#October caught them again...
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You look lonely.
《 VirginRockstar!Eddie munson x GroupieFem!Reader
《 Summary: Eddie finally had it all, success, money, and fame. There was still one tiny problem he had.
《 Warnings: unprotected sex, Eddie is 25. Virgin!Eddie, multiple orgasms, over stimulation. Loss of virginity. Brief mention of birth control, subish eddie. A little spanking.
《 Word count: a little over 8k
A/n: Not proofread ignore any mistakes you come across. Please like, comment, and reblog to show support. Divider credit @cafekitsune
18+ minors dni
Year 1991
Eddie's life was at an all-time high. He had everything he only dreamt about back home in Hawkins, Indiana. He had money, fame, and adoring fans who loved him. Yet he still never had the opportunity to make a real connection with anyone. He still hasn't found the one.
Which was fine he didn't really need anyone right now. His life was too hectic for a partner. He was traveling all over the world meeting new people every night. He put all of his time and energy into music, and it paid off in the end.
He's surrounded by beautiful models and actresses, but never has he once been lucky enough to be intimate with any of them. He was a nervous and shy guy even after success. He never changed. He was still Eddie. Sweet, shy, and the same nerdy man who loved to play DnD and read Tolkien.
Eddie did have plenty of opportunities to lose his virginity in the past, but he was terrified. Most people would assume he was getting laid left and right. He's read the gossip magazines. He knows what people think of him. While he can talk up a big game, once it's time to get down to it, he just... doesn't.
He runs away. He gets too much in his own head. What if I'm terrible? What if everyone finds out I'm still a virgin at twenty-five? Those thoughts raced in his mind anytime he took a woman out on date, knowing they were expecting to hook up with this crazy rockstar.
His fear of rejection held him back, and now his fear of being a total disappointment was the new cause. He knows there's truly nothing wrong with still being a virgin. it's society who has a problem with it. Normally Eddie wouldn't give two fucks what people thought about him, but this was different. Most days, he actually doesn't care at all or even thinks about it. Until he's alone in bed with nothing but his overthinking brain.
All that would change once he saw you in the crowd. Not blinking. Then he saw you again when he snuck backstage to his dressing room. He managed to somehow sneak past a group of girls without much notice, hiding behind large security guards.
You were standing off to the side next to a crowd full of half-naked women. Eddie didn't mind all of you being there. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed the view after walking off stage. A crowd full of women willing to be his for the night. If only they knew.
Tonight was your first Corroded Coffin show. You've been waiting months to finally see them live. They have been on their world tour for almost a full year. Eddie Munson, their lead singer and guitarist, has had your eye since you first saw them being interviewed on Headbangers Ball.
The moment you saw those eyes and long hair, you were hooked. Once you found out they were coming to your hometown, you rushed to buy the tickets. You were already familiar with the security at the venue they were playing. So, getting backstage access wouldn't be a problem. One of the perks of making friends with the employees.
You didn't sleep with every band that came into town. Only the ones that peaked your interest. You'd never be caught dead in some glam metal band members' hotel room. You liked the thrasher types. The ones who looked like they hadn't slept in days. The bands who were loud and aggressive. Those were your types. The guys in that scene were generally more sweet and down to earth. Which is why you gravitated towards them. If you were good to them, they were good to you.
Corroded Coffin live at The Whiskey a go-go on October 31st, 1991.
You held the ticket in your hand, shaking with excitement. You were finally going to see them in person. You were actually going to meet Eddie Munson. Being a groupie wasn't something you ever intended on happening. It just did. You loved the music first and then got to love the people who created it second.
You weren't too fond being labeled a groupie. You genuinely enjoyed the company of these rockstars. It was never just about sex. You made a real connection and friendship with most of them. You always knew there would be no romantic feelings between yourself and whoever it was you got to know for the night. Or a few nights.
