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nereidprinc3ss · 27 days

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do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

part one | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were.

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you.

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive.

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later.

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost.

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go.

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question.

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you.

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet.

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong.

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours.

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms.

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close.

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want.

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel.

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart.

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you.

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you.

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure.

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger.

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes.

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies.

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch.

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes.

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way.

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak.

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear.

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you.

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to.

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him.

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise.

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important.

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra.

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him.

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked.

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands.

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Not right now,” he agrees.

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides.

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown.

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range.

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff.

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight.

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles.

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing.

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs.

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought.

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning.

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you.

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together.

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles.

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage.

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair.

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess.

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you.

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you.

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this?

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself.

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches.

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply.

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone.

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck.

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him.

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff.

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again.

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod.

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze.

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction.

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him.

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions.

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core.

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry.

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious.

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest.

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him.

Thankfully, he delivers.

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl.

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you.

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds.

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second.

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh.

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer.

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit.

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light.

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous.

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning.

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan.

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it.

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection.

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core.

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first.

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen.

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

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lovebugism · 3 months

Note

shy! reader request: eddie & reader having their first sleepover? reader bein all cautious about her actions and if it’s ok and eddie seeing this just lifts up the blankets to the bed to welcome her in to snuggle :)

love love love this request! hope you enjoy :D — eddie tries to make his shy!gf feel at home in his trailer (fluff, new relationship hijinks, 2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Despite what people say, Eddie Munson does not drive like a maniac.

Correction— Eddie Munson doesn’t drive like a maniac when there’s a pretty girl in his van.

Even though you’re pretty much the first girl to be in his van period (and even though you wouldn’t consider yourself all that pretty), you’re glad to be an exception to the rule. Your panoply of anxieties couldn’t have handled anything more than the passably steady car ride from Benny’s Burgers to Forest Hills.

You don’t mean to let out a sigh of relief when he parks in his driveway.

Eddie grins and unlatches his seatbelt with a soft click at the same time you do. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks with eyes just as wild as his hair.

You shake your head with your lips pursed to the side, then peer at him from beneath your lashes. “After everything Steve said, I was expecting a lot worse,” you confess. And even though you duck away from him, Eddie can still see the small smile on your petaled mouth. Just as quiet as you are.

“Well, one, don’t listen to anything Steve says, okay? Like, ever,” Eddie cajoles lightheartedly. “And two, I don’t drive crazy when I have precious cargo sitting next to me, alright? Stevie’s just jealous ‘cause I think you’re prettier than he is.”

Your nose scrunches as you try to worm your way out of his compliment. “So you think Steve’s pretty?” you tease, already knowing the answer.

He scoffs. “Totally! Just not pretty like you. And don’t tell him I said that either— It’ll just go to his hair.”

The incorrect turn of phrase makes you giggle.

He turns his knees towards the door and curls his fingers around the latch. “Wait for me a second, will ya?” you hear him mumble before he hops to the ground. He slams the door shut behind him and rounds the hood on his way to you — sneakers crunching against the gravel, momentarily aglow with yellow headlights.

He’d done this before at the diner. You wait patiently for his arrival like you did then, even though you feel a bit silly doing so. You’re more than capable of getting out yourself, but Eddie always insists.

He opens the passenger side door for you with a tightlipped, lopsided grin and holds his free hand out towards you. His fingers are larger and much warmer than yours as they wrap around your palm to guide you out.

The van isn’t that high up off the ground, really. He just likes to hold your hand.

You don’t mind it, though. You’ll take any opportunity to hold him back.

He leads you up the driveway and inside the trailer with his hand entwined with yours. “Wayne’s not here?” you murmur when you’re finally inside, noticing how quiet and empty the place is.

Though maybe empty’s not the right word. The place is filled with stuff — old furniture, a collection of mugs, and various other necessities. Not a mess, just an organized chaos of miscellaneous clutter. It feels like a home. Like a place that’s been lived in.

“No. He’s at work. Graveyard shift,” Eddie answers, tossing his keys onto the coffee table with a high-pitched clack.

He starts to shrug off his leather jacket and notices how squirrelly you seem, all skittish with your face twisted with a distant worry. Your neck twitches softly, head tilting once to the side and back up again. Your quiet concern becomes his own.

His brows raise, hidden beneath his curly bangs, as he slides the fabric down his tattooed arms. “Is that okay?” he wonders, eyes wide and twinkling with apprehension.

“Yeah!” you answer, louder and quicker than you mean to. You’re obviously overcompensating, but you shrug it off anyway. You smile sweetly at him, even though it wavers at the edges, and tilt your cheek to your shoulder. “I was just— It was just a question.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“‘Cause it’s okay if you don’t wanna stay the night,” Eddie assures you, giving you an out so you don’t have to make one yourself. “It’s whatever, you know? Give me the word, and I’ll take you back home. I’ll just spend the night all alone… In an empty trailer… In bed all by myself…”

His quiet smirk widens to a broader beam when he nears you. His pale hands curl around your arms, the faded bats below his thumb sitting neatly outside your elbow.

He’s joking, of course. Well, not about the taking you home part, but about all the rest of it.

He thinks he’d die if he ever made you feel anything less than totally safe. Dying would feel easier, at least. He’d never make you feel bad about being anxious, or coerce you into hiding your feelings for his sake. He cares about you far too much for any of that.

So his tense heart rests a bit when you smile.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, quiet but still sincere.

The boy brightens all at once. Excited in such an innocent, boyish way. “So I get to kiss you all night long?” he wonders in a disbelieving murmur.

“Only if you want,” you answer with burning cheeks and clammy hands.

“Well, I do want… I want very much…”

He kisses you then, until your lungs run out of air. Standing together in the middle of his living room, lit by so many yellow lamps, with the croaking of frogs and the chittering of crickets sounding in the navy blue night.

He pulls away sometime after. Maybe a second. Maybe an eon or more. He recovers from being so ardently kissed much quicker than you do and guides you down the short hallway to the single bedroom. You still feel the imprint of his mouth against yours, like he’s still there.

Your lips tingle with longing, grieving the lack of him.

You still make him turn around before you change, though.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he teases from the very center of his mattress, right before turning onto his stomach and shoving his face into the pillow.

“It’s different,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you slide the sleeves of your dress down your shoulders. The fabric falls to the carpeted floor in a puddle at your feet. You make quick work of redressing, as though there were some kinda time limit to what you had asked of him.

“I know,” he replies, muffled into the cushion his cheek is smushed against. “You’re still pretty, though.”

“You can’t even see me,” you argue and slide a pair of frilly sleep shorts over your thighs.

“I’d still think you were pretty even if I never saw you again.”

“Jeez,” you laugh, shoving your head through the neckline of a band-tee older than you are.

“…That sounded kinda morbid, huh?”

You giggle again. This time because his voice is still smothered into the pillow, stifled and utterly faint. “Just a little,” you answer.

“Well, it was supposed to be a compliment.”

“I know. You can turn around now.”

Eddie lifts his wild head and peeks at you over his shoulder, one eye squinted shut just in case he heard you wrong.

You’re less dressed up than before, but still as pretty as you were ten minutes ago.

The subtle domesticity of seeing you in pajamas makes his chest ache. It’s like doing laundry or making a shopping list — something so utterly mundane that’s so strikingly tender.

“Pretty,” Eddie mumbles some moments later, when his brain forgets every word but that one.

“Shut up.”

Your hands wring together as you idle at his bedside, like you need some kinda invitation to come closer. Your head tilts again, a gentle swaying of your head that seems almost involuntary.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Eddie wonders with a soft pink, inquisitive grin.

‘Cause this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. You did it earlier, when you first walked in, and a couple times at the dinner. Like when you catch him staring or after he’s complimented you. It’s almost like you have some genuine aversion to his affection.

“Doing what?” you murmur, all innocent.

Eddie swings his legs off the side of the mattress, socked feet melting into the carpet. His parted thighs are enough of an invitation as you settle intently between them.

“That thing with your neck,” he answers when he’s fully upright. “The uh…” He replicates it for you, drops his cheek to his shoulder and brings it back up again. He doubts he looks nearly as cute as you do doing it.

You get so self-aware that your stomach starts to ache. “I don’t know,” you answer through the frog in your throat. “I do that sometimes, I guess— When I get nervous. I can’t really help it.”

“Nervous?” Eddie echoes, face twisted with sudden anguish. His hands reach for your wringing ones. He musters a shaking smile up at you. “Babe— Why are you nervous?”

You dig your bare feet into the carpet, shifting your weight and ducking your gaze like a nervous child. “‘Cause I haven’t slept over before. And I don’t really know what to… do. Like, what if I snore really loud? Or drool a lot? What if I accidentally punch you in my sleep or something?”

Eddie doesn’t mean to laugh in the face of your genuine worries, but it spills out before he can stop it. It’s so like you to stress yourself sick over something that’s about as likely to happen as getting struck by lightning.

“I’d probably like you more, honestly,” he answers, giving your clammy hands a gentle squeeze. His nose scrunches until the edges of his eyes crinkle. “You’re too perfect. You need something to humble you.”

“Don’t be nice to me, I’m being serious.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can sleep on the couch. Or on the floor or something—”

“It’s your house, Eds.”

“Well, I’m not making you sleep on the couch, and especially not on the floor. Even if I was that big of an asshole, I think Uncle Wayne would kill me.” He grows suddenly serious a second later. Still smiling, but with something more earnest in his eyes. “But… I do think we’d be more comfortable, you know, in a bed. Together.”

He’s right, but it doesn’t mean you’re happy about it. Not because you don’t want to sleep in the same bed as him, but because you’re too anxious to let yourself enjoy a good thing.

“I’m just bad at sleepovers, I think,” you confess in a tiny voice, like that fact isn’t utterly obvious now. “Like, one time, I was at a friend’s house in middle school, and I used a poster as a blanket ‘cause I was too scared to ask for a real one.”

Eddie’s smile widens. The rose petal expression blooms so large it makes his cheeks hurt.

“Of course, you did,” the boy says with a shake of his head, frizzy curls swaying around the outsides of his jaw. “You’re so damn cute, you know that?”

You make a vague, grumbly noise of disdain right before Eddie wraps you in his arms. He pulls you softly down until you’re sitting on his jean-clad thighs, then buries his face into your shoulder. You smell like the soap you showered with and the burgers you ate and the perfume you put on just for him.

Eddie presses his lips there, to your collarbone, where the neckline of your shirt has dipped slightly down. He lingers there for a moment, then pulls away with a soft smack.

“I promise to make this the best damn sleepover you’ve ever had in your life,” he promises, muffled from where his nose is smushed into your neck.

“Yeah?” you mumble into the curls tickling your chin.

He nods, still pressed against you. “And I promise to tuck you in before bed so you don’t have to go using my posters as blankets, either.”

You push him away with a half-hearted hand. His boyish laughter paints the tiny bedroom golden. He pulls you back a second later, and you melt into him without thinking twice.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: bug turns one

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help-itrappedmyself · 1 month

Text

Dead on Main Part 9

My apology for the earlier mishap. Hope you like it!

Masterpost

A few hours later, a fourth of the way home, they start arguing about who should drive the next shift. There seem to be two main arguments. The first is between Dick and Bruce on whether Bruce even needs a break.The second is between Dick and Tim about who should take over for Bruce.

Bruce has been driving for four hours, and it’s now about midnight, so he should take a break to sleep. Dick had napped for about an hour after the panicked stop when Jason’s ectoplasm had gone haywire, and he was the only one who had slept so far. He’s winning the argument between him and Bruce. Because he was the only one who had napped so far, and apparently Tim had been awake for a terrible amount of time, Dick is also winning the argument between him and Tim.

Danny is pretty sure even sleep deprived most people would drive better than his father, and he doesn’t have a driver’s license so he keeps quiet. It’s funny how intense they get in their arguments without ever becoming serious. Danny appreciates that no matter how intense they get there’s never any anger in their voices.

“Tim, you haven’t slept more than five hours in the last two days, you are not driving this car. There is no way you are driving this car. Neither of us are going to let you.”

“Bruce has been awake for 23 hours straight!” Tim argues.

“Which is why Bruce should also not be driving anymore!”

“Tim you are definitely not driving, go to sleep. Dick, If we switch drivers we have to stop and we can’t afford to stop and waste time. We’ll switch drivers when we need gas next.” Bruce states rationally. Danny thinks this is a good argument really.

“If we crash and die we’ll also waste time.” Tim points out, sulking.

“Switching drivers will take all of two seconds and so help me If I am not driving in the next two minutes I am commandeering the radio for the rest of the trip and you know neither of you will be able to stop me.”

Danny isn’t sure why that is so serious of a threat, but that shut both Bruce and Tim up immediately. Bruce pulls over and they do a quick seating change. Since Bruce and Tim need to sleep so one of them can drive later, Danny switches into the passenger seat while Dick slips into the driver's seat. That way Bruce and Tim can stretch out in the back.

“What do you listen to that they dislike so much?” Danny asks a little later. Danny can’t tell if either of them are sleeping, but neither of them have moved at all in the last ten minutes. He’s quiet just in case.

“I mean, I like a lot of music. They just know that I can put on circus music for hours. I grew up in a circus, so I'll even enjoy doing it. It annoys them after like three songs at most though.”

Danny has a moment where all he can think of is Freakshow’s circus, but he shakes it off.

