot about him. And none of it you can voice without sounding worse than you already are.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down into your martini, the last few sips staring back at you.

“You’ve said that already. Can I talk?” he asks. You nod, still not meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Like I said before, you didn't deserve that.”

“I kinda did,” you offer, shrugging.

“Will you stop?” he asks, his eyes widening behind his glasses. You only grimace and nod for him to continue.

“Sorry, anyway, you didn't deserve that. I know you had to have a good reason for leaving without saying anything. And I have to admit, I have kept tabs on you. Not in a creepy way,” he pauses, “Maybe in a creepy way, but not in an illegal way. When the library put up the article about your job in Gotham I took it because that's not real stealing, everything is free in the library.”

That's not how libraries work. You remember that article, you were put on a 30 under 30 article for art and design in Gotham; you just didn't know the article made its way back to Evergreen. It's sweet that he stole the article, even though he could have just bought a copy of the magazine.

You nod at him, needing him to continue.

“And then when I saw you it all just kinda, came up, you know?”

You do know. Its that same vacuum that sucked air from your lungs and slowed the time down in that fucking Hooters that now feels so much more meaningful and cosmic instead of being what it is. God, what a place for a reunion.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, your voice just above a whisper.

“I didn’t want to be mean, but I felt like I had to, I don’t know why.”

But you know why, you know exactly why.

“No it’s fine, I would have done the same,” you say, the knuckle of your free hand brushing the soft material of his suit pants.

“Yeah. I know,” he laughs, his smile overtaking all of his features. This feels normal, finally. You’re on the same wavelength.

“And I have to admit, I was a little jealous of Laura for taking my best friend position once I heard about you guys in college.”

You roll your eyes, letting yourself lean into him, his shoulder warm under his shirt. His arms look fucking good, with the crisp white

“Where’d your suit jacket go?” you ask, lowering your head to rest it against him.

“Gut’s gonna kill me,” he answers, and you can pretty much assume he’s lost it.

Laughter escapes your lips, loud and almost cackling, and you sit back up so as to not spill your drink as the laughter keeps coming. Adrian joins in, his eyes closed behind those glasses that haven't changed in the past fifteen years, laughter boisterous and light.

“Can we start over?” you interrupt your own laughter, setting your glass down on the ground next to the bench.

Adrian’s laughter subsides, and he goes quiet. He thinks about it for a second.

“Hmm, no,” he answers. Your hands fall limp in your lap, the skirt of your dress making a light swooshing noise at the contact. He could have punched you just now and it would have been less of a surprise to you.

“Oh,” you sigh, trying and failing to play it cool. Your shoulders feel heavy.

“I can’t start over with someone who’s seen my penis… or wore my retainer when she lost hers. Which was really gross,” he laughs, this time a subdued chuckle with a hint of nostalgia, and his eyes travel up and down your body again. You shiver under his gaze.

“Yeah, that was nasty,” you admit, but your teeth are straight no matter what.

You both go quiet, staring out at the treeline behind the venue. A cosmic reset. His hand scoots closer to you on the seat of the bench. The wind whistles and Party Rock Anthem is muffled and obscured by the glass doors leading back into the cocktail hour.

“So your brother and my college roommate, huh?” you break the stillness.

“Yeah, it's uh,” he looks down at his watch, “almost the end of cocktail hour. We get to walk in together, right?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “You made sure of that with the stunt you pulled this morning.”

If he's at all embarrassed, he doesn't show it.

You stand up, rolling your eyes.

“C’mon,” you say, holding your hand out to him.

A cosmic restart.

“And here is your wedding party!” the DJ announces over the microphone. The first couple dances out from under the sting light arch, offbeat and singing along. Then the second. After the third it's you and Adrian, and you can feel him starting to get antsy.

“We’ll be fine,” you reassure him, brushing your knuckles against his.

“Don’t hate me for this,” he whisper-shouts over the music.

You don't have time to even think about what that means because the couple in front of you dances out, but now you're anxious and rigid in your heels. You step into the spotlight, and your cue comes.

But Adrian has other plans, apparently, as he bends down to let his big strong arms (wow are you happy he grew these in your absence) circle your thighs and he hoists you over his shoulder.

You wave awkwardly at all the guests sat for dinner, cackling and slapping Adrian’s back to the beat of the music, Adrians laugh filling your space as he awkwardly dance- walks you across the dance floor to where the other wedding party members are standing and talking, waiting for dinner and the reception to officially begin. You feel giddy, like a late night drive in the summer after Adrian got his license, like when you walked into prom holding Adrian’s hand like you’d just won the lottery. His hands are warm, incredibly so, and his muscles are taut against you.

Fuck, you’d like to feel his muscles against you in - nope, hold that thought. You want to repair whatever this is with Adrian, not be a slut at your friend’s wedding.

When you finally reach your spot, he holds you there for a few moments, his big hands squeezing the backs of your thighs before he puts you down gently. You miss the feeling of his hands on you.

Dinner and more speeches go off wonderfully, and you're thankful you get to stay quiet this time, few eyes on you throughout all of the formal stuff, except for Laura. Sure, her main focus are the speakers and her new husband, but you've caught more than one sneaky glance your way, and you know exactly what that means. Before they leave for their honeymoon in Cabo, she's going to corner you and ask if you and her new brother-in-law are doing anything. And knowing her, she’ll already know the answer.

Adrian nudges you when the plates are cleared by the caterers during the first dance, drawing your eyes away from the happy couple dancing to him, apprehension apparent on his face. You realize that you really haven't spoken to him since he put you down.

“Do you want to… maybe, go out there when they’re done being a lovely couple?” he asks.

“I mean, yeah. I told you to save me a dance,” you respond, and Adrian’s shoulders visibly sag in relief like a weight has just been taken off of them.

And you're lucky enough that your anxiousness is spared that the next two songs and the family dances go by as quickly as they can, and the dancefloor opens for everyone with Vienna by Billy Joel. You look over to Adrian, winking as you rise from your seat, your hand reaching out to lead him away from the table.

He, to your surprise, grabs your hand firmly and lets you lead him out, and you become one of the first couples out on the dance floor. People trickle in after, but they're all peripheral noise and shapes as Adrian’s hands find purchase on your hips.

“I’m glad you're here without a date,” Adrian admits, without a hint of shame in his voice.

“I’m glad you're here without a date too, or else this whole weekend would have been a lot more complicated than it already has been,” you offer honestly, and lean into his swaying. Your fingers play with the curls at the base of his neck absentmindedly.

“It wasn't that complicated,” he says, “We’re just bad at feelings.”

Understatement of the century, you think, but yeah, that checks out. You'd both had hurt feelings and both been weird about it. He hums along as he pulls you closer, your chests almost touching, the heat tangible between you. It's going to be hard to keep your cool around Adrian all night without wanting to be even closer, without wanting to kiss him. Maybe you can kiss him afterward.

“Did you become a Billy Joel fan while I was gone?” you joke, knowing that his taste was a lot more girl pop or harder rock when you last saw him.

“Billy Joel? I thought this was Bruno Mars!”

You want to ask him if he's joking but you already know the answer to that.

“Yeah, I mean they're easy to mix up,” you say, and he nods.

“I really missed you, Adrian,” you finally admit, “I wish I-”

“I wish that you would just let it go, troll under the bridge. Lets have fun before you have to leave again,” he interrupts.

“Well actually,” you readjust your arms, more of a hug than a dance now, “I’m here until next Monday, and I want to give you my number so we can keep in touch. Laura lives here now so…”

“So you have a reason to come out here?” he asks, hopeful.

“You’re a reason to come out here too, if you want to be,” you assure him, and his fingers dig into your hips, the material of the skirt bunching under his palms.

“Really? I do, I want to be-”

Fuck it, you think. Be a slut, do what you want.

You pull Adrian into a kiss, cutting him off mid sentence. He hums, the death of a word coming to die from his lips to yours, and his form melts around yours, his grasp on you growing firmer pressing you against him

“I knew it!” you hear Laura scream, “I fucking knew it!”

But you don't dare pull away from Adrian to laugh with the bride. He keeps swaying, off tempo to the song, but perfect for you. His lips curl up into a smile and his own laughter breaks the kiss, though.

“Do you want to go have sex again?” he asks bluntly, slightly breathless from his own laughter.

Unlike the other night, you're pushing him down onto the mattress tonight, Adrian eagerly shuffling further up onto the bed as you hike up your skirt to climb on top of him. You stop when you're over his hips, letting the skirt pool around him, your flimsy underwear leaving you feeling bare and hot against Adrian’s pants.

You pull him up by his tie, your mouths meeting in the space between you for another sloppy kiss, open-mouthed and wet. You both fall back into the sheets, kissing as your hands move to the knot of the tie. You fiddle with the knot, pulling it one way, then the other, trying to loosen it without breaking the kiss to look at it.