Only two days until Corroded Coffin would be in your city. You bought two tickets just in case your best friend wanted to tag along. She never really enjoyed this scene the same way you did. There was a thrill and rush you got that she never experienced or cared to. Still, you bought the extra ticket just to be on the safe side. Maybe she'd like to share Eddie with you. If she was down. You don't know why you were so sure he'd give you the time of day. But you were.
You were very sure of yourself that you could have him. Most bands had an after-party at their hotel when the show was over. They'd all gather on the bus with whatever groupie of their choosing and head off. That was your plan. Get backstage. Introduce yourself to Eddie and hope he takes you to the party....if they have one. Party or not, you were going to be his.
You've heard the rumors. You read the magazines and seen him out and about with some of the most famous women in Hollywood. The groupies that walked the sunset strip all had a little tale of how he was in bed. They would describe him as rough or very giving. Sometimes both. Some said he was gentle.
Others would say he was an asshole who kicked you out after he got what he wanted. You know, most of the time, you needed to take what they said with a grain of salt. From your past experiences with other bands. Their little stories were fabricated or over dramatized for the sake of attention.
Make no mistake that you didn't just want to sleep with him. You wanted to be his friend. Talk to him about his music. Have a connection with him. Listen to any crazy stories he might have. You wanted to have a life like Pamela Des Barres.
Where songs are written about you. Getting special treatment and tour the world with them. Have a rockstar fall for you even though that's a big no-no. You don't fall in love. You don't get romantic feelings. No matter how deep of a connection you get with one of them. It's hard not to. You idolize these men and women. But you knew it would only end in heartbreak for you.
The night of the concert you decided to go early and sweet talk the security so they'll let you backstage. You knew them pretty well by now. They know why you're there and have no problems with it. Your friend didn't tag along like you were hoping, but you're used to it. You'd figure you would chat it up with some of the other girls' backstage. They weren't your favorite to talk to. Too much jealousy and competition amongst them for your liking, but if gave you something to do in the meantime.
-
Eddie had been scrambling around all day long, getting ready for tonight's concert. He made sure his hair looked nice and his clothes were laid out on his hotel bed. He's been hitting the gym a lot more lately. So his clothing choice consisted of no shirt and just jeans half the time. He's got a lot more tattoos since the last tour he has done. A full chest piece and both arms down to his knuckles covered in ink. He looked a little different now compared to just three years ago.
He was nervous. Eddie was always nervous before a show. No matter if there was a crowd of five people or hundreds. He was scared. He puts too much pressure on himself. He compares himself to his idols too often. Something he knows he shouldn't do, but he can't help himself. He was going to the venue early and helping the roadies unpack and set up the equipment.
Eddie figured he'd meet up with the guys and do sound checks and then help his team get everything ready. They were playing at the Whiskey. A venue Eddie was very familiar with. He's spent most of his time in the crowd watching his favorite bands play up on that stage. Eddie never imagined there would come a point he'd be playing up there, too.
Back at the venue, you were talking it up with one girl you've grown pretty close to. You didn't know her personally, but she was at the same shows you always frequented. Her name was Lila, and she looked like she walked right out of a penthouse centerfold. Long bleached blonde hair, big breasts and legs for days. Most of the other girls hated her, but she was always very sweet. She didn't make up one night stand stories to get "popular." If she didn't hook up with a certain guy, then she'd tell you. She never lied. Which is why you've grown to respect her.
"I hope we get to meet Eddie after the show ." She bounced from one heeled foot to the next. A large smile plastered on her face.
"Me too." You chuckled, watching as she struggled to contain her excitement.
"Doesn't matter which one of us takes him home as long as it is not one of those Debbie downers over there." She leaned forward to whisper.
"Why not have us both?" You joked.
Her jaw dropped." Yes! He can have us both."
You shake your head and pull her to walk over out by the side stage. You always got the best view from there. No one shoves or pushes you out the way. Plus, you could be very close to the band. Which is exactly what you wanted. The sound tech guys were busy putting everything together as the roadies were bringing in the equipment.