“Did all of you grow up in the circus?” Danny could have sworn Bruce was more like Vlad. Grew up wealthy, ran a business (less illegally, he thinks, but that's not hard considering), and went to parties and stuff. Dick laughs at his question.

“No, only me, I’m afraid.” Dick glances at the back seat, before refocusing on the road. “Bruce adopted all of us, except for Damian. But even Damian grew up with his mother before coming to live with Bruce. So all of us have very different upbringings actually. Circus for me. Jason was next, he had a hard life before Bruce found him, and after too. He’s been through a lot. Tim had rich parents, they loved him but weren't around much. Duke was adopted after his parents died but he was raised by both of them, he had the most normal life growing up.”

“Tim and Damian both found Bruce more than the other way around. Damian’s mom… loves him a lot, but she was in a dangerous situation and wanted Damian to be safe. So she dropped him off with us.” You could hear the love in Dick’s voice as he spoke about his family.

“Your family seems happy. Nice. I mean, you all dropped everything to drive me home. I appreciate it.” Danny thought carefully for a moment, he didn't want to learn too much second hand. He'd rather get to know Jason personally. But some things only family can tell you. “Do you think Jason and I will get along? From what I've heard I know we have similar senses of humor, at least relating to our own deaths. And, well, we have that experience to bond over. But our lives seem like they've been very different.”

Dick’s face softens. “I think that Jason has spent his whole life fighting. For anything and everything. He's not going to stop now. You guys’ll figure it out.”

Danny looks at him. “Have you met your soulmate?”

Dick’s whole face lights up. “I have. We knew each other before the switch, but.. it was still a lot of drama and awkwardness at first. I think Bruce almost had a heart attack when it happened, and then an aneurysm when he found out who it was. That was hilarious.”

Dick glances at Danny, saw him biting his lip and twisting his hands together, eyes in his lap. “We had met, but we still had a lot to learn about each other. Getting to know him has been one of the best parts of my life. He’s my best friend.”

Dick reaches over and ruffles Danny’s hair. “Why don't you try to sleep Danny. You'll be meeting him soon.”

Danny nodded, giving Dick a light smile and settling himself into his chair.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dead on main #soulmate au #fanfiction #my writing #danny phantom #jason todd

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taylormarieee · 6 months

Text

~Were supposed to hate each other right?~ Carl Grimes

Request: Would you do a Carl x Reader, where Carl and Reader dislike each other a lot and then gets lost together on a scavenging trip, so they finally have to spend the night in an abandoned hotel or something similar and to unwillingly share a bed and it ends up with them having sex? can you add that the mood of the two of them the next morning is very strange and embarrassed and they don't know how to deal with each other now?

Pairing: Carl Grimes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: PiV sex, Shy Carl, Shy Reader, Awkwardness, Teasing, lots of cuss words, reader and Carl don't like each other, dry humping, needy Carl, needy reader.

You and Carl didn't like each other at all! It was not a new thing to the group.

Ever since they stepped foot in Alexandria, you just found him so stuck up because he knew all about killing walkers and surviving.

Well let's not forget how you were out in the wild too, trying to survive and not get bit just like them.

The only difference is you had no group. So you hated when he acted like he knew better and was so much smarter then you in survival skills.

You two were both out on a run instructed by Rick and Carol for you too to get along.

You rolled your eyes but didn't complain, Carl on the other hand...

"This is such bullshit! Why do I have to drive in a god damn car with this annoying ass brat?!" He complains.

"Watch your mouth!" Rick yells at his son.

"Seriously dad?" He asks.

"I am very serious. I don't know what it is with you two but lemme get this straigh through your stubborn teenage heads. You two will go on this run, find supplies, and get along. I don't give a damn if you guys fake to like each other." Rick yells.

"People can't stand to work with you two because all you guys constantly do is bicker. Carol's tired of it, i'm tired of it, hell Daryl's tired of it! So shut your mouths and go!" Rick continues irritated before walking off.

"Damn, I've never seen him that angry." You say. You look at Carl and he speaks.

"Well at least we both agree on something." he says before walking off to go find a car.

You follow behind him and you both get in the car. Rosita opens the gate and Carl speeds off.

You each brought a bag off supplies and food just incase you get stranded.

You both silently sit in the car not speaking to one another. You constantly glance at Carl.

"What?" He asks rolling his eyes. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to respond.

"What do you mean? I'm not doing anything." You respond already annoyed.

"You keep looking at me, do you think I'm pretty or something? Stop staring." He says keeping his eyes on the road.

Your face gets hot as you look down at your fingers. You quickly shut down the smile slowly starting to appear on your face.

"Ew! What!? No, I hate you remember. You're ugly anyways." You respond staring out the window.

You feel the car shaking. You think it's just the gravel until the car completely stops moving. It slowly comes to a stop in front of a hotel.

"Damn it! The car ran out of gas. I guess this is where will be staying for a little while. A herd is coming up anyways. Quick let's get inside. Maybe we can find something." Carl says.

You both grab your stuff and quickly but quietly sneak into the hotel before the herd sees you.

You guys find a room on the first floor and get settled. You notice that the room only has one bed.

"Carl, this room only has one bed." You state. He looks around and groans.

"Well you take this and i'll take the room next door then." He responds.

"All the keys are gone except this one. This key was left in the door. You can't open the rest." You respond, "Plus we have to stick together incase anything bad happens. We are sharing a bed wether you like it or not." You say.

"Quit whining like a baby." You add with a smug smile on your face.

Carl rolls his eyes and mutters a curse word under his breath. You both get comfortable and turn your body's far away from each other as possible.

During your slumber to feel Carl moving in his sleep. You were about to kick Carl when you hear him whimper.

'Maybe he was having a nightmare', you thought. But then he whimpered your name and you froze.

He turned his body and grabbed you waist pulling you closer to him. That's when you fell it.

The stiff feeling of his cock inside his jeans begging to be released.

He was having a wet dream about you! This is not real, it can't be, you thought.

You tried your hardest not to move but he kept rubbing himself against you.

"C-Carl." You whimper out. He moans again and grinds himself harder against you.

"Carl!" You whisper shout. He stirs awake, realizing how close he is to you. He quickly scoots away just staring at you in the dimly lit room.

You turn to face him with your hand down you pants desperately looking at him.

Carl is breathing heavily waiting for consent to touch you again, to feel you again.

"I need you Carl." Those 4 words were all he needed before his lips crashed on yours.

You moan into him and quickly go to take of his pants. He lifts your shirt up exposing you belly.

You successfully pull his pants down to his feet before lifting of your shirt.

You fondle with the button on your pants as Carl takes off his shirt and drops his pants and boxers on the floor.

You finally manage to take of your pants and discard them with the rest of the clothes on the floor.

Carl and You are both so needy that he doesn't even have time to prepare you for his length. You don't care anyway.

He slowly slides into you, the stinging feeling of your walls being stretched felt painful but good at the same time.

You moan out as he enters you and he groans at the feeling of your walls trapping him inside you.

You leave marks on his back from gripping him so hard. He slightly tugs on your hair unknowingly but you are to fazed out in bliss and ecstasy to notice.

He continues his slow pace until he feels himself about to cum.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna cum, c-cum with me please." He whines out. You moan as you feel your orgasm approaching.

"Cum inside me Carl, please!" You cry out. He follows your desperate order and releases his seed inside of you.'

Your orgasm rips through you like a wave. Your whole body shakes and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You ride out your high and you fall limp. Carl's head falls on your shoulder, his body too weak to support his body weight but he tries anyway for the sake of not crushing you.

You both end up falling asleep snuggled up next to each other.

When the morning comes out through the windows. You quickly notice how you and Carl's clothes are on the floor. You quickly get dressed before he wakes up, memories of last night flashing in you mind as you look at the messed up bed.

You hear Carl finally stir awake and you can't even look him in the eye.

You mutter a good morning before walking out of the room with your bag to try and find a new Car.

You finally found a Car after 10 minutes of looking. You drive it back to the hotel to see Carl standing next to the old Car you guys used.

He gets in and it's the quietest car ride back home. You guys don't speak to each other or even look at each other. 'What an awkward moment you', thought.

Taglist: @carlgrimesenthusiast @loveforcarl @carlsdarling

A/N: Thank you @carlsdarling For requesting this and I'm sorry it didn't get posted when I said it would.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #carl grimes smut #twd carl grimes #carl x reader

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mattitties · 4 months

Text

Boyfriend, pt 3 - matt sturniolo

smutty smut smut!

part 1 part 2

“How was the date?” my roommate asks as I go into her room.

All I can do is smile. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy in my life. “I love him,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh jesus. Okay, come sit, tell me everything.”

I sit on her bed and recount the whole night, from him picking me up at the door, to listening to Taylor Swift with me, to me never feeling a moment of awkwardness, and finally, to him kissing me outside the apartment. “Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a boyfriend so any ounce of actual romantic attention is a dream come true but I genuinely think he’s perfect for me,” I tell her.

“He does sound pretty perfect for you…”

“See!”

“But slow ya roll! Take it easy, just don’t rush into anything.” I nod in agreement. I know that there’s still so much to learn about him, but I just feel like I already trust him with my life. It takes me a long time to feel truly comfortable with anyone, but there’s just something about him that makes me feel like I’ve known him forever.

I wake up the next morning later than usual, and to my surprise, I already have a text from him.

Good morning! I had a lot of fun last night :)

I’m about to respond when another text comes through.

Would u wanna grab lunch today? I can pick u up again

I smile to myself and start typing.

good morning!! i had fun too, and i would love to get lunch! what time?

I can get you around 2?

sounds good see you then 😁

I look at the time and panic when I see it’s already 12:30. How the fuck did I sleep so late? I get ready and before I know it, it’s 1:55 and he’s texted me that he’s here. I have to applaud his punctuality, it’s hot as fuck knowing that he actually cares enough to be somewhere on time. God, I really need to raise my standards.

I head downstairs and he’s in the same spot by the door, smiling shyly when he sees me. His fashion sense is immaculate: today he’s wearing black cargo jeans, a black T-shirt, and a white long sleeve underneath. I’m disappointed that he’s not showing off his sleeve of tattoos like last night, but I still can’t stop staring at him.

“Hi,” he smiles, giving me a hug. He smells good, like warm vanilla, and his hug is the most comforting thing in the world at this moment.

“How’ve you been in the last… 12 hours since I saw you?” I ask as we head to the car.

“Oh you know, just been sitting at home twiddling my thumbs until I could see you again. We’re at a three day streak now!” he tells me as he opens the door for me.

I laugh and can’t take my eyes off of him as he makes his way to the driver’s side. “Why’d you wear a long sleeve today? I miss your tattoos,” I fake pout and play with his sleeve.

“Ohhh, you can see those whenever you want, don’t you worry.”

God, he makes me fucking crazy. We start driving, talking about mindless things, and end up at a little diner not too far from my apartment.

“My brothers and I go here all the time, their food is so good,” he tells me as we go inside.

Once we’re seated and have ordered our food, our conversation flows just the same as it did last night, except today we’re talking about stuff that it usually takes me at least a few weeks of knowing someone before I share about. I tell him about my family, he tells me about his and how he’s never been away from his brothers for more than 24 hours, while I tell him that my brothers and I are more like acquaintances and I only ever talk to them about surface level stuff.

“I couldn’t imagine,” he says. “Nick and Chris are like my safety nets. To be honest, tonight and today are the first time I’ve actually gone out to a restaurant without at least one of them in like… 3 years.”

“Really? I actually don’t mind doing stuff alone. I know people hate going out to eat by themselves, but I think I just grew up so independent that I’m comfortable with it. Like, my favorite thing ever is going to the movies, but if I don’t have anyone to go with I’ll just go by myself. I find it peaceful,” I tell him.

“I love going to the movies too, but I could never go by myself. That sounds fucking terrifying,” he says, laughing a bit as he talks.

“I get it,” I say. “Well, would you ever want to go to a movie together? It’s not alone and we both like it, so…”

He smiles. “I would love to. But if you talk in there, I’m out. We’re done. No movie talkers in my presence.”

I shake my head very seriously. “Oh no, absolutely not. Trust me, you won’t hear a peep.”

By the time we finish lunch, it’s only 3:45, and neither of us are ready to go home yet.

He turns to me when we get in the car. “What do you think about that movie right now? I have nothing else going on the rest of the day.”

We arrive at the theater and just pick a movie at random. Neither of us have any real interest in seeing any of the ones they’re showing, but it gives us something to do together. We’re pleasantly surprised when we walk into an empty theater, so we take our seats and make fun of the trailers until the movie starts.

About 30 minutes in, I realize that I have no idea what’s happening in the movie. I’ve been glancing at Matt the whole time, trying to pretend like I don’t see him glancing at me too. I can tell that he wants to hold my hand, wrap his arm around me, just touch me in some way, and I want to just scream at him to do something. It’s all I can think about. I shift up a little in my seat and look at him slightly. He looks at me. Without saying a word, we both know what the other wants.

He takes my cheek softly in his hand and kisses me. I immediately fall into it, our lips moving together effortlessly, our tongues colliding. But I want more. I need more.

“Matt,” I say between kisses. “Can we go back to my place?”

“But the movie isn’t over yet,” he breathes into my mouth.

I pull back slightly and look at him with the same eyes I gave him two nights ago. “Matt. My place. Please?”

His eyes widen. “Oh. Oh.”