Cmon, cmon.

You feel it tighten against his collar instead of loosen. You have to pull away.

Adrian’s lips chase yours, not opening his eyes until he hears you speak.

“Get rid of the tie, I can't do it!” you demand, your hands instead starting to work at buttons lower down on his chest. He laughs, but his hands leave your body to pull the tie loose, and he does it easily. He slips the stupid thing off of his neck and flings it into the dimness of the room. You're free to unbutton all of his shirt now, pulling at where it's tucked into his pants to get it off of him.

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you think, as you finally get to take in his bare chest. He's got muscle, he's buff, with the lightest dusting of hair between his pectorals and light freckles that you remember.

You pull him back up to sit so he can remove his shirt and you find that to be the wrong move. As he sits up, his hips shift against your core, and you struggle to bite back a needy moan.

“Am I bothering you?” he asks.

“Nope,” you shake your head, biting down on your lip at the friction.

“No? Then you wouldn't mind if I…” he trails off, tilting his hips up into yours again. This time, you feel him rock hard against you, and you whine desperately. Fucking bastard. Adrian chuckles, and you decide to get your revenge.

You push him back down on the mattress the moment the offending shirt is shed, latching your lips onto the expanse of his neck, kissing a wet trail in your wake as he gasps and grunts below you.

“I was so mean to you,” he gasps as you bite at his collarbone, “Do you want to punish me for that?”

Who the fuck is Adrian fucking? Is the first thought through your head. Punish him? What kind of kinky shit does he get up to?

“Don’t wanna punish you,” you dismiss, “Just wanna have you.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, his lips dragging against your hairline as he pulls you lower on top of him until your chests meet, “Still on the table, though.”

You'll keep that in mind.

“Get this dress off,” he groans, equally struggling with the zipper until he finally just rips the hook and eye at the top of it, the zip sliding down your back easily for him after that. You’re definitely going to have to get that repaired, but that’s the last thing on your mind when Adrian is pulling the material off of you half crazed, trying to have you bare against him as soon as he can. He pulls the dress up over your head, maybe not the easiest way to discard it, your arms struggling to untangle from the straps as he unwraps you. You help him push all of the bunched up material across your chest and over you, finally breathing a sigh of relief when the bodice finally comes off of you and you can both drop the dress off the edge of the bed, and his hands immediately working their way to your chest.

His thumb brushes against the faded mark on your breast that he left the other night, sending a shiver down your spine. You're sure he's about to leave even more.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he moans, squeezing at you while his eyes take you in. You’re glad now that you opted for the ‘sexier’ of the no-show underwear you picked out under the dress.

“Thought you said women don’t like being called hot,” you joke, recalling his previous words.

“Right, pretty,” he corrects himself, and you have to shake your head.

“I’m fucking with you,” you laugh.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he retorts, and quickly flips you over, pinning you underneath him.

“So so pretty like this,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your body, stoking the fires of your arousal.

You’ll keep that in mind, too.

You grab at the sheets, balling the cotton in your fists as Adrian’s hands finally make their way between your thighs. He presses his fingers to your clothed cunt, and you both sigh at the contact.

“Please touch me,” you beg, all the boldness gone from your tone now that he’s got you like this.

“I’ll do you one better!” he says, and moves himself down the bed, removing his hand only so he can remove your panties.

“Can I taste you?” he asks, repositioning you for his own easy access. You nod, tilting your hips up towards him. He puts your legs on his shoulders, and slowly creeps in.

His hot breath fans out over your cunt, his glasses fogging as he looks up at you, the way his cheeks and nose scrunch lets you know that he’s grinning like a maniac.

Without warning, he darts his tongue out, licking between your folds and only stopping when the tip of his tongue meets your clit.

You whine, needy and unexpected, and try to quiet yourself again. You feel him as he exhales through his nose, maybe laughing at your desperation, and moves his tongue; small, deliberate licks against your clit that have you hitching your breath with each one.

“Please,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the sheets so tight you could rip them. Adrian dives in like a man starved, his tongue dipping into you and the tip of his nose bumping against your clit. He licks into you like your cunt is what keeps him alive, like the water of life. You moan, languid and loud; his big hands flatten out, one against your stomach and the other along the underside of your breast.

Where the fuck did Adrian Chase learn this? Maybe you don't want to know, maybe you just want to enjoy the skills for what they are. His lips move in tandem with his tongue, not hiding the slurping sounds his mouth makes; fuck, he worships you.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, at first a slow bubble, and then a sudden boil. Your moans turn almost to screams as you shake under him, your thighs tightening around his head.

Adrian’s having none of that, though. He removes his hands from you, moving them to your thighs to hold them in place. Without the leverage of your legs, your back arches almost painfully, leaning into your orgasm as it shakes your entire system, Adrian just happily working you through it, gradually slowing down his mouths movements as your breathing becomes more and more regulated.

“Good?” he asks, when he finally moves his mouth away from you. Everything from his nose to his chin is soaked in you.

“Y-yeah,” you pant, still catching yourself.

“Good, then you’re ready for me,” he says, smirking as he untangles from your thighs and moves back up. He kisses your cheek, decidedly not letting you taste yourself at this moment. Somehow, in your haze, you hadn't noticed that he’d gotten rid of his pants.

You already feel him, heavy and hard, resting against your entrance, and immediately you need more no matter how sensitive you might be.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell him, and he chuckles.

“Not for this,” and he pushes in to the hilt. He gives you no mercy, like he said he wouldn't. He gives you no time to adjust to his size. You yelp, both in surprise and in pleasure, and he picks up his pace as if your noise was permission.

“Fuck, prettiest girl I’ve ever known, all laid out for me, all for me,” he babbles, his lips just barely brushing yours as he stays close.

“All for you,” your voice comes out in a moan, all control of your volume and tone lost; the fire already building in you again.

“Gonna give you everything, all for you,” he says, like a promise, his own voice strained.

He doesn't hold back in his pace, pushing in all the way each time, deep and hard, a slamming pace. He's not gentle, but the way that he looks at you is full of all of the affection and sweetness he holds for you. This is your best friend. This is… whatever he is beyond that.

“Adrian, kiss me,” you beg, wanting to seal yourself to him, to connect.

“But I might taste-”

“I don’t care.”

That's all he has to hear, and once the kisses start, they don't stop. He moves a little awkwardly at first, his pace faltering slightly to adjust for this connection, but he finds his rhythm again. He thrusts sharply, your hips moving to meet him as best you can, your bodies moving in sync with your pleasure. He quickens his pace, his kisses getting harsher, more bruising. Adrian is a kisser, you realize. He likes it like this.

“I’m gonna—,” he gasps after his harshest thrust yet, and you grab his hips, holding him close.

“Go ahead,” you say, breathless yourself and ready to lose your own composure.

He pumps into you harder, his hips snapping against you sure to bruise. Adrian’s hand leaves your hip to move his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick circles that choke out sobs from your throat. It's hard to hold on, both physically to his hips but also to your composure. Every thought of him, him, him, and the fire inside of you that fights to escape.

“Adrian, please,” you beg, voice watery and desperate, and he obeys, speeding up his movements until you scream, and shake, and lose everything. Your mind whites-out. No thoughts but the specific shade of green of his eyes.

And when you come back you feel full, sticky and hot. Adrian holds you tightly, still inside you, snuggling you close and cradling your body to him. He's shushing you and pressing kisses into your skin, muttering sweet nothings to soothe you. Fuck, thats never happened before.

“That was good?” you ask, breathless laughter in your tone.

“Now I know you have to be joking with me,” he says, pulling back slightly, “That was mind-blowing! Literally.”

He pulls away more, and you reach out to reel him back into your embrace. Adrian reassures you he’ll be right back. Even after all of this, the tiniest doubt creeps in, and when he backs out of the room, boxers in hand, you pull the sheets up over you tightly.

He comes back into the room with two glasses of water in only his boxers, a sight you want to get used to. He places the glasses down on the nightstand and throws the covers over the both of you, enveloping you in their warmth and his. Adrian runs like a furnace.

“Can you stay this time?” Your voice is small, vulnerable. Adrian’s warm hand cups your cheek, and he shimmies closer to you under the covers.

“How much does a flight to Gotham cost?” he asks, deadly serious.

You balk at his question.

“Adrian, you can't uproot your life for me,” you insist, feeling bad suddenly about the way you continue to cling to him, hands pressed into his back to hold him to you.

“Psh, who said that? I figure maybe Evergreen can survive without me for a week or so. I wanna take you on a real date,” he snuggles closer, curling the blankets further over you. Your own little world, a little bubble just for the two of you.

You’ll remind him that Gotham is currently surviving a week without you, too, in the morning.

“I’d like that,” you say, sleep sinking into the edges of your voice.

“Get some rest,” he says, sounding just as sleepy, his head feeling heavier against you, “I’ll be here in the morning.”