That's when you noticed him. Hair pulled back in a low ponytail. His bangs are longer, and loose strands of hair fell beside his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just pants and a chain around his neck. The tattoos on his arms and chest on full display for you. Eddie was getting the amps on stage with the rest of the crew. You heard them make a joke about which girl in the back they'd pick out for him. But you didn't care about that. You couldn't take your eyes away. He was truly more beautiful in person than on TV.
Eddie glanced your way a few times when he noticed a couple of people off to the side watching. He felt a blush creep its way up to his cheeks when he saw you gawking at him. Eddie still wasn't the best around women if he didn't prep himself first. He was a good flirt, but the moment he noticed they were checking him out, he'd turn beet red. The little blonde standing next to you had her eyes on the road crew.
You saw him make eye contact with you a few times, and your mouth went dry. You've been with plenty of rockstars before, but none of them have ever given you butterflies the way Eddie did. His big brown eyes look straight into yours, and your breath hitches. You tried to elbow Lila and get her attention, but she was too busy checking out a roadie. She was like that.
It didn't matter if they were the ones playing onstage or working for the band. If she found them attractive, she went for it. You nudged and nudged desperately, trying to get her attention as Eddie's eyes never left yours. But all you heard was her giggle next to you as she eyed up and down the guitar tech. "Alright, Ed, time for sound check." You saw Jeff peek his head from around the corner.
You lost her now. Her focus was not on Eddie anymore but his roadie. You wouldn't be surprised if she even stayed to watch the show.
Only an hour until the show starts and you were getting antsy. Lila was gone. She left not too long after the stage was officially set up. You knew where she ventured off to. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. You just wish you weren't alone. There was something so...exciting about tonight. You've been to plenty of rock concerts, but this one was different. You didn't want to experience it alone.
Corroded Coffin were still considered newcomers. Who got very big very fast. There wasn't a magazine on a stand that didn't have Eddie's face on it. From tabloids to Spin magazine. He was on it. The thrill of getting to experience him in person was coursing through your veins.
There was this lump of excitement in your throat. You wanted to scream. Get it all out. You made up your mind that you were going back to his tour bus or hotel room. He was going to be yours for the night. It didn't matter how many women were lined up for his picking. It was going to be you.
Finally, the lights dim, and the crowd has already gathered to their designated spots. You were still off to the side. Gazing up at the smokey harsh purple haze lighting up the stage. There is a backdrop with huge black lettering reading Corroded Coffin hanging up high. Gareth is already at his drum set, setting up for the rest of the guys to make their grand entrance.
Each member emerges from behind the curtain with a roar from this pretty large crowd. Jeff and Grant waved to the sea of people. The crowd is alive, and you can feel it. That electricity is pumping in your veins. The place was packed. Maximum compacity is five hundred, but you know there is way more than that here tonight.
The mic in the middle of the front stage stays empty. Eddie still has yet to come out and introduce his band. The crowd is getting more and more wild. The other members play some instrumental songs to help hold everyone over until he arrives.
The band picks up speed, and the lights switch from a purple haze to red. The entire stage was glowing. The smoke on the stage gets thicker. The crowd forms a mosh pit right off to the side from you. Some of them sneak on stage to dive back into the crowd.
Your eyes have not left the stage. Not once. You kept glancing back from the mic stand to the curtain. You wouldn't lie. You were getting impatient. Extremely impatient. You wish you still had Lila with you so you could have someone to talk to as time passed. Knowing her, you probably won't be seeing her around until the next band is in town.
You blinked, and there he was. A guitar slung over his chest. His hair hanging loose around his shoulders. The shirt he was wearing now tore and cut shows off all of his tattoos. He doesn't say anything. He makes his way to the mic with a cocky smirk on his face. Watching the sea of arms waving out for him. The band never slows. Eddie starts belting out lyrics to their newest single. His voice growling in the mic. You'll never understand how these guys can do this almost every night for months on end.