I nod and giggle as he grabs my hand and rushes me out of there and back to his car like his life depends on it. Luckily the movie theater is about 5 minutes away from my apartment, and even more luckily my roommate is at work. The tension in the car ride home and in the elevator is so thick I can hardly breathe. As soon as we open the door to my room, his hands are all over me. We’re kissing messier than before; our teeth are clashing, our tongues fighting one another. He walks us towards my bed, dipping his head so his mouth reaches my neck as he begins to kiss, nip, and suck.

“Matt,” I whine.

“Hmmm,” he hums in response, sucking a spot right under my ear. I begin to play with the bottom of his shirt, signaling that I want it off. He smirks and unlatches himself from my neck just long enough to pull it off his body before going back to what he was doing.

“God you’re so hot,” I half whisper as my hands run down from his chest to his happy trail. I grab his face in my hands and kiss him hard, then sit down on the bed and look up at him.

“What do you wanna do?” he teases, knowing exactly what I want. I pull my shirt off, leaving me in a black lace bra, and begin to undo his jeans as he stares down at me.

“Is this okay?” I ask, pulling his zipper down painfully slow.

“Mhm. Yeah, no it’s, um, it’s good,” he says, clearly flustered by what’s happening. And I can’t get enough.

I pull his jeans down and almost drool over his black briefs. I look up at him again for a moment, then palm over his bulge, earning a low groan from him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles as I tear his briefs down as well, and I need to control my face when I see his dick.

It’s not huge, probably about 6 inches, but it’s genuinely perfect. I never thought I’d say that about a dick, but no, it is perfect.

He inhales sharply as I wrap my hand around the tip and begin to work him, my thumb running over his slit every so often. I spit directly down on him as my hand moves down his shaft, and he groans again, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail.

That’s my signal to wrap my lips around him and suck.

“Ohhhh, fuck,” he says, closing his eyes and tilting his head back for a moment before looking back down at me. My mouth takes him deeper and deeper with each suck, and his hips begin to buck toward me.

He didn’t strike me as someone who would be very vocal during sex, but he’s consistently groaning and letting out soft curses.

After just a minute or two of this, he pulls my head off of him.

“Lay down before I cum in your mouth,” he tells me as I move myself back towards the head of the bed and sit back on my elbows. He crawls over me, kissing my neck, chest, and stomach. “This is all I’ve been thinking about for the past 2 days. Can I take this off?” he asks, referring to my bra.

I nod.

“Words, baby.”

“Please take it off,” I whine. He undoes the clasp and tosses it aside, taking a moment to stare before dipping his head back down and starting to suck on my left nipple.

My breathing picks up as he starts to kiss lower and lower, not breaking eye contact when he removes my skirt and underwear at the same time.

He stares down at my dripping pussy, and although I’m extremely turned on and want nothing more than to fuck him right now, I’m reluctant to open my legs as the reality sets in of what’s happening.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking up at me with concern in his eyes.

“I just… haven’t done this in a while. I think I’m nervous,” I tell him quietly.

“I’ve got you, I swear. And if you wanna stop just tell me, okay?”

I nod. I can tell he’s being genuine; he’s not just telling me what I want to hear so he can fuck me. He really cares.

I watch as he opens my legs and hooks them over his shoulders. “You’re drippin for me, huh?” he asks, kissing my inner thighs.

“Mhm. I’ve wanted you so bad,” I barely even have time to finish my sentence before he’s putting his tongue inside my pussy. I gasp and grab his hair, my back arching which only makes him go deeper.

He moans repeatedly as he tongue fucks me, sending vibrations through my core. I’m a moaning mess, my heels are digging into his back, and it only gets worse as he brings his thumb to my clit and starts circling lightly.

“Matt,” I’m on the verge of tears. “Fuck, don’t stop, please, oh my god— “

My orgasm rips through me with no warning, and I’m cumming on his tongue. He doesn’t give me any time to come down before he’s leaning over me, pushing my legs up so my knees are by my face.

“Do you have condoms?” he asks, pushing my hair back.

I shake my head. “I’m on birth control. I’m clean, obviously.”

“So am I,” he says, running his leaking tip over my clit.

I almost scream, I’m so sensitive. He looks so fucking good leaning over me. I grip his arm as he pushes into me. There’s a moment of pain as he fills me up, but it quickly turns to pleasure when he starts thrusting into me.

“Is this okay?” he asks, noticing my face and the tight grip I have on his arm.

“Yeah, just hurt for a second, but please keep going,” I breathe, pulling his head down for another kiss.

His thrusts get harder and faster with each passing minute. He fills me so perfectly, I never want this to end. I feel the coil tighten in my stomach yet again, and my moans get louder and needier.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” he taunts.

Baby. I clench around him and nod. “Uh huh.”

“Ohhh, good girl, keep squeezing my cock like that,” he groans. His thrusts are getting erratic, and his dick begins to twitch inside of me.

I chant his name like it’s the only word I know how to say as another orgasm hits me, and I’m squeezing him hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ohhhhh fuck,” he groans as his own orgasm hits him, and I feel him release inside of me, his head collapsing into my neck.

We stay just like that for a few moments, him inside of me, us both half dead and breathing heavy, before he pulls out, picks me up bridal style, and sets me on the toilet.

“It’s peepee time!” he says excitedly while clapping his hands softly, causing me to crack up.

“You just fucked me and came inside of me and now you’re saying ‘it’s peepee time’? You’re such a freak,” I tell him.

After I finish, we take a quick shower to clean up, and I get unreasonably sad as he starts to get dressed.

I walk him to my front door and he kisses me again. “Let me know your work schedule this week. We’re going out again.”

“Okay, I will,” I smile and nod as I watch him leave.

I’m definitely falling for this guy.

-----------------------------------------------

this was ridiculously long. i did not intend for that to happen. i really have no intentions of making this a full length series because i have other stories i wanna do and i have a few requests sitting in my inbox, so as the author i am telling you that they lived happily ever after yayyyyy

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

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sturniololoco · 4 months

Note

hi i know you just did a sturniolo little sister fic but could you do one where she gets into a fight at school because someone was talking shit to her about her looks or something and she won the fight or whatever but she was in a lot of trouble and matt picked her up from school then like something sweet with everybody and maybe a little bit more with matt cause matt is like my comfort person ?

Fight

Sturniolo Little sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: blood, fighting, etc.

SLS’s POV

All I remember thinking was I’m about to beat this bitch up.

So that’s what I did.

Usually a wouldn’t let a dumb bitch calling me names bother me. But when she compared me to my famous triplet brothers, then called me names right after?

That set me off.

“I can tell the rest of the family got the good looking genes. Look at her then look at her brothers! No wonder she’s only in three of their YouTube videos!” A girl in the hallway said to a bunch of giggling girls.

I throw my books to the floor and walk over to her, breathing heavy. Most of her friends scurry away, shrieking dramatically, but two stay.

I get right up close to her face, pushing her into the lockers. At this point we had an audience.

“What the fuck is wrong you? You-“ I start to say, but then I’m being smacked with a 610 page biology text book, the corner hitting my eye, while the rest practically breaks my nose.

One of the girls stupid friends tried to help her. I stumbled back, turning away from the girl against the locker to see you hit me. The girl, who was now behind me, frantically ran into a nearby classroom.

“Oh you really shouldn’t have fucking done that.” I say, immediately pouncing on her and taking her to the floor.

She was helpless, trying to slap at my bloody and bruised face. I grabbed her hand and put them behind her back, pushing her head into the floor.

I was about to tell her who the fuck she was messing with, when all of the sudden, arms were around my waist pulling me of the girl.

I look up to see Mr. Howard, my Chemistry teacher, who also happens to be the varsity football coach.

“Get to the office Sturniolo! No detors!” He barked at me, letting me go. I kicked my books while walking down the hallway to the office, yelling,

“She’s the one who fucking started it!” And I stick my middle finger up, not even bothering to look back at the girl, crying on the floor, worried about her skirt that I got my blood on.

“SLS/N, I know you’re a good kid. You’re on the all A’s honor roll, you’ve never gotten detention, and you’ve never been sent here before this. What happened that got you so upset?” My principal asked me as I sat across from him.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” I mumbled, chewing my nails because I knew how much trouble I was in.

“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to suspend you for three days and call your brother to come pick you up.” He said, giving me a sad but knowing look.

“Fine, but I’d call mat if I was you. He’s the only one who can drive.” I say, picking up my stuff and walking straight out of his office to wait for my brother.

Matt walked in, looking upset and down cast, but when he saw my bloody nose and black eye, his face contorted into a look of complete shock. I didn’t stand up.

He signed me out and quietly thanked the lady at the front desk. He then walked over and needed in front of me. I averted his eyes as I felt the tears stabbing at my own. He must have noticed because he said,

“Hey it’s okay kiddo, we’ll talk later.” He the stood, slung my back pack over his shoulder and grabbed my hand as we made our way to the car.

The car ride was pretty quiet, except for my occasional sniffles as the pain from my nose and eye began to set in. I didn’t realize where we were until Matt pulled into the Mcdonalds parking lot and put the car in park.

He got out of the car and rationed me to follow him, as he walked towards the front door. As he held the door open for me, I pulled my hood up, to cover my bloody face.

Matt went up and ordered while I got us a booth all the way in the back, and pulled out my phone.

12 Snapchat notifications and 16 text. All about the fight. I put my phone down and tried to stop the tears threatening to spill, when Matt came back with two chocolate milkshakes and two large fries.

He sat across from me and we began eating, but I still averted eye contact.

“Look at me SLS/N.”

I looked up and he gave me a sad smile.

“you know we have to talk about it, so we might as well get it over with.”

I sighed and began telling him the story. About how the girls at school would always compare me to my brothers and call me ugly names.

“It just gets really hard sometimes when you feel like you have strict expectations to live up to, ya know?” I say, some of my tear slipping to make streaks of blood down my face.

“hey I completely understand. I know what it’s like to be compared to Nick and Chris. It’s the only way people could ever tell us apart!” He says earning a small chuckle from me.

“you just need to learn not to get to fired up about it, and just know that people will be mean, but they don’t know the real you, and how perfect you are. No one compares to you because everyone’s unique. And I am so proud to have you as a sister, and so are Nick and Chris.”

I nod, knowing I wouldn’t be able to talk without sobbing.

“And speaking of Nick and Chris, I haven’t told them yet. But If you want, I can talk to them instead of you having to explain everything again. Sound like a plan?” He says.

I nod again, thankful that I wouldn’t have to go through this again.

We pulled into the drive way, and before I opened the car door to go inside, I had to take a deep calming breath, knowing I’ll be walking into a dozen questions.

“Hey, you got this kiddo!” Matt says grabbing and squeezing my hand lightly, before walking up and opening the front door.

As soon as I step foot into the kitchen, Nick is all over me.

“Oh my fuck, SLS/N! What the fuck happened?” He yelled, picking me up and sitting me in the island, then sprinting to the bathroom for a wash cloth.

“I beat a bitch up.” I say plainly, earning a laugh from Matt. Chris comes up to me and gives me a fist bump.

“Damn sis, you look tough!” He says ruffling my hair. I giggle.

“Christopher!” I hear Nick scold as he walks back in the room. Chris puts his hands up in mock defense.

Nick gently wipes most of the blood off my face, the gives me a sock filled with ice to put on my eye and nose, which were now purple.

“Okay, now spill. What the fuck happened?” Nick says. I look at Matt, who quickly stands from the couch and says,

“Actually Nick, come in here, I need to talk to you and Chris for a sec. Why don’t you go hop in the shower bud.” Mat says.

I give him a quiet okay and hop off the counter and head to the bathroom, taking my ice-sock with me.

Getting all that blood off my face and out of my hair felt so good, no matter how dark blue, green, and purple my nose was. I threw on a pair of sweats and one of Chris’s Fresh Love hoodies, before walking down stairs and to the living room.

Matt, Nick, and Chris were all sitting on the couch, getting ready to watch a show.

Matt motions me over to sit with him, so I grab a new sock of ice, a blanket from the basket and snuggle up with him.

“I think I could get used to this for the next three days.” I joke, snuggling close into Matt’s chest. He chuckles and rubs my back comfortably.

I slowly feel myself driving off, due to the long days events, but not before I hear my brother let out a soft,

“I love you kiddo.”

I hope this is what you were asking for! ❤️

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #Sturniolo sister

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Note

Hello my love! ❤️

Another for you, if you’re still taking them, though of course feel free to ignore this for any reason (or even no reason) at all!

I would love to see what you can do with Steddie and James Arthur’s “Car’s Outside”. I feel like this is one Eddie would write for Steve, maybe after an argument..? 👀

I had to look this one up because I’d never heard it before and this is some emotional stuff I wasn’t prepared for but should’ve been when you said maybe after an argument 😭

Touring the country had been his dream for so long that when it became a reality, he forgot what was most important.

It happened to a lot of rockstars.

His reality check came like lightning, fast and sharp.

“I’m just trying to understand, Stevie. You wanted me to do this. You told me to go on the tours and record the albums. You supported me. What changed?”

“You did.”

That was the last thing Steve said to him over a week ago.

All he knew now was that Steve was back in Hawkins staying with Wayne and hadn’t told him much other than he wouldn’t take up too much room for long.

Wayne didn’t tell him anything except that Steve was alive and safe, but didn’t seem to be taking care of himself well.

The first two days, all Eddie felt was anger. He was full of contempt for Steve suddenly changing his mind about Eddie’s life and dreams.

But the third day was when it hit him that Steve left.

He’d avoided everyone after that, only answered the phone in case it was him calling and hanging up if it wasn’t him.