He is.

#adrian chase x reader

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 month

Text

The Line (Port Mafia!Dazai x Port Mafia!Reader)

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Reader

Description: Something is there, but if they both pretend it isn't, then everything is okay.

Warnings: Angsty but also more fluff than angst I think, mafia stuff, bomb talk, its Dazai so double suicide mentioned once. Sex also mentioned in passing like once. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,262

Master Lists:

All Master Lists

Bungou Stray Dogs Master List

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N so i found a screenshot of this tumblr post of this quote on pinterest and besties,, I am running with it. I will add the quote in at the end.

Was it his hand on the small of her back? Was it the feeling of his whispered breaths against the shell of her ear? When had the line been crossed, if it had been crossed at all? Neither really seemed to know where it had even been drawn in the first place. Perhaps that was the trouble with it all.

Danger was a part of life for those unlucky enough to call themselves members of Yokohama's notorious Port Mafia. It was the only constant, in Y/n's eyes. Well, danger and Dazai, but they were kind of one in the same, weren't they?

"Belladonna."

The same low, constant hum. She looked up from her desk.

Dazai stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an aloof air. He'd grown quite a bit in the two years since she had met him. She supposed she must have grown as well but, somehow, he still seemed to be exactly the same. It was the calculating quality of his gaze. It was the smirk, the way the light glinted off his hair.

"That's new."

Y/n gestured towards the man with the end of the pen she grasped in her hand. Almost without thought, he raised a hand of his own to the bandage on his left cheek.

"I suppose it is."

They were never supposed to have even met one another in the first place. Their jobs were ones that should have pulled them far apart from each other's graces. He was an executive, after all, and she was just a lowly clerk. She dealt with numbers, paying off people who needed paying off, covering up the footprints of great men like him. He was supposed to send his subordinates to deal with her. That was what everyone else always did. Dazai wasn't like everyone else though, was he.

"I've got something for you." he stated, straightening up and taking a few steps into the room, his hands firmly in the pockets of his coat.

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"What is it, another job?"

"A present."

Dazai pulled a box from his pocket, snapping it down on top of the work Y/n had splayed out over the desk's surface before her. It was large and flat. She eyed it suspiciously.

"It wont bite."

"You do."

"I said it, didn't I?"

"What is it, a bomb? Think it would be funny to watch me struggle to deal with something like that?"

"Don't give me any ideas." Dazai playfully replied.

"Is it full of anthrax? I have already told you, I have no interest in committing a double suicide."

"Just open it."

The Mafia was a dangerous place, those who worked there lead dangerous lives. There was no denying the living, breathing thing between Y/n and Dazai but... there was no place for such a creature here. Besides, neither of them would know what to do about it if there was. They had both forgotten how to be gentle long ago, were unsure if it had ever been in their nature in the first place. All that was left was the sharpness.

Hesitantly, Y/n picked the dark red box up and opened the lid. Nestled in the black velvet of the interior was a necklace. It was old, an antique locket of sorts with a few flowers engraved on its oval front.

"Nightshade." she commented.

"Made me think of you, Belladonna."

That was one of the things that helped tow the line, the invisible and complex line. Y/n never called Dazai anything other than his last name and Dazai only referred to her as 'Belladonna.' At first, the name had irritated her. It had felt like a denial of her personhood, her individuality. That was before she had known there had been a line to cross at all. She was older now, wiser. She looked back up at him.

"How sweet." she bitterly replied.

Dazai smiled his lazy smile in response. A girl could give up everything for a smile like that, even her life. Y/n wouldn't though. If she was willing to, that was mean it was all lost. They would have crossed the line long ago, if that were true. They couldn't have that. The line was what kept them safe, kept hem sheltered, kept them. He closed the distance, stepping up beside her in the space behind her desk.

"Here."

Long, slender fingers snaked around the locket's delicate chain, pulling it from its bed. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as his fingers brushed against the back of her neck, securing the necklace. It felt heavy against her chest, a foriegn weight that seemed to cut right through her skin to her bones below. Gently, he slipped a hand under her chin, tilting her face up to him.

"Perfect." he hummed.

Had they already crossed it? Was it too late? If so, what had been the deciding factor? Was it the late nights up on the roof, talking till the sun rose? Was it the knocks at her door at odd hours? Had it been their legs tangled together beneath the covers night after night, no sex required?

"Thank you."

What needed to happen, what change had to occur for them to be able to say the words that echoed in the backs of their minds?

Dazai's hand lingered on her face for a moment longer. Y/n mourned the warmth of his touch as he dragged his fingers from her.

"I have to go."

Y/n sighed, turning back to her messy desk.

"The work of a Mafioso is never complete, is it."

A statement, not a question. Dazai let out a light laugh in agreement. Y/n picked her pen back up, listening intently to his footsteps as he crossed back over to the door. At the sound of a pause, a hesitation in the pattern, she looked back up.

"Same time same place?"

She smiled. Tonight, the kitchens. Stolen food, stolen time. Stolen kisses too most likley.

"Yeah."

Belladonna. Something poisonous, something detrimental. Something completely and entirely his, if he was brave enough to take her. Dazai wasn't so sure he was, not right now at any rate. Dazai was a man who didn't like uncertainties. In fact, he avoided them at all nearly costs. He didn't know if the day would ever come when the bravery or the assurance would arrive. With things as they were now, it felt inevitable. A ticking bomb, a precariously placed glass. One wrong move, and everything would shatter.

With a curt nod, he disappeared back out into the hallway. Y/n listened to his footsteps against the carpet of the hall as he retreated, picturing the way he must look in the moment, wondering where he was off to.

The line was there, the brick wall between them. They both knew it. How far was too far? Was it holding hands as they walked down the street, checking to make sure no one could see? They already did that. They already did a lot of things. Maybe... maybe the line would dissolve when the fear left or, maybe, when it felt more manageable, they would be able to cross it, if they hadn't already.

How far was too far?

Y/n reached her hand up to her chest, fingering the cool silver of the locket where it hung at her collar. Maybe, just maybe, they had gone to far already. Maybe the world was already falling down around them, they just hadn't noticed it yet.

----

Here is the quote that inspired this:

#dazai bsd #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader angst #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x y/n #mafia!dazai x mafia!reader #mafia dazai #mafia reader #port mafia #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #x reader #mild angst

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notsoattractivearenti · 7 months

Text

Start of A New Life (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 4.3K

Warnings: pregnancy, childbirth descriptions, slight mentions of difficulty concieving

A/N: dad!christian for you all!!! this is so not proofread lol. hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

—

Two red lines. “Pregnant - 2-3 weeks”. Another two red lines.

My heart suddenly skips a beat. My hands start shaking and I feel a gasp just leave my mouth. I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now. Is this real? I thought to myself. I have to take another look at all three pregnancy tests that I’m holding on both of my hands just to make sure I didn’t see them wrong and of course, nothing changed. Tears start to fall from my eyes, I am on cloud nine knowing a mini me – or my husband – is growing inside me. It’s happening… It’s really happening!

—

Christian and I have always wanted children of our own, and we have been trying for a baby for more than a year. We are well aware that not everyone will get pregnant as soon as they start trying, but honestly, at some point it can be exhausting and painful during the period. We had gone to the doctor, got ourselves checked up and luckily no issues were found, so the doctor just suggested we keep trying and be patient. There were times when we were so close to giving up – I was sick of seeing negative results over and over again – but we reminded ourselves that if it’s meant to be, it will happen when it happens and there are couples who have been trying to conceive way longer than us and still haven't succeeded.

I used to constantly apologize to Christian whenever I got a negative result on the pregnancy test because I felt like the problem was me and I was afraid I could never give him a child – I truly wanted to fulfill one of his lifelong dreams: becoming a father. And every single time Christian would tell me to stop apologizing to him and quit being hard on myself because it was never my fault. I knew he felt disappointed to see a single red line instead of two, but like always, he cared a lot more about my feelings. He never failed to comfort me during those times and would go out of his way just to make me feel better – and I am forever grateful to have such a loving and supportive partner for the rest of my life.

—

Christian has been in training since this morning – shortly before I found out I’m pregnant – so I decided to plan a special, little way to reveal the grand, long-awaited news before he goes home. I really cannot wait to see his reaction and I’m “positive” it’s going to be the sweetest thing ever. Since he transferred to his new club, he usually comes home from training feeling all happy and pumped up – imagine how he will be when he finds out he’s going to be a dad! My man may not be the most expressive person in the world, but I know no matter how little he would show his emotion on the surface, he is going to feel immense happiness deep inside his heart.

I searched through Pinterest for some references and after a while, I finally made up my mind. I don’t necessarily have good eyes on aesthetics and stuff so I just go for a simple way. I go look for some adorable little pregnancy announcement onesies, a gift box, and a few small decorative pieces so it would at least look cute and pleasing. I arrange the “present” as soon as I get home, put the box on the kitchen counter, and write a note on the outside – it says: “For my special man ♥ ps: no question asked! ;)”.