The veins in his neck buldging out with every passing lyric. The crowd here tonight has never been like this before. There was something so special about witnessing a group with so much energy and passion that it's passed off to the crowd. The floor beneath your feet vibrating. You can't tell if it's from the music or the stampede next to you. Whatever it was, it had you mesmerized.
Your eyes still never left, Eddie. He stopped playing for a short moment to address the crowd. "How is everybody doing tonight?!" The contrast bewildered you. Between his speaking voice and singing voice definitely would give anyone whiplash.
He scanned the crowd, looking at how chaotic it had been since he arrived. Eddie looks off the side and sees you there. Same spot at earlier. You must look utterly hypnotized, and truth be told you were. You couldn't look away. He's got some kind of hold on you. He smirks and looks back to the rest of the audience, but every so often would make eye contact with you.
Song after song, you noticed guitar picks landing by your feet. You hadn't seen the first three times it was done. Too busy watching him thrash away on his guitar. You're surprised it's still able to play after the beating he's given it. He's playing so fast his hand looks like a blur. A pick slapping you in the chest snaps you back to reality. You bend to retrieve it and notice there are now five picks total all by your feet. They're a crimson red with E.M. scratched in the back.
Eddie had been throwing his picks at you the whole time. You hadn't noticed until he plucked one so hard at your chest that you felt it through your t-shirt. He moves over to your side of the stage and crouches down so he's almost eye level with you. He's so close you can touch him if you wanted. Eddie plays the solo of their final song of the night right in front of you. It was like he was playing it for you. Time stood still. Just the two of you and the music. You didn't even realize you stopped breathing until he got up and walked away. Giving you one last look over his should.
Eddie goes back to stand at his microphone. His confidence is through the roof. His stance is proud. "Thank you so fucking much for coming out to see us tonight. We are Corroded Coffin!" He growls that last part out, and the crowd erupt so loud you know your ears will be ringing tomorrow. The vibration on the floor intensified. You were surprised that it hasn't collapsed in yet.
One by one, the members exit the stage. Leaving Eddie to be the last. He looked back at you one last time and gave a little wave. Did he really just wave at you? No must have been to someone else. Definitely not you. You kept telling yourself.
There is no way. He was giving you a lot of attention tonight. Maybe he was? You kept arguing back and forth in your mind as you headed out.
Before you can even try to find the backstage area again, there is a security guard handing you a pass. That was awfully quick, but you don't dwell on it. All you wanted was to find Lila and Eddie.
You rush to the back and see her sitting on a case that holds one of their bigger amps. Her hair is disheveled, and her makeup all smeared. "Where did you go?"
She jumps, "Oh hey!! I got preoccupied."
"How was the show?"
You snort. "It was amazing. They were amazing. He was amazing."
"Babe, that's great. Are you going to the after-party at their penthouse?" Lila goes to stand and smooths down her dress. "The roadie.. I forgot his name told me about it."
"Oh, I'm definitely going. The security guard gave me a pass. I'm sure Eddie told him to give it to me. He had been throwing these at me all night." You go into your pocket to show her one of his picks he had been hitting you with.
Her eyes widened, and a smile spreads across her face. "He wants youuu."
She looked over at the other girls, who were now ease dropping on your conversation. She rolled her eyes and went back to give you a big hug. A bright smile stretched across her face.
"Let's get going. There is another little roadie I got my eye on." She hooks an arm around yours, guiding you to the exit doors.
You don't see Eddie anywhere. He's not out mingling with any of the backstage crew or fans. You figured he was getting cleaned up after the show. He did look very sweaty. His shirt clung to his skin, and his bangs stuck to his forehead. You were positive you would see him at the after party.
The after-party was at this luxury hotel in the penthouse suite. Jeff, Grant, Gareth, and Eddie all had their own hotel rooms but used this one for mingling after their concert. There were tons of people here. Lila left you behind again the moment she walked through those double doors. She saw her roadie and planted herself in his lap and never got up.