He barely got out of bed, barely ate, didn’t even go into the bedroom converted into a music room to play his guitar.

The next tour was set to start in two weeks and he didn’t think he could go, not like this, not without Steve here waiting for him.

- - - - -

Wayne called the night before he was leaving for the tour, said he needed to come to Hawkins, but wouldn’t say why.

“Are you sick or hurt?”

“No, Ed.”

“…is Steve?”

“Just get here.”

So Eddie did.

He called the guys and told them he would meet them at their first stop in New York in three days, that he had a family emergency and couldn’t travel on the bus with them.

When he got to Hawkins, he felt like turning right around and leaving.

He hadn’t been back in years; Wayne always came to see them for holidays and visits.

Nothing has changed, not even the trailer Wayne insisted on still living in, even when Eddie offered to buy him something nicer.

Steve’s car sat in the driveway next to Wayne’s truck, just like it did before they’d moved to Chicago to try to make Eddie’s dream happen.

Eddie parked next to him, the rental from the airport much cleaner and nicer than anything else around here, but not in a good way.

It clicked suddenly, that Eddie wasn’t the same. That the guy who used to drive a beat up van and live in this trailer and loved Steve so much it felt like a physical ache when he wasn’t around wasn’t here.

He walked up to the door, knocking like this wasn’t his home just five years ago.

Wayne answered, sullen face making his chest tight with worry.

“Where is he?”

“He’s asleep finally. Come on in, son. Have a seat.”

“What happened?”

Wayne sighed.

“He’s been overworking himself and not sleeping or eating, and it finally caught up to him. He’s had a migraine for three days now, longest I’ve seen. Can barely sit up to sip water but begged me not take him to the hospital.”

Eddie’s fists clenched.

“Why wouldn’t he go?”

Wayne blinked at him.

“Son, you’re not an idiot despite the way you’ve been actin’ for a while. Think about it.”

Wayne walked to the kitchen and started packing his lunchbox.

“Where are you going?”

“I got a shift to get to. Steve shouldn’t be alone.”

Eddie stayed on the couch for the next two hours, his brain shifting through thoughts that quickly turned into song lyrics.

He wrote them down, but barely focused on what he was writing. Now wasn’t really a great time to be producing something new.

He heard a groan from his old bedroom and shot up from the couch, making his way to the end of the hall and entering the room without a second thought.

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, body hunched and eyes closed, pain a physical presence through every inch of him.

“Stevie,” Eddie choked out.

Steve’s head shot up. He winced in pain, but the tears in his eyes didn’t seem to have much to do with that as Eddie got closer.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wayne called.”

“And?”

“If you need me, I’m gonna be here.”

Steve looked away, his eyes closing as he turned his head.

“That’s not how things have been.”

It hurt, but he was right. It hadn’t been how things have been. Not for a while.

“I know. I…I don’t think sorry is enough for any of it, but I am. I’m sorry. So sorry, Stevie.”

Steve looked at him, the haze of the migraine keeping a lot of emotion off his face.

“Yeah. Okay.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, and forgiveness wasn’t deserved yet, but it was a start. And when Steve let Eddie get him water and medicine, and play with his hair, it felt like a start.

- - - - -

Eddie had to go.

If he didn’t go, he’d miss the first show of the tour.

He’d be in deep shit, and the guys would hate him, and he would never make music again.

His manager called him every four hours at Wayne’s asking when his flight would be and he always said “when things are right with Steve.”

It started to feel like that might not happen.

But something about the way Steve was slowly letting him in, allowing him to care for him more every day, gave him hope that he could get him back, get them back.

Wayne didn’t say much to him, didn’t have to. The way he watched was enough to know how Wayne felt about him, this situation.

But he didn’t go.

Steve’s migraine was gone, but he still needed Eddie, still needed to see that he was the priority.

Eddie needed to show him that he mattered more than his band, because he did. He always had and always would.

He missed the last flight that would’ve gotten him there on time.

He called the guys to let them know, to apologize, to tell them that he had to do what was best for him.

They understood, but told him their manager was livid and probably would try to replace him instead of postpone the tour.

He didn’t care at this point.

He’d gotten his taste of fame and it was bittersweet.

Steve stood in the doorway when Eddie hung up the phone, watching him with his arms crossed as Eddie covered his face in his hands.

“You’re not going?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Eddie dropped his hands and sighed.

“If I have to pick, then I pick you. I’ll always pick you.”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

“You think I want you to pick between me and your career?”

“Yes. That’s why you left, isn’t it?”

Steve shook his head.

“I left because you forgot that I was a choice at all,” Steve’s voice sounded choked. “I left because I didn’t even think you’d care if I did. You didn’t seem to care much about leaving me anymore.”

Eddie’s heart couldn’t possibly break more.

“Sweetheart, of course I care. I’m here because I can’t lose you. If it’s you or the band, then it’s you. Always.”

Steve let out a sob.

“I didn’t want you to choose me instead of your career. I wanted you to recognize that choosing your career didn’t have to mean not choosing me.”

“Oh, my love.”

Eddie pulled Steve against him, holding the back of his head against his chest, other hand running up and down his back slowly.

“You’re always my first choice. I’m sorry I forgot to show you that. I’m sorry you ever had to feel like you weren’t even an option. You’re the most important choice I’ve ever made and I’m going to keep choosing you every day. Even if it means giving up the band. None of that means shit to me if I don’t have you.”

Steve nodded against his chest.

They stayed like that for so long, Wayne came home, nodded and smiled from the doorway of the kitchen.

- - - - -

Steve came with him.

He called his manager the next day, said it was non-negotiable that Steve be with them for this tour.

The band was on his side, of course. They loved Steve and they loved Eddie and the last thing they wanted was to see either of them hurting.

The first time he performed the song he wrote while he was in limbo with Steve, he let the crowd know what was most important in his life.

“Gonna slow it down a bit for this next one. Sometimes this life has some downsides, hard to believe, right? It’s hard to maintain who you are when you’re being pulled in so many directions. But I’m lucky to have someone who keeps me grounded. Leaving them for tour wasn’t an option this time around, and I’m glad they’re here with me. I wrote this a couple weeks ago when we were having a hard time. I wasn’t being the partner they needed, and I wasn’t showing them that they’re the partner I want. I’m not loving you from afar anymore, sweetheart.”

Steve watched from his spot backstage, like he did every night.

He didn’t feel like an option anymore, he felt like the choice.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon #rockstar eddie munson #angst with a happy ending

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m00nlight-ramblings · 3 months

Text

Like Real People Do: Chapter 1

You are the new girl at Hawkins High for your junior year. As a stereotypical "goody goody", you've been focused on friends, studies, and getting into college...so when you become friends with Eddie Munson, it completely throws a wrench in your system. But, sometimes, that can be a very, very good thing. (slow burn strangers to friends to lovers)

This is "Like Real People Do: Chapter 1"

Pairings: Eddie x AFAB reader (for continuity sake, you will have a name because I truly hate writing "y/n" it gives me hives, but it won't be prevalent enough to be distracting)

Warnings: swearing. every chapter will have their own warnings - eventually, their will be fluff, angst, smut. THIS ENTIRE SERIES IS 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2.64k

A/N: My Eddie obsession will never leave me, apparently lol. Some of the plot will be out of order from the show - I'm not quite sure if I want to incorporate the Upside Down stuff just yet. Graphic made by me, I do not give permission for it (or this series) to be shared without my knowledge.

The end-of-summer breeze was light, running through the open window of your car. You had your arm extended out the driver window, lightly tapping the outside of the door as you drove slowly down the road where Hawkins High School was located. The closer you got, the more the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, bouncing off of the walls and causing you to breathe out shaky breaths every 10 seconds (approximately).

Bananarama’s “Venus” was playing through the speaker of the sound system in your car – normally, you’d be singing along, your toes tapping along to the beat. But instead, you felt like you were driving into something awful – a battle, or a funeral, perhaps.

Which, if you think about it, is probably the exact opposite place that you should be listening to Bananarama’s “Venus”.

As you turned the corner, you saw kids from both the high school and close by middle school mingling outside, in the parking lot. It seemed that everyone – except for you – had First Day of School™ smiles plastered on their faces, which only added to your growing pit of nerves. Slowly, you maneuvered into your assigned parking spot – lucky 31 – and parked the car, rolling up the window and turning down the music. You let out a shaky breath and gripped the steering wheel so hard, your knuckles turned white.

“It is your first day of school,” You reminded yourself, trying hard not to look at the people walking around your car abstinent-mindedly, chatting to their friends about what they did over summer vacation. You felt a pang of sadness as you yearned for your best friends back home – this past summer was the first summer in high school you three didn’t work together at the local Dairy Queen, and even though you hated that job, you missed them so much sometimes your heart hurt.

Shaking the sadness out of your quickly, you looked ahead and started again, “It’s your first day of school. It is your first day of school – you are not about to enter a Roman Coliseum to fight a caged tiger.” Accidentally, you made eye contact with a boy walking past the car, who squinted his eyes at you in confusion.

Although you feel like you’re surrounded by caged tigers… You thought, expelling another shaky breath. Were you sure that boy wasn’t a caged tiger? Because he sure was making you feel like it.

“It’s your first day of school,” You whispered again, checking your watch. 10 minutes until you had to meet the principal in their office to get the grand tour and your class schedule. “It’s your first day of school, and you’re going to kick ass. It’s nothing to be scared of.” You watched another person make a face at you while they walked by.

Okay, time to stop talking to yourself in the car.

You grabbed your backpack and opened the door, your knees feeling slightly like Jello. Locking the door behind you, you made your way through the front door of the building. According to the packet that came in the mail a few week’s prior, the principal’s office was almost directly next to the entrance, to the right.

Turning to the right, you saw the front office, with the sign “Hawkins High Front Office” plastered at the top of the doorway.

Okay. That wasn’t so hard.

Progress.

You stepped in, stepping into the small line that had already formed at the receptionist’s desk. Taking in your surroundings, you heard multiple phones ringing, and multiple conversations happening at once.

School wasn’t hard for you – in fact, you actually loved school. Known as a Goody-Goody at your last school, you were interested in homework, and getting good grades. In your junior year and on the fast track to a big university, possibly on the East Coast, you wanted to study psychology to become a therapist.

So, school definitely wasn’t hard for you. What was hard was moving to a new state due to your dad’s new job, and having to start school smack dab in the middle of your high school career. Being 550 miles away from everything you had ever known was tough – doing it at 17-years-old was even worse.

“Miss?” The receptionist said, pulling you back to reality. You snapped your head forward and saw that she was smiling politely, but definitely impatiently. You blushed as you stepped forward, being next in line. “How can I help you?” She asked as you stepped up. She had thick glasses and lipstick had already stained her teeth, even though it was only 7:00 in the morning. She tapped her pencil against the desk as she waited for your response.

“Oh, hi,” You said, subconsciously running your tongue over your teeth, “Um, today is my first day…I transferred in. And I was told to be here now to meet with the principal –”

“Brooke Henway?” The receptionist interrupted. You nodded. Quickly, she waved her hand as if to say come on, “This way. Principal Higgins is in his office and will be waiting for you. Have a great first day.” She knocked on a door marked “Principal Higgins” on a gold plaque, the entire sentence a monotone run-on. Offering a strained smile to you, she scooted back to her desk, shouting, “WHO’S NEXT?!”

You sighed heavily and re-adjusted your backpack, shoving your hands in your jeans pockets. Rocking on your heels, you reminded yourself that no matter how large and scary it felt, this was just a high school, and not a Roman Coliseum.

This was going to be a long year.

Shutting the door to your locker, you felt exhausted. The first day of school wasn’t bad – people here were actually pretty nice, and it seemed like you would be able to keep up in your classes fairly easy. But a first day of school would be tiring anyway…adding on that it was a first day at a new school, and you were downright asleep with your eyes open.

You were just about to make your way to your car – home at last! – when all of the sudden, what sounded like a heard of buffalo made its way down the seemingly empty hallway. You turned to face the noise at the end of the hallway, and a group of rowdy boys turned the corner, laughing and shouting about something that made them so excited, they seemed to be breaking the sound barrier. Something told you hang back a second, so you decided to wait until they passed to head out to the parking lot.

The group consisted of what seemed like various grades – definitely a few freshmen, but some seemed older. A few were wearing shirts that boasted “HELLFIRE CLUB” on them, and they seemed like a rag-tag group. One boy with longer, curly, brown hair and a leather jacket, made eye contact with you while he was smiling at one of the younger looking boys. For a split second, you both maintained eye contact as the group passed by you, and you felt a little jolt in your tummy.

Okay…he’s kinda hot. You thought, a smiling threatening to break through on your lips. Even though he wasn’t technically smiling at you, he seemed nice.

Or, at least funny since he was making the rest of the boys around him howl with laughter.

As soon as they passed, Long Curly Hair Boy shoved his hand in his back pocket, causing whatever was in there to tip out, scattering on the ground. They sounded plastic by the sound of the pink pink! noise they made as they fell on the linoleum, but they group didn’t hear over their conversation. You stepped to them, snatching them in your hand.

Looking down at them, they seemed like dice, except there was way too many sides. Inquisitively, you investigated them, turning them over with your finger. The dice themselves were a cool, swirly black and maroon color, while the numbers on them were a metallic gold.

Suddenly, you remembered these cool, weird dice were not, in fact, yours.

“Hey! Excuse me?” You shouted, jogging to catch up with the group. At first, they didn’t hear you, so you shouted again. “Heyyyyy! Hey!”