A few hours later, he finally comes home.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m home!”

Usually, I would come to him at the front door, greet him back and we would start sharing about each other’s days. But this time, I’m pretending not to hear him and make myself look busy in the kitchen – even though Christian and I actually cleaned the entire kitchen last night. To be honest, the reason I’m doing this is to cover my nervousness. I know he’s going to be excited but a little part of me worries he would change his mind about having a child after so many failed “attempts”.

“Y/N?” He sounds confused.

He then goes around the house looking for me before eventually finding me in the kitchen. I can hear his footsteps but I keep pretending like I am completely unaware of him. He comes over to me and hugs me from behind, and greets me with kisses – and of course, I act surprised when he does that.

“Hey baby, did you not hear me?”

His raspy, gentle voice gives me chills. It never fails to make me feel weak on my knees. But for now, I have to keep my act together.

“Oh sorry, I got so caught up here washing dishes!”

I’m trying to make an impromptu excuse but I’m pretty sure it sounds really weird to him now. I mean, right now there are no dirty dishes to wash except one mug I currently have in my hands… I just know he is a bit confused.

“Umm, Y/N, didn’t we just wash th-”

“So how was training?” I cut him off before he questions me any further.

“Well, great as always. Tired, sure, but you know…” He pauses to kiss my neck, “whenever I see you after training, I am so recharged right away.”

I bite my bottom lip and feel my cheeks are turning red. Ugh, focus Y/N… Remember the big news you have yet to tell him! I remind myself quietly.

“Recharge? What am I, a phone charger?”

I instantly regret that lame, super unfunny joke I just said. He chuckles, I believe he is just being the supportive partner he always is.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good one, Mrs. Pulisic.”

“Oh by the way, I think I see something that looks like a gift right over there,” he points to the gift box over the counter, “is that for me?”

“I don’t know… Maybe?”

“What is it?” He straightforwardly asks about it.

“Christian…” I sigh.

“What did I do to deserve it?” He quickly asks again.

I turn around, rolling my eyes at him to show him in a jokey way that his questions annoy me.

“My goodness, Christian, just open the goddamn gift!”

He quickly walks across the room while saying the phrase “What’s in the box? What’s in the box???” repeatedly. I carefully watch every little move he makes – I really want to cherish this moment.

“Awww, baby, am I really your special man?” He cutely pouts and puts his hands over his chest when he reads the notes.

I can’t help but laugh at his adorable face.

When he starts opening the gift box, I can feel my heart jump a little. I subconsciously start fidgeting my fingers and shake my legs – I really am that nervous. I almost certainly know that he’s going to react positively but, what if I could be wrong?

Before I know it, I see him gasping, then has his hands covering his mouth, with both of his eyes widened. He then turns to my direction with the look of disbelief written all over his face.

“Y/N???” His jaw drops and his breath hitches.

“Are we… Are w-” He is really caught off guard by this big news he is losing words for a moment.

“Uhm, sorry, I uh, I wh-” he pauses for a good second before continuing, “Are we having a baby???”

“Yeah…” I excitedly nod in response. “I just found out this morning.”

He then runs back to me, hugs me tight and buries his face in between my neck and shoulder – I can slightly feel his tears over my shoulder.

“You’re going to be a dad, Christian.” I whisper to him.

And just like that, I just made him cry even harder.

“My love…” He sobs. “Thank you… Thank you. I love you!”

He looks down and puts his hand on my tummy, then his eyes go straight into mine.

“It’s a bit surreal thinking about how our child is now growing inside you… You’re unbelievably amazing, Y/N.”

He then kneels in front of my tummy while holding my waists with both his hands, and talks to our growing child.

“Hi little angel, I can’t wait to meet you… I love you so much already.” He kisses my tummy after.

—

We started telling our family and close friends a few days after the first sonogram. Everyone was so happy for us and has been very lovely and wonderful to us – especially me, of course. Both mine and his family would go all the way to make sure I got everything I need, and the moms have been offering generous help and willingly guiding me through my first pregnancy whenever I need them to.

During the ultrasound, Christian didn’t let go of my hand even for a second and asked the doctor so many questions that I didn’t even think about – apparently the night before he had done his research and I was not aware of that. When we got to see our growing fetus on the screen and listen to their heartbeat, Christian – who usually doesn’t really show his emotions on his face – became very emotional and it kind of freaked me out. Being a dad is truly one of the biggest dreams he has ever had. Now that it’s really coming true, his emotions are all over the place and because he is not used to experiencing such overflowing emotions, he is still trying his best to manage them. Though I think that is adorable, I just love to make fun of him for it.

“You know, Chris, I’m wondering who the hell is actually with a baby?” I poke fun at his “hormonal” reaction. “Because it’s like your hormones are going crazy while I’m here able to control my emotions.”

“Oh shut up,” he moans, “what’s happening is that my heart is warmer now while yours is still ice cold.”

My jaw drops at his immediate, clever clap back. Oh how I love sassy Christian!

“Stop it!” I laugh really hard. “That’s a good burn on me, Pulisic!”

—

Since Christian found out we are expecting, he has been extra attentive, present and caring to me. Though I appreciate it greatly, it can be too much sometimes. Therefore I would ask him to back down a bit and thankfully he never fails to understand that I still need my space.

No matter how busy he might be, he never wants to miss going to every doctor appointment. He also always pays very good attention to our baby’s development – he even has a binder made specifically for it. He gets excited all the time when the baby kicks, and when the baby is kicking so hard he would talk to my tummy.

“Sweetheart, please be good in there. Don’t hurt Mommy, okay?”

“My little angel, don’t kick Mommy’s tummy that hard, please. Let’s not make Mommy feel hurt.”

He always communicates with the baby and every time, they would respond to Christian. It’s like they have bonded really well even before they meet, and the thought of him being so close with our child really melts my heart.

He loves taking pictures of my growing bump. Every single time he would tell me I look really beautiful while carrying our child, and my reaction would either be thanking him shyly or telling him to shut the crap – depending on my mood that day, really. Pregnancy has given me mood swings lately I can’t even predict how I would be feeling that day whenever a new day starts. But Christian has always had a lot of patience and I admire how he would perfectly handle me no matter how good or bad my mood might be. Yeah, he is without a doubt going to be the best parent and I can’t wait to witness it.

We decided to not find out about our baby’s sex because we want to surprise ourselves. Besides, we really don’t care if we’re having a boy or a girl. We don’t want to set certain expectations especially when it comes to their sex or gender because all we care about is that they’re healthy and come to this world all safe and sound. Although, we have prepared some names – but we don’t feel like making the final decision before the baby is actually born.

—

Today I woke up at 4 in the morning to a cramp on my stomach – a bit similar to the menstrual cramps I used to have at the beginning of my period. It comes and goes irregularly, and at first I got scared thinking something bad might be happening. But then I remember what my doctor had explained before: the cramp might be a sign of early labor. I then wake Christian up, letting him know I am possibly entering the early labor stage. When I tell him about it, his eyes widen all of the sudden and he slightly jumps off the bed.

“Wha- Y/N should we just get you to the hospital right now???” He sounds so worried.

“No, I don’t think so. Let’s just time each contraction and when the contraction interval is around 5 to 7 minutes, then we can go.”

I have to explain it calmly because he is visibly alarmed. Even after I do so he is still looking so tense.

“Chris, I’m alright. You can relax for now.” I assure him.

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, ”if you say so.”

—

Almost 15 hours later, the contractions start to come closer apart and when I check my phone, the interval of last contraction to current contraction is 5 minutes, so I tell Christian that it is finally time to go to the hospital. Already dressed, he immediately grabs the car keys and sets up some blankets on the passenger’s seat in case my water breaks. After that, he goes back into the house to grab hospital bags then puts them in the trunk of our car. Not long after, he sees me struggling to get into the car, so he gently helps me and once I get in, he makes sure I am sitting comfortably before locking all the doors at our house.

“Okay, everything is set, now it’s time to go.” He says as he starts the car.

He looks at me for a second and gives me a kiss on my forehead before he takes the wheel.

“Let’s go have a baby, shall we?”

—

The midwife informs me that I’m now 10 centimeters dilated, meaning it is finally time to push. I am still in incredible pain and genuinely terrified to do so because I don’t know if I can still bear the pain while pushing a full-sized human baby out of my vagina. Also, I have heard about this thing called “ring of fire” – it’s the strong burning sensation that you will experience when your baby is crowning – and now that it’s about to happen, I can’t stop thinking about it. While getting into the birthing position, I turn to Christian who is standing next to me.

