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rynwritesreid · 4 months

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Kiss it away| Spencer Reid

A/N:This is my first time writing a sub Spencer, so it may not be as good as my other smut pieces. But I still hope you enjoy. This is also partially requested as someone wanted a sub!Spencer. Please tell me if you want more sub! Spencer. I’ve also started writing the first chapter of Mind Games, and honestly I’m really looking forward to posting it on here.

Summary: Spencer is suffering with a migraine, you find a natural way to help relieve his pain, with some natural analgesics.

Content: Smut and fluff. Fem!reader. Dom!reader. Sub!Spencer. established relationship/dynamic Praise kink. Handjob (M!receiving). Oral(M!receiving). Vaginal penetration (P in V). Cream-pie. No mentions of contraception. Pet names (Good boy. Sweet boy). Migraines/pain. A tiny mention of Spencers addiction(literally in passing/referencing why he wouldn’t want medication). Vulnerability. Caring reader. Use of Y/N. Suggestive ending. 18*

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Spencer, the man known for talking people’s heads off and giving everyone unwanted statistics, was being unusually quiet. In fact he didn’t really seem to be all there. He kept rubbing his head and couldn’t seem to be in bright rooms for prolonged periods of time.

Even when you two were at home together, he wouldn’t talk much to you. Instead, he would shut himself in the spare room with the lights turned off and the curtains drawn. You didn’t know what to do, or how to help. You knew he wouldn’t want any medication, so all you could do was try and offer a helping hand.

��

Before going to work one morning, you decided to ask him if he was okay to go to work. You were sure that everyone would understand him wanting to stay home if was feeling this ill.

“Hey, Spencer. Are you okay? You’ve being acting off lately. Are you sure you want to go into work today? We’ve not been called out into the field or anything.”

Spencer looked up from his coffee, his eyes bloodshot and distant. He gave a weak smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I appreciate your concern," he murmured, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "But I can't stay home. I need to keep my mind occupied, even if it feels like it's tearing me apart."

You watched him closely, the worry etching deeper lines upon your face. Spencer had always been a man of routine, finding solace in the structure and predictability of his work. But now, there was something far more sinister lurking beneath the surface.

"Spencer, please," you pleaded softly, taking a step closer to him. "You don't have to suffer alone. We can figure this out together. Maybe it's time to seek some help."

“I’ve already being to the doctors; they couldn’t see anything wrong. So, please let me go into work.” Though his voice barely crept above a whisper, you could sense the anger.

You sighed, feeling the weight of his frustration and desperation. You knew how much he valued his work, how it gave him purpose and stability. But seeing him like this, so lost and distant, it tore at your heart.

“I’m going to call in sick, handsome. Please join me in staying home today, let me take care of you.”

Spencer's eyes flickered with uncertainty, a mixture of gratitude and resistance fighting within him. He seemed torn between his desire to protect you from the darkness that plagued him and his fear of burdening you with his own struggles.

"I don't want to hold you back," he whispered, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "You deserve someone who can give you the happiness you deserve."

Your heart ached at his selfless words, for they only made you love him more. You reached out and gently cupped his face, your touch tender and full of reassurance.

"Spencer," you murmured, your voice laced with determination. "Happiness is not something I seek outside of us. It is in being with you, in trying to help shoulder your burden. Let me be here for you."

His eyes searched yours, tears shimmering in their depths. Slowly, he nodded, relinquishing the weight he had been carrying alone for far too long.

“Okay.” He whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of relief and vulnerability. "Okay, maybe staying home with you today wouldn't be such a bad idea."

You called Hotch, who was very understanding, and told him that you were both taking the day off work.

You closed all the curtains and kept only a little lamp on and told him to make himself as comfortable as possible. His sat down on the sofa, with his cup of coffee in hand. You decided to do some research, to see what possible ways you could help ease his pain.

Through your research, you saw that orgasms can help, as they act as a natural analgesic. You didn’t know if that was something Spencer would be willing to try, but you knew it was worth a shot.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and determination as you approached Spencer. Sitting down beside him on the sofa, you gently placed a hand on his thigh.

"Spencer," you began softly, trying to find the right words amidst the heaviness in the room. "I've been doing some research, and I came across something that might help... It's a bit unconventional, but... orgasms can actually act as a natural analgesic. They release endorphins that can alleviate pain and promote relaxation."

Spencer blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes as he processed your words. You could see the wariness and scepticism etched across his face, but there was also a glimmer of hope.

“Would you like to try it; you don’t need to do anything. I’m going to do all the work.” Spencer's gaze met yours, his apprehension slowly fading as a small spark of curiosity ignited within him. He knew the pain that haunted him was not physical, but if there was a chance that this unconventional method could provide even a momentary respite from the torment in his mind, he was willing to give it a try.

"I trust you," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability and gratitude. "If there's a chance it might help, then let's give it a shot."

“Now that’s my good boy. I’m going to make you feel better, okay?” Your voice was light, soft and caring.

You led him into the bedroom, making sure that he would be comfortable. You slowly took of his clothes, making sure to be delicate. You could feel the tension and anticipation building between you as each article of clothing was removed. Spencer stood before you, his naked body exposed and vulnerable. You took a moment to appreciate the sight before you, the way his gaze met yours with a mix of trust and longing.

With gentle hands, you guided him to lie down on the bed, his body sinking into the soft sheets. The dim light cast a warm glow across the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that felt like a sanctuary from the outside world.

You positioned yourself beside him, your fingers trailing delicately along his skin. Every touch was deliberate, filled with tenderness and a desire to ease his pain. Slowly, you let your hand travel lower, caressing the sensitive skin just below his belly button.

Spencer's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with measured anticipation. His eyes never left yours, as if seeking reassurance that this act of intimacy was meant to heal rather than exploit.

“I love you, my sweet boy. I would do anything to help you. Do you understand?”

Spencer nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you too," he replied, his words filled with gratitude and vulnerability. He trusted you implicitly, knowing that your intentions were pure and genuine.

As you continued your gentle caresses, your fingers slowly descended further, tracing the outline of his growing arousal. The weight of his pain seemed to lift slightly as pleasure began to replace it, inch by inch. Your touch was delicate and purposeful, seeking to provide comfort and relief rather than raw desire.

Spencer's breath hitched again, a soft gasp escaping his lips as your fingertips brushed over the sensitive head of his penis. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, his body relaxing into your touch as you continued to stroke him with soothing care.

With each stroke, the tension in his body seemed to dissipate further. His muscles softened beneath your touch, the knots of anguish gradually unravelling as pleasure washed over him in waves. In this moment of intimacy and vulnerability, he allowed himself to let go of the weight he had been carrying. The pain that had consumed him for so long began to fade into the background, replaced by a newfound sense of relief and release.

You watched the transformation unfold, your heart swelling with both love and pride. This was more than just physical pleasure; it was a catharsis, a moment of respite amidst the storm that raged within Spencer's mind.

As you continued to stroke him, your movements became more purposeful, more focused on unlocking the pleasure hidden beneath the layers of his pain. You could feel his body responding to your touch, his breath quickening and his muscles tensing with anticipation.

"Let go, Spencer," you whispered, your voice laced with both tenderness and command. "Surrender to the pleasure, let it wash over you and carry away the darkness."

His eyes snapped open, meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and trust. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he allowed himself to fully surrender to the pleasure that enveloped him. The heaviness in his mind melted away, replaced by a blissful ecstasy that radiated through his body.

You continued to stroke him, your movements steady and sure, attuned to his every response. The room was filled with the sounds of his gasps and moans, mingling with the soft rhythm of your touch. With each stroke, the tension in his body unravelled further, making room for a profound sense of release and relief.

Spencer's muscles twitched beneath your fingertips, his body trembling on the precipice of something powerful. His breath hitched as he teetered on the edge of climax, teetered on the edge of being released from the chains of his pain. And then, with a shuddering groan, he let go.

His whole body convulsed as an intense wave of pleasure coursed through him, washing away the thoughts that tormented him.

“Oh, my sweet handsome boy, look at the mess you’ve made. I guess I better clean it up, huh? Would you like that?”

Spencer didn’t answer for a while, he was still coming down. As he caught his breath, he let out a “yes”. You lowered your head, making sure to give him a trail of kisses.

You lowered your head, pressing soft kisses along his abdomen as you made your way down to his spent cock. The taste of him was familiar and comforting, a reminder of the intimate connection you shared. With each gentle lick and suck, you cleaned him up, taking care to savour every drop.

Spencer's body relaxed further against the bed, his muscles loosening as a blissful satisfaction settled over him. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, the weight of his pain replaced by a gentle calmness that washed over him.

“You don’t we’ve finished yet though. Do you?”

Spencer's eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting yours as a flicker of anticipation danced in his eyes. The words hung heavy in the air, a promise of continued pleasure and release. He shook his head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"No, I don't think we're finished," he replied, his voice filled with a newfound sense of confidence and desire. "I want to keep going."

You smiled back at him, a mix of adoration and mischief dancing in your eyes. Your hand gently cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip.

"Good boy," you murmured, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "Let's see just how far we can take this."

With a mischievous glimmer in your eyes, you leaned down and captured Spencer's lips in a searing kiss. Your hands roamed over his bare skin, tracing every dip and curve, as desire coursed through your veins.

Spencer's body responded eagerly to your touch, his hands gripping the sheets as he arched into your caress. His kisses grew hungrier, more desperate, as if he sought solace not only from his pain but from the world itself. There was an unspoken understanding between you, an unquenchable hunger that demanded to be sated.

You slowly lowered yourself back to his cock. As you worked your mouth up and down his length, your hand stroked his thigh, adding to the sensations coursing through him. Spencer's moans grew louder and more desperate with each passing moment, his body arching off the bed as he surrendered to the ecstasy that washed over him.

You could feel the tension building in him once again, his breath quickening, his muscles tightening. With a final stroke of your tongue, you brought him to the edge once more, guiding him over it with expert precision.

His release was explosive, his body convulsing in waves of pleasure. You swallowed every drop, savouring the taste as if it were a decadent treat.

“Do you think you can give me another?” He slowly nodded your head, as he found himself unable to speak.

You moved off the bed so you could undress yourself. Spencer’s eyes scanning your body, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. With each piece of clothing that fell to the floor, Spencer's anticipation grew. He watched you undress, soaking in the sight of your bare skin, the contours of your body that held a promise of pleasure. The desire in his eyes mirrored your own, a hunger that demanded to be satisfied.

As you climbed back onto the bed, naked and eager, Spencer's hands reached out instinctively to touch you. Each caress was filled with longing and need, his fingertips tracing the lines of your body as if memorizing every curve.

Your skin tingled under his touch, and you couldn't help but gasp at the electricity that coursed through your veins. It was as if every nerve ending in your body had awakened, craving the pleasure that only Spencer could provide.

With a gentle push, you urged Spencer to lie back on the bed, his body surrendering to your desires. Your lips sought out his with an urgency born from months of pent-up longing and anticipation. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and need.

“You haven’t been able to cum yet. Please let me help you out?” His voice was cracking, his eyes pleading for you to let him do anything.

“My sweet boy, I told you I was going to be doing all the work. Just relax.”

Spencer nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and desire. He allowed himself to sink into the mattress, surrendering control over his pleasure to you completely. You straddled him, positioning yourself just above his aching need, teasing him with the anticipation of what was to come.

You began to slowly grind against him, the friction between your bodies sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to build the tension and desire that simmered just beneath the surface. Spencer's hands grasped at your hips, pulling you closer, desperate for more contact.

But you kept your pace torturously slow, denying him the release he yearned for. Each time he tried to thrust upwards, seeking more contact, you gently but firmly held him down, reminding him who was in control.

"You're doing so well," you whispered as you leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. "Just a little longer. I promise it'll be worth the wait."

Spencer's body trembled beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin as he fought against the overwhelming need for release. His eyes were glazed with desire, his lips parted in a silent plea for more. The intensity of his desire mirrored your own, and you reveled in the power you held over him.

With each tantalizing movement of your hips, you could feel yourself growing wet and swollen, your own need begging to be satisfied. But this moment was about Spencer, about giving him the pleasure, he so desperately craved. You would have your turn soon enough.

His moans grew louder, more desperate, filling the room with their raw intensity. With each passing second, Spencer edged closer to the brink of ecstasy. But you were not ready to let him go just yet. Your movements quickened, but only slightly, teasing him with the promise of release while denying him its full realization.

"Please," he begged, his voice thick with desperation. "I need to cum, please."

You smiled down at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of affection and dominance. You knew he was on the edge, his body trembling with need. But you wanted to push him even further, to take him to a place of ecstasy he had never experienced before.

"Patience, my love," you whispered, your voice silkily smooth. "I want to make you feel so good."

With those words, you increased the tempo of your movements, grinding against him with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure intensified, threatening to break through the dam of control that Spencer had managed to maintain. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body writhing beneath yours as he fought against the mounting pleasure.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that swallowed his moans and pleas for release. Your tongue danced with his, an erotic ballet that mirrored the movements of your bodies. The taste of him mingled with your own desire, intoxicating and addictive.

With a final thrust, you felt Spencer's body tense beneath you, his release imminent. The grip of his fingers on your hips grew tighter as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure that washed over him. His moans filled the room, a symphony of ecstasy that reverberated in your ears.

As he climaxed, you continued to move against him, prolonging his pleasure until he couldn't take any more. Wave after wave of intense sensation coursed through his body, leaving him gasping for breath, his limbs limp and sated.

You slowly eased yourself off him, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of your lips. The sight of Spencer lying there, spent, and thoroughly pleasured, made your heart swell with pride and delight. You had taken him to new heights of pleasure, pushed boundaries and explored desires you had only dared to whisper about.

“When you’re feeling better, I think you should reward me for taking such good care of you. Don’t you?”

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n3llieelle · 11 months

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A Sloppy First With Carlos?

Pairings: Carlos Oliveira x Fem! Reader

Summary: You have been dating Carlos for quite some time and finally decide to let him claim you as his own, but it is more like some sloppy sex.

Cw. Smut (nsfw), p in v, praise, virgin reader gets their first time wit carlos, dom carlos?, some begging, needy/desperate reader, a bit body worship if you squint ur eyes just a bit, possessive & a bit of cocky carlos, relationship had already been established yet we skipping to the part of where he just gives u a sloppy first time just to enjoy every moment of him inside you! This man is gonna make you a milf after he’s done fr fr want u to be the momma to his kids. Some fluff at the end there is def aftercare but I got too lazy to write it….

A/N: I’ve never written for Carlos before, so this is my first time writing for him and feel free to give me feedback!

SMUT AHEAD!! MINORS DNI!

Carlos Oliveira is definitely a charming guy when it came to women, but that all changed when you came into his life. He became so tough and cocky around you and others that it made him the kind of guy who didn’t let himself be vulnerable in front of people. It also caused you to fall for him a little bit faster. That was exactly what you wanted. Someone strong, and not afraid of showing it. The only problem with your choice was that he wasn’t exactly someone to get along with very well and was even more of an asshole than he already was.

Not something you expected from a man like that. But if it meant you could feel secure in his arms, then so be it. You could live with any kind of attitude. If he just wanted to keep you safe then so be it. You wouldn’t mind at all, actually. You enjoyed being near him, even if it made your heart beat faster and butterflies flutter in your stomach. You thought his roughness was sexy, even if you were slightly scared of him sometimes. And as long as there wasn’t going to be too much violence in the future, maybe you would be able to handle things better. Just give him some time, yet It wasn’t like you couldn’t deal with the bad side of him.

I mean he could be a total dickhead at times, sure, but you could tolerate that, too. He still respected you, afterall, and that was what really mattered. As long as you were happy and satisfied in his arms. And you had been that all this time. All your years of dating with a guy like Carlos Olivera didn’t go wrong. He treated you right, despite your flaws and his ego.

His ego brings out the best in him wether it’s in bed or out of bed, so there is no doubt about what you saw with him in bed that night. He was absolutely gentle, but rough when he kisses you sloppily, his hands firm when they roamed your body, and he took his pleasure in making you squirm underneath him. His tongue is hot and insistent in licking every inch of your skin and his fingers are rough and warm when they caress your breasts through the thin cotton fabric of your tight dress. And his eyes. Oh, Carlos’ eyes looked as if they were dark pools filled with lust and possessiveness. Without hesitation he took off his pants dropping them to the floor, his erection already trying to poke out the side of his boxers. You tried to take his boxers off although he had prioritized in spreading your legs apart and placed his hard member between them, foremost, further apart.

Fingers had trailed straight under the waistband of your dress while his hands started ripping your dress off, and your bra followed. With quick movements he tore the straps and panties away leaving you bare beneath his gaze, completely naked from head to toe. His lips left yours. Carlos began to apply lube to his hardened and throbbing cock, before slowly inserting it inside you, setting a slow movement in and out of you in a way that was torturous in itself. You whimpered from the sensation, but his grip on your hips tightened making the pain go away momentarily. Sloppily beginning to thrust into you, his pace quickened until he hit a certain spot that made you scream with pleasure. “Oh, God...” you moaned breathlessly before closing your eyes.

You never felt that way with anyone else. This is not your first time to say the least, but definitely better than masturbation to say the least. It made you feel so incredibly sensitive that it left you weak, yet at the same time it made you feel powerful and desirable. “That’s my girl…” he growled in a deep voice, grabbing one of your wrists and positioning it over your head as he continued hitting your sweet spot with his thick shaft. You moaned again while tears filled your eyes from the intense pleasure he gave you.

Your breathing started becoming erratic as he kept slamming his heavy cock into you with such force. He held your face, placing soft kisses all over your exposed cheeks and neck, causing goosebumps to appear on your flesh. “You feel so good, baby...” he whispered against your ear. Soon following after with, “Fuck… I’m gonna cum if you keep this up...”

“Don’t stop...” you begged breathless, feeling a shiver go down your spine as Carlos continued pumping his stiffening cock inside you. He kept pressing harder, making you cry out and bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from begging for mercy. “Please don’t stop….” You could hear your own voice quiver slightly, almost like a sob. In a moment you lost your restraint, and threw your head back, arching your back as you screamed loudly. A loud moan escaped your mouth as waves of ecstasy washed over you, and your muscles started tingling from his relentless thrusts into you.

He was getting close, you could tell, and soon he won't hold himself anymore. “Carlos…” you murmured, unable to finish your sentence because your breath was short and labored, and your voice was hoarse from screaming out.

You needed him to get you to your climax and come, now, now, now, you thought.

“Please..please…” you whimpered, feeling your body shaking with both excitement and desperation. Suddenly, everything came rushing in.

The orgasm. Carlos.

Your surroundings. Carlos’ name coming out of your mouth, His scent surrounding your whole being. You felt as if you were being penetrated by a monstrous cock very sloppily, even though you were. His warm and hard cock rubbing against your inner walls in time with his frantic thrusts. “Almost there… ah- hold out a little longer, baby…” Carlos grunted out of breath, panting heavily, his entire body trembling. Your breathing was starting to come out ragged as well, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you climaxed once again. “That’s it, baby… Come for me…” The next few minutes passed by in a blur, each second passing with such intensity it was overwhelming you. Carlos finally stopped after a while, releasing his cum inside you.

Your throat was sore and raw from screaming and your muscles were tense and sore from all the stretching, while your back was arched which he forced you to do as your climax hit. Carlos laid beside you and pulled the sheets up around you as he kissed your temple. "Are you alright?" Your mind was fuzzy as you nodded and snuggled closer into his chest. "...Yeah," was your reply, barely above a whisper. Your eyelids were glued shut, as you struggled to stay awake.

Carlos chuckled softly. "Did I fuck you that hard?" You shook your head and mumbled in reply that you loved how wild he got. "Mmm...you're welcome." After a while you felt tired and sleep began creeping onto your consciousness. Carlos seemed to sense this and wrapped his arms tightly around you to keep you warm as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. "Get some rest, baby," he said quietly. You hummed in response as you relaxed into his hold, letting yourself drift off to sleep.