Almost as one organism, they all turned at the same time (and weirdly, in the same direction). Long Curly Hair Boy had his arm around two of the younger guys – Smaller Long Curly Hair Boy, and Tall And Lanky Looking Boy – affectionately. You locked eyes again and he widened his smile.

“Yesssss? Can I help you?” He asked in a playful tone. You extended your hand, flattening your palm to show off the dice.

“You dropped these.”

He looked at the dice and one of the boys whistled. Quickly looking back up to you with appreciation, he quickly took the dice and put them in his back pocket, “Geeze, thanks. Can’t believe I would’ve left those. They were custom made…” He looked back at you and tiled his head, “…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You smiled, “Because you haven’t. I’m new…moved here this summer. Today was my first day,” You offered, but then remembered that today was everyone’s first day, “Well I mean, like here. In Hawkins.”

Long Curly Hair Boy chuckled and nodded, “No, I got what you meant. Well, welcome to the exotic and exciting Hawkins, Indiana! I’m Eddie,” He introduced the rest of the gang (Smaller Long Curly Hair Boy was actually named Dustin, and Tall and Lanky Looking Boy was actually named Mike).

“I’m Brooke,” You said after they were done. There was a moment of silence after pleasantries were exchanged and you raised your eyebrows, “Welp…I better get home. Even though it’s only the first day, I have like, 100 pages of reading for English, so…” You jabbed your thumb in the direction of the parking lot, your voice trailing off.

“Right, right. Well, we better go too…” Eddie started, crossing and uncrossing his arms, “Thanks again for saving my butt with my dice back there…and see you around.” He smiled again and the group said their goodbyes, walking away collectively as one organism again. You chuckled watching them leave.

Teenage boys are so fucking weird.

You headed out to the parking lot and got into your car. As you turned the radio up and rolled down your window, you found yourself smiling.

Yeah…maybe the first day wasn’t so bad.

Something about the new girl had thrown Eddie’s head for a minor tailspin.

Sure, he had only talked to her for like, 30 seconds. And sure, it wasn’t flirty by any means. But there was something about her…was it her smile? Or the way her hair was shining in the afternoon sunlight? Or maybe it was, even with such little conversation, Eddie could tell she was really nice – a “kind soul” was what he had heard it described as.

Jesus Christ, he knew this girl for all of two minutes and he was already waxing poetic.

Thankfully, he was able to shake the thoughts of her off as he focused back on the main thing he should be focusing on after the first day of school.

His new Dungeons and Dragons campaign.

Quickly scribbling ideas down, he worked through some new thoughts he had conjured up in third period. Smiling as he did so – he had a feeling Henderson would love the new direction he was taking it – he bobbed his head to the Iron Maiden tape playing in his stereo next to him. Thankful for the new, freshmen recruits he had met earlier in the summer, he hadn’t been so excited for a campaign in a long time – and this Friday, they were going to have their first, official Hellfire meeting of the school year.

“EDDIE,” Wayne screamed over his music, knocking on his door, “PHONE FOR YOU.”

“THANKS.” Eddie replied, not looking up as he shut the music off. He snagged the phone in his room out of its cradle, “Y-ello?”

“So she was really hot, right?” Dustin’s voice rang through the phone and Eddie heard Wayne’s chuckle as he hung up the other phone in the kitchen. Embarrassed, Eddie rolled his eyes, even though Dustin couldn’t see him.

“What?”

“I said, ‘she was really hot, right’?”

“No, Dustin, I heard you, but what the hell are you talking about?”

“The new girl!” Dustin groaned, “The new girl is pretty cute! You know exactly who I’m talking about!”

“Dustin…” Eddie sighed, rubbing his forehead in between his eyebrows, “I don’t even remember her name -”

“Yes, you do.”

Yes, I do.

“Whatever. Point is, who cares?”

“Who cares?! Us…we should care!” Dustin sounded exhausted already, “She’s a new girl – a new, hot, girl – and she was nice to us! On the first day! Do you know what that means?!”

“…no?”

“It means, genius, that we could get our high school credibility up! She doesn’t know that we’re the freaks of the school – yet – and she was nice to us! That combo means that we could have a pretty girl as a friend, thus making us cool!”

“Dustin…” Eddie winced internally at the word “freak”, “I don’t care about my credibility in this dumb town.”

“Well, it’ll make our lives easier! My whole life, I was thrown into lockers because I’m a nerd with new teeth basically every other year…if we have pretty, nice girl as a friend, that could change! We’ll still be nerds -”

“But with a pretty, nice friend?” Eddie finished, basically checking out of the conversation.

“Exactly!” Dustin shouted excited.

“Okay, Henderson, I’m going to hang up the phone now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ugh, okay fine. But just think about it, okay?!”

“Yeah, sure, bye.” Eddie rushed to hang up the phone, the idea of talking any more about Brooke making him sweat a little bit. He sighed, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders, before he turned his stereo on again.

But even with the pen in his hand, and music playing in his room, Eddie still couldn’t concentrate on his campaign, and tried shake the thought of you. He didn’t need to have a “nice, pretty friend” because he truly didn’t care, but it would be nice to have you as a friend.

Or at least, he thought.

Maybe “this will be my year” would take on a whole new meaning now.

---

A/N: thanks so much for reading, y’all! I have Eddie Munson brainrot right now, so even though I have oneshots AND another multi-chapter fic I’m working on, I guess my brain also decided I needed to write this one too lol. As always, your likes, reblogs, and comments mean the world to me, so they’re greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things

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tigertales9 · 5 months

Text

Hard Reset VII

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff

Description: This fic covers the bye week secret wedding night.

Time/Place: Tuesday, Oct. 17, 2023 / the lakehouse

A/N: This is the seventh fic in the Hard Reset series.

That last chapter was long as hell, y'all, so I decided to break the next few bits up into smaller pieces. I have a few more things I'm working on for the bye week honeymoon, so I'll try to get those up in the next week or so. After that, we'll see where it goes. Things might slow down a bit b/c of the holidays, but I'll pick it back up eventually.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Surprise!" Joe hollers as he carries you over the threshold. "There's hardly any furniture!" You laugh along with him as he sets you down. "The Thompsons cleared out most of their stuff after the sale went through," he continues. "But they left a lot of stuff here -- that huge, flatscreen TV above the fireplace, a few lamps, cookware, dishes, glasses, towels, a bunch of candles, stuff like that." He shrugs. "They said to just donate what we don't want."

"That was nice of them," you smile, turning in a circle as you take in your surroundings, your gaze landing on two large flower arrangements sitting on the coffee table. "Wow!" you chirp, walking over to bury your nose in the velvety red roses. "These are gorgeous," you sigh, giving Joe a smile as you admire the floral display.

"Five dozen roses," he states. "One dozen for every year we've been together." He returns your smile before continuing. "The local florist said she didn't have a vase big enough to do one huge arrangement, so I said two would be fine."

"They're perfect," you whisper, taking another sniff as he digs his phone out of his pocket.

"I need to text Max real quick to let him know we got here and everything looks great."

You watch as he sends the text before setting his phone on the coffee table. "So Max the caretaker actually exists?" you tease. "I'm not sure what the truth is."

"Yeah," he murmurs, giving you a sheepish look before continuing. "The truth is that I lied through my teeth about driving out here just to move the bed under the skylight. I'd already bought the house at that point but didn't want to tell you and ruin the surprise. That night, when you thought I was cheating, I actually met Max and a crew of furniture delivery guys who delivered our outdoor furniture plus our bed, bedside tables, sofa and coffee table."

You raise an eyebrow and look closer at the coffee table and sofa. "Yep, they look familiar," you nod.

"They're the same ones we have at home," he explains, "except I went with a deep teal blue leather for the sofa instead of the black leather we have at home. If you don't like it we can …"

"I love it," you interject, pointing at your teal sweater. "Teal is one of my fav colors, and it's a perfect color for a lakehouse."

"Okay, good," he plows ahead, gesturing around the vast room. "I only picked out a few things because I want you to pick out everything else -- the remainder of the living room furniture, dining room furniture, bedroom furniture, barstools, breakfast nook, guest rooms, sunroom, bathrooms, and whatever other rooms I'm forgetting."

You give him a smile as he continues, his nervous energy on full display.

"You'll prob want to redo the kitchen countertops," he states, walking toward the kitchen as you follow behind. "Maybe something like that quartz you picked out for your parents' lakehouse when they re-did their kitchen last year?"

"Sounds good," you murmur, pulling him into a tight hug. "I think you need to relax," you suggest, pressing kisses against his neck until he pulls back. "Not yet," he mumbles, dropping a kiss on your lips before heading for the side door. "I need to pull the car into the garage and bring everything inside."

"Let me help."

"I got it," he states. "I'll bring in the groceries first, and you can put those away while I get everything else."

"Okay," you agree, shaking your head as he disappears out the door to the garage. "He's nervous as fuck," you mutter, spinning around to head out on the back deck, bringing in the champagne, glasses, cooler and tote bag (with the deed inside) just in time to see him come in carrying a few grocery bags; he drops them on the kitchen island before heading back out.

You heave a sigh as you drop your haul on the kitchen island and ignore the bags of groceries, knowing there's nothing that needs to be refrigerated. You top off the champagne glasses and give him a smile as he breezes back in carrying two boxes and two duffle bags. "What's in the boxes?" you ask, taking a sip of bubbly while handing him his glass.

"Just a comforter, shams and several faux fur throws plus a few other things. The sheets are in that duffle bag," he continues, pointing at a bag as you give him a smile.

"I know. I caught you cramming them in there, remember?"

"Yeah," he grins, taking a sip of champagne. "Not my shiestiest moment."

"Come here," you coax, reaching for his hand. "I have something to show you." You lead him back to the living room and point at the sofa. "Sit," you order, grabbing something out of your purse before sitting next to him.

"Do you want a full tour of the house?" he asks.

"Later."

"Should we put the sheets and stuff on the bed?"

"Later," you repeat, giving him a smile while patting the black leather book on your lap. "Let's look at this first."

"What is it?" he asks, taking a sip of bubbly as you scoot closer and open the book.

"Okay, don't laugh, 'cause the title is kinda cheesy," you admit, giving him a sheepish grin. "But I know how much you like real books, so I thought you might like this."

He looks at the first page and reads the title. "The Story of Us - Volume One."

"It's a little cheesy," you reiterate, "but every other basic ass was using it so I stole it," you giggle.

"I like it," he admits, smiling as you turn the page. "Ohhh, it's a picture book," he whispers, taking a huge gulp of his champagne. "So much cooler than a photo album," he mutters as he leans in close to study the first pic. "What's this?" he asks.

"It's the night we had our first kiss," you answer, your mind rewinding back to that moment in time.

~ ~ ~

You and Joe -- on your third date -- were sitting on the sofa in your apartment watching a movie when your roommate came home slightly tipsy.

"Y'all are the cutest couple!" she chirped, snapping a quick pic before heading to her bedroom. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," she teased, giving you a knowing look before disappearing.

The tension between you and Joe had been crazy already, but it got even worse once she dropped the "lovebirds" line.

~ ~ ~

"Oh my God, I was nervous as hell that night," Joe reminisces with a smile. "I literally don't remember what movie we were watching because I spent the entire time trying to decide if I should make a move on you. I was super close to working up the courage to put my arm around you when Gina busted in."

You return his smile. "And you quickly scooted a foot away from me like we just got caught doing something naughty." Y'all laugh at the memory, shaking your heads as you look fondly at the pic -- you and Joe with a solid foot of sofa cushion between you, both looking slightly guilty.

"I was so fucking awkward," he groans.

"But you more than made up for it later that night," you soothe.

"I tried to convince myself it was like a game situation," he shrugs. "Like, when I was leaving, I was giving myself a mental pep talk to go in for a goodnight kiss as I followed you down the hall to your front door."

"What was your mental pep talk?"

"Two minute drill type of vibe," he grins. "Don't overthink it, just make a quick read and react."

"Your read was accurate, as usual, and the kiss was amazing."

"Yep," he grins. "To quote Judge Sheila - 'That kiss was a doozy!"

"It really was," you agree. "First kisses are supposed to be awkward, but that one was anything but."

"Our chemistry has always been crazy. That first kiss solidified something I'd already been thinking."

"Which was?"

He gives you a naughty wink before answering. "That you were going to absolutely blow my mind in bed."

"And did I?" you tease.

"You know you did, and you've been doing it ever since."

"You definitely do your share of mind blowing," you purr, giving him a quick kiss before turning to the next page.

Y'all continue to sip champagne and peruse the photos, laughing at the memories they evoke. There are pics of y'all on the LSU campus, at parties and after football games. Joe points at a pic of himself in his football uniform, sweaty as hell and exuding big dick energy after yet another victory. He has one arm wrapped tight around you, pulling you close while smiling down into your upturned face. "I'm sweating all over you," he states. "And I'm loving it," you groan, a thought flashing into your mind of the two of you entwined on the bed in his apartment, naked and sweaty from a different kind of exertion. Sex with Joe is always hot, but post-game victory sex is on another level.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, the look on his face telling you he already knows the answer. "You know exactly what I'm thinking about," you grin as you turn the page.

The next several pages feature Bengals football games and parties followed by plenty of casual, holiday and vacation pics both just the two of you and with family and friends.