“Christian, I’m scared…” I whimper. “I don’t know if I can do this…”

Hearing what I say truly breaks his heart. He hates knowing I’m scared yet he can’t do anything about it except giving me the encouragement he knows I need. He then looks deep into my eyes, smiling at me while caressing my hair, with his other hand holding mine tight.

“Yes you can, my love.” He softly says.

“You are the strongest person I have ever known so I know you know you absolutely can! It’s okay to be scared but baby, I’m here.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s go meet our little angel, yeah?”

I nod and take some deep breaths to prepare myself. Then I let the doctor know I’m ready and they immediately tell me to start pushing.

One push, two pushes, those were not so bad. Starting from third push, it starts to feel very, very painful.

“You’re doing great my love!”

He is basically being my ultimate cheerleader the whole time. He doesn’t let go of my hand no matter how hard I might grip his hand. He says he doesn’t feel a thing though I know he is lying his butt off for my benefit.

“Chris this hurts so bad…” I bawl, squeezing his hand hard. “This really hurt…”

His eyes suddenly become all teary. He can no longer hide his ache seeing the woman he loves greatly has to endure unthinkable pain to bring his child into the world.

“My love I’m sorry…” He weeps. “I’m sorry you have to go through this… But sweetheart you know you can keep going, a few more pushes and our baby is here…”

I keep pushing even though at some point I didn’t feel like I could do it anymore. But having Christian there gives me the strength I need during the birthing process.

“Y/N, let’s give one big final push!” Says the doctor.

“Uh, yeah, okay…” I say to them as my breath hitches.

I’m already very exhausted but unfortunately there’s no way I can stop. I can feel my baby is crowning and this “ring of fire” sensation is no joke – so when the doctor told me to do one final push all I can think of is that this pain will be over soon.

“C’mon sweetheart! You can do this!”

I hear a loud crying from my baby.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” The doctor excitedly announces.

“Oh my God, honey, we have a daughter!” I turn to Christian and see him already flooded with tears.

“Our little princess…” He sobs. “One more beautiful girl for me to love for the rest of my life.”

—

Christian and I can’t stop looking at our newborn daughter.

“Chris, look at her… She’s so tiny.”

“These little fingers are the cutest.”

She wraps Christian’s forefinger with her entire hand.

“She has your lips, Y/N.” He points out.

“Yeah… But she mostly has your features so I was basically just an oven!” I jokily grunt.

“Well you know it isn’t my fault that my genes are more prominent, is it?” he playfully replies, “I’m just that good.”

I roll my eyes, pretending to be irritated.

“Smug butthead.”

“Hey, watch your words, Mommy!”

Christian got me laughing and blushing. He just reminds me that I’m a mom now! It feels like we just had the talk about growing our family yesterday and the next thing I know I am now in a hospital, just giving birth to our sweet little angel who is sleeping peacefully in my arms at this moment. This still doesn’t feel real… Our lives are now officially changed forever and I couldn’t imagine mine before her.

“Hey,” Christian wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder, then whispers, “I love you.”

I have not stopped smiling and I can feel my smile getting wider.

“I love you.” I reply.

“You’re my everything, Y/N.” He adds.

“Oh no, you’re about to say some sappy monologue aren't you?”

“Yeah, here it comes…”.

Before he says his little speech he kisses me on the cheeks.

“Y/N… I can never thank you enough. You have made my dreams come true and I still don’t know why I deserve you in the first place! Thank you for making my life a lot more perfect than I ever imagined.”

I’m starting to sob.

“Christian…”

“I hated seeing you in so much pain just to bring her into the world.” He continues. “I wish it was me instead… But you continue to amaze me with your strength. And now, I love you so much more – more than I ever love anyone, even myself. Ever since you came into my life you have changed my world for the better. I never wanted to live my life with anyone else but you, and I’m beyond grateful we have a beautiful child together.”

“I will take good care of my girls for as long as I live…” His voice starts to shake. “I love you. I love you so much. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Y/N.”

Tears immediately streaming down my face. I just gave birth so my hormones are all over the place, and his beautiful speech doesn’t help. He got me speechless and extremely emotional.

“Ugh,” I jokingly grunt as I wipe my tears with my hand, “how dare you make me cry, Pulisic.”

And suddenly we see our baby giving us her first big smile – it’s like she is reacting to all the love and emotions her parents are experiencing right now!

“Awwwww!” Christian and I make the same sound in unison.

And of course, it makes me cry even harder. Christian is emotional too, by the way, but not as messed up as I am currently. He grabs some tissues and gently wipes my face – which is all wet thanks to the river of tears – with them right away as I am still holding our daughter.

“Y/N, my love, I don’t think you will ever stop crying from now on, no?” He laughs.

“Obviously not!”

—

“So, have you two decided on baby girl’s name?”

Christian and I instantly look at each other when the nurse asks that question. As I said, we have prepared some names for our baby but we have yet to choose the perfect name for her. Christian then grabs a piece of paper with the list of names from his pocket and as soon as the nurse leaves the room, we start discussing right away.

“Okay, uh… Which one do you love the most, Y/N?”

“I don’t know, Chris,” I reply, “there are too many options.”

“Well you can’t say you don’t know,” Christian sighs, “we have to pick two.”

An idea suddenly passes through my head.

“Why don’t we try this out: we say any name we each feel perfectly fitting for her at the same time. What do you think?” I suggest.

“Yeah okay, it’s worth a try.” He agrees.

“Alright, let’s say it in the count of three.” I instruct him.

“One, two, three…”

“Dylan!”

“Emery?”

He didn't sound sure at first, but then changed his mind immediately. “Oh, I like both names!”

“Dylan Emery Pulisic… It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I agree with him. I look at our little bundle of joy in my arms and I just know those names were made for her.

“Yeah, that’s definitely her name.”

—

Even though we are now taking care of our newborn together, Christian did have to fight just to get enough paternity leave. It was not easy for him because Dylan was born in the middle of the season and he is one of the most crucial players for the team, but he really wanted to take care of his daughter especially during the first few weeks of her life. Not only that, he feels like I have done so much already and he wants to also take care of you while you recover from the whole pregnancy and childbirth periods. He wouldn’t even mind getting less playing time when he comes back, because in his own words: “Now my priorities are my girls, football is much less important than both of you.”

Before Dylan was born, Christian had been practicing basically everything to prepare him for fatherhood. He can change the diapers, clean and bathe the baby, perfectly wrap her, he knows how to help soothe the baby, burp her after feeding – anything, really. He truly is excited to embrace this new life as a parent.

Dylan’s first week at home was hard, I had to adjust my sleeping schedule because until she’s a bit older I have to feed her every 2-3 hours and it messes up my sleeping. Not only that, she would loudly scream and cry all of the sudden and it mostly happens in the middle of the night. But Christian is always there, ready to help no matter how tired he might be – it’s a bare minimum but not all dads would be very hands-on like him – and I’m beyond grateful I don’t have to do everything alone. We always stay up late together, like when I have to feed Dylan at 12 AM and 3 AM. Most of the time, when we heard Dylan crying in the other room, he would tell me to go back to sleep and offer to take care of her. I would see them from the baby monitor and I’m telling you, he truly is the best dad. Seeing him being so loving to our daughter makes me already think about having another baby… But obviously both of us want to focus on raising Dylan so we decided to put the conversation on hold until Dylan is old enough to be a big sister.

Two weeks after Dylan came into the world, Christian decides it is time to introduce her to everyone at Milanello. So he brings both of us to the training grounds and shows her off to the staff and players. The club even got Dylan a mini home jersey kit as a way to welcome her to the Milan family.

One of his teammates greets us the second we get into the dressing room and ask about his current state. And to be honest, Christian’s heartfelt answer to it reminds me how lucky I am that I get to do this parenthood journey with him.

“Christian, hey! How are you feeling now, bro?

“Well I am a husband and a brand new father, so from now on I will always be feeling a lot happier than I have ever been. I am now on the start of a new life, thanks to my amazing, beautiful girls.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x fem!reader #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic x you #footballer x reader #footballer fic #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines #footballer one shot #footballer fluff

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gothicflowers · 1 month

Text

You and Alex just finished up a week long undercover assignment in Las Vegas. You two have been inseparable since you got assigned as partners three years ago. Everyone has always been slightly confused by your friendship. It was never just coworkers, or friends, it was like a relationship but there has never been anything more than a hug shared between you two. Fortunately this assignment was short but exhausting.

Alex stood by the window looking down at the busy street below illuminated by the bright lights of Vegas “I don’t see why we had to wait till tomorrow to fly out of here. I’m so sick of this place” Alex was always eager to get back to your shared apartment where neither of you felt the need to be on edge.

“Well at least we can relax for a little while” you replied as you crawled onto your hotel bed enjoying its softness.

Throwing your phone onto the pillow next to you, you look at Alex admiring how his button up shirt is halfway undone. You can’t count the amount of times you’ve almost drooled looking at him. “I’m bored” you huffed, his gaze pulls from the window to you.