You dabbled in conversation with their crew and had a pretty good talk with Jeff. He was the calm one of the band, and Grant was the funny one. When they got to bickering, it was like watching an old married couple. Grant would say some stupid joke, and Jeff would rub at his temple like he just came down with the worst migraine of his life.
While you were busy conversing with them, you kept scanning the room for Eddie. The sole reason you were even here to begin with. He wasn't here. At least not yet. You were wondering if maybe he found someone else to spend his night with. The thought of that riddled you with disappointment. Was he even the one who gave you the pass?
That didn't stop you from looking. The more you looked for him, the less engaged you were with the two men in front of you. The drink in your hand has become room temperature. More people have now rushed to join the party. The air was thick with smoke. The music was loud, and you started to feel suffocated. You excused yourself from the conversation to go to a less occupied area away from everyone.
As you're making your way past drunk person after drunk person, you see him. Eddie's standing off to the side with a glass in hand that contained a dark liquid. He looks freshly showered. His hair is still a little damp at the ends. You decided to muster up some courage and walk over to where he was tucked away all alone.
"You look lonely." You remark watching his face closely.
He swirls the brown liquid in the glass, causing the ice to clink. "Nah, jus' wanted a moment to cool down." He stared ahead watching the party.
"You know, just one pick would've been enough." You joked, hoping to lighten his mood a little. Eddie was coming off dismissive, but he's was just shy. He's never been good with small talk. As a matter of fact, he hated small talk it always felt forced more than anything.
He snorts, "Sorry bout that you weren't really noticing the first three I plucked your way, though."
"That's fair...."
You eye him and down, taking him all in. He looked good. Eddie notices you checking him out, too. His bites his inner cheek to keep calm. You're looking at him like you want to devour him whole.
"Wanna go somewhere more quiet?" You place a hand on his forearm and lean in a little close.
"It's pretty loud in here. I can't really hear you." You played innocent. You know what you were doing, and Eddie definitely knew what you were doing.
He gulps "Uhhh...sure". He straightens himself up, clearing his throat. He needs to keep his composure. But for how long? Would tonight be the night?
This alway happened he would invite a girl to his room or they would invite him somewhere. Things would get hot and heavy, and right when it was time to fuck he'd kick them out. Too embarrassed to be a disappointment for them. He'd rather be called an asshole than terrible at sex. Tonight? Tonight was going to be different.
He set his drink down by a near table and takes you by the hand leading you out a door you had no idea was there. Eddie walks you down an empty hallway until he's stopping at his room door. He takes his key out and looks back to see you behind him, staring at the fancy carpet. He was nervous but so were you. Just a little. Eddie had a bit of liquid courage in him tonight. He's usually a beer guy but decided to go for something harder to celebrate how great of a show tonight was.
There is a click, and soon he's pushing open the door. "You first." As he bows letting you enter.
You make your way in the room as he flicks on the lights behind you. It was large with a couch facing a king-sized bed. You take your jacket off, and he does the same. Eddies wearing a shirt that if it had anymore holes wouldn't even be considered wearable anymore. It does show off his arms and tattoos, so you're not complaining.
Throwing your jacket on the side of his couch, "You guys were really good tonight."
"Thanks the crowd was fucking insane." Eddie's making himself another drink at the mini bar. "Thought they were gonna go through the floor."
"Want one?" He offers calling over to you.
Shaking your head. "No, I had quit enough earlier, actually."
He nods respectfully at your decline.
Rounding the corner of his bar, he comes to plop down beside you, spilling a little of his drink on him. He's watching you closely, and you've never felt more nervous around anyone else before. You've done this plenty of times. Take a rockstar back to their room. Have some fun, and then stay a little while or leave. No one has ever made your heart skip a beat other than Eddie Munson. Who is now watching you intently. In this moment, you really wish Lila was here too.