You were so tired that you were able to ignore the sound of heavy breathing, but it eventually woke you up when the covers moved slightly. Opening your eyes, and noticing your boyfriend staring at you intently. "Hey...sorry did I wake you up? Go back to sleep..." he whispered kissing the top of your head as he ran his hands gently through your hair. You buried your face deeper into his chest, and let out a small sigh as you cuddled up to his chest. Carlos laughed again, running his hand through your hair one last time before turning off the light with his other hand and lying down behind you, holding you tightly.

"I love you so much..." he said softly, kissing the crown of your head gently.

"Goodnight..." you breathed out before finally closing your eyes and falling asleep, enjoying the soothing warmth of his embrace.

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joelsgreys · 7 months

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lost on you l a safe gaven drabble

series masterlist

summary: You’re missing Joel and a certain mare seems to be picking up on your sadness—or at least that’s what you think is happening when there’s a sudden change in her behavior. Why else would Stella be acting so strange around you?

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. angst, horses, and a lil more angst. reader’s pregnancy is lightly being implied, but it has not been explicitly stated yet, only hinted at. no Joel, he is only mentioned in this one. Dina makes an appearance, i threw in some comedic moments to try and balance out the angst. ends with a horsey hug.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: so this is meant to be as a bit of a filler fic before chapter 9 is posted and shit hits the fan. i knew i wanted to do a short drabble that touches on how reader is doing after the confrontation she had with Joel. i also asked people to send in short prompts for the series to do some no pressure writing exercises, and this particular prompt that was sent in was just incredible and i decided to incorporate it. It makes me nervous to post a fic with no Joel in it, but my heart wanted to write it so fuck it, I just wrote it. chapter 9 is almost done and will be posted soon. @eyesneverbeensoblue i hope it’s okay to tag you in this and tell you thank you so much for the idea!

Lately, I’m getting lost on you

I tore your world apart like it was nothing new

every day I’m a slave to the heartache…

Summer slowly, but surely comes to an end.

The days are long, but the nights without Joel?

They’re even longer, at least, that’s how it feels.

You miss him. Oh God, how you fucking miss Joel Miller.

He’s all you can ever think about.

Every second of every minute of every single day.

You miss Joel so much that it physically hurts. Every part of you just aches for him. Aches.

Your insides feel like they’re on fire, and you can't put it out.

The heartache is agonizing, almost unbearable—it’s unlike anything you have ever felt before.

In front of others, you hold it together pretty well. But when you’re alone, behind closed doors?

That’s when you fall apart. Crumble into pieces.

Losing Joel is something you will never heal from. Never.

Traces of himself he’d left behind—would you ever be able to wipe yourself clean of them? Of him? Or would you have to spend the rest of your damn life trying to get over the man who fucking adored the hell out of you and who loved you so unconditionally?

“He misses you, you know,” Ellie says, quietly. She stands beside you and diligently runs a hard, bristled hand brush along Jasper’s side to clear his golden coat of dirt and debris. The palomino is just one of several horses that needed tending to after that morning’s patrol shift. Realizing you’re too busy jotting down notes in Jasper’s handwritten file you keep for him—you kept a file for every single horse in the commune—Ellie clears her throat and then speaks again, louder this time. “He misses you.”

You wince and stop mid scribble.

“Ellie—” you trail off, your throat going dry.

Even though you’d asked her about a hundred and one times not to talk about Joel, Ellie was hellbent on bringing him up to you as often as she could. At first, it seemed innocent enough. She stuck to just letting you know how his recovery was going.

“His shoulder’s healing really well.”

“Donna came over to help with physical therapy.”

“He’ll be back on patrol in a couple of weeks.”

So you’d given her a pass. Besides, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t want to know how he was healing after his injury.

However, Ellie then began to wander into more sensitive and dangerous territory.

“He asked me about you.”

“He was drinking again last night.”

“He looks so fucking miserable.”

You know why she’s doing it.

It’s not to make you feel guilty for hurting Joel.

Hell, she knows that you’re hurting just as badly. She loves you and she loves Joel—the two people Ellie cares about more than anything are suffering without each other.

You hate that she’s essentially been pulled right into the middle of this mess that you’ve created.

Ellie is collateral damage. This is all hurting her too.

“He misses you a lot,” she adds after a minute.

You exhale sharply. Her words feel like a punch to the gut and they knock the wind out of your lungs.

Finally, you look up from your clipboard, turning to her. “Ellie,” you say her name warningly. “Stop it. We’re not going to do this today. Okay?”

“I’m just saying,” she mumbles, placing a hand on Jasper’s side. “If someone was missing me, I think I would want to fucking know.”

You feel the lump steadily rising in your throat.

“Ellie, please don’t—”

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!”

The sound of Dina’s voice fills the horse stables.

The teenager whips herself into Jasper’s stall, skidding to a stop in front of you, sweaty and breathless, as if she had just run across the settlement.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She apologizes, setting her bag down on the ground. Pulling a scrunchie from the back pocket of her jeans, she throws her long, black hair into a messy bun as she explains herself. “Talia asked me to help her out in the library this morning and I totally lost track of time. And then on the way over here, I bumped into Mrs. Miller as she was walking home from the market and I mean, I could not just let a pregnant lady carry all those heavy bags across town—”

“Dina, breathe, sweetheart.” You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay. As long as you show up, that’s all I care about. Especially since Tommy and Maria moved Logan to patrol duty. That’s another stable hand gone, so I need all the help I can possibly get around here.” Slipping your clipboard under your arm, you glance from Dina to Ellie. The emotions from what had happened just seconds before your niece had run in are bubbling, threatening to boil over. “Listen, I have to go do a routine examination on Stella. Finish up with grooming Jasper. I have a couple of horses that are due for baths—Luna and Bandit. Then it’s feeding time. Got it?”

Dina smiles brightly. “We’ll take care of it, won’t we, El?”

Sensing your urgency to leave, Ellie gives a subtle, small nod of her head. “Yeah. We will.”

“Good. I’ll come check on you girls when I’m done with Stella.” Spinning around on the muck caked heel of your boot, you hastily leave Jasper’s stall and nearly fly all the way down the stables and into Stella’s.

You rush inside, closing the top and bottom half of the Dutch door before sagging back against the wood. You toss your clipboard aside on the floor of the stall and lift both your hands, covering your face as you choke back sobs of pure agony.

He misses you.

As you will yourself to keep yourself from falling apart, you feel a warm muzzle dig lightly into your lower stomach. Dropping your hands from your face, you glance up only to see Stella peering at you with clear and unmistakable curiosity in her big brown eyes.

“Hi there, my gorgeous girl,” you murmur softly to the pregnant mare. A tear slips out from the corner of your eye and you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand.

Stella lowers her head and sniffs at your stomach, right where she had dug into you. Her ears prick forward and she nuzzles the same spot again.

You shoot her a strange look. You’ve never seen her exhibit this type of behavior before.

“Stella, what are you doing?” you ask, almost as if you expect her to speak and give you an answer. “Why are you being so weird?”

Stella sniffs you again, then nips at the hem of your tank top.

“Hey! Cut that out.” You can’t help but let out a watery giggle as you carefully pull the fabric out of her mouth. Realizing the strange behavior must have something to do with the mare sensing the intensity of your negative emotions, you gently place both of your hands on either side of her muzzle. Inhaling a deep breath through your nose, you slowly exhale it through your mouth before touching your forehead to hers. “I’ll be okay, girl. I’ll be okay. There’s no other choice—I have to be okay.”

An hour later, you’d finished the examination.

Stella had continued to act oddly around you, her behavior becoming more and more peculiar as time went on. You were bonded to her of course—you were bonded to just about every single horse in the commune—and so it didn’t really surprise you that the mare was so in tune with your emotions and could feel that something was off. She was extremely attentive to you as you worked, her eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

Stella also continued to sniff you, nuzzling you in the stomach any chance she had. For as bizarre as it was, it brought you an off sense of comfort and it made you feel less alone.

“Hey auntie.” Dina opens the stall door, poking her head inside. “Can we come in?”

“Of course.”

She pushes the door open further and walks into the stall with Ellie on her heels. Both of them are almost completely soaked from head to toe.

Your eyes widen. “Um, girls, I’m pretty sure I told you to bathe the horses—not yourselves.”

Ellie lets out a small scoff. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Bandit wasn’t having it,” Dina chuckles. “But he’s all clean, and so is Luna. We just came in to tell you we’re going to go dry off and change our clothes. We’ll be back for feeding time.” She glances at the mare. “How’s our sweet mama-to-be doing?”

“Good. She’s as healthy as a horse.”

The teenagers roll their eyes, but laugh.

“You’re so lame, auntie.”

“Just a little equine veterinarian humor. My dad used that one on me all the time.” You grin at the memory. “Stella’s doing really well. In about seven or eight months, we’ll have our new baby.”

“Well then, I think someone deserves a little treat since she’s doing so good.” Dina reaches into the bag she has slung over her shoulder and pulls out a crisp, red apple. She walks over, holding the fruit out in the palm of her hand for the horse. “Here you go, girl.”

Stella gives the apple a sniff, then takes it from her.

Usually, she wolfs it down in just a few chomps—but what she does next surprises all three of you. Apple still between her teeth, the mare turns and pushes her muzzle into your stomach.

“Oh shit,” Ellie cackles. “No fucking way!”

“Oh my god,” Dina grins. “Is she—she’s giving it to you?”

Shocked, you lift a hand and delicately take the apple from between her teeth. “Stella, you silly girl! What are you doing?” You hold it out for her. “This apple is for you, sweetheart. Here, take it.”

She tosses her head in the air.

Dina snorts into her hand. “She just told you no!”

“She wants you to have it.” Ellie shoots you a teasing look. “Come on, princess. Take a bite.”

You look at her, then down at the apple, which is covered completely in Stella’s slobber.

“Um, no thanks. I think I’ll pass,” you mutter.

“Auntie, don’t be rude,” Dina jokes. “It’s bad manners to refuse her offer.”

Rolling your eyes at your niece, you turn back to Stella and tell her, “I’ll eat it later. When it’s washed.”

“We’re starting to smell like wet horse,” Ellie makes a gagging noise as she takes a whiff of her shirt.

Dina lifts the collar of her blouse to her nose. “Oh, gross. We are starting to smell like wet horse.” She reaches out with her opposite hand, grabbing one of Ellie’s. She laces their fingers together. “Come on, let’s go change.”

You can’t help but notice the way Dina looks at Ellie—with the sweetest, most adoring little smile.

You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head slightly.

Ellie’s eyes meet yours and she blushes deeply.

If you ever had a chance to give Ellie Williams shit, this was it—but instead, you just give her a subtle wink from where you stand. Her face instantly goes from red to maroon.

“Be sure to be back in an hour for feeding time!” you call as Dina pulls her out of the stall. “I’m not feeding all these horses alone!”

“We will!”

Once the girls are gone, you turn to Stella and wrap your arms around her neck. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up today, pretty girl.”

She rests her head on your shoulder.

You feel more tears coming and hug her harder.

lyrics: Lost on You - Lewis Capaldi

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #queued to post

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synnamonroll666 · 7 months

Note

(Hello hi, I love your work, first of all). For NSFW headcanons... maybe sneaking a semi-public quickie with our resident lizard man?

Hi! Thank you so much! 💚 I originally intended on this being shorter but I got very carried away with this. It was so fun to write! 🤭 I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And let me know if you have any other head-canon or fic ideas! 💚 NSFW below!

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

Usually, Syzoth was pretty good at keeping his feelings in order. Whenever he was out and felt the room getting hotter and his pants getting tighter, he would always be quick to put his mind to something else and forget about the feeling until he could deal with it later.

But this wasn't any ordinary day for Syzoth; it was mating season. Usually, during this difficult time, Syzoth could still manage to hide his feelings. Sure, he would be a bit more moody and short-tempered than usual, but he could still keep himself from pouncing on the first girl he laid his eyes on. He's not an animal, after all. (Actually— 👀😂)

But that all changed when he met you. Even when you began dating, he would heavily avoid you during these times because he never knew if he could control himself around you. And that theory turned out to be true when he accidentally ran into you in the streets of Outworld during on one of his most feral days.

He was supposed to be delivering a message for the empress, but that mission was replaced with a much more lewd one when he saw you.

You were surprised when he grabbed you by the wrist and forcefully dragged you behind one of the barren shopping stalls set up in the streets. And you were even more surprised when he slammed you up against the wall and collided his beautiful lips to yours. You figured that the owner of the stall must have been out to lunch, but you didn't know for sure when they would be back. The thought alone made your knees weak from nerves and arousal.

Teaching Syzoth how to kiss was definitely rewarding, and you smiled wickedly into the kiss as you thanked the Elder Gods that you decided to do so that day. He had been so nervous to do such a thing that he didn't think he was ready for. But you slowly eased him into it and found that he was quite a skilled learner.

He pried your lips apart with his spade tongue, and you let out a soft moan as it caressed yours passionately, all while his hands were slowly travelling up your body to intensely squeeze your breasts. When you got too loud, Syzoth pulled away and pressed his hand to your mouth before firmly shushing and scolding you.

Something was different in his eyes that day. They didn't have the usual light and softness that you were used to within them. Instead, they looked hungry and gazed upon you as if you were his prey.

It didn't take long for him to have your pants around your ankles. You tried not to cringe when you heard thread snap as he tore them down, but the burning arousal within your core told you not to worry about it for now. Luckily, the stall you hid behind did sell clothing. How convenient!

Any other day, Syzoth would look up at you apologetically if he did anything destructive like this, but today it was clear that he couldn't care less.

And as soon as his cock was freed from the confines of his pants, he buried it to the brim within you as he let out a hiss of satisfaction. You almost didn't get a chance to see how painfully hard he was—how his tip leaked pre-cum like a facet for you. But that didn't matter because you could feel it deep within your tight walls.

Your head lolled back as you let out a heavenly sigh, but just as you began to get lost in that daydreamy cloud of pleasurable bliss, you heard something that made you go pale. Suddenly, there were more voices than just the usual amount on the busy streets of Outworld. In fact, it sounded as if people were gathering around.

Syzoth let something in Zaterran—which you assumed to be a curse word—slip off his forked tongue. You both clued in at the same time that it was the day for the annual parade the royals would throw. Syzoth's mind must have been so fogged by the heat of his rut that he forgot it was on this very date.

But instead of pulling out—like you expected him to—Syzoth gripped your shoulders firmly and began quickly pumping himself in and out of your hole. You let out startled gasps as he abused your pussy, bruising your cervix more each time he thrusted himself into you.

One of his hands moved from your shoulder to press against your lips and seal your moans within again as he picked up his pace, moving at a speed that was humanly impossible.

Between your walls getting filled perfectly by his thick length over and over, the sounds of your mate's feral growls in your ear, and the thrill of the small chance of getting caught in your naughty situation, it didn't take long for that coil of pleasure within to snap and have you seeing stars as you met your climax. And Syzoth followed shortly after, digging his nails deep into your flesh as he growled like a rabid dog while filling your walls with thick ropes of his hot cum.

You ignored the sting of overstimulation in your core and the angry crescents engraved in your shoulders as you let him ride out his high. The way your walls fluttered around him as you reached your climax must have been the last straw for your poor Ninja, knocking him into one of the most intense orgasms of his life.

After his high came to an end, he rested his forehead against yours while letting his eyes flutter shut. There was a moment of peace and the two of you listened to the people enjoying the festival around you while you could feel his cooling seed drip down your thighs and legs, reminding you that you'd have to get a pregnancy test soon.

After coming to and noticing that your blood had been welling up under his nails from how hard they dug into your flesh, Syzoth pulled away and began showering you with praises and compliments. He asked if you were okay and if you could walk, which you told him you would manage.

After taking some pants from the stall you hid behind and leaving some money on the counter, you and Syzoth shared one final kiss and said your goodbyes before parting ways so he could finish his mission to deliver the empress' message. After being left behind, you decided to enjoy the rest of the parade before going home to prepare for a long night of round two. ♡

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

#mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mortal kombat reptile #mk reptile #reptile #reptile x reader #mortal kombat syzoth #mk syzoth #syzoth #syzoth x reader #SinnamonsSpicyHeadcanons

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leclercss · 9 months

Text

Tainted Love, Part 5 (Charles Leclerc ft Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: sorry for taking so long to post part 5. Life has been life-ing and it’s been so busy. Thanks for all of your kind words in the mean time x

word count: 4.5k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader @pinkangelavenue, @queenofshinigamis, @notleclerc, @paullinne, @bisexualbith, @tempo-rary-fix, @bbygrlllllll, @teenagedreams-cl, @lunamelona, @leclerc16s

“Are you sure you’re okay with us doing it in my car?”

You can’t help but giggle at Charles' question.

“Charles, it’s fine,” you reply in between your giggles. “I’ve had sex in worse places than this”.

Charles furrows his eyebrows at your response. “Like where?”

You giggle again. “Charles, we snuck out of the party so we could have sex. Are you really using the limited time we have to ask me about the random places I’ve had sex?”

“Good point!”

After you and Charles’ close call with Whitney in his bedroom, the two of you put your heads together to find a place where you could have sex without getting caught. And somewhere as far away from Whitney as possible.

And so with the limited options you had thanks to the apartment upstairs being filled with partygoers, Charles had suggested that you guys could go to his car in the garage. And while it wasn’t the most comfortable of places for you two to get busy in, it was much better than your suggestion of finding somewhere behind the apartment building.

So that’s how you ended up here, on Charles’ lap in the passenger seat with your legs either side of his. Your skirt and underwear are somewhere in the backseat after Charles practically tore them off your body.

He’s currently pulling at your top so he can have a front row view to your boobs, which he’s become very attached to in the short space that you’ve known him.

Deciding that you’re not the only one to be practically naked in the car, you start to unbutton Charles’ shirt. He helps you by pulling his arms out of the sleeves before you throw the clothing into the backseat, finding space alongside your discarded clothes.

“You look so beautiful, amour,” he tells you as his eyes are fixated on your body. His hands feel like ice against your skin before they make way to your boobs. He runs his thumbs over your exposed nipples and they harden at his touch. A shiver runs through your body, once more your body instantly reacting to his intimate touched. He gropes your boobs for a little longer before his hands make their way down to your stomach ever so slowly. Your skin is tingling at the sensation of feeling him touching you.

His next destination is your thighs where his fingers dance across your skin ever so lightly, enough for you to start to feel heat in your core. Even in the limited time that you two have down in the garage before you have to account for your whereabouts, he still wants to savour every millimetre of your body.

You can't help but smile at the sight before you. It's almost like he's obsessed with your body. His tongue slightly poking out the corner of his mouth. He's concentrating as if he's studying you so he can remember the image and feel of your body for later.

“If you’re enjoying the view so much, you can take a picture,” you tease him.

He looks up at you with surprise in his eyes but the smirk on his lips tells you his true feelings.

“Are you serious?” He asks. He feels a twitch in his pants at the idea of taking photos of you naked. Until now, he’s been using his mental images from the night and morning you’ve spent together. But to have a photo of you on his phone to keep, how could he turn that down?

“I’m serious, Charles. You can have it for when I’m not around”.

Your hands find their way to his bare shoulders before you run them down his chest, towards his torso and they stop, just resting above his belt. His eyes are fixated on you and your movements. You slowly unbuckle his belt, at an agnoising pace. You hear his breath hitch in the back of his throat as you unzip his jeans.

“The offer won’t last forever you know,” you kindly remind him and flash him a wink. The alcohol that’s still in your system giving you the confidence you need in this moment.

Wasting no more time, Charles digs his phone out of his jean pocket before slowly reclining his chair to get a better angle of you. You help him out by leaning back on your heels. As he opens the camera app, you run your hands through your hair and start to pose for him.