He groans as you point at a pic of y'all dancing at your parents' anniversary party a couple years back. "You looked so handsome that night," you sigh. "Too bad I can't dance for shit," he grumps. "I love the way you dance," you soothe, nudging his shoulder. "Maybe we can dance later?" you continue. "Maybe," he grumbles, quickly turning to the last page in the book.

You laugh at the pic of him from a few years back -- wearing nothing but wet swim trunks and a disgruntled expression -- sitting on the dock at your parents' lakehouse. "This is when you thought a fish nibbled on your toes. I've never seen anybody haul ass out of the lake as fast as you did."

He cuts his eyes at you as you giggle at the memory. "I'm glad you think it's funny that a fish tried to bite my toes off," he mutters, his playful smile at odds with his grumpy tone.

"Your toes are very nibble-worthy," you tease. "Can't blame the fish for trying."

"And you can't blame me for wearing aqua socks in the lake for the rest of my life." Y'all laugh together for a minute before he takes a deep breath and continues. "That's also one of the main reasons we're gonna have a swimming pool put in here. I love to swim without socks, but I need to see what's in the damn water."

"I think a pool would be awesome," you agree. "We have plenty of room for a nice one."

"Yep, I'm thinking a free-form resort style with a sun shelf, a hot tub, a sunken fire pit area, and a swim-up bar."

You raise your eyebrows. "You're a grotto shy of going full Hugh Hefner," you grin, giggling when he gives you a look. "I'm kidding," you soothe. "It sounds amazing."

"I have some pics I'll show you later," he chuckles. "Just a few ideas to think about. I promise my vision is more classy than porny."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Speaking of pics," he says, gesturing at his phone on the coffee table. "That sunset pic we just took is def going in The Story of Us - Volume Two. Plus at least a couple of the pics Judge Sheila took after our secret wedding ceremony."

"For sure," you agree, clinking your glass against his and draining the remaining bubbly.

Twenty minutes later -- after a super quick house tour ending in the expansive master suite on the third floor -- y'all have just finished making your bed in the teal blue sheets, pillow cases and comforter + shams Joe picked out.

"It looks great," you smile, your eyes going wide when he hurries out the door.

"Forgot the candles," he hollers over his shoulder, reappearing a couple minutes later with an armful of candles. You watch as he places three candles on each bedside table and lights them.

"Super romantic," you purr, approaching him with a little swagger in your step. "I have some naughty lingerie I can change into," you offer.

He raises an eyebrow at your dirty grin, considering your offer for several seconds before responding. "I can't wait to see it, but can we do that tomorrow night? Tonight I want you just like this." He leans down and drops a kiss on your lips before hesitating. "Hold on a sec," he whispers, walking to a bedside table and fumbling around for a bit before the sultry sound of smooth jazz fills the air.

He walks back toward you, a shy look on his face. "You wanna dance?" he asks. "I'd love to," you smile, stepping into his embrace, your hands resting on his shoulders as you nestle your cheek against his chest. His hands settle on your hips as y'all sway to the music, the sound of his strong heartbeat throbbing against your ear setting off an answering throb deep inside you.

After a couple songs, one of his hands slides under your sweater and nestles against the small of your back, pulling you closer, the skin-to-skin contact feeling exquisitely intimate as he nuzzles his face in your hair and takes a deep breath. "You always smell so good," he whispers, "everywhere," he continues, smiling when you tilt your head to look up at him. "You too," you breathe, the look on his face causing your pulse to react in anticipation.

He licks his lips before continuing. "I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen when I first laid eyes on you." He drops a kiss on your lips. "But you're even more beautiful now," he states, capturing your lips in a slow-burn kiss, slowly licking into your mouth like he's tasting you for the first time. You lean into him and open wide for his tongue, moaning into his mouth just before he abruptly pulls back.

"Why am I so fucking nervous?" he groans, burying his face against your neck.

"I'm nervous, too," you soothe.

"Are you also hot as hell?" he asks. "Like literally about to combust?"

"Yeah," you croak. "Maybe we should crack open a window."

He hurries to do your bidding before returning to you, a worried look on his face. "We've been having amazing sex for five years, but I'm freaking out on our wedding night. Why?" he rasps, the look on his face solidifying your decision to tell him the truth.

"I think I know why you're so nervous."

"Why?" he repeats.

"Football isn't going exactly as you want right now because of your calf injury, so you put a lot of pressure on yourself to make the secret wedding and wedding night as perfect as possible. It's something you have complete control over, unlike football, but the need for perfection is messing with your head and making you nervous."

He stares at you for several seconds before taking a deep breath. "Shit," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair while giving you a sheepish smile. "You always talk about me being able to read you, but you can read me just as easily. Sorry I'm being so weird and awkward about this."

"You're not being weird and awkward," you soothe. "You wanted everything to be perfect and it has been, okay? It's been like a dream for me. I'll never forget it as long as I live. -- But I think it's time for me to call an audible."

He studies your expression for a bit before speaking. "What's the call?"

"I want you to get undressed and lie face down on the bed so I can give you a massage."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you state, reaching to unbutton his jeans. "Let me help you relax and take the edge off."

His demeanor shifts as soon as those words leave your mouth; he knows exactly what you mean, and a small smile graces his sensual lips as he strips naked before kneeling at your feet. Your breath catches in your throat as he unzips your knee boots; you place your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself as he removes your boots and socks before slowly peeling your leggings off. He stands back up and unties your wrap sweater, easing it off of you and dropping it on top of the pile of mingled clothes.

When he's done, you're left in nothing but seafoam green bra and panties, your pulse reacting to the look in his eyes as he leans down and gives you a lingering kiss before crawling onto the bed face down like you ordered.

You take a deep breath before joining him on the bed, straddling his waist and leaning forward to dig your fingers into his tense shoulders as he moans his appreciation. You take your time massaging him, relishing his grunts and groans and mumbled praise as you hit all the right spots that need attention.

Once you've thoroughly worked him head to toe you ask him to roll over, your eyes immediately drawn to his erection as he does your bidding. "Spread your legs," you urge, crawling between his thighs when he follows orders. "Fast or slow?" you continue, licking your lips as you anticipate the taste of him on your tongue.

"Gonna have to be fast," he admits. "I'm halfway there already."

"Yes, sir," you breathe, lowering your head to get down to business.

"Wait," he mutters just before you make contact. You let your lips hover an inch above his shaft while flicking your gaze up to his. "Take your bra off for me," he orders, his eyes glued to you as you sit up and slowly unclasp your bra before letting it slide down your arms; you toss it on the pile of clothes as you raise an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "Anything else?" you ask, cupping your breasts and bouncing them a few times before rubbing your already-hard nipples, biting your lip when his cock twitches at the sensual display. "No," he croaks, swallowing hard as you continue to tease your sensitive peaks. "Jesus, baby, you better hurry or I'm gonna cum before you even touch me."

"That sounds hot, but I wanna taste you." You grip his cock at the base and run your hand up the long, hard length of him, a gush of saliva flooding your mouth at the sight of the precum adorning his tip; you lower your head and lick him clean before taking him in your mouth, working him fast and deep while he buries his hands in your hair and bucks his hips up; he explodes in your mouth after just a few minutes, his groans of pleasure going straight to your core as you swallow everything he has to offer.

You eventually crawl up and cuddle him, kissing his neck and stroking his chest as he comes down from the intense climax.

After a few more minutes he drops a kiss on your forehead and points at the skylight. "The clouds are obscuring the stars right now," he states, "but when it's clear, we'll be able to see the Big Dipper."

You giggle before speaking up. "You know I'm gonna make a Big Dipper joke about your dick, right?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"Well, no matter if it's cloudy or not, I expect to see the Big Dipper every time I sleep in this bed with you," you purr.

"Damn right," he chuckles, giving you another forehead kiss before sitting up and scooting down the bed.

You watch closely as he slides your panties off and tosses them aside, crawling between your legs and spreading them wide as he moves back up your body, stopping to press kisses on either side of your aching core before continuing upward; he eventually nuzzles his face into your neck, his soft scruff tickling you as he drops kisses against your sensitive skin before pressing his lips against your ear. "Fast or slow?" he asks, nipping your earlobe hard enough to elicit a gasp from you before you answer.

"Fast," you whine. "I'm really close."

"Mmmm," he hums, kissing his way down to your breasts, teasing your nipples for several minutes while you squirm beneath him. "Please," you moan, burying your hands in his hair, fighting the urge to shove his head down where you want it as he takes his sweet time pleasuring you. "I said fast," you remind him, your arousal leveling up as he gives you a feral grin before kissing his way down your torso, stopping to rim your belly button before dropping wet kisses in a line all the way down to about an inch above your aching clit.

You hold your breath waiting for the feel of his hot tongue right where you need it, your hips grinding restlessly as the throbbing in your core escalates. "Please, baby!" you beg, making a sound between a whimper and a scream when he finally licks a stripe up your drenched folds before latching onto your swollen clit, rhythmically sucking you in a way he knows you love, making a sound of primal satisfaction low in his throat as you lose control, your hands in his hair and his name on your lips as you come apart.

"Got damn, you're good at that," you eventually rasp, after taking a few minutes to catch your breath.

"Did you like that?" he purrs, licking his slick lips while watching you closely.

"A little bit, yeah," you pant, chill bumps rising on your entire body at the hot look in his eyes.

"Good, 'cause I'm about to do it again," he states. "But I'm gonna do it slow this time, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper, biting your lip when he lowers his head and gently tickles your clit with his scruff before parting your soaked folds with his tongue.

~ ~ ~

The next few hours pass by like a fever dream, with Joe pleasuring you and you pleasuring him in every way imaginable -- from soft, sensual lovemaking to sheet-clawing, hair-pulling, filthy sex.

At some point you flutter your eyes open and realize the clouds have parted to reveal a canopy of stars in the skylight, and a sudden thought hits you, that there's no place in the world you'd rather be than right here in this lakehouse love nest with your man -- your husband -- taking his time pleasuring you, his talented mouth on your neck, your breasts and between your thighs, his thick shaft moving inside you as he whispers sweet and filthy praise to you, your bare skin bathed in starlight and his big, warm body a delicious contrast to the cool breeze wafting in from the open window.

Absolute bliss, you think as you arch up into his next thrust and sink your teeth into his muscular shoulder.

~ ~ ~

A few hours later you come awake slowly, not sure what woke you up.

"Sorry," Joe whispers, sliding back in bed beside you. "I forgot to shut the window earlier, and it's getting a little chilly."

"Mmmm," you hum, snuggling against him as he pulls you close and nestles the covers around you.

"The clouds are gone," he murmurs, kissing your temple as you both gaze up at the stars.

"It's beautiful," you whisper, your breath catching in your throat as a flash of light blazes across the sky. "What was that?" you ask.

"Umm, either a shooting star or a UFO," Joe answers. "Airplanes don't move that fast."

"Should we make a wish?" you ask sleepily.

"Yes," he answers.

You're just on the verge of sleep a few minutes later when his voice pulls you back. "What did you wish for?"

"Nothing," you murmur. "I already have everything I want."

His breath catching in his throat makes you raise your head to make eye contact with him. "What did you wish for?" you ask, the look on his face bringing you completely awake.

"I wished for a lifetime of moments like this," he whispers. "There's no place in the world I'd rather be than right here with you," he continues, capturing your lips before you can tell him you had that exact same thought earlier.

Telepathic, you think to yourself, vowing to tell him as soon as you can but content for the moment to lose yourself in his embrace.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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ooffmlsorry · 6 months

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The Monster Trio Driving (you around)

LUFFY

Getting this one right out the way, THIS MAN CANNOT DRIVE!!!! You are driving him around

Luffy theoretically knows how to drive because Ace and Sabo taught him but doesn't have a license and no one in their right mind would give him one

Always has his feet on the dashboard

Loves singing along to music with you even if he doesn't know the words

Knows it's probably a hassle to drive him around sometimes, so he'll get out and pump gas for you--especially when it's cold

Sticks his tongue out a people that cut you off

Always brings snacks that he'll (mostly) share with you

Points out everything cool, cool cars, cows, dogs, clouds, he just wants you to experience them too 🥰 (just don't crash)

DOGGIE!! Y/N there's a doggie in the car next to us!! Let's tell them to pull over so we can pet it!!

Leaves crumbs in your car if he notices them (BIG IF) he'll apologize and swipe them out, I swear!

SANJI

Between Zoro and Luffy, obviously he's the best driver and he definitely mocks Zoro about it

Drives so safe when you're in the car

You know that one Twenty One Pilots song "Tear in My Heart"? Yeah, Sanji is the guy avoiding potholes so you can keep sleeping and is cursing the government under his breath for not filling the potholes so his princess can sleep

Other than the fact that the car smells like smoke, he keeps it pretty clean

Of course he opens the door for you, who do you think he is???

He's great except...the road rage Oh. My. God. Nobody better drive like an idiot when he's go the most beautiful woman in the world in his car

HEY JACKASS CAN'T YOU SEE I'VE GOT AN ANGEL IN MY CAR!!!?? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!