He let out a deep groan before saying “Me too, what’s something we can do that won’t give me another migraine” he was referred to five nights you both had to spend in a club gathering intel. Turns out Alex didn’t do well with strobe lights for very long.

“I don’t know, maybe we can go catch a movie” you suggested with a half turned up smile.

Alex sighed “Nah, there’s nothing good in theaters” he plopped down onto your bed next to you, lying on his stomach propped up by his elbows.

You smirk at him, his big goofy smile shining “alright what’s your idea” you questioned.

“Wanna go get married” he said in a sincere voice. His eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. His usual joking tone was nowhere to be found, he was dead serious.

*the next morning*

You both wake up tangled together underneath the sheets. Still naked from last night. You knew it would be good with him. But you didn’t have the words to describe how incredible it was.

You laughed as Alex’s mustache tickled you as he lazily placed kisses on your neck “How are we going to tell Laswell” you asked him as you looked the rock on your finger.

“I have a feeling she won’t be surprised” His left hand came up to cradle your face, the cool metal of his ring felt good against your hot skin.

He leans in to give you another searing kiss that you return back with the same amount of passion. He pulls away with a smirk “and let’s be honest, it was bond to happen now or later”

(Photo credit to grave_fluffy_testicles on Pinterest)

#call of duty #cod #flowerwrites #alex keller #cod alex keller #alex keller call of duty #alex keller imagine #alex keller smut #alex keller x reader #alex keller x you #alex keller cod #alex keller x y/n #cod alex #alex cod #call of duty x reader

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disposal-blueeee · 3 months

Text

stuff i never finished and why

hello and good night . i'm just gonna ramble about stuff so yeah

swings

oh man i really loved this drawing . but it was a PAIN IN THE ASS .

i had a bunch of problems with this one . i spent an embarrassing amount of time doing the line . then after i started painting it on Ibis paint i realized that i should've done the line with a textured brush .

then the background . i really couldn't make it look nice even if i tried . i spent so long just trying stuff and searching for references but i just couldn't get it right . the colors and the lightning kept looking weird .

and just when it was looking decent , oh no the file is corrupted !!! and if i wanted it back i would have to go through a speedpaint of a drawing that took me 28 hours ( i actually tried it 😭😭 but it was taking so long and after some time the app crashed )

so , i decided to just give up . i was already fed up with it . maybe some day i'll try to redraw it or something

edit : oh wait a second . this drawing makes no sense without the background . edgar looks like that because there's supposed to be a puddle under scriabin's swing and he's trying to get edgar wet with it

otgw x chapter 20 / 21

i just said i loved the other one but THIS ONE . this one is SO PRETTY and i was so excited to try some new brushes and overall just finish this . excited enough to start painting edgar without even finishing scriabin's line .

i was using a small tablet my friend let me borrow . it was actually so helpful because i could draw on my phone with it !! i used to work on this when i was at school .

then i started having problems with the background . again

then my friend told me that his mom didn't agree with him giving me the tablet and that he should give it to his sister instead so i had to give it back . great . at that point i didn't feel like finishing it so

random reference i found in pinterest

this is like a month old maybe ???? i just thought " oh this would be such a fire pfp " and after finishing the sketch i was like " alright i'll finish this tomorrow " ( i never finished it )

mostly didn't finish it because i didn't have any idea to make it look lifeless and tragic . oh well . maybe i'll try it someday i still think it's cool

papa's cheeseria

this one isn't really unfinished . i just wanted to make a doodle sheet but never drew anything else so now he's just there . alone in a blank space . poor guy .

so yeah . everytime i play papa louie's games i always make the workers look like edgar and scriabin . i thought this default outfit looked pretty cool so so i had to draw it

#there's probably more stuff to add here but i lost a bunch of files when i changed my pc :((#also i have another one i really wanted to add but it's oc related so so nope #i tried so hard with the swings one but after some time i just felt like the drawing expired ?????? somehow #like that just wasn't how i used to draw anymore . so i just gave up #the same thing happened with the otgw x 20 / 21 one and it makes me so SAD #i don't even know how that one popped in my head .#one day i just remembered over the garden wall existed thanks to a friend posting some art about it #and idk i just had to draw them like wirt and greg #anyways back to rambling about my life woohoo #i'm i'm doing so bad rn #but let's pretend i'm not . alright #this year will be tough .#vargas #vargas zarla #scriabin vargas #zarla s #edgar vargas #sunny's rambles

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black-moon-bunny · 1 year

Text

Private Confession

A shy sister decides to walk into the confessional to relieve some weight on her shoulders, she needs to confess the filthy dreams she has been having with the image of her Papa Emeritus the Third and take some guilt off , what she doesn't know it's that Papa himself is taking the confessions today.

Word Count : 4300 words.

Warnings: Smut with plot basically.+18 NSFW Oral Sex (male on female) Unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of praise kink, a dash of Dom!Terzo, a bit of corruption kink he just want to break her mind and shit. Y/N is used, some broken Italian that I took from Google translate sorry if it sucks. Minors DNI. All the pictures were found on Pinterest I just edited them so credits who made them. No betad. today I die like a woman (?).

The cute dividers that I used this time belong to @firefly-graphics 💕

A.N : I promised this a couple of days ago but I never thought that it will be that long, again I just got carried on. The fires are still burning near my city, everything was covered in ashes and smoke so I just locked myself in my home and spent all day writing and playing monster hunter on the switch. I hope you enjoy this filthy piece of work. Take care, drink water, eat your three meals and hug your loved ones. 💕

She was nervous, the last time she confessed to a member of the clergy was years ago, and she wasn't sure if it was ok for her to confess her latest dreams with the new Papa of the church. Papa Emeritus the Third was like a breath of fresh air into the Rituals, he was too charming, too charismatic, too flamboyant. And it was magnetic, since the first ritual she felt pulled to him not being able to keep her eyes out of him during performance, the purple gowns, the modals, the way that he moved and walked on the stage. It was even worse in church and the abbey, the way that he talked with the sisters, and walked around winking his eyes and smiling. That's when she couldn't even look in his direction. After a few months of this martyrdom she began to have the most unholy thoughts of the man in the sheets of her bed, most of the time giving herself pleasure in the process. She felt guilty, he was on another level completely away from her own level in the clergy, she shouldn't be having those lustful dreams with him! So she decided that the best thing she could do about it was going to confess, get the weight off her chest and get some advice in a more private scenario. She greeted without entering the little space of the confessional waiting for the clergyman permission

—Come in, sister. Please.

—Thank you Cardinal...

And the men inside the other side.of the confessional tensed, he was no Cardinal. He was Papa himself, the change in "title" shook him a bit, it had been a long time since someone referred to him as cardinal.

Terzo found himself bored in the abbey so he changed his place at the confessional with Cardinal Copia, he was one of his closest friends in the church so he was always down to help him, after the last ritual he ended up with a raspy deeper voice because his over exigence and that helped him to mask his identity behind the confessional. He wanted to talk to other people, he was tired of only talking to the upper clergy most of the times, he wanted to talk with anyone else besides Imperator and his dad

—What's your name, little lamb?...

— It's y/n , Sister y/n. —He smiled trying to get a look at her to confirm his suspicions, but he was sure that he knew her. She was the soft lamb that always seemed to shiver around him, but was always at the rituals supporting the Ghost Project. She was particularly interesting to him, she seemed to change every time he went on stage, her eyes fixated on him more than any other sister or brother at the rituals. So he was aware of her existence and presence in the church.

— Tell me Sister y/n ... why are you here? What is the thing that lingers in your mind? The burden that you charge...

She didn't recognize the voice...It was not the Cardinal , but she couldn't quite guess, it sounded a bit raspy

— Sister, are you okay? It's okay, this is a private moment, a moment of trust. I'm not going to judge you.

She felt the guilt and the shame in her head but he was right. It was just a confession and besides he was there to help her and not judge her. And most probably he didn't even know who she was.

— I have dirty thoughts... sinful and dirty dreams every night...

— And why do you think it is wrong to have sinful dreams my dear?

— It's not because of the dreams....It's about who I am dreaming in those dreams..

—Why do you feel bad about dreaming with this person?..

—Because he is our excellency, our guide in this place...I'm having dreams with...—She took a breath and let out a sight before saying it. — I'm having dreams with our new Papa. Really nasty and naughty dreams...

Terzo was amused, this cute sister was having dirty dreams with him? How could he be mad?

— Sister, what kind of dreams? Why are they naughty?....You mean sex dreams?...

—Y-Yeah....they begin always the same, Me and Papa talking after a ritual on his back stage...and then I gave him a shoulder massage to ease his tense muscles and...we ended up fucking. It's always the same and...I feel that is wrong! How could I dream such dirty things with someone that I admire...

— Sister....you like what Papa does to you in the dreams?..