You can’t help notice the smirk that’s plastered across his face as he positions himself. Reminding you of some horny teenager. You thought it might have been a bit of a silly idea to have Charles take some naked photos of you but seeing how joyful he is has reassured you that these photos won’t go to waste.

“Give me a little smile, amour”.

You follow his instructions and he begins snapping away, sniggering to himself as he does so.

“Can you stop laughing at me?” You whine, tempted to grab the phone out of his hand.

“I’m not laughing, [Y/N]. I’m just thinking about how I’ll be using them tomorrow,” he retorts.

You roll your eyes slightly before posing for a few more photos. Once you’ve had enough, you grab the phone out of his hand and throw it into the drivers seat so you have his full and undivided attention again.

You take his face into your hands and lean in to leave a wet, sensual kiss on his lips. He hums slightly into your mouth as he reclines the chair further before his hands find their way back onto your body. Grabbing and pulling at any skin he can get his hands on.

You find your seat again on his lap and slowly begin to rock your hips back and forth against his clothed crotch, feeling his hardness growing beneath you. You continue to rock back and forth as his tongue slips into your mouth. Your tongues meet and move alongside each other with slow but purposeful movements.

You reach out for the top of his boxers and jeans, pulling the material down. Charles lifts up his hips so you can pull them over his bum and they soon find themselves bunched around his ankles.

You take his hard cock into your hands and stroke it a few times. He’s ready to go.

You pull back from the kiss so you can position yourself so you're hovering over the tip of his penis. Your eyes meet and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His eyes feel like they’re staring into your soul.

You feel a twitch down below and so you make sure your hole is lined up with his tip before you push yourself down. His cock begins to fill you up and you both let out a deep sigh.

You place your hands on his chest for leverage and begin to move your hips back and forth. Your pace is slow at first, getting used to the position in the passenger seat and you feel your heart beat start to speed up.

Charles’ eyes never leave yours as you gradually pick up your pace, grinding your hips against his.

“You look so good on top of me, baby,” he mutters, loving the sensation of you riding him.

You’ve now found your momentum and pick up your pace further.

“Mmm… Charles, fuck,” you groan and bit your lip at the sensation you’re feeling down below. Charles’ hands find their way to your hips so he can guide your movements.

The car begins to rock around you, the moment run carrying you and you begin to pick up your pace even further.

“Oh, fuck!”

The sensation of Charles inside of you combined with the thrill of getting caught at any moment by another resident passing through the garage has you throbbing down below. Your moans are rolling into one another.

You feel Charles’ mouth wrap around one of your nipples. His tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. He bits down a little, causing you to squeal in pleasure. One of your hands’ now finds its way into his hair, the other on the ceiling of the car to keep you steady. Your hips still being guiding by Charles.

“Fuck, baby,” you groan in pleasure.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Charles pants from beneath you. You manage to open your eyes and look down. Charles is looking up at you, his pupils dilating through all of the pleasure.

You nod, not able to string more than a few words together at this point.

Charles tightens his grip on your hips before thrusting up into you.

“Fuck!”

You practically jump at the movement. But Charles doesn’t give you time to come around as begins to thrust up into you, his movements are hard and fast. Skin slapping against yours and you find yourself bouncing on his dick. You try to grab onto anything at this point to hold yourself up. Mouth open as you continue to moan on top of him.

“Keep going,” you sigh.

Charles’ obeys your orders and thrusts into you even harder and faster than before. The car now moving erratically around you.

“Charles, baby”.

You miss the feeling of him on your lips and so you reach down to place your lips on his. The kiss is sloppy, thanks to the movements he’s making beneath you. He wraps his arms around you in a hug and thrusts up into you, he's now hitting your spot over and over.

You squeal against his lips, trying to muster a “fuck”. He slips his tongue into your mouth once more.

You reach down and begin to rub your clit with your fingers to add to the sensation that you’re feeling down below.

Charles is clearly delighted by this and continues at .

“Are you touching yourself, amour?” He whispers into your ear. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Yes”.

You can feel him smirk against your ear.

“And what do you think about when you touch yourself?”

Oh God!

“Yo-“ you can barely get your words out without moaning.

“Come on, you can say it”. He’s teasing you at this point but it’s turning you on even more when he talks to you like this. “What do you think about, amour? When you’re touching yourself”.

He’s somehow thrusting into you even faster now. His movements are getting erratic.

“Fu-, you fucking me, Ch-Charles,” you whine.

That seems to do it as Charles groans and gives everything he has to thrust into you further but he’s at his peak.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts into you ear and with one last deep thrust, his cum starts to spill inside of you. French profanities roll off his tongue but you’re too reaching your own peak that you can’t understand what he’s saying.

As Charles begins to come down from his climax, you place your hands onto his chest and pull yourself back up, with the little energy you having remaining, and begin moving your hips against his once more until you feel the knot tighten in your stomach.

“I’m cumming, Charles”.

You let one last moan before your eyes give way and you collapse onto Charles’ chest, his body acting as a cushion for your fall.

You lay in each others arms panting, trying to regain your breath after you both orgasmed. Your head is laying on Charles' chest, rising and falling with each other as he's breathing heavily bender h you. His skin is slightly damp from what you've just done but you don’t mind at all. You can feel his fingers tips dance along your skin as he glides them across your back, soothing you.

As you begin to regain your energy, you look up at him through your lashes and notice him staring at the roof of the car, his chest still rising and falling below. You place a soft kiss on his chest. He feels this and looks down at you with a soft but tired smile on his face.

"I don't think I could ever get tired of this," you don't realise that the words have left your mouth until you see Charles' smile widen. He leans down so he can place a kiss on your forehead.

"Me too, amour," he replies, his voice a little rasp. "I think I could just lay here with you all night".

You reach up and place your hand on his cheek, softly running your thumb over the smooth skin. He's looking at you with so much affection and you feel like you could stay in this position forever. Your body on his, legs intertwined, your heart beating so close to his. You'd almost forgotten that he was still inside you. His penis has softened at this point but it feels so comfortable to have him inside you like this.

"It's a shame that we couldn't spend more of the night together," he tells you, a slight pout on his lips.

You let out a little sigh. "I know. I'm sorry, Charles. I know things are a little complicated when it comes to my situation".

He turns his cheek so he can peck the palm of your hand that's against his face. "I knew what I was getting into with you, amour. You don't have to apologise".

You smile at him. "Are you sure it doesn't bother you?"

"I'm sure," and the tone in his voice doesn't lie. He's confident with what he's saying. "I know how I feel towards you and I can see how you feel towards me. I promise you it's okay".

You rest your head on his chest so you can hear his heart beat against you once more.

"Maybe we can do something more romantic?"

His chest vibrating as he speaks beneath you.

"Like where?"

"I don't know. As much as I've enjoyed having sex in my car, it's not exactly the comfiest place," he chuckles. "Maybe a weekend away, just the two of us."

He has you smiling once more. "I'd like that, Charles”.

A little while later, you and Charles had managed to peel yourselves off each other and decided to return the chaos upstairs before Whitney sent out a search party on your behalf.

You definitely weren’t going to look as presentable on your return as you had when you first rocked up to Charles and Joris’ apartment tonight. But by now people would most likely be heavily intoxicated or high and so your disheveled appearance would be the least of everyone’s worries.

You cherished the last private moments that you would have with Charles this evening before finding your way back into his apartment. Your fingers intertwined as you kissed each other softly in the elevator. Your bodies enjoying the last few moments of intimacy.

“I’m not sure how I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself now,” Charles mumbled against your lips.

You smiled into your kiss.

“Well, if you’re feeling a little lonely, you can always check your camera roll,” you teased.

Charles pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down ever so slightly.

“Don’t tease me like that, amour,” Charles growls. “Not after what we’ve just done”.

You smirk up at him, the Dutch courage still coursing through your body. You decide to toy with him a little more, “Even when your cum is still inside me?”

“Merd-”

His whine is interrupted by the ding made by the elevator and you both find yourselves on the 8th floor, music and voice still going.

You place a final kiss on Charles lips before making your way to his apartment.

“Good night, Charles”.

Your disappearance had gone unnoticed, Whitney was too busy in the birthday boy’s bedroom. Your appearance hadn’t been judged. People were far too drunk to remember your name, never mind the fact that your make up was now half gone from your face.

You’d lightly integrated back into the party but your best friend was up to her own mischief and you were trying to keep your eyes and hands off Charles. But as the drunken partygoers slowly started to filter the way out of the apartment and the night slowly came to close, the two of you found yourselves in the kitchen alone.

You were in a similar position to the one you found yourself in the last time you were here. About a week ago now. Your hands wrapped around his neck. Your lips and tongues moving in synchronisation. Charles’ fingers had found their way inside of you once more. Your soft moans rolling onto his tongue.

The two of you are lost in the intimacy, lost in the moment and lost in each other. The fear of a random person, or even Whitney, walking into the two of you doesn’t scare you. It just feels too good for you to care about anything else.

Your lips leave his and your head falls back as a moan leaves you. Your chest slowly starting to rise and fall.

It doesn’t take much for you to come undone onto his fingers this time, it’s just so natural for you at this stage. Your energy is spent and you hold onto him, held still thrown back. Your heavy breathing is starting to slow down but your eyes are still closed from the euphoria you’re feeling. You don’t even notice his fingers slide out of you, you’re just so lost in your own world.

That is until you feel Charles place a soft kiss on your lips and his voice pulls you back to reality, “Are you okay, amour?”

You slowly peel your eyes open and smile at him. He’s looking at you - you’re not sure if it’s with affection or with concern. You’ve been absent for a little while.

“I’m good. Just enjoying this feeling,” you exhale softly.

You find the energy to pull yourself upright and place your head against Charles’ chest. Your arms wind their way around his torso and you let your body melt against him.

Charles is quite for a moment. You feel his heart beat quicken against you.

“Amour,”

His voice is so soft and gentle.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

You look up at him and he’s looking down at you nervously. Your mouth slightly agape as you’re not sure what to say.

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him nervous. And his lack of confidence isn’t helped by the fact that you still haven’t found your words.

You blink.

“Charles, I ca-,” you begin but he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it”.

You let out a little sigh as you feel his touch loosen around you.

“Charles, you know I would. But Whitney is here and she doesn’t know,” you begin to explain but he stops you by placing a kiss on your lips.

“I forgot, [Y/N],” it feels weird when he doesn’t call you amour now. “She doesn’t know. It’s okay, you need to get home tonight”.

You flash him a sympathetic smile and you feel guilty for seeing the disappointment in him. He wants you to stay. And you want to stay but you can’t.

Whitney doesn’t know and if she caught you with Charles you’d have to find a million answers to a million questions you weren’t ready to answer.

After reassuring Charles that you would see him soon and one more deep, meaningful kiss, you find yourself outside making your way home and you’re now at your apartment door.

You send a couple of texts before you go inside, one to Whitney to let her know they you had gone home and you’d be getting all of the juicy details from her tomorrow. And one to Charles to let him know you were safe and that you had missed him already.

Once you finally made it inside, you noticed that the apartment is dark and quiet. The only sound you can hear is the ticking of the clock in the hallway. You shut the door quietly and make your way towards the bedroom with your heels in your hand so you don't disturb Roscoe in his sleep.

You're not sure if Lewis is home, it's not like he was keeping you up to date with his itinerary these days anyway.

As you reach your bedroom door, You slowly push it open, it's dark in here too. And you're met with the snoring of Roscoe who's asleep at the foot of the bed. But he's not the only one snoring. You look towards the top of the bed and see a figure in the dark beneath the sheets, lightly snoring away. It's Lewis and he's home, much to your surprise.

You're not sure if you're relieved or nervous about seeing him here after the night that you've just had at Joris' party with Charles. But you don't feel any guilt and you're surprised at the lack of guilt that you've felt since you've started to sleep with Charles.

Rather than wait in the open doorway any longer, you make your way to the ensuite bathroom. Deciding that a quick shower will not only make you feel better in the morning but will feel slightly more respectful when you climb back into bed with your husband. You were already on the edge with Lewis as it was without bringing the scent of another man onto your shared sheets. You were growing to dislike Lewis and his behaviour towards you but you didn't dislike him that much.

As you stand under the hot shower, glass steaming up around you, you shut your eyes and let the hot water soak into your skin. And you begin to think about the night that you've just spent with Charles. You can still feel his touch and kisses on your body. Your hand travelling down to between your thighs and you lightly touch yourself at the memory of him thrusting deep inside of you, filling you with his cum. It was the first time he had done so with you, previously he had always pulled out but last night he was so lost in the feeling of you that he seemed to forget. You didn't mind too much, if anything you felt that it brought you closer to him.

You hadn't known him too long but in the short amount of time you could feel a deep connection, one that you hadn't felt in a very long time. He noticed you and he made you feel seen. But most importantly, he made you feel important. And you only craved to feel him touch you once more.

You let out a little hum as you feel a twitch down below, you're still touching yourself as you think about Charles. You pick up your pace and press harder onto your clit, thinking about how if Charles was here right now, and oh how you wished he was. He’d be taking you from behind. His skin wet and slippy from the shower. He'd have his hand in your hair as he bent you over. You'd be gripping onto the tiles to keep you upright as he thrusted into you. His cum spilling into you once more.

"Fuck," you whine as you realise that you've brought yourself to your peak. As you slowly catch your breath, your mind drifts to Charles once more. If he was here right now, he'd kiss you, arms wrapped around you. It’s almost as if he’s in the room with you, calling you amour.

Was it a mistake not to stay him tonight?

Realising that your shower has taken much longer than planned, you quickly turn off the water and begin to dry yourself off. You take one last look in the mirror and notice the faint marks on your neck that Charles has left. Your fingers find there way to the bruised area and you can't help but smile.

You make your way back into the bedroom, slipping into an oversized tee before slowly climbing into bed. Roscoe still snoring away. As your head hits the pillow, your body finally relaxes and you let out a deep exhale.

Just as you're about to shut your eyes and drift off into sleep, some movement beside you stirs you out of your slumber. You feel Lewis roll over in the bed.

The room falls quiet once more. But not for long.

"You came home," Lewis whispers. You're not sure if it's a question or a statement but it takes you by surprise. You take a moment, deciding on what will be the best course of action to take. Do you pretend you're asleep or engage in a conversation with Lewis? But you feel like the decision is almost being made for you as you feel Lewis' eyes burning into the back of your head.

You roll over and through the darkness you seem him looking at you, his eyes wide open. You feel your stomach drop as he's looking at you and you notice his eyes glisten with some sort of hope.

Your mind lingers back to Charles and the look he gave you tonight when you told him you couldn’t stay. You’re feeling conflicted, you’d worked so long to keep your marriage to Lewis as happy and healthy as possible but these last few weeks have been the reality check that you needed. And you finally find love and passion and meaning again, but this time it wasn’t with Lewis.

But as you lay in bed, and your husband is looking at you like this, you can’t help but find yourself cave.

You know his words have a deeper meaning than what they sound like on the surface.

For so long, Lewis had pushed you to the side. You were so young when you met him and so in love that no matter what he did, you thought. that, through your own naivety he would always come back to you.

And in this moment, he has come back to you. After this past week of him ignoring your entire existence after shouting at you like he had never done before, he's suddenly seen you again. But you're not sure if it's out of love and care or because you're now a different person in your marriage, something he thought you would never be. You were starting to have a life outside of him and maybe this was his last chance to hold onto you, to fight for the version of you that would love you unconditionally.

You’re pulled back to reality when you feel Lewis reach out for you as his thumb starts to stroke your cheek. You're not sure why but you feel your eyes start to well up at the feeling of him touching you like this, looking at you like this.

“You came home,” he says once more, “for me?”

Those two words surprise you.

Your breath catches in your throat but somehow you manage to lie,

"I came home".

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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doctorbitchcrxft · 1 month

Text

Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, namecalling, typical Dean and reader

Word Count: 8289

A/N: Hi guys. I've been overwhelmed with love these past few weeks. Just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading. You guys are fucking awesome; I'm so grateful. I hope y'all enjoy this week's episode! Asks/requests/taglists are open!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber.

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam.

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand.

Sam sat on the chair across from you. “Still haven’t warmed up to Dean, huh?”

“Well, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to me,” you reminded him, thinking of the fight you got into yesterday over his reckless driving.

“Guess that’s true,” he conceded. “It’s weird, though, you guys are so much more alike than you let on.”

“Tell that to him. He started it.” You took a big bite of your pastry.

“Seriously?” Sam laughed, “ ‘He started it’?”

You shrugged, smirking.

He seemed to remember his original intention behind disturbing your slumber. “Hey, he found a case, though.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?” You licked the pastry cream off your thumb.

“We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.” Sam raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah—” you nodded, “—gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded.

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts and people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” He’d turned to Sam.

“Yeah, I was. I'm— taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?” Knowing what you knew about Sam’s relationship with his dad, you found this surprising, too.

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied.

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and— what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?” Jerry asked.

“Oh, uh—” you began, searching for an abridged version of the truth, “—I met them on a hunt in California. They decided to drag me along with them.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry said.

“Why?”

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—” the recording cut out with a static sound, “—immediate instruction help! United Britannia 2485, I copy your message—” and cut out again, “—May be experiencing some mechanical failure—” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“Alright,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… guys— and gal— the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head.

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“ ’No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?”

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation. “Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied.

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“Alright, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden.

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered.

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I— I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was… delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up.

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was… this—man. And, uh, he had these… eyes—these, uh, black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's— that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused.

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. ‘Black eyes’ points me to demon.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house.

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair.

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a dentist?” Dean questioned.

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

You could tell Sam was contemplating how to ask his next question. “In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him; anything out of the ordinary?”

She paused for a moment. “Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house.

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic dick that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded.

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you.

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him.

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys—” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you.

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away.

“Just drive, asshole,” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat. The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident. Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean.

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the black color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good.

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you.

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.”

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. You almost lost your breath at the sight of Dean, but fought yourself to keep your composure. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing you found him attractive.

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

You steeled your nerves as your black, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is; I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“ 'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped.

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

You once again fought the pain in your chest when he called you a bitch. In all honesty, you thought his homemade EMF meter was cute. However, you were too far gone in your war with him to surrender now.

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with black spores and yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam.

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag.

“We need to go,” you told the boys. You weren’t sure what told you that, but you just suddenly felt unsettled. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention, and every muscle in your body tensed. You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse.

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building.

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit.

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace.

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. My intuition’s just always been pretty sharp.” You were being honest; there had been a few times on hunts previously when you’d known it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“Hm.” You could tell Dean still didn’t trust you.

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s the truth,” you countered. “I’ve been helping you guys with your dad for almost two months now, and you still don’t trust me. I don’t know what more to do for you.”

“Maybe because I don’t know you,” he responded, never taking his eyes off the road.

“Maybe if you tried to know me, you’d find it a little easier to trust me,” you answered.

“Not interested,” came Dean’s grumbled response.

You tried your best to ignore the pang that went through your chest once more. “Of course not.”

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean; your frustration with the fact that he had no desire to know you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place.

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed.

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sitting in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?”

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you said simply.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was probably the toughest case I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently.

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease—”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him. “Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done.”

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry… Wha— Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?... I'll try to ignore the irony in that… Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone.

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.”

‘Ah, there’s the irony.’

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of Chuck’s plane was, in fact, sulfur.

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “Alright, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“ ‘No survivors,’ “ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway.

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother.

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas.

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven.

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?”

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too. “I feel naked.”

You fought the smile threatening to creep up your face.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment. “We need to find a phone.”

He found a courtesy phonw on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen… I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um… flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well… there must be some mistake—”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen.

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged… He's really sorry… Yeah, but… he really needs to see you tonight, so—... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic… Oh, yeah… No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!” Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.” He looked conflicted.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

Dean hesitated. “No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” Sam huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” he spat.