You do it. You go right for it. This is why you're here. Why he took you to his room with no amount of hesitation. Leaning forward, you capture his lips with yours in a feverish kiss. You can taste brandy on his mouth as your tongue swips his bottom lip for access. Eddie still holding on to his drink, and the other is firmly planted beside him. You stop coming up for air. His chest is heaving, and his pupils are blown.
Eddies doesn't say anything. He was too caught up on from your kiss. He leans back in the cushions. Letting his legs spread wider apart. You take that as an opportunity to straddle his lap. Eddie stared up at you, and before you could say anything. His plump lips were already on yours. You grind down against him feeling his semi hard cock through his pants. He grunts in your mouth as your tongues fight for dominance.
You press down harder in his lap, desperately looking for any small amount of friction you could get. Wetness is already pooling between your legs. His hands move to grip on your ass hard as he helps you move against him.
You kept thinking to yourself that this wasn't real. You're actually not sitting in Eddie Munson's lap making out in his hotel room. He moans when he feels your hand dip down to rub his cock. Feeling how hard he was getting in his jeans.
Eddie breaks the kiss and stills your movements on him. "Wait, you don't wanna do this with me. He frowns.
"Why wouldn't I?" You're confused. Does he not like you? Does he not find you attractive and is only saying this to be nice so you'd leave? So many thoughts rush through your head in just a couple of seconds.
"I dunno. I just think you might be let down a little." His voice is small. He's not the big loud rockstar that was screaming just hours ago.
Eddie still won't dare look at you. Too afraid of rejection even to this day if he told you the truth.
Your brows furrow, and you laugh in disbelief, "Why would I be let...down? "
He rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated groan. He moves to get up, and you go to sit back in your spot on the couch.
Pinching the bridge of his nose. His lips were in a thin line. He was annoyed and embarrassed. Mostly with himself.
".....fuck I guess now is the time." He muttered under his breath.
"Ive never done this before." Eddie waved from himself to you. Hoping you got what he was trying to say so he didn't have to blurt it all out.
"Huh, do what? You're still so confused, but you're trying to understand him.
Not only did his music mean so much to you, but he did as well. Corroded Coffin was the first band you truly clung on to. The first band that you actually bought a ticket to see instead of sneaking in and stealing a seat. Seeing him struggle to find his words was truly tough to watch. You have so much respect and admiration for him. The last thing you want is to see him upset over something.
"It's okay Eddie whatever it is, you can tell me. It won't make me think any less of you. You tried to reassure him.
He takes a deep breath, "Fucking hell I can't believe I'm about about tell you this...I'm a virgin."
You blinked back, thinking he was just messing around. He was known to pull little pranks on people. "Shut up, you're lying. I've heard the rumors."
"Yeah, that's what they are, rumors, all lies." He chews on his thumb nail out of nervousness. Would you laugh at him now? Is he still this amazing rockstar? "It won't make me think any less of you." Yours words ring in his head, but were they true?
"B-but you've gone out with like very famous women." It's not that you didn't believe him or that this was a bad thing. He was a famous rockstar who could have anyone he wanted.
"Nothing ever happened, sure. I tried to get to know them and have a serious relationship, but most of them just used me to shed whatever good girl image they had going." Eddie confessed. There was a hint of sadness in his voice.
"So... You're telling the truth?"
"Yeah, I understand if you wanna leave." His tone was harsh, but he didn't mean for it to come off that way. He is getting defensive to protect himself from humiliation.
"I don't wanna go." You move to stand in front of him. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No," Eddie's voice is barely above a whisper. He finally looks at you, and his face softens when he sees no amount of judgment coming from you.
"Let's get on the bed." You push him so he flops back on the mattress. Standing between his legs hanging off the side, bare feet firmly planted on the floor. His shoes having long been discarded.
Slowly, you strip yourself of your top, pulling it above your head as he watched your tits bounce as you lift the shirt. You weren't wearing a bra, and you were thankful for that. One less article of clothing to getting in the way. Next was your jeans, and you carefully inched them down your legs along with your panties. Eddies eyes stayed glued to you as you became completely bare before him.