I mean he's not gonna cause a problem once the idiots done being an idiot but I hope you like flipping people off and the liberal use of the car horn

Let's you pick the music, obviously, but gets really melty and fuzzy-hearted when you let him pick

Gets distracted at stop lights because he's always touching you or staring

Car sex obviously

ZORO

No one knows how he got a license...you're not even sure he has one because if anyone asks he just smirks like the gif above

Always has Google maps on, don't say anything about it or he'll get mad

HATES traffic

Tells you you owe him gas money, never actually collects on it though lol and if you try to give it to him he basically gaslights you into believing he never said that

His car is kind of a mess, when he started dating you he put his gym stuff in the trunk so at least his car doesn't smell like sweaty balls and ass anymore

Gets lowkey nervous about driving in the city and in bad weather

Shut up! I need to concentrate! / *turns the music down so he can see better*

Begrudgingly lets you pick the music and complains that you don't have taste but ends up totally enjoying it

Thinks about road head a lot but doesn't necessarily want to try it

Loves driving you around actually because it's just the two you and it feels like y'all are in your own little world sometimes

Usually rests his hand on your thigh or is touching you in some way while driving

Cramped backseat car naps together🥰

#one piece x you #one piece #one piece x reader headcanon #one piece x reader #monster trio #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader

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plantsjustwannahavefun · 9 months

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On the significance of Aziraphale borrowing the Bentley

Can't stop thinking about what an incredibly significant gesture letting Aziraphale borrow the Bentley was. It's not just that Crowley loves his car so dearly. If it was just that, lending it to Aziraphale would have been cute, but nothing more. But it's so much more than that. The Bentley is an extension of Crowley's self - not just metaphorically but on a very real metaphysical level. The Bentley is connected to his consciousness somehow. He can feel it when someone else is driving it.

And, as of S2, the Bentley and his plants were Crowley's only remaining Earthly possessions. While in S1 the Bentley already symbolised Crowley's love for freedom, independence and sheer fun of his existence on Earth (getting to go anywhere he wants, whenever he wants, as fast as he wants... his hatred for the 14th century for having no such technology), in S2 that symbolic meaning became a lot more literal. The Bentley is now the only "safe space" Crowley has that's strictly his own, the only way he can escape from whatever he needs to. Even the bookshop is no longer as much of a safe space now that Gabriel's in it. ("You love waiting inside", said Aziraphale, somehow completely oblivious to why his demon suddenly doesn't want to be alone there without him...)

Crowley has never seen Aziraphale drive a car before. If his skills with magic or French were anything to go by, Crowley should have assumed Aziraphale would be terrible at it (since it's now, to our collective delight, canon that Aziraphale enjoys doing human stuff "the hard way" just for fun even though he's bad at it). By lending the Bentley to Aziraphale for what seemed like a whole day's trip (even if Aziraphale did drive over the speed limit for some of it), Crowley surrendered the only thing that still gave him a sense of safety and protection, both emotionally and physically. He was now trapped in the bookshop, exposed and vulnerable. With Gabriel. Knowing there was a good chance Aziraphale wasn't going to give the Bentley back in tip-top shape.

And Aziraphale just had no idea. He had no idea what he was asking for, and what it cost Crowley to give it to him. He didn't know Crowley had been living in his Bentley for the past four years. Borrowing the Bentley was just a whim for him; he could have gone by train. I think he gets as much of a kick getting Crowley to do things for him as Crowley does doing them. We've already seen him ask Crowley to do something for him he was perfectly capable of doing himself - getting the stain out of his coat, making Hamlet successful, freeing himself from the Bastille. That scene with Aziraphale asking Crowley to let him drive the Bentley was so cute and funny and lighthearted on the surface, Aziraphale batting his eyelashes and doing the puppy eyes look as usual. And Crowley gave him what he wanted, just like he always does. Except, this time, it was a sacrifice.

#good omens #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #the bentley #ineffable husbands

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leviisthings · 1 month

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Maze In The Mirror

synopsis when your boyfriend Yeonjun dosen't respond to your message in the way he usually does, you grow worried; and then you see him and grow even more worried, but you also the know the solution, a long drive.

pairing - idol bf!yeonjun x fem!reader

ps - I'm not making any assumption about Yeonjun, or what his life must be like. This is completely ficitonal.

You make your way through the thoroughly confusing hallways of the Hybe building. No matter how many times you visited the place, without the assistance of anyone else it was guaranteed for you to get lost.

"Honestly, it was better when they were poorer." You mutter bitterly. It definitely was better for your directionally challenged self when the building used to be only three floors.

After making at least five wrong turns you somehow reach your destination. The practice room.

You had made plans with Yeonjun for a date. Nothing fancy, just a catch up dinner and maybe a drive, if he had time. It hadn't been a long time of dating, but you two had been friends beforehand, and you liked to think you knew him pretty well by this point.

But there were still instances when he managed to surprise you with the smallest of gestures. It's usually something really sweet, surprise dates, very thoughtful gifts, unabashed flirting in front of everyone. That one time he brought Odi and dropped him in your lap, because you were crying and he panicked and didn't know what to do. That definitely stopped your crying alright.

But sometimes in ways that leave you concerned and anxious. This morning being one of those instances.

You had texted him to confirm the timing of the date. Usually he replied with a lot of emojis, lots of babe, sweetheart and darling, even totally unfit memes at times. But today the reply was an 'ok' and 'see you'. It wasn't like him. Even though you chalked it up to him just being busy or something, you couldn't help but worry.

Deep bass thrummed through the room, as you opened the door to the practice room. Most of the lights were turned off, and no one else was in the room except for your boyfriend sitting in the far corner. Slightly slouched, and his cap covering his face. He looked strangely small in the huge hall.

He looked up at you as walked across the room towards him. He smiled lightly, and your heart broke a little. He looked exhausted. And not just physically. That smile was not reaching his eyes at all.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize what time it is." Yeonjun said, taking off his cap and pushing his hair back.

"It's ok."

"Let's go then." He mumbled, pushing himself off the floor. He definitely didn't sound excited at all. Past habits were asking you to blame yourself. Maybe you had done something to make him mad, maybe he didn't like you as much as he used to. You hadn't met in a while. All your insecurities were asking you to shut your mouth and blame yourself and walk away.

But you know better now. It was better to just ask him. You got upset too, he didn't automatically assume it was because of him. And most of the time it wasn't because of him.

"Jjunie? Is everything okay?"

He stopped midway and turned around to face you.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You seem really down. And even your text back was, well ...not very you. Maybe I'm just reading into things way too much. But have i done something?"

His surprised face lightened his eyes. And he came closer to grab your hand.

"No. Of course not. You didn't do anything." He said hurriedly. He sounded sincere, and your mind relaxed a little. Take that, stupid insecurities.

"Then what is it?"

"...... I don't know." He clenched the cap in his hand. He didn't even sound frustrated, just exhausted. And it broke your heart. He wasn't anything if not lively.

"You know what, let's just grab some food, and get in the car and go on a long drive. You can talk if you feel like it, or we can just have a quiet pleasant ride and stuff our face with junk food. I'm sure you'll feel better either way."

He looked at you, and this time his smile was real.

_____________

The wind from the window brought conflict. On one hand, you loved the cold wind on your face, and in your hair. But on the other hand, you couldn't hear the music properly.

You looked at Yeonjun, his eyes were focused on the the road ahead, and his hands were on the steering wheel. He seemed content with the situation, so you didn't say anything and let the windows be down.

The road was getting emptier with every mile. This was their usual route for long drives. Far from the city, quiet and serene. The road was smooth and long.

It was on a drive like this when he had confessed to you. It was three days before his birthday, unfortunately you had to leave the city before his birthday for a family event. But you wanted to celebrate it before you left, it felt better to do it beforehand than later.

His face when you had brought out the mint chocolate cupcake with a small candle was better than anything he could've said. Atleast that's what you had thought. But five minutes after he blown out the candle, he had uttered the words you had been dreaming about for months now.

You remembered tears on your face, saying those words back, and then his lips on yours.

You smiled reminiscing the memory. Yeonjun hadn't said anything so far, except for a few light conversation about food and what the members had been upto. It didn't seem like he was going to talk about what was going on with him.

He seemed in a better mood now, so you tried to be just content with that. But then,

"Do you think I'm meant for this?"

You looked at him with furrowed brows. He turned to look at you, his face was unreadable.

"This idol life?" He continued, turning his eyes towards the road again.

"Yeonjun, you're like the perfect person for this." You almost laughed, his question was nothing else than absurd to you. He was beyond perfect in your eyes. The way he was on stage, his passion, his talent, his love for his fans and team, it was all mesmerizing. "You're amazing at this, very few people are as talented as you."

"Not that part. I mean, I still believe I can improve a lot more, but I think I'm actually kind of content with where I am right now. I mean.......emotionally and mentally."

Now, you had a inkling about what he meant. But you wanted him to let it all out, so you didn't say anything.

"Everything has been so great until now, the group is doing amazing, and everyone is healthy and happy. But -" He cut himself off, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, and then after a minute he stopped the car under a tree. The road was pretty much empty, they were almost neat the mountain side.

He took a deep breath, and you slipped your hand on his thigh, squeezing it, hoping to bring him even a slimmer of comfort.

".........Do you know about what happened with Insu?"

"The boyband member? He got in a scandal right?" You asked. It had been in the news lately, an idol had gotten in a bad scandal, you didn't exactly remember what had happened, but you remembered reading about it and thinking it was rather dumb the way people were reacting.

"Yeah. I don't think I ever told you, but I had trained with him for a, like, two months. And he was so sweet and nice. A little dumb but very sincere and strong -willed. I was so happy when he told me he was going to debut. And now........everything is just so messed up. He didn't even do anything, and - and not only him the whole group is just being dragged throught the mud. For no fucking reason!" He had grabbed his forehead, almost pulling on his hair. He slowly let go, trying to regulate his breath, and then leaned back into his seat.

"I saw him yesterday, and honestly.......he seemed fine. Not well, but still loads better than I thought he would've been."

"That's a good thing. These things don't have to forever matter. It will most likely blow over soon." You said.

"Yeah. But I also realized something. I don't think I could ever do that." He looked in your eyes, and there a strange sense of panic in them like you had never seen. He continued,

"If I mess up somehow, and the group has to suffer because of that, I could never be able handle that. I'm the oldest, I should be there strength and reassurance. Their rock, you know. But, somehow I feel like I'm the weakest. I hate feeling like this. Our new dance teacher scolded Huening yesterday, and he apologized and promised to do better and then just kind of shrugged it off, and was fine. Sungdeuk hyung scolded me once, and I was upset about it for like a month." He said, his voice incredulous as he said the last sentence.

"I look at everyone around me and they all just seem so much better at it than me. More mature somehow. I'm just scared, so scared that I'll do something stupid and ruin everything." Yeonjun had coiled in within himself. Every word seemed to weigh on him physically, making his body drop further in the seat.

"I know I'll fail them, I'll fail myself."

You had always wished you were one of those people who had a way with words, who always know the right thing to say and make everything feel okay. And you had never wished that more than now. The boy you loved so dearly was falling apart infront of you, and you were terrified to say the wrong thing. But you couldn't say quiet, he has always been there for you, in every way possible, and he wasn't a word savant either, but he always made things feel better, just by being there.

".........Jjunie, I can't promise that you will never make mistake and maybe mess things up. I don't know what will happen, no one does. But that's okay. I know you're worried that you care and think too much. But, that's one of the things I love about you." You took his warm hands in your smaller ones, and continued.

"I honestly think you are underestimating yourself. You trained for so long, you must've been scolded a thousand times. But you're still here. You just have to keep your heart and actions in the right place, and even if you do make a mistake, atleast you'll know, you haven't done anything wrong. And believe me, that'll pull you through most things."

He didn't say anything, but looked up at you and smiled. And for the second time in a single day, you're heart broke a little. Only this man. His smile this time, was the Yeonjun you knew. And you knew he'll be okay. And there was stupid sense of pride in yourself. That you could make him smile like this, that you could help him, even if just a little.

He leaned in closer, and kissed you. And damn it, his lips are perfect. And damn it, he also knew how to use them. By the time he pulled back, you weren't sure you remembered your own name.

"Thank you. Really. You make everything better so easily." You were pretty sure that's what he had said, your head slightly spinning.

"Yeah, mhmm."

He tilted his head, confused look on his face. Then he smirked.

"Aww, I'm sorry. I know I'm your greatest weakness, but damn, like you should have - ow!" You socked him in the shoulder.

"Just drive, you moron."

He snickered, and started the car. Holding your hand on the gear.

"You know you can tell me when you're worried and stressed about anything." You said.

"I know. I just - It's hard. I don't want to put it all on you, I wanna be able to deal with all this on my own." Yeonjun sighed.

"I get what you mean. I'm always here for you. I just want you to know that."

"I know. And, uh, samesies."

"Wow."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. That's the strange part."

"That's why we are perfect."

#y/n yeonjun #txt #txt yeonjun #yeonjun #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun #txt imagines #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun fluff

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 2 months

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Fighter!Sihtric NSFW alphabet

Note: HCs based on my fighter fic : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12 - part 13.

template source.

Warnings: 18+!! smut.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: -

wordcount: 2k

Masterlist

A=Aftercare - What they do/act like after sex.

Sihtric just wants to hold you and check in with you. He'll kiss you all over and snuggle until he falls asleep when in bed at night. If you had sex during another time of the day he'll want to cuddle for a moment and check in, and then continue the day. He is also a big fan of praising you. He'll help you clean up and get dressed too and Sihtric will never say no to a shower together afterwards, and he always asks if you want anything to eat or to drink.

B=Bondage - Are they into BDSM, and how far they’ll go if they have a green light.

Sihtric doesn't mind spanking you a little from time to time or pinning you down (big fan of pinning you down), but overall he's not much into BDSM. He thinks you're way too precious to handle that roughly, even though he knows you could take it, but his anger issues would also make it not the smartest idea to try out some BDSM. He does love to fuck you hard and fast sometimes, but other than fucking you with a head spinning pace and switching positions, he's overall rather vanilla actually.