For the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like mocking him about his fear of planes.

“Okay, then (Y/N) and I’ll go,” Sam proposed.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

Dean scratched his head. “Come on! Really? Man...”

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, please?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him. You truly weren’t.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.” His attitude was truly exhausting.

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.”

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat between Sam and Dean, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered from the window seat

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded playfully.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later.

You gathered your courage and grabbed his hand. He jerked away from you and looked at you in surprise. When the plane took off, though, his hand rejoined yours, squeezing tightly. You giggled to yourself.

“I’m so glad this is funny to you,” Dean hissed.

“It’s not,” you answered simply.

“Then why are you laughing?” His grip tightened once again.

“It’s just,” you considered your next words carefully. “It’s kind of cute, that’s all.”

Dean was caught off-guard by your response. He eyed you quizzically, unsure of what to say. You just shrugged, settling the back of your head against your seat with your hand still in Dean’s. It was much larger than yours, and you fought the urge to run your fingers along the calloused ridges.

Moments passed in a bit of an uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again, not a trace of bite in his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

You rolled your head toward him. “Everybody’s scared of something,” you quietly replied. “It helps me to know I’m helping you. Even if you do hate my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts.” He spoke so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Pfft, could’ve fooled me,” you answered.

“You just…” he started, “...get on my nerves. ‘S all.”

You giggled.

A few minutes later when the plane had fully gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from the man next to you.

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied.

“ ‘Some Kind of Monster’? Really?“ You raised a brow at him.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.”

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?”

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water—” you leaned forward, gently taking the bottle, “—And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied, getting up from his chair. You could tell he had not. You already missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?” The annoyance in Dean’s voice was back.

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“ ‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane.

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before the older brother returned.

“Alright, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.”

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. He grabbed your hand once more. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just turbulence,” you coaxed.

“Sweetheart, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm fucking four.” He went to drop your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Okay,” you started, changing tactics. Your tone became harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I can't,” Dean sassed.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

You smiled. “Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?” He was starting to get panicky again.

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“ 'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“There ya go,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.”

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked.

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam. “We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually—” Dean began, “—that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry—” she started, attempting to move past you, “I— I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

“Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—” You could practically see her mind running a mile a minute.

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Babe, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

A few moments later, you heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth.

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

Amanda’s breath quickened. “Well, I don't underst— I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam. “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal.

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area.

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane.

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual and trying to comfort him after what the demon had said. When you had made your way back to your seats, a slight rumble went through the aircraft. Dean grabbed your hand once again, and kept it there for the rest of the flight. A small smile tugged at your lips.

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between them.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. Alright? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah.” The brunet didn’t sound convinced.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report. Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse.

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man.

“You know, Jerry—" he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys— and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him. You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother. You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head.

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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mokulule · 1 year

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A Pinch of Salt snippet 1

Chronologically first story in the Salt in the Bones AU @clockwayswrites and I are working on together (go check out the snippet Clock posted) - so much brainstorming, it's so much fun. This story is how Danny and Constantine meets.

“What the hell man, do I look like some kind of restless spirit to you?”

When Danny decided to investigate some ghostly rumors at the abandoned construction site of a nearly completed mall about an hour from Amity, he did not expect to turn a corner and get a face full of salt tossed at him. His assailant, a tired looking, blond, middle aged man in a sandy trenchcoat that had seen better days, just continued staring with narrowed eyes and the hand that had done the throwing still slightly raised.

“Okay, so I haven’t slept in three days, but dude, really?” He brushed his sleeve across his mouth to remove the salt but only succeeded in getting more in his mouth, he stuck out his tongue in disgust.

Still no give from the sad trenchcoat man.

“What are you?” the man finally spoke.

Danny stared open-mouthed, rude much! So that’s what trenchcoat wanted to go with! Fine! Two can play that game.

“Covered in freaking salt that’s what!” Danny shook his head so it rained salt speckles around him.

“It’s everywhere,” he groused spitting at the floor trying to get the taste out. “Seriously, save that for the shades and the fries.”

Having expelled most of the salt, he noted something else. He moved his tongue around for a moment pondering, then froze.

“Is that… Rosemary?!”

He had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut, took a moment to sense past the surface of noir-reject and was assaulted by sheer wrong-torn-wrong. He took a step back in horror.

“What are YOU? Why are you seasoning me? Do you eat people?!” Danny had thought he’d be dealing with a poltergeist, not whatever weirdness this man was.

For the first time he got a reaction.

“I don’t bloody eat people!” Constantine blurted in consternation, taking a step toward the creature posing (annoyingly realistically) as a teenager, who promptly took another step back.“Could have fooled me,” the creature countered, “what with that thing you have going.” He gestured vaguely up and down at Constantine’s entire person in disgust.

It really shouldn’t matter what some not-poltergeist thought of him, but something about him just rubbed Constantine wrong and he bristled.

The next moment the creature spluttered and coughed from the holy water he’d just thrown at him, but huh, no burning.

“Not a demon either,” John remarked, allowing himself a smirk as the creature looked at him open mouthed, eye twitching.

“Where the hell are you keeping this shit, did you just pull it out of your a- wait, demon?” He blinked and stopped his tirade.

“Demon?” he repeated, “demon’s exist?”

And suddenly it was Constantine reevaluating, because that sounded genuine, and the kid, because oh God it was just a bloody kid, might reek of death magics, but now that he was paying attention the malice wasn’t coming from him. It was coming-

A wail, angry, hateful, sorrowful tore apart the silence. It was cold to the very marrow of his bones freezing him in place.Down the hallway energy crackled in a growing storm of malice throwing around dust and debris from the construction. Cardboard, and forgotten tools was sucked into it and it was slowly moving towards them. Shit.

“That’s not a poltergeist either,” the kid remarked quietly at his side. And for a moment he’d forgotten he had a bloody civilian on hand. He cursed, grabbed the kid and booked it in the opposite direction from the sodding spectral storm.

#A pinch of salt #Salt in the bones #Danny and Constantine #dysfunctional found family FTW

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ikeuverse · 10 months

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LET ME EXPLAIN — p.jongseong

PAIRING: fwb!jay x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, slight angst WC: 5.8k+

WARNINGS: mentions of food, some swearing, alcohol. implicitly told that yn and jay have intimate relations. and let me know if i missed anything else.

NOTES: i always read fwb and this plot came to mind with jay so i had to put it into practice. because honestly this man as friends with benefits is a perdition. hope you enjoy and remember, my ask is always open!

masterlist

In your mind, this friends with benefits thing only happened in romantic comedy movies. That whole cliché of having a best friend at any time in your life, both being attracted to each other and starting with hot kisses until you were both in each other's bed. This continues until this relationship ends up being labeled friends with benefits.

You never thought of living this, even more so with your best friend Jay. When he proposed, knowing it was something you could start together – and because you loved clichés and romantic comedies – there was no denying it. And with the most cliché of all; the contract.

Jay's laughter was memorable as you sat on his lap one night after you were too tired to do anything. Your bare legs and torso were covered by his dark t-shirt as you waited for the paper to slowly come out of the printer.

"Do you want to read our contract?" he laughed with your weight on his leg, caressing your waist with his fingertips and letting his lips rest on your shoulder.

You read everything carefully as if you were living the scene from whatever movie you used to watch with that theme. Jay's kisses were soft against your skin and even with the last sentence, the most cliché of them, he didn't stop.

Neither of them can fall in love. This could be lived quietly if it weren't for the frequency of your encounters. If this friendship with benefits wasn't so intense because you were looking for Jay not just for sex, and he wasn't looking for you just to be in his bed without clothes. Many times Jay just wanted to kiss you while he came home from work feeling so tired, wanting a hot bath and the warmth of your arms while he napped for a while. Or you wanted to feel him hug you when you were on the verge of exhaustion after a university test that, even with effort, you knew you would get an average grade on.

Your relationship had gone beyond friendship with benefits and it was for this reason that you had relived that scene a million times in your mind. It was time for the main scene, where you call him into your room to talk, tear up the – useless – contract you created a year ago with the famous line "I fell in love with you".

And that's exactly what you did. You wanted to throw it all away and tell Jay that you loved him. That the situation you two were in was no longer a friendship with some sort of benefit, it was an unofficial relationship. And it was eating you up inside because you didn't have a proposal, you didn't have something concrete that could tell you it was a relationship or something like that.

So his brilliant mind worked stealthily to make that scene memorable. And it was. Only in the most horrible way possible, because as soon as you tore that paper looking into Jay's eyes, he ran. Ran. The boy opened your bedroom door and came out like a figure as if your apartment was on fire and he needed to get out as fast as possible.

It sank your heart too much. It shattered any expectations you had about Jay feeling anything beyond the friendship with the benefits you two had. You thought you were completely wrong about that.

And it was for that reason that you, at the present moment, decided to curl up even further in bed reaching for your warm comforter. You just wanted to sleep a few more hours before you got up.

"Coffee's ready" Zoe, your best friend, said quietly as she poked her head into your room. She searched the place but could only see your body buried under the covers "Come on y/n, you need to get out…"

"I don't want to, I'm tired" you mumbled softly, but quickly felt all the warmth from your covers disappear as Zoe pulled everything off of you.

"You've slept for over ten hours, there's no such thing as tired in this little body" as you looked at her, she smiled weakly in your direction, sitting down on the edge of your bed "Come on, you need to eat."

"But—"

"If you say you don't want to, Niki will come over here and pull you out by your hair," you laughed for the first time in weeks, knowing your friend would do just that.

Then, taking some convincing from Zoe's words, you stood up. She didn't leave your side until you'd gone to the bathroom and fixed your hair at least a little, trying to look presentable even though they'd both seen you like that.

"Finally!" Niki looked so excited when he saw you and Zoe come through the kitchen door. The baggy sweatshirt he was wearing made him look even cuter, and you smiled as you sat down on the opposite side of the worktop he was on "I made pancakes and I think we're out of jam, but we still have some peanut butter."

"I think that should do it" Zoe went over to the cupboard to get the peanut butter, setting it down next to her on the counter and grabbing the pancakes Niki had made.

As she served you, you felt your chest warm a little. You knew that your best friends, even though they shared an apartment with you, had been there for you no matter what and in almost every moment of your life since you started college. They knew about Jay, they knew what had happened because you had to explain when he ran out of the apartment without saying anything almost three weeks ago.

Three weeks you hadn't seen him since. A low sigh left your lips as you realized that all that time you hadn't seen him – either you were avoiding him, or he was doing the same – but maybe it was better for the moment.

"It's not the best milkshake in the world" Niki's whisper in your ear snapped you out of the sad reverie you were in. Then, looking over at your friend who now sat across from you on the kitchen counter, you let a smile play on your lips as he held out a cup "But I tried to imitate the one you and Zoe bought the other day."

"Oh, Niki" your nose started to sting at the action, any display of affection over the last few days was making you have that kind of reaction. You could feel your eyes watering.

"Shit, the idea was so bad? Zoe, she's going to cry—"

Niki despaired as a solitary tear fell down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. Since you were sitting between the two of them, you quickly felt one of Zoe's arms around your waist, while Niki's arm went over your shoulder.

"She's just touchy because of fucking Jongseong…"

"Hey, he's still my friend" Niki tried to correct Zoe, who just shrugged.

"Sorry, I don't want to talk about him."

"Three weeks, y/n" Niki sighed "I think one time you need to talk too."

"Too? Has he talked about it?"

Niki exchanged intense glances with Zoe. She looked like she wanted to curse him with every swear word on the face of the earth while he looked even more lost like he was trying to find something to say to comfort you.

"What Niki means is..." your friend sighed as she took her hand from your waist, picking up the pancake from the plate to eat "You need to get together and talk. I think it'll work out…"

"Work out with what?"

"Lots of questions in the morning, eat up" the boy pushed his plate with some pancakes towards you, also pushing the glass of milkshake he had made.

You could sense that something was different between the two of them just by the exchange of glances. Of course, you've been locked in your room for the last few weeks, it was understandable that Zoe and Niki had a lot more issues and even internal things that you didn't participate in because you chose to isolate yourself until you were well.

But it wasn't as if he could get what Niki had said out of your mind. Too… So he'd talked to Jay about what had happened and, a mere maybe, your friend had known why he'd left the apartment that day so quickly. But now you didn't want to know that. If he left and so far hadn't been in touch, it was because you'd done wrong and your friends-with-benefits relationship had come to an end.

So you would think that way. But how do you get over Jay when you've been involved for so long? There was no way to just let go of the fact that you proposed to him, and he ran away. Jay had run away from you… Or at least that's what you were thinking.

Jay looked at his reflection in the mirror one more time, trying to convince himself that the shirt was good for the occasion. Or he was curling up too much in his room trying to make an excuse and not go out with his friends that night.

He could easily take the second option, considering that for the past few weeks, he just wanted to isolate himself from everyone and lie around for as long as he could. Or until one of his friends walked in on him and yanked him out of his bed.

"You're going with us today" Sunoo gently pushed him out of the room, leading Jay to the bathroom they had in their shared apartment "Take a shower, get dressed. Look a little more presentable and less fucked up this time."

Down the small hallway, Heeseung was leaning against the doorframe with a bowl in his hands, laughing at the big brother scene between Jay and Sunoo.

"By the way" the boy swallowed some of his cereal to avoid talking with his mouth full "She'll be there, so…"

That seemed to cheer Jay up a little, and he rushed into the bathroom and took one of the best showers of the week. But now, at the very moment, he looked in the mirror seeming to snap back to the reality that had hit him. All right, you could be at that party, but that didn't mean you wanted to talk to him. Or that you would agree to talk to Jay.

Because he was the one who ran out of your room. He was the one who left you there without a single explanation as to why he had run away after hearing that you were in love with him. The truth was that Jay had been taken by surprise. He knew he was in love with you. All your friends and everyone who lived with you both knew it, Jay would never deny it, but he was taken aback by your declaration because he never thought you'd be that direct. It's usually the guys who declare themselves first, right? At least that's what he learned from the romantic comedy movies he watched with you.

But when the words came out of your mouth, he just froze. And the only way out was to run away from there because he was afraid. Of what? Jay couldn't think. And he tried to take the last couple of weeks to get his head together and just put some good words together to talk to you, but again, he was scared and looking like a fucking coward. As Zoe called him the last time they met.

He wasn't taking away your best friend's reason, because if someone hurt one of his best friends, Jay would surely curse that person without a second thought. Niki tried to defuse the situation, saying that it was between the two involved, but he also wouldn't blame Zoe's scowl while they were all gathered in the café after Jay needed someone to talk to.

Niki, Zoe, Heeseung, and Sunoo were the ones chosen to sit there since the others were busy preparing for the little party he was getting ready for now. And because the four of them kept in touch more because they shared apartments, so it might help Jay to talk to those who were daily involved with the subject.

The conversation had been good, even with the scolding from the only girl at the table, it had only calmed down after Sunoo offered a piece of her chocolate pie. Thank you, God of candies, Jay hummed mentally before taking the teachings of that conversation for the next few days.

Explaining the situation, that was the first step. But for that, Jay needed to go out and find you, otherwise, you would never answer a call from him or reply to a message. He knew because he knew you well enough to know that this would happen. So it was in person or nothing.

"Are you ready yet? The boys are here" Sunoo shouted from the hallway, it startled Jay and brought him back to the present moment where he was still looking at his reflection in the mirror. The boy swallowed dryly, deciding to put on a denim shirt over the blouse he was wearing and mess up his hair a bit trying to look a bit more presentable.

The smile his friends gave him was good for him, because Jay knew that all that reception was for the fact that he was leaving his room. The first party he didn't refuse to go to – or was practically forced to, because Sunoo was almost beating him to it – so it was nice when he saw that Jake and Heeseung seemed excited about the group finally being complete.

And this excitement continued until the house where the party was taking place. Nothing different from what they had all been to, because college parties were always the same, only the location changed because it was either in a fraternity house or in the mansion of some rich student. It didn't matter. But the people were the same, drinks everywhere and loud music that almost made your eardrums hurt.

By instinct, Jay looked for you everywhere. His eyes searched every figure to try to recognize you in the crowd.

"Do you want a drink?" he looked quickly at Heeseung next to him, who was smiling compassionately at his friend.

"I think I'll get one, I'll go with you" Jay could look for you later, he felt his throat dry and Heeseung's idea wasn't entirely bad for the moment.

So he followed his friend to the back garden of the house where the beer barrels were placed. Maybe a bitter to start before Jungwon showed up with Sunghoon and they started creating the craziest – and tastiest – drinks of the night.

"Are you okay? I mean…" Heeseung grabbed two glasses, handing one to Jay. When he took it, the boy pressed the keg's hose to pour some beer into his glass, doing the same to his friend "Are you feeling comfortable here?"

"I think I'll get better when she gets here" Jay didn't mind being direct, even more so with Heeseung by his side. Seeing that his friend only agreed, he drank some of his beer when the glass was full enough.

"Then let's go find the others, maybe a game or two before you paralyze them when she walks in the front door" he joked and that made Jay truly laugh. Because that was what happened every time at college parties. Jay could just freeze when you walked into the party because he was mesmerized by your clothes. The graceful way you moved to meet him and hug him when you met him with your friends. It was always a "get y/n out of here, she'll distract Jay and we'll lose" joke.

"Our best player has arrived" Sunghoon celebrated as soon as Jay approached the pool table, being greeted by his friends and a few other guys he knew from parties.

"Were you waiting for me?" he commented, a little too cocky when some agreed and others jokingly mocked that he had come just to lose "What team am I on? I want to slaughter you all" he joked, placing his almost empty beer glass on the makeshift table where a few more glasses were.

"Let's play me, you and Jake" Sunghoon ruffled Jay's hair even more "Worth a bottle of tequila."

"Uh, tempting. I'll take that" he grinned broadly and rolled up the sleeves of the shirt he was wearing.

Winning a bottle of tequila was worth it because it would only add fuel to the drinks they would make later. That one would be responsible for making Jungwon's drinks even better if that was possible.

"Loser gets to clean the winner's room for a week" one of the boys from the opposing team commented, and that made everyone laugh.

For a moment Jay decided to concentrate on his friends and the little game going on in front of him. Distracting himself might be the best remedy for the anxiety that was tearing at his chest so he could see you that night. He knew that the pool might take a few minutes, but nothing that would be so bad that he would stay there all night. Especially since his fingers would start to hurt from the shots, he knew someone would lose at some point or Jake would grumble about being tired and pull him away from the table to get a drink.

Surprisingly, the game ended sometime later. Jay's team won because Sunghoon threw the black ball together, now, with the bottle of tequila in his hands.

"Let's find Jungwon, I need something besides beer" Jake whined so childishly that Sunghoon laughed out loud at that. The three-headed to the kitchen of the house only to find the rest of their friends.

"If we'd agreed, it wouldn't have worked" Jake hummed as he approached the others, greeting them one by one until he stopped at Zoe. She smiled and hugged him back, and when Jake went to Niki to hug him, Jay felt stunned.

Only Zoe and Niki were there, but no sign of you. Maybe you'd gone to the bathroom or met some friend on the way who might have made your trip to the kitchen a little long. Jay's gaze was so intent that it had caught Zoe's attention, she walked towards him and touched the boy's shoulder gently to get his attention.

"Are you okay?" she whispered loud enough for Jay to hear. His other friends now celebrating the fact that Jungwon was opening the bottle of tequila to start making his famous drinks.

"She's… She's… Where is she? She didn't come?" Jay seemed a little lost for words, feeling Zoe's fingers soften on his shoulders with a friendly squeeze there.

"She didn't want to come" Zoe smiled without showing her teeth, she knew she had been tasked with breaking this news to Jay since Niki didn't want to face the sad look on his friend's face.