"You ever touched a girl before?" You crawl on top of him sitting just below his cock straining painfully against his zipper.
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I've touched tits before."
"Not tits..here." You laugh, taking his hand and putting it between your legs. He lets out a shakey breath. Feeling the wetness between your legs as you feel his calloused fingers explore your entrance. Your slick coating his fingertips, getting them nice and sticky.
"Oh," he marveled, his eyes focusing on where his hand currently was.
"I'm gonna make you feel so good, Eddie." You purred.
You bite back a moan as he continued to explore at your opening. Your hand gripped at his wrist.
"Fuck." He cursed under his breath. Your pussy felt so inviting. Dripping wet like it was crying out for him. Begging and pleading to be fucked.
His finger glided up between your folds until they're grazing your aching clit. "Mmm, that feels so good." You praised and move both of your hands to place them on his chest.
Eddies watching and studying your face. His fingers rubbing sloppy slow circles on your throbbing clit. Your slick dripping down your inner thighs. You moan out his name and it takes everything in Eddie not to cum on the spot.
"Take your clothes off." You breathed heavy, feeling yourself already getting close.
He sat up quickly as you helped remove his shirt and pants. Leaving him in nothing but his blue checkered boxers. Tiny beads of sweat already forming on his face and tattooed chest. You take a moment to admire the dark inck, covering him almost up all the way up to his neck. You know It must have taken hours or even days to finish.
He lays there waiting. Watching and waiting for your next move or instructions. Whatever you were going to do, he was ready for it. Anything you wanted, he's all ears. Eddie was yours for the night as he wasn't going to chicken out this time. No running.
His cock forming a large tent in his underwear already. You can see a small wet patch from his pre cum. "Can I kiss you?"
He nods, moving forward to plant his lips to yours. You giggle, "Not on the mouth."
"Im talking about right there." You run your thumb over his leaking tip that's trapped in his boxers. A mischievous grin creeping up on your face.
Eddie looks a little dazed. Like he can't believe this actually happening to him right now. "Y-yeah."
You pull his boxers down letting his cock free. His tip was an angry shade of red, precum dripping down his cock. Your mouth salivating at his length. His cock was thick with prominent running down his shaft. It laid nicely against his belly button.
"You have such a pretty cock." You cooed taking his length in your hand. Eddie hisses from your touch. He's so sensitive that any amount of attention will send him just about over the edge.
His head falls back, and you can see his Adam's apple bounce when he swallows. He blows out a breath of air, trying to focus.
"Oh shit." He whispered to himself.
You take the opportunity to lick a strip up the side of his cock. He groans deep from his chest. He was going to cum he just knows it. With his cock still in your hand you slap the head of his cock on your tongue tasting the saltiness of his pre cum. Wrapping your lips around the head, you swirl and suck on him gently. Eddie throws an arm over to cover up face. His other hand clawing at the white duvet.
"I-if you don't stop, I'm not gonna last much longer." He managed to stammer out. Your mouth too busy working on his sensitive tip to even care.
You remove his cock to speak, "That's kinda the point."
Wrapping your soft lips back around him. You suck much harder this time, and his hips involuntarily buck. You smile, feeling a boost of confidence you are getting this type of reaction out of him. Felt like getting a little cocky. you decided to take him further in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat.
His abdomen flexing as his release builds. Your throat swallowing around his length. You pull him almost all the way out before taking him in your mouth fully again. Your head bobbing up and down his shaft. His hips bucking up again making his cock go deeper in your throat. You gag slightly as spit drips down your chin.
Eddies still hiding his face from you. His cheeks flushed. "Fuck....I'm gonna cum."
You bob your faster. You take absolutely no sympathy on him. You want him to finish. You want to taste and feel his cum sliding down the back of your throat. You say something in audible as your mouth is currently stuffed full. Your jaw is hurting and going slack. But you don't care.