— Y-Yes....he feels so good...the way he kisses me, and rubs me, and soothes my skin with his hands, and move me like I was a doll on top of him...

— So, do you desire your dream to become true?

She stood in silence for a moment. She really wanted that dream to become true? Or she just wanted to leave it as part of her dirty imagination?

—...I don't know....he would never look at me in that way! It's almost impossible...

— That is not an answer, little lamb...

— I'm sorry ...I would like to be true ...but I know that it's almost impossible.

— Ah little lamb...who says that dreams do not come true?...—Terzo laughed a bit leaving his spot inside the confessional and opening the door of the side in which she was seated.

She looked at him in utter disbelief, she just confessed to Papa himself that she was having sex dreams about him! . But Terzo did not look angry, he had this flirty expression, that arrogant and sly smirk in his face looking down on her. He grabbed her chin with his fingers and made her look up to him as she was trying to not look him in the eyes.

— What's wrong sorella...are you ashamed that I heard your secret?...—He caressed the skin of her cheek with his thumb slowly, without looking her right in her eyes. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes had this glisten in them, her expression was a mix of fear and excitement.

—P-Papa I'm ...I'm so sorry....

—Don't be sorella....do you think I'm mad at you? I'm amused....you who always shiver when I go near you, you who are always so supporting during Mass or in the rituals...all of this time living with the burden of those dirty dreams with me...Poor thing...did you get your relief after those dreams? You were touching yourself thinking about me?.....

She felt her thighs clench together, her chest was on fire. Her breathing stopped for a moment before answering

— Yes Papa....

—Don't worry my sweet sorella...I know this place is too small for you to enjoy...-He let go of her chin and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the confessional — Follow me...we are going to have a extended talk about your dreams....If you are really repented you are going to show me how did you pleasure yourself.

He dragged her to his room, she felt lightheaded. She sure was having a dream again, because none of this could be part of reality. She was being dragged to Papa Emeritus the Third room to "show remorse" and "talk" about her sin.

He opened the door and guided her into his chamber, seating her on the bed. The luxurious deep purple bed sheets, the soft cushions and mattress, the smell of roses and leather. Everything felt too dreamy to be true. She sat there, waiting for him to say something, waiting for her to wake up from her dream.

—Sorella...tell me...how did you touch yourself?

— I...I....

—Don't be afraid little lamb...we are not going to do anything that you don't want to...but I want to know how did you treated yourself...So I can know where to start your penitence, and don't worry about the old hag...This is our secret of confession ...Now my dear sorella....—He took a seat in front of her, not before removing part of his "working clothes''. He just had a white silky shirt and his black tight pants left as he sat in front of her— Show me, how you enjoy yourself after dreaming with me...

Her pulse was completely messed up, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her eardrum. Her legs spread slowly, shyly she took one of her hands and lifted her skirt showing her red lace underwear.

He felt his cock twitch inside his pants, who would have thought that the shy sister used such sexy lingerie? He was delighted, her soft and embarrassed expression contrasted so well with the sexy red lace between her legs, he could even see the dark spot where she leaked her fluids, he swore that he could smell her in the air.

— Take those off and give them to me...

— Yes papa....—She slid them down her legs and handed them to him, she couldn't do anything more but obey him. She opened her legs once more, but this time showing her exposed core to him, her folds were coated and slick with her fluids, she froze for a bit looking at the darkened and lustful expression in Papa eyes.

— Please continue...show me more, I want to see you give pleasure to that perfect pussy of yours...—He licked his lips, he wanted to go down on her and lick her fluids while fingering but he knew that if he waited the reward was going to be much better.

—.....Y-Yes....Mnhg...— A whimper left her lips as soon as she brushed her clit with the tip of her fingers. She was so sensitive already, she felt her insides twitch wanting something inside to fill them. She gave her clit slow grazes and applying some pressure, his middle finger slid slowly between her folds tempting the entrance of her hole for a bit before pushing it inside. She moaned and cursed herself on her inside for the embarrassing sounds coming out of her mouth. Her free hand was on her right nipple, pulling and pinching the button sending shivers down her spine directly to her pussy.

He was stroking lazily his cock under his pants, the show she was putting for him was completely outstanding. The way she moaned, how her hips moved looking for more contact with her hand. How she squirmed and giggled at the pleasure. He wanted more of her.

— Keep going....show me more, I want to see you fully sister.,..come on, obey your Papa..

— mnhg...ah! No...Papa per favore...

— Oh my little sorella....you know Italian huh? ...—He positioned between her legs, standing over her looking at her trembling body — la mia tentazione dolce e peccaminosa, così bella, solo per me, vero?....—He leaned on her just a bit, touching her face and caressing her skin, looking at her glistening eyes, waiting for an answer — Vero?...

— S-Sí....just for you....

He felt his cock pressing so hard against his pants just by hearing her. It was all the confirmation he needed to make his move. He dragged her to the edge of the bed and kneeled in front of her, taking an intense look at the wonder in front of him.

— Sorella....we are not going to do anything that you don't want, I need you to say it, say that this is what you want....—There was a deep growl inside him trapped, her smell was driving him nuts, she was so wet that it dripped down her ass to his bed , directly into his velvet bedspread leaving a wet spot that grew by the minute.

— Papa please....I want you!.I need you!...are those dirty thoughts enough proof for you?....I desperately need you....—She whimpered and moaned, she was so needy of him. Her sweet and shy demeanor was long gone, she needed him, she wanted to indulge in the sin of Papa Emeritus the Third and never be the same again.

— Lucifero per favore, fammi godere per sempre di questo piacere peccaminoso....—He looked at her, his eyes completely darkened by lust, he began placing small kisses along her thighs, getting closer and closer to her wet impatient core, he spread her folds with his fingers to leave her clit exposed to him, he blew a bit of cold air and she moaned by the feeling.

After a sly smirk he got closer and closer

— Thanks dark lord for this delicious meal....—He gave a long lick to her clit down his folds before completely attacking her clit. Sucking slowly and moving his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands left to her thighs caressing and tracing the skin with the claws of his gloves, her moans sounded like the most delicious choir of sweets sounds.

She was losing slowly her contact with reality, she had never felt something like this before, she had been with boys during her teenage and young adult era, but nothing like this, nothing like the sinful dexterity of Papa's tongue, the feeling of his leather gloves and claws along her thighs as she moved her hips looking for more contact ,her hands playing with her nipples pulling them every time he gave a long lick.

He felt how she was melting under him. He took his gloves off and carefully placed one of his fingers at the entrance of her pussy, pressing slowly letting her suck him inside. She was so wet that his finger slipped inside easily, but she felt tight around it at the same time. He moved one finger and then added another one, spreading her insides preparing her for him.

— Don't try to muffle your voice, my little songbird....—He moved his fingers slightly up inside her, touching that rugged spot over and over — I want you moaning my name...say it....

— Papa....Mngh papa, please made me cum....

— No no....not papa....—He finally released his erection from his pants and underwear , he kept moving his fingers inside her, brushing her clit with the palm of his hand every time he pushed into her, and with his other hand he was stroking himself.

She was about to climax on his fingers, she needed to release the pressure in her belly, she needed to let loose the coil that was about to snap. She moved her hips wanting more. She couldn't say his name, she was going to burst if she heard herself saying his name, no not papa, Terzo.

—Say it...or else I will not let you come, how about that? Enough motivation for you...puttana?....

She whimpered and moan obscenely at the nickname, her hips jerking from the bed moaning out loud his name

— T-Terzo! Terzo please! I need to....I want to...

—....You little filthy sister....—He positioned himself between her legs and without much warning he pushed inside, gasping and moaning deeply at the feeling, she felt the most blasphemous pleasure in the world.

Something inside her snapped after his thrust, her whole body felt like wildfire and she could swear that she was seeing stars and glistens all over the place, with the last part of her coherence she moved his arms towards him, looking for more of his touch, she wanted to feel him completely. He kept thrusting into her while taking of his shirt, he leaned over her and kissed her, her lips were soft and plump, as they kissed her moans got trapped in her throat and left only as breathy whimpers as he moved his hips and his bodies became one sweaty wet mess.

— I can feel you squeezing me so good....such a good girl for your Papa...—He bit her neck leaving marks all over the skin, she scratched the skin on his back and pectorals, she looked at him completely lost in her lustful dream that came true , adoring his expression, his passion and the delicious way in which he was devoted to give her pleasure.

For him, she was a devil that came from hell to make him lust over and over. He already had many affairs under his sleeve, but no one of those compared to the sinful sweet adoration of the sister. Her body seemed to perfectly fit with his, the way her legs hugged his hips, how her breast moved hypnotizing him, the delicious tightness and the way his name sounded on her lips. He wanted more of her, he wanted her for him and only him, this egoist desire of consuming her, of corrupt all if her shyness and all of her politeness into a pure lustfull mess, a fuck doll , a slut just for him.