"Because of me, right?" Jay asked.

The silence in Zoa's reply could already tell him all he needed to know, and it sank Jay's chest even deeper into guilt. He gave in to his friends' requests and sure enough Zoe and Niki had asked you relentlessly, thinking you would give in to it too.

Then you were deeply unwell and didn't want to see him at all, because you declined the invitation. You weren't there.

"Hey, you two" Jake called out to Jay and Zoe, making them both look at the counter surrounded by their friends there "Jungwon sorted your glasses, come drink" he pointed to the containers already waiting for them.

Zoe glanced at Jay before thinking to follow and picking up her glass, trying to smile and beckon him to join.

"Come on, maybe it's good—"

"Can I come over to your apartment?" he asked quickly, on an impulse that made the girl's eyes widen in surprise at the question.

"Jay… Do you think that's a good idea?" she asked back. Zoe had an understanding tone but was also worried about the whole situation because she knew how the boy in front of her was and what he felt. But she also knew very well the state her best friend was in.

"I need to fix the shit I did" he sighed heavily, his hands running down his shirt to wipe them from whatever it was – the sweat of nervousness that was starting to run through his body.

"It's okay, I guess you can do that" she walked with him to the countertop for a moment, picking up her glass and handing him his.

Jay didn't think twice before tipping over the entire contents, feeling his throat burn because he knew he was the strongest. Jungwon had done this for his friend and his relentless night. He thanked her under amazed stares for how quickly he had drunk the contents, and with a kiss on Zoe's cheek as a thank you, he ran out of there as fast as he could.

Running to your apartment was not an option for Jay. He felt his body exhausted and, even though the party wasn't that far away, he preferred to take an Uber so he could get off in front of the building where you lived.

From the lobby, greeting the janitor who knew him and didn't ask a single question as he waved to Jay and let him into the elevator. All this while the boy tried to calm his already rapid breathing as soon as your floor number lit up his eyes.

He didn't know he could get so nervous about something related to you like that. Jay remembers being like that only the first time you kissed and the first time something sexual happened, because he thought it might ruin the friendship you'd built since your first year at university. So there he was, just as nervous as if it was his first time at something.

Maybe it was. It was the first time he would see you after weeks of no contact and, possibly, if it worked out, the first time he might confess how he felt about you. Swallowing dryly, Jay left a few light knocks on the front door, opting for that instead of ringing the doorbell. He didn't know if you were asleep or if the sound might startle you, so the knocks on the door were safer against any banging inside your apartment.

The footsteps dragging on the other side of the door made Jay's heart race instantly. You were there, going to meet him even if you didn't know who was waiting for you. Jay was fully aware that you had no idea. On the other hand, you thought it might be Niki or Zoe who had forgotten something at home and came back for you, so you didn't mind answering the door the way you were.

Your eyes widened at the sight of a panting Jay at your front door. He let his jaw drop at the sight of your bare legs, the torso covered by a huge oversized t-shirt that went to just above your knees. Their hair was loose and not messy, but your clean expression indicated that you had just stepped out of the shower.

"Jay?" your voice was hoarse, from lack of use and because you'd cried a little in the shower, but that last part would be a secret only yours "Zoe and Niki left a while ago, they—"

"I've come to see you" he interrupted you so subtly that you couldn't be surprised by the confession but felt your whole body shiver at it "Can I come in?" Jay sighed as you gave way, still holding the door handle as he entered the apartment.

The familiar scent of the room flooded him with longing because it was as if the boy was the fourth member of the apartment shared between you and your friends, just as you were of his too.

Jay turned around only when he heard the sound of the door closing, your slow steps approaching him who was already in the center of the living room of your apartment. He looked at you deeply, searching for any trace that you were uncomfortable or that you didn't want him to be there, but no. He could only see how shy you were. Jay could only see how shy and equally nervous you were, because your fingers quickly found each other, playing with your own hand as he took a step forward.

"Why didn't you go to the party today?" Jay asked the first thing that came to his mind, he wanted to buy time until he calmed his poor heart.

"I had some late work from university" you lied, still not looking at him and playing with your fingers. He stopped in front of you, raising his hands to reach yours and intertwine his fingers in yours.

"Or did you not go because of me?"

Motherfucker. He runs out of your apartment and when he comes back, he acts like he knows you so well. Okay, he did, but you didn't have to give in that much when you shook his hands incisively.

"You're so arrogant" you laughed low, not because it was funny, but because you were nervous and didn't know what to say. When you finally lifted your gaze to Jay's face, he had been staring at you the whole time. The dark, glowing orbs stared at random points on your face until they met his slightly reddened, equally glowing eyes.

"I asked you a question, y/n" he said seriously.

You laughed once more, slowly sliding your hands over his to release them at once.

"It's not like I'm obligated to answer, Jay" you tried to mimic his intonation, feeling your chest ache at the look he'd cast after your speech.

Jay didn't move in his seat as you took a step back, enough to be a safe distance from him.

"Did you come here to find out why I didn't go to the party?" your breathing was rapid, but you tried to calm yourself as you took a deep breath, holding back the uncontrollable urge to cry when Jay still kept his eyes on you "You could have asked Niki or Zoe" your shoulders rose and then slowly lowered, trying not to give a shit with the growing urge of the burning in your eyes at the moment "Maybe talking to them you won't run so easily…"

Your words died in Jay's mouth, which was now pressed against yours. He doesn't know how fast he ran so he could grab your body and kiss you so quickly. For a few seconds – three, maybe – you tried to push him away with trembling hands that spread his chest. This only urged Jay to press you against him, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip a few times until the kissing passage was given.

Even with the need to feel all of you, he seemed so careful with every touch. Sliding his tongue across yours so calmly and his lips fitting so perfectly that you stopped reluctantly and just enjoyed the moment you'd missed. Without trying to push him away now, your hands firmly gripped the shirt he was wearing and that was like a silent answer so Jay could keep kissing you like he wanted to.

His mouth left yours with slow kisses, sliding now to your jaw until he brushed his lips against your cheek. Warm skin against his mouth and you felt Jay smile against your skin.

"Why did you…"

"I needed to shut you up somehow" he was a little breathless from the recent kissing action, his speech being muffled by still having his mouth against your skin. Jay didn't pull away for fear of looking you in the eye after that and that you'd finally push him away "And you wouldn't let me talk, so…"

"Do you have something to tell me?" your hands smoothed a little on Jay's shirt as he slid his fingers around your waist. Straightening his body so that he could still have his face close to you, but this time facing each other.

"A lot, I just…"

"Jay, it's okay" you interrupted him subtly, your hands returning to Jay's chest only to straighten the shirt you'd wrinkled from holding on too tightly "I think I understood that day and you didn't have to come here."

He kissed you once more, now without going deeper like minutes before. Jay just brushed his lips against yours and let his breath mingle with yours, their warm, moist mouths joined by something so subtle.

"Let me explain, please?" he said against your mouth, his chest tearing inside at the little plea he whispered sounding pained in his tone.

If he was there for a reason, and if he was kissing you every time you cut him off, the reason was a lot bigger than you thought. He could end it all or say he wanted something one last time before you two became strangers the next morning.

With your silence, he interpreted it as a way to continue, and that only made him even more nervous. But he'd been brave enough to kiss you without getting slapped or cursed at and yelled at, so he had to pull the courage out of his chest to tell you. And he would.

"I know my reaction wasn't the best that day, and I'm really sorry for all of it."

Remembering Jay running out of your room wasn't a very pleasant thing, even if the situation would have seemed funny if it had been in another scenario. He pulled his mouth away from yours just enough, now leaning both foreheads together and focusing on touching the tip of your nose to his.

"But the truth is that you ruined all the plans I had made to confess to you."

"What?" you pulled your face away from Jay, frowning and tilting your head back enough to look at him.

An amused look and a slightly less tense countenance than yours. He laughed low at your surprise, almost as if he'd expected it as he felt your body slide down his arms until you pulled away a little.

"Yeah, you ran ahead and said what I wanted to say" he scratched the back of his head a little nervously now, his hands-free from your body as his steps were enough for you to be a little further away from him "And I froze, you know?"

"How, Jay? I mean… I'm confused" he knew you would be, so it was understandable as your brow furrowed more and more and your gaze was judging him in every way possible.

He felt shy with your gaze never leaving him, even if it was something still confusing. Jay's hands quickly wrapped around his arms before he crossed them in front of his body, a way to calm his hands with what he was about to say.

"I know how much you love these romantic comedies because I've lost count of how many times we've watched them here, even sitting on this couch" he pointed to the cushion next to the two of you in the living room, and you couldn't help but let out a shy laugh. Your love for the movie genre was true, you just didn't know if Jay would like watching them with you.

But he never refused to watch it, never seemed bored, and asked really interesting questions about the topic. He even suggested a few during sessions when you just couldn't make up your mind.

"So I thought I'd be cliché with the whole silly contract thing and I spent a long time trying to work up the courage and propose before I tore up that paper or recreated the scene from some movie we watched" Jay uncrossed his arms and ran his hands down his shirt, feeling like he might faint at any moment with your expressions completely focused on him. Jay didn't know if you were going to punch him after that, or if you were going to say it was too late to confess, so he hurried and took a few steps back towards you until he was close enough to your body "But I hadn't thought about what it would be like if you decided to do it for us."

You had, indeed, and from what he was saying – not unkindly – you had ruined his plans to propose to you.

"Sure, I could've kissed you after that confession or taken you to bed and told you how much I love you and that that stupid contract just made me fall in love with you" Jay rambled so much, you almost shouting with the I love you he said without even realizing it. As he said it over and over, seeming to blurt out his own words, you knew he was smiling.

A captivating smile that he didn't know if it was because he was all flustered or because you hadn't given up on feeling the same way about him. Without answering him with the right words, it was your turn to wrap Jay between your hands, grabbing his face and pulling him close. You sealed your lips next to his, sighing heavily against Jay's mouth when he grabbed your waist on instinct.

"So you love me?" you held back the urge to laugh as Jay's eyes widened, realizing that it had come so naturally and that he hadn't even noticed.

"I love you, y/n. I really do love you" he whispered, keeping close to you "I'm not so good with romantic comedies and all that cliché stuff, but pretend I'm tearing up that contract right now in front of you."

You laughed once more, kissing him again as Jay pressed you against him. The warmth of his lips, the way he held you so carefully as he kissed you, and the low sighs against your mouth before the two of you could break apart in search of some oxygen.

"I love you, Jay" it was your turn to whisper as he leaned his forehead against yours "But I don't care that you messed up like that."

"No? But I messed it up because it wasn't like the movies…"

"Really" you confessed and before he could apologize one more time, your fingers slid up to his lips so Jay wouldn't keep talking "It was much better. Because I think we're living our fumbling, romantic comedy."

He chuckled against your fingers, kissing them before pulling them away from his mouth so he could move closer with his face even closer to yours.

"Thanks for ruining my plans, then" Jay knew it was nothing compared to the movies you two watched and loved, but it sure was a lot better than anything you could share.

#jay fluff #hyfenet #enhanet #jay angst #jongseong fluff #park jongseong angst #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #park jongseong fluff #enhypen au #enhypen jay #enhypen masterlist #jay x reader #park jay x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 3

It was an easy decision, proposing to Steve. Party because Eddie has been daydreaming about it since they got together, but mostly because he knew there was no way Steve would say no.

No, when a guy almost dies for you twice, chooses to move into a shitty apartment with you vs maintain financial security with his rich parents, and literally says he wants to be with you forever, it's a pretty safe bet that he's not going to say no to the idea of marriage.

All Eddie needed to do was get a ring. Easy.

Except it was anything but.

At the rate he was going, the proposal was never going to happen. He had gone through four jewelry stores in a span of three days, and he hadn’t found shit. They were all…wrong. Either too big and fancy, or too plain and generic. Nothing that Eddie could see his Steve wearing everyday.

In general, Steve just wasn’t a jewelry kind of guy. The one time he tried out Eddie’s rings for fun, he hated them. He was too hands on for anything clunky, and it was actually impressive how often he got them caught on his clothes in a twenty-four hour period.

But the simple bands weren’t right either. Maybe Eddie was just an obsessive sap, but…they weren’t special enough for someone as wonderful as Steve, and Eddie was running out of ideas.

So he called who he always did when he was stuck. He picked up on the third ring, and Eddie went straight into it, “Waaaaayne, I need help. And I needed it like yesterday.”

Wayne chuckled on the other end, the sound automatically bringing a smile to Eddie’s face, “What have you done now?”

“I’m in ring hell. I’m trying to ask Steve to marry me but-”

“Don’t tell me you already bought one.” Wayne interrupted, voice stern, “Did you?”

Eddie frowned, confused. He didn’t…he didn’t think Wayne would disapprove, not after all this time. Eddie swallowed, trying to hide the hurt in his voice, “Why Wayne, is that disapproval I hear? And no, I haven’t bought anything yet.”

Wayne sighed, catching onto it anyway, “Son, I don’t give a shit about what you two decide to do. If anything, you should have locked him down years ago.”

The knot in his stomach instantly disappeared, Eddie grinned, relieved, “Okay, first of all, rude. Second, if you don’t care, why shouldn't I buy a ring?”

“Because I have one already.”

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, almost dropping the phone, “Huh?”

“Eddie, I know you, and I know Steve. I knew this day was coming and…I’ve been ready for it. It was my grandmother’s, but it’s from the 30s so don’t worry. It’s not too flowerly or anything like that.”

Jesus, Eddie was tearing up. He hadn’t expected that. It’s not like Wayne had ever had a problem with their relationship, he was beyond supportive. But Eddie hadn’t realized just how deep that support went, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t gotta say anything. I’ll send it to you and if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But I think he’d like it.”

Eddie nodded, forgetting that Wayne couldn’t see him,“Y-yeah, sounds good. Sounds perfect.”

“Good, I’ll send it tonight. And you’ll tell me how it all turns out after, right?”

“Of course. And um, hey Wayne?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you man.”

He couldn’t see it, but Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, “I love you too kiddo.”

Eddie hung the phone up on the high, nervously excited to see thing. He watched the mail like a hawke for the next week, grateful that Steve was out when it finally arrived. He tore into the small package, like a kid on Christmas morning. Rose gold and engraved, and already re-sized. Wayne really had thought of everything.

It was the exact kind of ring that Eddie hadn’t been able to find anywhere. Pretty but subtle, perfect for his Steve. He loved it, and he was almost sure Steve would love it too. And he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, because he was going to do it the second he saw him.

Eddie didn’t care if it was corny, he was going to be on one knee the moment Steve opened the door. He sat infront of it, his stomach doing flips as he waited. There was really no reason to be nervous, Steve couldn’t have made it clearer that he was going to get a yes, but he still was.

Steve just had that effect on him.

An hour later, the tell-tale sound of keys in the door hit him. He scrambled into position, heart racing, as he waited, stuck between being intensely excited and vaguely wanting to throw up.

“I’m home- what are you doing?” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide at the sight of Eddie kneeling on the floor, ring in hand.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Eddie laughed, nervous as he watched the emotions flash across his face. He had a hand over his mouth, eyes sparkling as he looked down at Eddie, waiting for him to continue.

Words, right. He had those. Eddie took a deep breath, shaking himself out of his staring to speak,

"Stevie, you are my whole world. And I don’t go a day without thanking the universe for letting you in my life, because you made it complete. I…I never thought I would ever be as happy as you make me. You were my first love. And I want- no, I need you to be my last because there is no one else in this world that I want to be with. So…baby will you marry me?”

Eddie should have seen it coming, but that didn’t stop the surprised oomf he made when Steve tackled him to the ground. The next thing he knew he was being kissed all over his face, a manically thrilled Steve on top of him.

He grinned down at him, happy tears already falling, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #pg versions from that one fic #adjusted into oneshots #kinda #uncle wayne #number one ally #im so obsessed with fluff im basically a pillow at this point

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pascalsbby · 10 months

Text

CARNAL / Chapter 4: Defile

Joel’s POV <3

Chapter 3 / CARNAL Masterlist

Summary: 5K/ f!reader, dark!joel, dbf!joel, stalker!joel.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, Joel defiles you, talks to you through it, then comforts you. dominate & aggressive joel, pet names, praise kink, stalking, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, talk of anal + the usual pure filth. you’re so welcome.

Made this extra nasty for my Joel girlies <3

“The enormity of my desire disgusts me.” - Richard Siken

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

Joel doesn’t want it to be this way, but it just is, and he thinks it always has been. A shameful nagging that started even before his wife decided she didn’t want him anymore. Maybe she saw it, the pinhole, sitting slightly to the right of his chest, veering ever so slightly towards his heart.

Women are better at telling those things, just knowing this and that. Identifying the rotten thing before they ingest it.

He’d been captivated by other women before. Coworkers, thigh-high wearing sweethearts at the bar. Sarah’s friends. His ex wife’s friends. It was easier to keep up with them when he knew where they lived, worked, who they hung out with. Accidentally running into them at the local corner store… offering to pump their gas whenever he happened to be there, too.

This was different though.

The chasm cracked the day Sarah had shown him the photographs of you. He felt the sudden release of tension before the pain of the wound itself settled in. This… this is what his being had been searching for, right? You. And it just took longer cause he’s 26 or so years your senior. He’d lived an entire life before you, the same amount of time you’ve been alive.

If anyone was gonna save you, it’s him.

He spent hours in the depths of whatever website would give him what he needed to sustain his interest. He knew exactly where you grew up, he’d walked the beige colored halls before. But that wasn’t enough. What door was yours in Sarah’s apartment complex? Before he found out, he bet it was the one with the evil eye mat in the front. He was right.

What car held you as you drove through town… when’s the last time you checked the oil? He found out quickly, knew you wore your seatbelt too. Good girl. He’d even opened the hood one evening and checked the oil. It was entirely too low, so he filled it up. You needed to check this stuff.

What bars did you frequent? One was The Strip, where you spent most your time outside at the bar politely dodging older ‘men’.

He knew your favorite aisle of the water-damaged grocery store down the street. You spent the most time deciding on which hand soap you wanted, smelling them all and scrunching your nose when you didn’t like the smell.

What boys were you seeing? And at what times? As far as he could tell, none. And that’s how he liked it. But he couldn’t be inside your long classes with you, and he gave up sitting outside of them a couple weeks ago. They were three hours long and you usually went straight home. What if there was a boy in there?

He needed to physically insert himself into your life and then maybe… maybe you’d want him to stay. See how good for you he could be.

When he turned from the nude woman painted on the wall, a version of you in oil, to the warm, guts and roaring blood of you- the gash completely tore itself open in the moments it took for his eyes to eat you in. Every nerve ending in his forty plus years heeding, 7 trillion of them.

God you were a pretty little thing. He knew that, from watching you defile yourself for him over a screen. Listening to your pussy shush itself as you slipped your fingers between your folds, cooing at him. But having seen these things before, having seen every crevice of you, didn’t stop his cock from all but jumping towards you. He wanted to be in those crevices; tasting, smelling, feeling.

He’d never been a man to beg, but he’d do it for you.

He knew too, in that moment, that you hated him the moment your eyes settled upon his face and your heart, body, told you precisely who he was; before he’d even reached out his hand and introduced himself. Before he even got the chance to touch your skin. What a hard-ass.

Here you were in front of him, pretending like he didn’t just tear your world open. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t think of another way to do it… there was no other way. You wouldn’t have met him if he asked, or on the off chance you would, you wouldn’t have stayed long enough for him to explain himself after he uttered a few words of who he actually was.

You’d spent too much time being told, screamed at, by men telling you what to do. Why would you listen to him? He knew it. But he was hoping that your chest opened for him, too. That you had the same defect for him.

He had to get you in public, around the people who you were hiding your secret from. That was the easiest way to guarantee that it stayed that way. No telling Sarah, no telling your dad.