C=Cum - pretty self explanatory.

He doesn't want to cum anywhere if not inside you. His breeding kink is almost absurd and he wants to fill you up at any given time. The fact that it would not result in pregnancy does not bother him anymore, nothing makes him prouder and his ego bigger than knowing you're full of his seed regardless.

D=Dom - Are they dominant, submissive, a switch?

Sihtric is dominant, but nowhere near as dominant as he thinks. He's actually more cocky and stubborn than he is dominant, and his dominance happens mainly in your daily life, outside of the bedroom. He does like to take control when it comes to sex, but your fighter melts at your touch instantly and if we're being honest, you could totally take charge whenever you want to. He's obsessed with you and wants to please you above all, so he's really more of a submissive. But obviously he will never admit that.

E=Edgeplay - Similar to ‘Kinks’ except it’s a lot riskier than usual kinks (knifeplay, breathplay, etc.).

Again, Sihtric's rather vanilla. He's terrified to accidentally hurt you and that thought completely puts him off any edgeplay and most of the BDSM stuff. However, if you would deny his orgasm it could completely make him go wild (in a good way).

F=Fantasy - A fantasy of theirs (ex: a teacher/student fantasy).

Apart from loving the fact he can fuck you in every city around the world if he wants to, he mainly has a thing for car sex. And not in his car, no, no. The only thing Sihtric may love more than you is his car, and the thought of fucking you on the hood of his beloved Bugatti gets him hard more than once a day. He just has no idea how to ask you if you're up for it, because that car has caused trouble in your relationship before.

G=Got Caught - How they react when they get caught having sex.

He'd be a little embarrassed if someone would actually walk in on you two, but then will get all cocky about it. He will also headbutt anyone who dares to look at you while getting caught. But the thought of someone only hearing you both doesn't phase him. He actually loves it when people can hear you, because it strokes his ego by letting them know how good he fucks you.

H=Hot Spots - A place that drives them crazy when stimulated (EX: neck).

Kissing that spot right underneath his ear will drive him crazy, but then his neck is a sensitive spot in general. Also his inner thighs will get him worked up without failure. Don't place your hand on his thigh if you don't plan on taking off his sweatpants after.

I=Intimacy - How romantic they are, or can be, before, during, or after sex.

Sihtric is an absolute hopeless romantic… at times. When given the time and right place he will try to set up something romantic with candles for example. But even without candles and such he can make it feel romantic as he loves to keep his face close to yours and look into your eyes in between kisses. He especially loves to show you how much he loves you before and after his fights, so he'll try his best to make it perfect for you, but that doesn't always mean candles and rose petals and hottubs. Sometimes it's sex in a dressing room while he's still sweaty and bloody from his fight just moments earlier, but his sweet nothings and desperate 'I missed you,' and 'I love you,' whines still make it intimate in all the right ways that candles could never do.

J=Journey - Their ideal way of leading up to sex.

Sihtric likes a chase and he loves to rile you up. It arouses him when you talk back to him, because he thinks it's cute when you try and act all tough. He knows you're tough, way tougher than him to be honest, but riling you up riles him up too and he loves it. Not giving into him right away only makes him want you more.

K=Kinks - I’ll list a few of their kinks, be they the normalized ones or kinkier kinks.

Again, he's really not very kinky apart from being a tad dominant and becoming a growling and begging mess when you deny his orgasm a few times.

L=Location - Where they like to have sex at, do they like risky locations, etc.

Anywhere, any time. Hotel rooms, bathrooms, dressing rooms, showers, the beach, his car, his gym, the couch, the kitchen… literally anywhere, he does not give a shit. If Sihtric wants you, he'll get you.

M=Masturbation - How they are when they get themselves off, what they get themselves off to.

Sihtric has some spicy photos you took of yourself that he has in a secure folder on his phone, which he'll use when he's away from you as it's the only option. It works, but he prefers to just have sex with you or have you jerk him off.

N=NO - A few things that they will absolutely, under no circumstances, ever do.

Sihtric will never share you with one (or more) people, he's as possessive as they come. The idea of someone getting off to you makes his blood boil. But since he is so possessive, that also means he is extremely loyal to you and would also never want to do something with another person.

O=On’s - Their top turn on’s that they have (things that’ll get them super horny super quickly).

Truth be told, you don't even have to do anything to get Sihtric horny. You can just look at him and he'll already want to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed. But being a little bratty and showing him you're not intimidated by him always gets him going immediately.

P=Position - Their favourite position to have sex in.

Prone bone for when he's feeling dominant and a little rougher, and the lotus position for intimacy. He also loves the cowgirl position. Sihtric loves to lay or sit back, his arms behind his head while biting down on his lip as he watches you ride him and take all of his length so well. His eyes never lie and you know he could never get enough of watching you on top of him. And you can never go wrong with the classic missionary.

Q=Quickie - Do they like it, do they prefer quickies over actual sex, etc.

Sihtric loves quickies and would never say no, but he much rather takes his time with you.

R=Rough - How rough they are, or get, when in bed.

Sihtric can be a bit rough, but once again he would never want to hurt you and his roughness happens mainly when he's been riling you (both) up. He softens instantly once you kiss him.

S=Stamina - How long they can go before they tap out.

Come on now, Sihtric is a professional fighter and a gym beast… if anyone taps out, it's you (and there's no shame in that).

T=Toys - Do use toys, do they own them, what kind, etc.

Sihtric is way too cocky to use toys on you nor does he use any himself. When it comes to you, he's the kind of guy that sees a toy as competition and it hurts his ego. Because what do you mean a toy can make you cum much faster than he could? If you'd explain the idea of perhaps using a vibrator while he fucks you for extra stimulation, he might consider it. But it would truly take a lot of time for him to be willing to give it a go, and he'll throw mantrums about it (a man tantrum).

U=Unfair - How much they tease you, how they tease you, etc.

Sihtric teases you a lot, but he's rather impatient so the teasing actually backfires all the time. He likes to whisper filthy words to you and to send risky texts, telling you what he'll like to do with you, working himself up in the meantime while you can keep your cool a lot longer than him.

V=Volume - How loud they get when having sex, things they might say, etc.

Sihtric doesn't hold back his sounds of pleasure, but he prefers to whisper and moan into your ear, because he knows it drives you wild and he loves to feel you clench around his cock whenever he does. He loves to praise you and is obsessed with calling you his wife in bed ever since the wedding, just to remind you that you belong to him.

'My wife is so good to me,' he'll moan, along with, 'I love my beautiful wife.'

W=Wild Card - a random letter for the character of your choice.

Sihtric is always clingy, but he gets extremely clingy and soft with you when he's tipsy, and then all he wants to do is to make slow and sweet love to you. But he often has a drink too many and then he gets either aggressive (to others) or emotional, and that's not a good mood for sex.

X=X-Ray - How they look with their clothes off.

Sihtric is like a sculptured god and it's honestly unfair. You could never grow tired of seeing his physique. The scars on his skin, his toned abs, his veiny arms and those biceps always make your mouth water. As do his thighs and most of all his hands, even when they are bruised from his fights. You love to kiss his bruises as you get to drag your lips all over his body when you do so, and he loves it too. And in regards to his size? No complaints there.

Y=Yearning - How often they need to have sex.

Sihtric would love to have sex at least once a day, but his schedule won't always allow that so it's usually at least four times a week. But when you both have time off together he'll surely make up for the days you couldn't have sex.

Z=ZZZ - How quickly they fall asleep after having sex.

Sihtric falls asleep rather fast if it's in the evening/at night, mainly because in the evening he likes it a little rougher and faster than in the morning for example. In the morning he likes it slow and intimate. He'll still doze off afterwards in the morning, but not for too long. It also depends on the day. If he's had a long day he's naturally tired already, if he had quite a relaxed day he can stay up for a few more hours just to cuddle with you.

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just-another-author-i-guess · 1 year

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Hey can I request something with judd birch I don't really have a prompt can you just make something fluffy and cute I need some soft love in my life lol

I literally had a dream about this last night, so here you go lol sorry it’s not like super soft, it’s just school hc’s

Tags: gn! Reader, kinda?, leaning towards fem, mentions of s e x 🫣, and alcohol, Judd’s driving, school should be an actual warning tbh

Summary: the one day a month when Judd show’s up to school.

Author’s note: I skipped my math class to write this,, 🤷🏻‍♀️ yk you gotta think like your characters when you write about them lmfao

Surviving a day in school with Judd

Word count; 1,1K

so, let’s say your boyfriend has one of those rare days where he decides to actually show up to school

He’s so, so tired in the morning

I’m talking slow blinking, yawning and constantly leaning his forehead on stuff to try and catch a quick nap in class or while standing up

He’s also constantly complaining, acts like it’s your fault he has to be there

He will be following you around the entire time too

No one will talk to you willingly the whole day because Judd is just always standing broodingly behind you

You’re getting something from your locker? Judd is standing there, scowling and leaning against the lockers besides yours so no one except you can get to their stuff

You’re talking to your friends? Judd will still just stand there a bit behind you, glaring at your friends or using his whole body weight to lean on you

Even if you’re talking to his friends, he’s not that talkative, he prefers just to let you lead the conversation

He does actually have those, friends I mean, like people he can hang out with if you’re not available, or people who host parties

You’re definitely getting initiated into his friend group as soon as you start dating, they’re all kinda like him anyways so you’d fit right in lol

But omg he’s so clingy at school

He just misses you between classes, yk? ),:

After the first classes, he’ll be more awake

You can’t tell if that’s good or bad tbh

It’s not like he actively goes out of his way to disturb classes or anything, but he’s definitely not an ideal student either

Like, he’s not one of those annoying kids who purposely talk really loudly or throw stuff or whatever

but he will sit with his feet up on his desk if he feels like it, doesn’t respond when he gets called on, will call the teacher a colourful variety of curse words and ends up getting kicked out and send to the office

Maybe just don’t call on him and he won’t insult you? 🤷🏻‍♀️

(He’s also literally the worst partner for assignments ever)

That’s in his own classes at least,, let’s say you share a PE class with him and it will very quickly turn into “hey let’s skip and go fuck in the bathroom”

The days were Judd shows up to school is definitely the days you get in trouble/ and/ or detention

Okay but that’s another thing, the other half of the day he will just show up outside of your classes

Either because he got kicked out of his or he has a break or something, he’ll just stand outside and wait for you to come out so he can drag you somewhere and yk,, get all the horny out of his system

Maury also straight up refuses to deal with Judd’s school, as soon as he enters he’s doing his best to convince Judd to find you and have sex or something instead

Omg,, the many, many, poor people you’ve traumatised in the school bathroom or parking lot

(He will also fuck you in his car in front of the school lmfao)

You usually eat lunch with Leah or your respective group of friends, but when Judd’s there you’ll eat with him

(You probably have to pay for his lunch🧍🏻)

Sometimes, though, he’ll drive you two out to get McDonald’s or something

Leah will sit with you at lunch too, so she can bully Judd for showing up or rant to him about something or whatever

Also if anyone’s bothering her, Judd is the best way for her to get out of talking to them

After lunch, you have a class with Leah so he’s once again left to his own devices

He reluctantly goes to his own class because he doesn’t have anything else to do lol

Unless it’s a teacher that’s really really nice, he gets kicked out again

The man literally spends the entire school day just roaming around because he keeps getting send to the office lmfao

He would probably try to get into the school’s vents as well? He’ll crawl over to where your class is and bother you by throwing paper or something through the vent

You’re just sitting in class, and suddenly a bunch of small paper scraps falls from the ceiling and lands in your hair

You look up, only to see your boyfriend grinning and gesturing with his head for you to leave the room

Leah sees it too and has to do her best not to burst out laughing 🫣

Surprisingly, he shows up to after school detention

Definitely not because you dragged him there and told him it was his fault for getting you roped into it as well—

You two sit in the back, and you try to do your homework while Judd naps

Sometimes you’ll share headphones or Judd will steal some of your notebook paper and draw on it

Judd is super distracting literally by just existing, he’s the loudest quiet person ever if that makes sense

When you’re finally out of school, Judd is by default expecting yet another rendezvous in the back of his van

It’s actually kinda fascinating how much the guy can go in just one day—

But anyways, he’ll drive you home or to his house or wherever you wanna go

Sometimes you come with him to pick up Nick from school

Okay so here’s one of Judd’s secrets

He can actually drive like a normal person 😮

I mean, sure he’s always a bit above the speed limit and a bit too close to hitting ppl walking close to the road, but he almost only drives like a race car driver when Nick’s in the car

Because he knows Nick hates it lol

You would have gotten used to it by now, because you know he isn’t actually gonna hit someone

But Nick doesn’t know that

Driving really, really fast is probably also a way for Judd to destress or wind down after a long, and boring, school day

He’ll pass the fuck out when he gets home from school

Well, he’ll knock back half a Jack daniels and raid the fridge and then pass out

You’re more than welcome to anything in the birches fridge yourself, so if you’re feeling particularly nice pls make him something sustainable

His idea of a proper meal is literally a bag of chips— I’m so stressed

Anyways, congrats. You made it through a whole school day with Judd lol

Don’t expect him to show up again tomorrow, though 🤷🏻‍♀️

I love doing Judd headcannons 🤭🤭

Tags: @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn

#big mouth #judd birch #judd birch x reader #big mouth x reader #headcannons #judd birch smut

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