He stopped for a bit to lift her legs over his shoulders and letting one of his hands wander from her tits to his neck and to his face, drawing the shape of her lips with his finger, looking at her and licking his lips at the sight, she licked the tip of his finger and he slide his thumb on her mouth. She began to suck desperately, her glossy eyes dropping tears of pleasure as he rolled his hips so deliciously over her, her insides twitched with anticipation of a climax that was already there. She was sure she scratched so hard that he bled a bit, but the pain turned him even more. He helped her ride her orgasm and lowered the pace of his thrusts for a minute.

—How was that dolcezza?....—He grabbed her by the waist and placed a pillow under her back for extra support and then proceeded to give her sweet kisses helping her ride the last waves of her orgasm before keep going further. — Are you okay?

— More....—She looked at him blushed, slightly drooling. Pupils fully dilated by pleasure, sweaty and still gasping for air but begging for more. "Such a good girl "terzo thought admiring the sight in front of him , but he needed to make sure she was okay, because after her approval he was going to go full feral on her.

— First, are you okay? Nothing hurts?....I plan to make love to you all afternoon and then at night if you are still needy give you some more but I need to know if you are well...—He brushed some strains of hair out of her forehead and caressed her cheek.

— I'm okay....I want more. Please....

— Mnn...I'm not sure if you are well...—He smiled devilishly moving his hips with one hard thrust — You seem quite agitated and...—He thrusted again — you look too red...—Once again another thrust — and you are gasping for air...

— Mnh...p-please ....ah! Don't....don't tease me....I ...I want more...

— And are you sure that you could...—His thrust were slow but hard and deep, he took his subtle time between thrusts just to make her squirm underneath him —.... take it?..

— I'm sure! I just....please fuck me! I want to feel your cum inside of me!

— Mngh....fucking hell y/n....you filthy puttana...want more of your Papa?....—He lifted her in his arms and sat on the bed with her on top but with her back pressed against his chest , he had her hold by the thighs with the rest of her legs clinging in the air. — Then take me....

After this sentence he began thrusting into her making her almost jump in his lap, her moans were obscene and loud, the wet slapping sound echoed in the room mixed with the moans of them both. His nails dig into her soft skin , her neck and back as his full disposition to bite and kiss , leaving marks all over her skin. He was close, he could feel the tightness in his abdomen. He dropped one of her legs and lowered his hand to her clit pressing and making circles over it as he thrusted, she squirmed and moaned his name over and over.

— Mnhg...y/n I'm...I'm close....you want it inside huh?....You filthy whore....so dumb fucked by your Papa...this is what you dreamed of isn't it?...mnhg! Ah! Fucking Satanás! ...

His hips moved faster and harder searching for his climax , but he couldn't indulge until she came at least one time more.

— Mmngh terzo! Together please....I want to come with you Papa! ...I want to be your personal..ah! Fuck toy! ...

— You sure are a bag of surprises sister...— His gasp and moans reverb on her ear, the praises and filthy remarks made her even closer, with only two thrusts more she came undone over him, squirting hard and wetting his bed, sofa and floor. He felt like he was melting in the caldrons of hell with her, he came with a loud and deep growl thrusting some more before collapsing in the bed with her underneath him. He pulled it off and watched as his cum leaked from her, this filled him with pride, looking at her so disheveled on his bed.

— mnhg...ah....don't leave...

— I'm not leaving....—He brushed some strains of hair out of her face and gave her a sweet peck on the lips as she turned around to be face up on the bed— but I need to prepare something...wait a minute dolce...

He went to his bathroom and prepared the tub for her, he took her in his arms slowly and carefully before letting her down slowly in the warm water. She was dozing a bit.

— You will stay here in my chambers today, and tonight you will make me company at the mass and ritual, then right back here with me si?...

— But...papa....—As she came down from her high the weight of reality became real, she knew that this will probably be a one time thing and she needed to get back to her chores— Sister Imperator is going to punish me if I do not finish my chores...

— It will be arranged as soon as we leave the tub, sí dolce?...—He entered the tub with her and she cuddled instantly on his chest, such a cute sight...

— Are you sure Papa?...

— I'm sure...and do not call me papa when we are alone si? Just terzo...Don't worry about the old hag , she is going on a trip with the old man and my brothers, we are going to be alone all week...Just me and the Cardinale, and of course you in my office all day wearing your cute dresses just for me...—He nuzzled her hair messing with her....

— Oh...I thought that...you know...I was going to be your one day off and stuff...—She looked up at him and he melted again, so innocent and yet so filthy, who would think that about her? He needed to thank his dear Amico later for letting him get in the confessional, maybe she would never had approached him otherwise, and yes , maybe he wouldn't done either . He was glad that Satan put her in his path.

— I know about my reputation sister...

—Just...y/n is fine if I can call you Terzo...just between us ...

— Well...y/n I know about my reputation but that's mostly a ...eh....it's part of the job...and I know that i have my fair share of affairs with a lot of sisters but no more than Secondo did or even Primo in his "prime" — He joke about his lame joke to ease some of her tension — You are right in be suspicious but I'm being honest...I want you for me as long as you are right with it , maybe we could get to know more about each other...I'm a bit tired of the running around with the sisters if I'm honest I'm bored about everything this days that's why I asked Copia...I mean, Cardinal Copia the favor of being on the confessional and that lead me to you, I will take it as a signal from our dark lord..

— So...you are asking me out?...—She smiled, it wasn't a dream right? — I'm not dreaming of this? Please tell me that I'm not..

— You are not ....— He laughed before pinning her slowly against the marble of the bath — But I'm going to make you feel like you are walking on air after this....—He laughed a bit at her expression of sudden lust and hunger— So eager....another round then?...

She used his weight in her favor and the slick of the water and turned around this time pinning him, he felt his dick bounce to his abdomen as soon as she was over him and her tits hanging in front of his face. She rocked her hips back and forth slowly over his cock

— Another round then ....—She took a deep breath and let him slide inside of her in one seat — Mnhg!...fuck...why it's so big?...mgnh....

— Mgnh...y/n ...so eager....—He bit his lip and grabbed her hips to give her more support, she moved wonderfully. She looked like a dark goddess of lust over him. His breast moving up and down with her, tempting him to bite and lick every piece of skin on them and so he did, he trapped one of her nipples between his lips sucking and biting, his hands traveled from her hips to his ass, squeezing and slapping her precious butt cheeks.

— Mnhg...Terzo....—She put her arms on his shoulders for support and started to move harder and faster, moaning his name over and over. The echo in the bathroom made her sound like a choir of devilish succubus filled with pure and primal desire. Her whole body was invested in giving him the biggest pleasure as a way to retrieve the pleasure that he gave her, the way she moved and breathed, how she moaned his name, how the tightness inside her felt. He felt his whole body sensitive, the way the warm water soothes his skin while being in the hot embrace of that marvelous woman on top of him, he moaned her name as a prayer. His wet hair falling on his face, her hair dropping over his shoulder everytime she moved, the heat of both bodies becoming one through the ritual of pleasure and lust.

— Mnhg! Fuck....y/n I'm not....mgnh...you are too...mgnh... damn hot ...I want to feel you more...ah la mia dolce puttana...così buona per me, così desiderosa del mio sperma....

— Sí Terzo please! Fill me with your cum...I'm getting closer...mgnh I want to come all over your dick...

— Mgnh...Sí dolce ... everything that you desire my sweet little devil....—He grabbed her hips, thrusting hard and fast over and over until she came with a high pitched moan. He came shortly after, filling her again with her cum..

— Mnhg ...ah!...don't ...move....—He smiled a bit — Too...sensitive....

— Oh...let me just ...—He plopped out of her and lifted her slowly.

— Mnhhh.....—She cuddles with him again. Caressing his chest and brushing his chest hair slowly. Giving kisses on his shoulder and chest.

— You are so cuddly...—He sighed in relaxation— so warm...

— You...don't like it?....—She asked a but worried of being too much all of the sudden.

— I love it....—He kissed her over and over, making her blush. — Let's get out of here and shower, I will make a ghoul go for some clothes for you and then you can sleep a bit on my bed while I take care of some duties...Don't worry about a thing of your chores, it's all ready....now, let's get cleaned up si princesa?...

They showered and rested on his bed, she fell asleep quickly, he brought his paperwork to his chamber and worked on his desk while watching her sleep, he was sure that it was the right decision following the devil's sign that guided him to her. All of it just for a simple private confession...

A.N : Heeeey! I hope that you enjoyed it, I was in the mood for a filthy sexy smut with our slutty Papa but I could keep the fluff away, I like fluff. If you have comments suggestions or want me to write something specific you can comment something down below or leave and question on the ask me page. 💕 thanks again for reading and I hope you have a great day/night/afternoon etc. 💕

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