You had looked so scared. And it thrilled him, honestly. He had that over you. You were trembling and he wanted nothing more than to bend down and lick the sweat from your forehead. He did that, made you feel that way, had that control. It meant he had a chance to talk you out of the fear. Fuck it out of you, even. Hush your whimpers and screams into his palm.

He needed to see you, touch you, smell you. Seeing you over a computer screen, no matter how intimate, was not enough. He feared what he would do if, when on his stalking sprees, he saw you with another man. He needed to get this feeling out of himself, before he hurt someone.

“I said, excuse me.” You interrupted your dad.

Joel's instincts took over as he reached out for you, his fingers grazing the warmth emanating from your hip beneath your dress as you pass, almost walking through him. He is struck by the velvet-like softness that greets his touch, a sensation that lingers in his fingertips as a dull ache. Your warmth seeps through his skin, ripping the hole in his chest even further than he thought imaginable.

How could these two realities simultaneously exist on the same plane?

That deep-rooted desire to comfort the hurt within you. To hold the ever-wounded little girl and brush his lips across your forehead. Tell you that he’s here, you’re just fine. He’ll protect you. Lay you down on his chest and shhh your fears away. You deserve to be protected.

He wanted to raise goosebumps across your freckled shoulders and be the person you melt into at the end of the day. He wanted you to intertwine your tired bones with his.

He would do, be, better this time around. You wouldn’t leave him like she did, no. You would devour yourself for him, spit back out your bones and let him put them back together.

There was another place within him where he desperately needed your body. He needed to feel your hole flutter against his tongue, his cock. One where he could slip his spit covered fingers into your tight heat and stretch you just big enough to fit the girth of him. The sound that would vibrate through your lips would unnerve him, he would do anything for you. Fill any hole you wanted.

You’d fit around him so tight, so well. Always such an obedient sweetheart for him. “Oh c’mon darlin’, use your words. Pull them apart, oh goooood. Shhh. You can take it. It’ll only hurt for a minute Birdie.”

He wanted to push you onto the ground beneath him and unravel your inhibitions- force you to come undone for him. He yearned to scatter bite marks across your soft stomach and side, lick between your breasts, kiss the back of your knees.

He wondered what his initials would look like carved into your soft inner thighs. Marked by him, for him.

How could he undo you while trying to hold you together? A deafening need heaved through his chest. It fucking hurts.

He knew, deep down, that you would willingly surrender to him. Even though hatred was spewed across your face. Whether he asked kindly enough or convinced you that his involvement was obligatory rather than just desired, he sensed you would comply. He couldn’t help that his blood simmered for you, it stung him. He felt like he was burning from the inside, out, clawing around in his insatiable desire to explore the depths of you. To feel those depths with his fingers, his cock, his tongue, his nose.

He gathered himself out of his thoughts, and drew his body toward the path you had taken in your escape. He didn't pause to ponder the questions that would be asked: why he, out of all people—neither your mother, father, nor best friend—was the one chasing after you.

It was him. It had to be. It always has been. He had decided it the day he met you that summer, the first time he heard your laugh. Then, you grew up. And he wanted more. He was so fucking ashamed but there was nothing he could do to stop the want. He didn’t try very hard, though.

He didn’t want to stop it, because then that meant you were gone. You wouldn’t have kept accepting the calls if you didn’t want him back. You wouldn’t have nearly fallen to your knees in front of him if you didn’t care. Which is why he stopped trying to get rid of this vile thing you nursed inside of him, because you wanted him, it, just as much. You just haven’t had the chance to realize it for yourself.

The moment he entered your warmth, you would feel it too. He knew.

Why would you lay yourself out for him, reaching down to spread yourself wide open for his view, for his pleasure, and beg him to defile you- if you were just gonna leave?

As he observed you throwing yourself against the metal doors between stairwells, he caught the faint scent of your perfume—notes of bergamot, vanilla, and ire. When your eyes met his, truly and not merely through photographs, he felt an overwhelming urge to drop to his knees and weep in front of you. He wanted to surrender his entire being, to give himself over entirely if it meant that you would believe he meant you no harm besides the kind you wanted. The kind that felt good. That he was chasing a feeling that erupted within him and wouldn’t stop knocking at his chest.

You smelled heavenly, perfume and fear. You embodied the rest of his life.

The whole in his chest was the shape of you.

With a deep breath, he entered the bathroom, realizing that he needed you to remain by his side long enough for him to articulate the growing emotions within him. He yearned to explain why he acted the way he did, hoping that you might find it in your heart to forgive him for just showing up (and being seen this time).

He was still trying to figure it out himself. Why the world chose him for you, and why it was making it so hard for him to fulfill that proposition.

At the beginning he brooded over whether to stay and ultimately hurt you no matter how often he argued within himself that he would never… or to go and leave you be. That wasn’t an option anymore. It never had been, really.

You looked maddened, irate. But the blush kissing your cheeks from the heat of your anger looked so pretty.

“I was 15,” you spat at him. “Do you do this often, Joel? Stalk your daughters friends and tell them how much you want your nasty cock in their mouth? Pay them to strip for you and pay them extra to stick their fingers in their pussy so you can get off? How many? How many fucking girls have you done this to Joel?”

Ouch. You only saw the illicit side of everything he was willing to give you. He was paying you, even, to stay in his life. How could you not see he just wanted to be closer to you? But you weren’t wrong, it did look like that from the outside. An older man pursuing his daughter’s best friend, his best friends daughter. Finding her online, showing up to her gallery show.

Sarah would probably never speak to him again if she knew the extent of his need… the things he’s done to himself in your name. No one knew how much it hurts though, to know you’re out there in a world where he can’t have you all to himself.

He didn’t answer in time.

“Should I ask Sarah?” You continued.

Absolutely fucking not.

“Shh, shh. Lower your fucking voice,” he spat as he stepped towards you. You looked so small beneath him, face red and angry. He gripped your shoulder and pushed you against the concrete wall. He liked having this control over you, and he knew you liked it too in some sick way.

It was easy for you to give up control if it meant cowering down beneath his broadness. He was rock hard.

He felt himself buzzing, seeing the slight shock against your face before you pulled it back and turned it to anger. He watched your nipples harden beneath the thin layer of your dress and knew you wanted this just as bad, whether you admitted to it or not.

This was all for you. The possibility of losing his relationship with his daughter.. this is a small town, he could lose his job, then his house. Everything. All for you to stand here and pretend you don’t want it, basically yelling it down the hallway for everyone to fucking hear. After everything he had given you and how intimate he’d been for you. After just last night, you watched him spit on his fingers and fuck himself.

Yet you stand in front of him, threatening his dissolution.

“One word out of your pretty mouth and I will break you.” He whispered into your hair, once again inhaling you deeply. He kissed your forehead, a weak apology for being quick to anger. But you were starting to thrash around, making it so much harder than it needed to be. So he stood himself sturdy in front of you and put one arm above your head and the other next to your side, pushing you further into the wall.

Maybe if he showed you how good he could make you feel, you’d stay. He just needed to remind your cunt how good a cock felt inside of it.

There was silence, a contemplation.

“Why me?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes.

Fuck, you needed him, it was written all over your face. Who else was going to protect you like could?

“It was your eyes, Birdie.” He admitted.

You continued to run your pretty mouth, but he wasn’t having it. He begged for you to listen to him, but you wouldn’t. Finally, he had enough of your talking.

“If you don’t shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he accidentally spit and watched as you licked it away without thought. Fuck. He would happily give you more. His already hard cock pushed even further against his struggling zipper.

“What? What exactly are you going to do?”

You questioned, softening in tone and running your hands up his chest. That was an invitation. He took it.

“How ‘bout I show you, you fucking brat. You can’t hide from me. I see you, I can see through you. I saw you the very first time our eyes met and I see you now. Wigglin’ beneath my touch. You need me sweet’heart, stop denyin’ it. I know you remember how I made you feel without me even touchin you. So let me touch you.”

Before you could argue some more, he moved his hands to your small shoulders and turned you around. His hands were massive compared to your body, and he liked it. Your curves were dying to be let free, held in too tight by the dress. Your breast, begging to be cupped and played with.

Oh he’d imagined so many times rolling your hard buds between his lips, tonguing them. Your breath hitched, and he let out a low chuckle. Already, you were giving in to him. He knew you would, such a good girl.

He threw the dress to the ground and looked upon you, naked, standing below and in front of him with your palms against the wall. You were completely ready for anything he wanted to give you, stick in you.

He couldn’t help but moan into your skin, you answering in response.

“Now go on, tell me more ‘bout how much you hate me, Birdie,” he growled into your ear, pushing his entire body against yours, taking your breath away as his cock brushed against your back.

You made sounds, no full words.

“That’s such a pretty noise,” he nudged. You didn’t respond but your cunt did, releasing more sticky want.

“S’okay, you can hate me Birdie, but your pussy flutters every time I look at you. She doesn’t hate me, princess, she needs me ‘n she wants me.”

You let out a barely audible fuss.

“Aww lookie there baby, she’s drippin’.”

He reached down and caught the drop with his finger, sucking it clean into your ear as you dizzily looked into the concrete wall, attempting to level your want for him. He didn’t even know if you fully heard his teasing in your state.

“Your effort not to melt under me is truly admirable.” He growled as he stuck out his tongue and ran it along your ear, sucking and breathing, tickling. Fuck. You tasted sweet but your nervousness had caused you to sweat, but he liked that too.

Then, he slid down to his knees so he could be level with your pussy, immediately reaching to spread you open and take you in. He reached in front of you and grabbed a handful of your stomach, pushing your ass more towards his face. He could smell your arousal, and he almost came right then and there, like some goddamn teenager.

Red underwear stared him in the eye, a deeper burgundy down your seem where you’d been dripping for him.

“Oh so fuckin’ pretty sweet girl. Look at that,” he traced his thumb down the back of your cunt, pushing the fabric deeper into the slick already coating them. You whimpered and attempted to buck your hips back, rotating your hips so that your holes were even more open for him.

“Nuh uh uh,” he tutted as you started to squirm even more. That wasn’t gonna do, he needed you still so he could have at you. He dug his thumbs into your ass, spreading you open once again, without a doubt leaving marks that would later bruise, showcasing his want. Reminding you that you were entirely his.

He held your pussy open, air hitting your open holes, licking lines up and down your slit as you moved. Your cunt wide open, showing him that she was ready for him, sucking up a mix of his spit and your cum every time you moaned and your walls fell in on themselves, pushing in and out in want.

He laid his tongue flat and licked from asshole to cunt, flicking and sucking on the thin skin between the two.

He spit.

“You’re the dirtiest girl I’ve ever seen, you know that? Letting me stick my tongue and nose on your pretty little asshole. Want me to fuck you here baby girl?” He circled it, pushing his spit in with the tip of his pointer finger. You whimpered as your hole swallowed the tip.

He knew if he fucked you there right now, the tip of his cock wouldn’t even make it in before he came, and that wasn’t the type of game he wanted to play right now.

“Hmm, I hear you. We’ll save that for next time. It wouldn’t be fair of me not to work you open first.” Breathless, he heard a “please Joel” fall from your lips.

“Oh fuck. Say it again. I’ve been waitin’ for my name to pass your pretty lips.”

He didn’t know how much he needed to hear you mutter his name like that until it hit him in his fucking chest.

“Joel, please.”

He smirked against you, pointing his tongue into your hole, circling and lapping at you as you continued to drip onto his tongue.

“Could taste these sweet juices for the rest of my fuckin’ life.” The sounds your body made as he pointed himself in and out of your cunt were godlike, vulgar.

He told you to keep your palms against the wall and stop moving, your final warning. His nose was covered in you.

“Joel, I-“

“Tell me baby, use your words,” he murmured into you.

“Take me, right now, please. Can’t wait Joel, I’ve been waiting so long.” God you sounded pathetic for him, begging and wanting him.

Without warning he fucked two of his fingers into you, and realized how tight your walls were stretching against them. You were already completely full from just two fingers.

“You wanna take my cock? You’re so tight you can barely handle two of my fingers. So fuckin’ impatient, hmm?” He curled them upwards and the spongey insides of you continued squelching, you tightened around him and he knew what you wanted… needed. You just needed to let go, stop thinking.

“Let it happen. Stop fightin’ it and let it out baby. I’ll catch you.”

You threw your head back and your long hair fell against the top of his head as he crouched below you. He wanted you to cum down his wrist so he could lick it clean in front of you.

You looked pure, hungry, and your body shook around his fingers as all of your sounds immediately stopped. Your orgasm rocked through you and the bathroom was dead silent, only filled with the sounds of his fingers coaxing out more juices.

Then your thighs stopped shaking aggressively and you spoke.

“I can take it. Please Joel. Please, sir.”

He rose from the ground. Did you just fucking call him sir? That was all he needed.

“Then take it.”

Somehow during all of the movement he had taken his cock out of his jeans. It was fully erect, kissing his stomach every time he moved further into your pussy with his face.

He wrapped his large hands around it and guided it to the back of your cunt, precum sticking to your lips. He tapped your cunt with his throbbing tip, moving his cock around to pick up your juices and mix his in with yours.

Finally. Finally you were going to be his.

He wrapped his arm around you from the back, his forearm covering your mouth before you dropped your head back onto his bicep. Your hair was sticking to your face from the sweat, eyes rolled back in anticipation.

And then he was one with you, cock hugged by your tight warmth. And it was everything he thought it would be, but better. He let out grunts as he fucked into you, hips hitting your ass as the sounds of your wetness meeting bounced of the bathroom stall. You fit so well on him, he fit so well against your walls. It was meant to be, he knew even more so now.

Breathless moans left your lips and he bent his head down to swallow them. Sucking on your top lip as you sat limp against him, his body holding you up as you took him like the good girl he knew you always were, would be, for him.

“S’tight baby girl. I don’t know how those little toys even fit in these holes. Gonna need to stretch you out better next time ‘n it won’t hurt so much. I’ll fit you even better next time.” He shushed your moans, dropping his nose into your hair, completely lost and intoxicated by the smell of your sex.

“I-inside,” you managed. He almost shot his spend into you right then. You could warned him before you said something so nasty, so good.

“Want me to cum inside that tight cunt, is that what you’re tryin’t ask me? ‘N what about your daddy, hmm? What would he think ‘bout you walking out of this bathroom with his best friend’s cum drippin’ down your legs?”

Defeated, you let out another sound.

“Dirty girl. I want nothin’ more than to fill you up. But this isn’t the time or the place. You know that.”

You came again, squeezing his cock so tight, and Joel pulled out as fast as he could after your walls kissed against him, wanting, but not letting himself cum just yet.

“Turn around, baby.” He ordered. And you did, slowly and shakily. You were having a hard time catching your breath.

He then pushed you onto your knees from your shoulders, not caring whether he was hurting you or not. All he saw was how fucked you looked, pure bliss still lingering between your legs, tiredness clouding your eyes from cumming multiple times on his cock. It was his turn.

You grunted in pain as your knees hit the floor, and that’s all he needed from you. He cupped his heavy cock and stroked himself, spitting down to it making it even wetter.

“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” The words getting caught in your throat. That’s all he heard as he planted his feet into the ground and threw his head back, grunting as his cum spit out of his aching tip, dripping all over and down your pretty face. He swore he saw the slightest grin reach your lips before you stuck out your tongue and caught the mess he was making.

And then it was over. You were covered in his cum from what didn’t reach your mouth, bare and still shaking. You looked so pathetic, ruined. Your mascara had fallen down your face at some point and it looked like you had been crying.

Now what?

His mind was clear for the first time in months, thinking about how they’d been gone thirty minutes or so. How would they answer the questions that would undoubtedly be thrown their way? How the fuck were you going to be able to get yourself together again, looking like what you did before you came into the bathroom?

You were sitting on the ground, wiping cum from your face with paper towels that you got from above you. Joel reached to the side and handed you your dress after fitting his soft cock back into his jeans.

“Here, baby.” He said softly.

Silence.

There was something hanging in the air, unsaid. Was it guilt? Shame? For acting like complete animals the first time you two were alone together, devouring one another whole.

And then, your shoulders heaved and a deep sob left your mouth. It was the saddest thing he’d ever heard, full of pain and hurt. He immediately felt it in his own chest.

You weren’t going to cry naked on the bathroom floor, so he picked up your dress and held each of your arms up as he put it over your head and dressed you, letting out soft, “shhh”’s to you.

He wet a few paper towels and bent down to face you, gently grasping your face as you were shying away from him, tears falling. Your eyebrows were turned inwards, your face showing just how much pain you were feeling.

He wiped your face softly, focusing underneath your eyes where your mascara was running. He cleaned you up and then held your face in his hands, you, squeezing your eyes shut so he couldn’t see you. Or rather, you couldn’t see him and the look upon his face.

He sat fully on the ground and pulled you into his lap, doing a once-over to make sure you were all dressed and clean. You’re immediately nestled your head into his neck and he placed his large hand on the back of your head, holding you there gently.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby girl. You can let it all out, okay? I’m here baby. Let them out, it hurts too much when you don’t.” He stroked your hair and prayed that you felt comfortable in his arms.

He could tell this was painful for you, crying in front of him- the vulnerability and nakedness it took to completely lose yourself in front of another human. He understood that he had just taken something from you, had just hit something deep within you.

“Birdie, look at me,” he whispered. You opened your eyes without question and waited.

“Be weak with me. Break, rupture, scream. Intertwine your bones with mine and I will hold ‘em safely so they can rest. I’ve got you baby. ‘M not gonna hurt you.”

You didn’t respond, so he put your back against his chest and rocked your slightly, letting you have the silence and calm.

Minutes passed and your sobs eventually stopped, Joel’s shirt soaked from them. You moved so that he was holding you, but could look into your eyes better.

“I’m sorry baby girl, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He let out, shamefully. He knew he could be overpowering, he’d been told before. “Let me stand up and I’ll leave, okay? Tell ‘em that I couldn’t find you but I looked everywhere.”

“You can’t just touch me like that and then leave,” you let out, begging him.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

Notes: Here’s Joel arguing with himself, trying to justify his actions as he descends into his own chaos.

I added more dialogue because in my mind Birdie is so lost in pleasure during the last chapter that she isn’t even narrating everything to herself/us.

And I just wanted a dirty talking Joel ;) You know me.

Someone referred to ‘carnal!joel’ and my heart grew 10 times bigger. I love it.

Tag List: @strang3lov3 @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @xxmr-potato-headxx @ssssc0m @paleidiot @i-love-rafe @silkiers @gracevn @scarletsloveletter

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #carnal #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #pascalsbby #smut #Ao3 #perv!joel #dbf!joel #stalker!joel #carnal!joel

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simonrillleyyysss · 4 months

Text

*+:｡DRIVING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

Merry Christmas!

cw; p in v, masturbation (male) ,pussy eating, squirting, oral sex(m!receiving, it’s fantasy), boob licking/sucking, groping

‘Heading home for the holidays, sir?’

The soft chirp of your voice through the earpiece caused the man’s brows to furrow, cocking his head ever-so-slightly to the side in amusement, soft huffs of cold leaving his chest.

‘It’s good to see your family every once in a while, maybe even sit on Saint Nic’s lap, hm?’

You continued, smiling to yourself.

‘Y’think Santa has me on the nice list?’

It was silent for a bit, other than the soft gusts of wind and the minuscule crackles of his radio, pale eyes narrowing into thin slits as he peered through the scope of the sniper, before your voice re-erupted.

‘Known you for years, I doubt it..but it wouldn’t be unlikely.’

A soft chuckle from the blonde made you scoff, sniffling as the cold air hit you like a truck.

‘Why, you want presents? Don’t like coal?’

‘Just want to see if y’ think I’m naughty or nice, eh?’

You shrugged mindlessly, listening to the gruff voice continue.

‘Y’ naughty or nice?’

‘Depends who you ask.’

Simon hummed, chewing on his lip for a bit before responding briefly, not continuing any further.

‘Yr’ naughty.’

The next few days were eventful, staying in a musty, aged safehouse over the christmas holidays with a bunch of men wasn’t ideally anyone’s christmas fantasy, you’d envisioned yourself sitting in a pub, drinking away merry cheers with mates and friends, yet here you were—sat on a not-so sturdy chair, Ghost’s nimble fingers wrapping the cotton bandage around your bloody calf.

‘Done this before, Lieutenant?’

You enquired, watching his nose scrunch and eyes taper; glaring up at you with disinterest, your lips parting.

‘I have experience.’

‘Lots?’

A grumble left him.

‘Some.’

Then it was silent ,thick fingers tore the wrap apart—stuffing the spare rag remains in his pocket, gently patting your calf as he stood up to his full height again; looking down at your weak , and fatigued figure.

‘Go fr’ a liedown, y’need it.’

‘M’not tired, sir.’

‘I’m not fuckin’ asking.’

With a pout, you staggered up from your chair—hobbling over to a spare room within the area, mumbling under your breath about the man; limping until you were laid on the mattress, metal bedframe freaking beneath your weight as you slung the blanket over you.

Tossing and turning for minutes turned to hours, listening to the distant chatter from behind the closed door of the room, banging of boots against the floor and slams of gear down on the tables, eventually deciding on sitting up; rifling through your pocket for a pack of cigarettes, lighting the marlboro quickly and taking a puff.

‘Y’ve a deathwish?’

Simon.

You jolted for a moment, wincing in pain and cursing beneath your breath as your calf ached—looking over at the man, whom was wedged between the doorframe with crossed arms.

‘Nothing wrong with a smoke.. Especially with how things have been going.’

Snow powdered down from the sky, watching the dark roads lay with a thick sheet of fluffy , white cloud.

‘N’ how have things been going?’

‘Well..Not merry, that’s for sure.’

The male snickered, closing the door behind him as he slunk forward to sink onto the mattress, mask slipping up as he reached to take your cigarette, inhaling the tobacco.

‘What, y’want christmas trees and carollers? Maybe even some gingerbread men.’

Frowning, you slapped his arm and stoked the cigarette back, wedging it between your lips.

‘Comedian, eh? Just want it to feel like Christmas again, like..My christmas follow; Usually out drinking, fuckin’ some lad dressed up in a pub, Buyin’ gifts..It’s christmas eve eve..eve eve!’

His eyes narrowed, tugging the rough fabric of his mask back down over his nose, watching you rant to him—your lashes batting against your cheek; arms crossed as you exhaled the smoke from your nose, cigarette perched between your index and middle finger.

‘Crier.’

‘I’m not!’

‘Big, fuckin’ crier.’

Whining, you reached out to kick his arm, the man quickly slapping your calf—watching your face contort in agony, quickly chugging the cigarette into the ashtray, smushing it.

‘You’re a fuckin’ grinch, Simon!’

‘Grow up, love.’

A scoff followed, before he patted your thigh and left the room, and your hand was immediately stuffed in your panties.

Finally back.

It was a relief, and a blessing to be back at base—immediately welcomed with a much, much comfier bed in your barracks, and the constant chirping or Kyle or Johnny in your ear, finally able to pack your belongings for a decent, christmas break.

‘Packin’ already?’

Ghost interrupted, glaring at you with heavy eyes—arms crossed over his broad chest.

‘Mhhmm, need t’get home and fucking go back to normal for a week at least, can’t stay here over christmas.’

‘S’pose so.’

Silence.

‘You’re manchester, right?’

He nodded.

‘Want to stay with me for christmas? Not far from my own town.’

The question caught the man off-guard, his brow cocking upwards as his head tilted forward, pausing for a second.

‘Why?’

‘You’re lonely.’

‘That’s how I like it.’

‘Bet you’d like my christmas dinner more.’

Not even a day later, the barefaced mammoth was trailing behind you as you fumbled with the front door of you apartment, key jiggling for a second before finally pushing the door open, slamming it shut behind you both.

‘Haven’t even got my decorations up— Don’t mind the mess, yeah?’

‘Mm.’

Home, felt weird to say. But good to be back, good to finally be able to sit and bathe in an actual bath, not communal showers—

‘Y’ve a cat?’

He enquired, lifting the furry feline into his arms—looking down at the animal, which he was now practically cradling in his grasp, scratching at its head.

‘Gus.’

‘Gus?’

An amused hum left the blondes lip at that, thick brows furrowed as he tilted the creature upwards, affectionately brushing his knuckles against its furry coat, dragging himself to the sofa to place Gus down, before lifting his things to put them away in your spare room.

Afterwards, the pair of you got to work putting up your decorations, which mainly consisted of simon doing all the work, putting your tree together and hanging up your lights, but you were there for moral support! Making him a nice cup of tea and sitting down on the sofa with him. You watched the beast of a human click through the channels on the tv, Gus perched upon his chest as he sipped at the minuscule mug in his hand, a soft scowl on his face—Turning your focus over to your cat, whom you’d tried to serenade over.

‘Y’got a shower, or are you one of those bath people?’

‘Both. Why?’

‘Need ta’wash.’

The brit grumbled, placing the half-empty mug down onto the glass coffeetable, rising with a low grunt, your eyes fluttering up to accommodate to his height.

‘Down the hall, first right.’

‘Cheers.’

Warmth, Simon felt warm—Properly warm, inside, for the first time in ages. Welcomed, and accommodated for so easily, how trusting were you to let your grumpy, snarky lieutenant into your humble abode so quickly? Even the cold water from the shower raining down on his chest didn’t affect this feeling.

His hands tensed up into tight fists, head hung low and knees bent as he hovered beneath the showerhead carefully, water pouring over his overgrown buzzcut, down his stubbly, scarred face and mizzled down his scarred, sacrificial body, eyes scrunched shut.

You were so quick to come to his saviour, offer him a familial shelter during the holidays, he hated it. He hated you, he hated how he enjoyed it, he hated how you were so willing to let him do anything, let him stay in your apartment, he hated everything. He especially hated how dirty he felt while pumping his cock with thoughts of you, before christmas eve,day meant for joly celebrations.

The way you would be perched on your knees, tongue hanging out like a panting puppy, hands gripping onto the sides of his bulky thighs, so willingly taking him down your throat like you would take him into your home and shelter him.

‘fuck, throats so tight, baby.’

you moaned around him with a gag, pulling back to inhale—giggling as you bobbed your head back and forth along his length, lifting a hand from his thigh to pump at his hard cock.

wetness growing between your thighs, feeling him tap his dick against the side of your cheek, saliva smearing along your jaw, shoving himself back into your mouth without any hesitation, eyes rolling back as he scrunched your hair into a makeshift ponytail, dragging your lips back and forth.

‘Simon?’

your voice rang out, knocking on the door of the bathroom as his cum spurted along the inside of his hand, wiping it off of his palm and huffing out a heavy breath, looking over at the door.

‘You alright?’

‘Yeah, fine,’

silence.

‘Alright, well, I left a towel on the door for you.’

And, with that, you left again; leaving the soldier to ponder with his thoughts.

Quiet, as it usually was, the man hunched over your kitchen counter, glass of water held in freehand and the other scratching at his neck, soft scowl on his face. Thinking to himself, the soft shuffle of your footsteps on wood catching his attention, a gasp leaving your lips.

‘Holy shit—Simon! You scared the fuck out of me!’

Your eyes danced over to meet his, lips parted and head cocked to the side, brows knitting upwards.

‘You okay?’

‘Peachy.’

‘..Want some drink?’

That’s how you ended up here, slouched on the sofa with the man you’d considered your superior, christmas music strumming out from your alexa, drinking away your sorrows and conversing, watching him cross his long legs—thighs bulging out of the confines of his grey trackie bottoms, jesus, was it getting hot in here?

‘What do you want Santa to get you?’

You cut through the ice, watching his pupils scan over you, sipping from his glass of whiskey.

‘Seriously?’

‘Come on, sir. Lightening the mood, hm?’

Simon scoffed, clinking his glass down onto the table, your own following suite.

‘I asked Santa for a magic potion.’

…

‘One that makes y’shut up for once.’

‘I’m serious! If you could ask Santa for something, it would be?’

A purse of his lips and a scrunch of his nose made you smile slightly, he’s thinking? shocking.

‘Unlimited drinks, getting laid, decent familylife.’

Nodding, you rationalised his answers, glaring over at him, kicking him with your leg, the blonde running a hand through her hair.

‘Second one’s easy, just go out to a pub n’ find someone desperate enough to fuck you.’

‘Making me sound like a badthing, you think I’m a bad shag?’

A shrug from you, and a snicker from him.

‘Not..Bad, just strange. You’re all battered n’ torn, might scare the ladies off If you’re not careful.’

‘Y’ve not ran away yet.’

‘Why?’

An unsettling stillness gagged you, brow whipping upwards as your hands fiddled with your hair, Why? You have no idea. It could be the way you’re too nice to everyone, or the way you’re so accepting, or the way you finger yourself to the thought of him every night. So many options, yet so little answers, watching Gus skim to your bedroom.

…

‘I like this song.’

‘Driving home for christmas? Yr’ a fan of Chris Rea? Or just this song?’

‘Just this song.’

A hum from him erupted, staring at you with intrigue.

‘So? Why haven’t you ran away yet?’

‘Don’t know—‘

‘Y’hoping to get a shag? Mhh?’

A chuckle from Simon left your thighs clenching together, raising your brow and scoffing dismissively, brushing him off.

‘You wish.’

His eyes narrowed, lips parting.

‘I do.’

That’s how you ended up naked on the sofa, his tongue lapping at your moist cunny, nails digging into the man’s scalp like scissors, his hands forcing your thighs apart for himself; moaning into your pussy, muffled as his lips entangled around your clit, tending to it with gentle suckles, glancing up at you through heavy eyes and a smirk.

‘Oh—Jesus, Mary and Joseph, holy hell—Siimmoonn..’

It was like heaven had blessed you with this mountain of a man who could eat pussy like it was breakfast, lunch and dinner, globs of saliva mixing with your sticky arousal and cum, nose brushing against your cunt as his tongue circled back around your folds, tattooed arm flexing as he pushed you back down into the sofa when you slightly shifted.

‘Simon—Holy..Pull backkk..hnnngfhh..’

‘Mama told me not to waste dinner.’

And within a few seconds, you were coming undone on the man’s mouth again, hips convulsing and gasping as your thighs trembled, soaking the man’s chin with squirt, a soft slap hitting your clit with a whine, looking down at him through foggy eyes— panting like a dog.

‘Simon—Your covered—‘

‘I’m a messy eater.’

Hurriedly, your hands moved to undo the drawstring on his trackies, fingers nimbly tugging down the fabric shielding his cock, watching the bulge press against the confines of his boxers, glaring up at him with doe-like eyes, lips parting.

‘Easy, love. No rush, ‘awrite?’

The man cooed, leaning down to press his lips against yours, hand cupping the side of your cheek tenderly, thumb brushing against your bottomlip once you separated, lifting you up from the sofa to plop down in your place, sliding his boxers off before nestling you back on his lap like a ragdoll, groping at your bare chest.

‘Fuckin’ stunner, best Christmas gift Santa could’ve ever given me.’

‘Sappy, hm?’

You giggled for a moment, watching him roll his eyes before leaning in, tongue rimming around your nipples, rough palms digging into your waist as he manoeuvred you closer, your hair messy and forehead wet with sweat, grinding against him for a moment.

‘Relax, fuck you now, yeah?’

‘Hurry, Si..’

A soft scoff left him, before he grabbed your hip and sunk you down onto his cock, listening to your soft whine, stilling you for a moment.

‘All good?’

‘Fuck—you’re huge.’

A low laugh left him, thrusting himself further inside with a growl, your eyes fluttering shut with a moan, burying your face into his neck, melting together, he was still for a bit, before slowly grinding his hips in your cunt, revelling in the way your walls tightened around his veiny shaft, soft cries leaving your throat each time his cock hit that gummy spot inside you.

‘Bloody hell, yr’ so fucking tight..—oh—Would’ve thought yr’ a virgin..’

‘Mnnggghhh-si—oh, fuck..Si.!’

‘That’s it, love—fuck—Perfect pussy.’

His movements speed increased, rutting his length inside your weeping pussy, thumb rubbing quick circles around your twitching clit, watching your lips hang open, practically drooling yourself dumb on his cock, breasts moving with each fuck into you.

‘M’gonna cum—pleasepleaseplease—‘

‘Yeah? you wanna cum? that’s it—fuck—that’s it, baby, squeezing around me like a whore.’

With a cry, you tightened around him—The knot in your stomach snapping as you collapsed onto his shoulder, his hips slowly with a groan—pulling out and pumping his cum onto your stomach, huffing and puffing.

‘Y’ alive?’

‘Haaah..Think so..’

‘Yr’ alive?’

‘mhhhhm..’

‘Good.’

He nodded, leaning down to press his lips against yours—before scurrying off, arriving back with a glass of water and a damp rag, wiping the splurges of cum from your tummy, holding your chin as you took sips from the cold glass of liquid, huffing after.

‘Merry christmas.’

You smirked as he spoke, arms wrapping around his neck, thumb tracing along the scar icing his throat, leaning down to press your lips against it, feeling his hairy, strong chest against your bare one; melting into a puddle beneath him.

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cheolism · 1 year

Text

good things from bad days

✧ wen junhui x f!reader ✧ summary: jun returns to the apartment after you've texted him that you've had a bad day. seeing you drunk, jun decides to take care of you like you've taken care of him. only you are much more honest with your feelings when you're not sober. ✧ wc is approx 5.6k ✧ tags: fluff and comedy; roommates-to-lovers, mutual pining. in a relationship but only you two don't know. domesticity, knowing someone intimately. drunken confessions. ✧ warnings: this is not edited. despite jun being sober while reader is drunk, he doesn't do anything that takes advantage of this. this is ultimately: we've loved each other for five years and you admitting you're in love with him while drunk gives jun the push he needs. drink responsibly, kiddos. ✧ drabble sequel here!!!!!

When you had texted Jun that you were having a bad day, Jun didn’t quite know what to expect. You had your fair share of bad days, unfortunately; Jun wished every day was filled with nothing but happiness and contentment for you, but he was just one man and couldn’t fight the whole world.

(Once, when you were having a bad day, a barista had nearly made you cry. She had given you a once-over, looking you up and down after you gave your order. Then she gave a little huff, irritated, before turning around and walking away.

Jun didn’t throw a punch at the barista because 1) she was, at the most, eighteen, and 2) it just wasn’t in his personality to do so. But he did leave a negative review and said he found a hair in his drink.)

Today had started out good, he had thought. But then around noon he got a message about your boss, and then twenty minutes later you were saying that you just wanted to be home, that you couldn't take another minute at work. His heart had broken, reading that.

But Jun did what he did whenever he noticed you were looking particularly sad. He went out and bought a bouquet of flowers, stopped at the little Chinese place that knew the both of you by name. Left a fiver at the little shrine in the back of the restaurant, placed his palms together, asked for your health and happiness, just as he always did whenever the two of you stopped.

“Say hi to your lover for me!” Auntie Meilan waved, grinning at him. “Bring them in next time!”

“I will!” Jun called back, saluting and neglecting to correct the Auntie that no, you weren’t his lover, you were just his longtime roommate that he had been in love with for far too long.

That was all.

Night had long fallen on the city, street lights dim and headlights bright. Jun hated getting off this late. He hated it because it meant he missed out on the normal mealtime for the both of you, and he knew that instead of you just making food for yourself or even making a meal and saving some of it in the fridge for him to have later, you would hold off on eating altogether until he got home so the two of you could share dinner and talk about your day.

Which was why he volunteered to grab food.

Jun’s stomach grumbled as he walked to the car, and if he was a lesser man he would’ve torn open the takeout box and ate his portion right then and there. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. No matter how hungry he was.

“You wouldn’t be so hungry if you actually ate a meal at lunch instead of just eating those shrimp chips you like so much.” You had said once, watching as Jun tore open a container of cherry tomatoes and began eating them whole as soon as he walked through the apartment door.

He had gasped dramatically, and still chewing the cherry tomatoes, scolding you. “How dare you talk about my precious chips as if they’re nothing more than a mere snack! They’re in a league of their own, they deserve an entire meal dedicated to them --”

“Okay, shrimp boy,” you had amended, your brow furrowing in adorable concern. You had rounded the island and went to the cupboard, withdrawing with a box of pasta. “Hold your horses and I’ll whip up some pasta. Don’t make yourself sick on those.”

The smell of takeout permeated the car, to the point where Jun couldn’t even smell it over the vanilla scentsy you had gotten him. It took far too long for Jun to get to the apartment, and every time the light switched to red Jun wanted to just slam his foot down on the pedal and speed through the intersection.

But he didn’t.

The man with the french bulldog was walking the dog around the parking lot when he pulled in, and gave Jun a short wave in greeting. Spotting the takeout bags in Jun’s hands, he called out, “Must be your night to make supper!”

Ignoring how misogynistic that seemed and how Jun was the one to primarily make your meals, Jun gave the man a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, haha. Nothing like takeout on a Friday night!”

“Tell your sweetheart I said hi!”

Again neglecting to correct the man, Jun made his way into the building. He greeted the old woman who always sat in the foyer because you always greeted her, remembering how you once commented on how she must live alone or feel lonely, to spend her entire day in the front watching people come and go.

Jun took the elevator on the right, despite knowing that you didn’t trust that particular elevator and all the squeaking and moaning it did. He felt bad for the next person who would use the elevator, knowing they would smell nothing but delicious Chinese food.

As Jun shoved his key into the hole to unlock your apartment door, he got the distinct feeling that something was off. He didn’t know how he knew, but Jun knew without even stepping foot into the apartment that something was wrong.

This didn’t dissuade him; instead he hurried in, calling out for you as soon as the door was open.

“I’m home! Food is acquired and ready for consumption as soon as you are!”

He kicked off his shoes, ignoring the shoe rack you had insisted on buying, and made his way to the kitchen. He set the takeout on the island, peering around the apartment for you.

As it was Friday, the apartment was slightly a mess. Socks littered the floor, and Jun spotted your pants near the corner of the couch. He entered the space, noting the nearly-empty bottles of vodka and pineapple juice. There was an empty bag of chips -- his shrimp chips.

He called out your name again, rounding the couch. The living room blankets were in complete disarray, and your laptop was propped up on the coffee table. There were a few crumbs on the couch, and Jun spotted a muffin wrapper on the floor.

“Wen Junhui!”

Arms were suddenly around his middle, pulling him back and squeezing. Jun immediately knew it was you, and turned in your arms. You were already grinning up at him, slightly too-wide and with eyes that glittered brighter than usual.

“Junnie,” you whined, pitching forward and burrowing your face into his chest. Bewildered, but slowly coming to a realization, Jun wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you to him. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he agreed. You tightened your grip around his waist, leading him into a swaying motion. “Are you okay?”

You pouted, resting your chin on his chest in order to look up at him. “No. I had a bad day. And I’m drunk.”

You may be drunk, Jun acknowledged, but you were no less beautiful than when he left you. You were smiling at him like he was your favorite person on the planet, as if he was the person most dear to you, as if he was someone you treasured and loved, and Jun couldn’t help but giggle and bend down to press a swift kiss to your forehead.

“Yes,” he laughed a little. “You are drunk. I brought food home.”

You gasped, mouth gaping and eyes widening dramatically. “For me?”

“For you!”

Squealing, you burrowed your face into his chest. He hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart was threatening to leap from it. “You’re amazing! You’re the bestest!”

Squeezing you one last time, Jun reluctantly pulled himself away. While he loved hugging and loving you, and would gladly do nothing but that for days on end, you were drunk and vulnerable. “No, you’re the bestest.”

You frowned at him as he untangled himself, whining. Jun couldn’t help but coo at you, reaching out and pressing your cheeks together. You were so fucking cute.

“Noooo,” you protested, hands reaching up to cover his. “Youuuuuu!”

“I greatly disagree,” Jun said. He pressed another kiss to your forehead and pulled away. He rounded you, hands going to your shoulders, and began guiding you towards the kitchen.

Jun was careful to make sure you didn’t hit a hand or foot on the couch leg, gentle and slow enough to ensure you weren’t going to stumble. All the while you were chattering to him, telling Jun about a show you had watched as a child.

“I don’t know that show,” he admitted, guiding you to sit down at the island. He left your side to return to the takeout, pulling the boxes out of the bag and setting them on the counter. He then went to the dishwasher and pulled out chopsticks. “I grew up in China, remember?”

“Ooh,” you said, eyes wide. It reminded him of Bambi, almost, how innocent and sweet you seemed like this. You were always sweet, he knew, but there was something especially child-like about you when you were like this. “I forgot.”

Jun set your chopsticks in front of you. He then went to the cupboard and withdrew two cups, quickly filling them with water and setting them down on the island. “It’s okay. We can always watch that show later.”

You nodded somberly, puffing out your cheeks. He couldn’t help but grin at how intently you were watching him open up the takeout boxes, your eyes taking in his every move. Jun picked up his chopsticks and clicked them at you once, watching your eyes focus, before reaching for the box of noodles.

“Hey!” You snapped, reaching out and smacking his hand. Jun startled, dropping a blob of noodles on the counter. “Where did you grow up! In a barn? We use plates when eating in this apartment, young man!”

“Yessir!” Jun returned, roughly saluting at you. He stood up and went to the dishwasher, and when he set down two plates you gave him a sharp nod of approval.

“Good.” You glanced down at the mess of noodles. Frowning, you hopped down from the barstool.

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up your mess, Mr. Junhui,” you slurred, rounding the island to grab paper towels. He couldn’t help but laugh at the serious look on your face, as if he had committed a serious wrong.

He was going to clean it, of course, after your meal. But he said nothing as you walked to his elbow and leaned against his arm, reaching and collecting the fallen noodles. “Dirty boy.”

Jun nodded, still smiling. “Yes, I’m a dirty boy, aren’t I?”

You returned his nod, still serious. “But you’re my dirty boy.”

Suddenly feeling his heart warm with affection and adoration, Jun inclined his head. “Yes. I’m your boy.”

Satisfied, you tossed the noodles and paper towel into the sink and returned to your seat. You brought the plate between yourself and the boxes, and Jun watched as you, very carefully, lifted your chopsticks and grabbed the box of sesame chicken.

Even as the two of you ate, you were speaking. Jun listened as you talked about this woman at work who did nothing but complain about her children and husband, but then also said she was trying for a fourth, and how you didn’t think she had ever said a single nice thing about her family since you’ve met her.

Then you were frowning seriously at Jun, pointing at him with your chopsticks. “We won’t end like that no matter what, right, Junnie?”

“Right, darling.”

You set your chopsticks down on the table, reaching out with your other hand. Your hand wrapped around Jun’s cup and brought it to your lips. “Wait -- that’s my cup, I’ve already drank from it, it has my cooties.”

Jun watched you pause for a few seconds, eyeing him over the rim of the cup. And then you raised it to your lips and gulped it.

“There,” you said, sighing in satisfaction. “Now I have your cooties.”

You then opened up the steamed vegetables, delight taking over your features. Jun continued eating as you shifted through the vegetables, picking out the broccoli and placing each piece on his plate. Jun ate them dutifully, shoving each piece into his mouth.

“Careful,” you scolded, “you’ll choke.”

Jun watched as you then set down your chopsticks on the counter, the metal clinking against the surface. You pointed at him, peering at him with an extremely serious look on your face that didn’t really suit the situation and had Jun fighting to keep his smile off of his face.

“Listen here, Wen Junhui,” you slowly began, brows furrowing. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to not stuff your mouth. But I’m serious. Choking is not a joke. It’s not fun. Have you ever been choked before?”

You had begun gesturing with your hands during your little speech, and at the end of your statement you waved your hand and sent your cup tumbling.

Jun jumped up, rushing for the paper towels and rounding the island. You were blinking at the water even as it dripped into your lap, and Jun shoved away the cuteness of how you looked, confused and taken aback, and ushered you off the stoll.

“Oh,” you mumbled, moving.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “we just have a small ocean in our kitchen. I’ll clean it up while you get changed out of your pants.”

He spun a few too many towels from the roll, focusing on turning the cup upright and wiping down the counter before moving onto the mess on the floor. You were still muttering to yourself, and it wasn’t until you made a small “oh” sound, followed by the sound of something hitting the wall, did Jun turn around.

You were standing in front of him, legs completely bare and leggings sitting sadly on the floor from where you had thrown them against the wall. For a moment Jun couldn’t help but look -- look at your thighs and take in the shape of them, the color; his eyes trailed down over your knee and to your legs, taking in the spots where you had attempting waxing and given up halfway through, leaving bald patches on your leg surrounded by hair.

But fuck, if he didn’t want to wrap his hand around your leg and guide it around his waist, pull you tight against him and feel your body pressed against his.

“Staring is rude,” you said, flapping your hand towards Jun.

“Mm,” he hummed, turning his back to you. Jun dropped to the floor, beginning on the small puddle that had formed. “I won’t mention all the staring you do at me when I get out of the shower, then.”

“That’s not fair, though,” you argued. Jun stood, knees cracking, and watched as you stomped your foot. The fat of your thighs jiggled at the movement, and he wanted to dig his fingers into your flesh and see how it molded around his digits. “You know what you look like.”

“I do?”

“Irresistible,” you said matter-of-factly.

He echoed you, the word and its implications not really registering with him until he said it himself. And then the little light in Jun’s head flicked on, and he squinted at you.

It wasn’t like you made it a habit to be drunk; you didn’t. In the years Jun’s known you, in the years he’s been your roommate, he’s only seen you properly drunk a handful of times. But he knows what you’re like when you’re drunk: you’re giggly, silly, and honest.

“Alcohol is like a truth serum for me,” you had told him after a few weeks of meeting. “Get me drunk and I’ll tell you anything. It’s why I can’t be President: I’d reveal all the State secrets.”

And sure enough, Jun found out that when you were drunk, you were incredibly honest. He could ask you any question he wanted and you would answer. He had once tested this by asking you if you had ever lied to your grandma before. Sober you had frowned at him and shook your head, saying you had nothing to really lie about; drunk you had bursted into tears, sobbing about how you had lied to her about your whereabouts on your 21st birthday by saying you had been safely drinking with your friends at their apartment instead of being out at clubs.

So: drunk you was as honest as you could get. You weren’t inherently dishonest, but all of the little things you were ashamed of or kept secret bubbled out.

Irresistible.

Truthfully, Jun wanted to poke at this some more. He wanted to ask you to elaborate, and he knew that if he was quiet for much longer you would elaborate yourself.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

It felt wrong doing that. You trusted him. You trusted him when you were sick, when you were drunk, when you were in tears; you trusted Jun when you were at your most vulnerable, and taking advantage of you in this state, even to just question you about your feelings towards him, was wrong.

Jun instead began talking, filling up the empty space with his own chatter in order to get your mind off of him in the shower. He narrated what he was doing as he did it, loudly, speaking everything as it appeared in his mind.

“I’m going to throw away these towels. I know you don’t mind it when I leave wrappers around, because you do it too, but I know you hate it when dirty things are left. Like I remember you scolding Seungcheol for leaving his sweaty undershirt in our bathroom.

“Gosh, I’m going to have to take the trash down next time I leave the apartment. I know you don’t mind doing it, but I also know you don’t like it particularly either. I’m okay with that. You do enough for me, I don’t mind doing this.”

Jun rounded the counter once more, reaching out for you. You went easily, hugging yourself close to him. Despite the alcohol you had drank, you still smelled like you: fresh linen, oranges and lemons, the sort of things that reminded Jun of home. His favorite smells in the world.

He swooped down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, smoothing your hair away from your face. You blinked up at him lazily at the gesture, eyes taking just a moment too long to open. “Ooh, are you my tired baby?”

You hummed, nodding sleepily. Then you opened your eyes, your arms going over Jun’s to wrap around him in return. “Yes. Your baby.”

Jun tapped his hands against your lower back, leading you into a sway. You complied easily, grinning and rocking back and forth. Your warmth was pressed against his front, your weight in his arms a comforting one.

Sometimes he felt selfish for having you like this. Like he was keeping you from someone, like he was wrong for keeping you a secret from the world, keeping you up here in your shared apartment.

Sometimes it felt wrong, leading you into a dance during the late evening, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead. But the thing was, Jun wasn’t stupid.

You didn’t share an apartment with someone for nearly five years without there being something. You didn’t settle into a routine for five years, didn’t spend hundreds of nights pressed together on the couch watching television; didn’t wait up until late in the night for him to return, didn’t welcome his mother and little brother into the apartment with welcoming smiles and hugs.

He didn’t remember the last time you went on a date.

Or: Jun didn’t remember the last time you went on a date that wasn’t with him.

Yes: Jun wasn’t stupid.

He saw it. He saw how you took care of him, how you always made sure his favorite snacks were in the cupboard; how you went out and bought new soles for his shoes when he complained about his back hurting too much; how you looked at him when he wasn’t looking, how your voice always took this gentle tone with him, as if he was someone precious, someone you treasured.

He knew you were in love with him.

Just like he was in love with you.

But actually saying it, actually bridging the gap?

Jun sighed, pulling away. He looked down at you, his darling sweetheart with sparkling eyes. He brushed your hair back away from your forehead. “Let’s go find you some pants, baby.”

You blinked up at him, seemingly unable to process. Then you pouted, lips poking out and eyes furrowing.

Oh, how cute you were --

“‘m not cute,” you childishly protested. You blinked again, and Jun felt his heart plummet when your eyes took on a red hue and tears began to swell.

“Baby!” He gasped, hands moving to hold your cheeks. Jun brushed away the tears that began to drop with the tip of his fingers, feeling concern bubble up within him. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“You just --” A little sob left you, and you threw yourself forward and into his arms. Jun stumbled back at the sudden addition of your weight, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You nuzzled into him. “You just take such good care of me, Junnie.”

Jun chuckled, squeezing your shoulder. “I’m just returning --”

You shook your head against his chest. He reached up and brushed your hair back again, revealing a single red eye and tear tracks on your cheeks. “You don’t understand, Junnie! You -- you’re so good and handsome and sweet and silly, and I love you so much.”

His heart thudded against his ribcage; he was scared it was going to burst from his chest entirely.

Jun smiled down at you nonetheless, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. “And I love you.”

“No,” you shook your head again. “You don’t understand. I love you. Like. Like Captain Ri loves Seri.”

Jun’s heart flew out of his chest and left the building. It fucking flew away, soared through the sky and and rounded the earth. As a matter of fact, it took his brain with him, and the two decided to fly up to the moon and wave at the stars.

“You -- like. Like marry me levels of like?”

“Yes,” you sighed, as if he was dull. “We’re gonna move out of the apartment because we can’t have cats and then move into a little townhouse and adopt two of them so they don’t get lonely, and I’m gonna buy you a ring to match mine and we’ll share a bed and I love you so much.”

Jun’s heart returned to his chest and was fluttering and acting as if it were a butterfly trapped within his ribcage; his brain, however, was still up with the moon and sun.

Then you grinned up at him, tear tracks still visible against your cheeks. “Dude, we should adopt like, twelve cats.”

And he remembered the bottle of nearly-empty vodka, the spilled water, and his sensibilities. You were drunk, and while you were an honest drunk, it wasn’t fair of him to do this.

It wasn’t fair of Jun to pester you further, to make you unravel all your secrets; not when you were vulnerable like this. No matter how much he wanted to, how much he yearned to know about the sincerity of your words, he couldn’t.

Jun pressed a kiss to your forehead again, closing his eyes and exhaling. He felt you mirror him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Love it when you give me kissies,” you mumbled against him.

“Well, I love kissing you.”

You blinked owlishly up at him, mouth agape. “Really?”

He laughed, both hands going to cup your cheeks and hold your face so he could press another kiss to your forehead. “Really, darling.”

Your smile was brighter than any star or sun in the universe. If you were sober, Jun would swoop down and press a kiss to your lips, but alas.

Instead he began guiding you towards your room. “I think we should get some pants on, don’t you? Wouldn’t want you getting cold. I heard that if you get too cold you turn into a penguin, no joke.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Jun returned, reaching over to turn on the light of your room. Your room was messy, proof of how hard of a time you’ve been having lately. Clothes were strewn about, and your blankets were in a tangled mess. One of your pillows was on the foot of your bed, and your precious stuffed koala Jun had gotten you during one of his and Joshua’s dates to the fair was on the floor.

“People don’t turn into penguins, Junnie,” you said.

“They do if they’re cold,” Jun said. He left you standing in the doorway, moving to your dresser and pulling out a pair of sweats. “That’s how we got penguins. They’re just evolved from cold people.”

You were squinting at him when he returned. Jun held out your pants for a few moments, but you made no move to grab them from him. Finally you took your pants, holding out your hand; he offered his arm, and you held onto Jun as you slowly stepped into your pants one foot at a time.

“I want you to know that I know you’re making this up,” you told Jun.

Jun laughed, shoulders shaking. He ducked his head, blonde bangs obscuring his vision. Your grip on his arm eased, and your other hand was smoothing back his bangs and revealing his eyes once more.

“There you are,” you cooed at him, “my pretty boy.”

Then you yawned, wide enough to where Jun swore he saw down your throat. Despite seeing that, Jun still felt nothing but love for you as you blinked up at him sleepily, smiling like a dope.

“Okay, why don’t you lay down in your bed?” Jun pulled away, capturing your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers. “I’m going to go get you some water, and then I’ll be back. All right?”

Jun returned to your room a few minutes later, cold cup of water in one hand and headache pills in the other for the morning. Despite the overhead light being on you were splayed out on your bed, face down and limbs going in every direction.

He paused for a second, worried. Then he saw your back slowly move up and down. Assured he hadn’t walked in on a crime scene, Jun continued his way into your room. He set the cup and pills on your bedside table before leaning down and yanking the blankets out from under you.

Grumbling, you rolled over on the bed and allowed Jun to gather the blankets. He took a few seconds to unravel them, and when he did he laid each one over your body.

You hummed in approval as he tucked the blankets around your body, patting your arm and legs as he did so. “All snug?”

“Snug,” you agreed.

Jun grabbed your koala off the ground. He hugged it to his chest, breathing in your scent that had rubbed off on the stuffie. Jun pressed a kiss to the koala’s forehead before setting it on the bed next to you.

Your breathing was completely evened out as he smoothed your hair away from your face. He traced his fingers alongside your temple, your cheek. He ran his pointer finger over your nose, feeling the decline of it. Your lips, feeling the plush flesh give beneath his finger, watching as you subconsciously licked your lips.

God, Jun was a fucking creep.

Jun pressed a kiss to your forehead, finally retreating. He made his way from your bedroom, only pausing when he got to the doorway. Jun hovered his hand over the light switch for a moment, hesitating. And then:

“I love you.”

And the light was switched off.

You were conscious for only a handful of seconds before you were fleeing from the warmth of your bed and sprinting to the bathroom, the pressure of your bladder too great to wait a moment longer.

Jun was laughing loudly through the bathroom door, and you opened it once you were finished washing your hands. Glaring at him, you flicked your still-damp hands at him, splashing him with droplets of water.

“Hey!” He laughed, reeling back a little. His eyes were sparkling, and his pretty pink lips were parted to reveal his grin. “Stop bullying me!”

“You’re the bully,” you mumbled, reaching up and shielding your eyes. Natural sunlight shined through the windows of your living room, reaching into the bathroom and offending your sensitive eyes. You shot Jun a glare as he laughed some more, flicking off the bathroom light and retreating to your room once more.

The sound of footsteps followed you. “I left some medicine by your bed for your headache.”

“Don’t have much of one,” you replied.

“Probably because you’ve slept until three in the afternoon,” Jun returned.

You spun around, eyes wide. Jun was leaning against your door frame, arms crossed over his chest. The sleeves of his grey t-shirt were rolled up to reveal his biceps, which were constantly gaining size as he increased his visits to the gym. His blonde bangs brushed against his eyes, and you couldn’t help but follow their movement as he flicked his head to get them out of his eyes.

“Three?”

“In the afternoon,” Jun finished. You sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs. Jun sat down next to you, though he laid back and let his arms fall above his head. “Should’ve woken me up.”

“I tried, Grumpy,” Jun said. He reached out and tapped you, and you fell back to lay beside him. “Several times.”

“Evidently not hard enough.”

“Next time I’ll play the trumpet, if you want.”

“I guess that’ll work.” You stretched your arms over your head, and when you rested them your pinkie was brushing Jun’s. You tried not to think about it, but every time your fingers brushed it was as if every nerve in your body was concentrated on that one point. “I wasn’t horrible for you last night, was I?”

Jun shook his head. You turned your head slightly to see him already staring at you; when your eyes met, he smiled. “You’re never horrible for me when you’re drunk. Now when you’re sober --”

“Oh, hush,” you said, reaching out and slapping his arm. He let out a small noise of pain, but you ignored it. You shifted onto your side, leaning down and looking at him. “I really didn’t do anything bad?”

Humming, he tilted his head. He moved one hand to rest behind his head, and the other reached up for you. Your eyes fluttered as his hand brushed over your forehead, fingers gliding through your hair. “Nothing bad, but you said some interesting things.”

Fuck.

“Fuck,” you hissed. Your heart began to pick up speed, as if you were standing in front of a thousand people getting ready to perform a song you’d only heard once before. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry!” Jun assured you, his fingers tracing over the shell of your ear. He pinched the lobe of your ear, causing you to wince. “You only confessed that you found me irresistible. And that you love me like Captain Ri and Yoo Seri love each other.”

You furrowed your brow, watching Jun. He stared up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips twisting into a little grin. He looked perfectly at ease, but at the same time, there wasn’t a single hint of true mischief on his face.

“Did I really?” You asked, voice small.

Jun nodded. His fingers dipped underneath your ear and traced your jaw. “Really. It was cute.”

“And?”

His fingers rested on your chin. He shifted his hand, and then his fingers were brushing against your lips. You let Jun trace your mouth, still leaning over him, heart beginning to calm. Jun’s touch was easing your nerves, and his apparent acceptance and serenity soothed you into following suit.

This was what often happened, you knew. Jun and you were both introverts; you didn’t like new situations. You hated crowds, hated the loudness of them and how close everyone stood together; you hated the unknown. But then when Jun was beside you, his features neutral and seemingly unbothered, it did something to you. It was as if his tranquility tricked your anxiousness, leaked into your soul and tamed the rough seas.

“And,” Jun murmured, “I love you.”

It was like when you found a blanket at the store and sunk your fingers into it, the feeling of smooth softness encompassing your digits completely. But instead of just your fingers it was your entire soul.

It wasn’t a big revelation, you thought; not a huge unknown that needed to be answered.

It was just another fact of life, you figured as you lowered your head to Jun’s. He shifted, elbows pressing into your mattress, raising himself to you. It was just another fact. The sun was yellow, the moon was white, the ocean is big and Wen Junhui loves you.

With your lips pressed to his, you had one last fleeting thought before his mouth consumed yours entirely: now you didn’t have to feel bad about not correcting the Aunties at the restaurant about him being your boyfriend.

#!!!!!!!!!#my fic #was going to publish this last night but my phone fucked it up #jun #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun x reader #svt jun x reader #moon junhui x reader #wen junhui x reader #svt #svt x reader #svt fic #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt jun #my writing

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