Your main goal for right now is not only to make him cum, but make him do it as many times as he can handle. With no warning, Eddie grabs your hair and keeps your head in place while thrusting up in your mouth, making it difficult for you to catch your breath. Your nose brushes against the soft curls of his with each thrust he gave. His hips raising off the bed to push his cock in the back of your throat.
"Mmphf, ooh shit." He grunts, shooting ropes of cum down your throat. The saltiness of his cum is all you can taste. Eddies relentlessly fucking your mouth the way he wants to fuck your pussy as he rides out his orgasm.
Every low groan emitted deep from his chest causes your pussy to flutter, sending a shiver down your spine.
He lets go of you, and you remove him from your throat with a loud pop. His cum and your saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.
"Christ, I'm sorry." Eddie apologized, He really tried not to cum so suddenly. He really really did.
You coughed a little, finally able to breathe normally again. "It's okay."
"Yeah, but... what about you?" He asked as guilt was starting to set in. He didn't want you leaving with ache between your legs that wasn't satisfied.
"Who said we were done?" You smile deviously at him. His cock still semi hard on his belly. You lay beside him, running your fingernails against his length. He gasps and lets out a whimper.
The difference between this Eddie and the one on stage is something you'll never forget. His cock twitches and you can feel him getting hard under your touch.
"Scoot up on the bed for me." You instructed, wanting him to get nice and comfortable before continuing.
Eddie listened and moved higher up on the bed until his head hit the pillows.
You move to straddle him. His cock sitting just above your pussy. He's looking at you in awe. Like you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, and he's completely at your mercy. And you are. And he is. As of right now, if you told him to run naked down the hallways, he'd do it. Eddie would do anything you told him to.
You rise and scoot forward some more so his cock is between your wet fold. You rock back and forth on him. He moan as you rubbed yourself on his cock. Your aching clit is finally getting some much needed attention. His chest is rising and falling rapidly.
Eddie moves his hands so they're holding on tight to your hips. You grind on him harder and faster. Your juices soaking his thick cock. That's it he was going to cum again. It was too much. What was left of his cum you didn't clean off was currently making a mess all over your pussy.
"F-fucking! hell." Eddie breathed, his fingers digging deep into your skin. He could feel another orgasm approaching him.
You felt yourself growing closer, too. The veins on his cock pulsating between your legs. Your pussy rubbing against him so deliciously. His tip nudging at your clit. Your legs tremble. Eddie bites down hard on his bottom lip almost drawing blood. His eyes glossed over. He was in pure extacy.
Eddie couldn't get enough. The feeling of his cock gliding between your slippery wet folds. It was driving him wild. If just by doing this felt incredible. Then he can't even comprehend what it must feel like to be buried in your pussy.
You had him drooling and unable to think straight. Nothing his own hand and a dirty magazine has ever been able to accomplished. Whatever his own imagination concocted was nothing compared to you. Nothing at all.
"You....this--fuck I can't even talk." Eddies whimpering and whining under you. He has a vice grip going from your ass and back to your hips. Moving them to hold on for dear life or smoothing over the softness of your skin.
"Oh my god!" he croaked. The bed rocking back and forth as you grinded on his cock. The pictures on the wall shake as you go faster. He watches as your breasts bounce, putting him in a trance.
Your climax quickly approaching, but you try to push it back. You wanted him to cum. You'll get yours later.
You feel him twitch again, and he curses under his breath. The grip he has on your hips starts to hurt. "I'm cuming...oh fuck I'm cuming." You haven't stopped moving as his cum shoots out onto his stomach and chest. Tears spring to his eyes and pour down his cheeks. Both of your minds are clouded. You stop grinding, letting him come down from his high.
He lays there limp arms out stretched after letting you go.
"I..youre so fucking amazing." Eddie finally spoke up.
You move back off him letting his cock rest up before you continued anymore. If only others could see him right now. Completely fucked out and you've only just begun. His skin is shiny with a sheen of sweat in the lighting of his hotel room. Eddie would never forget this moment or you for that matter. If he could take you on tour with him and never let you leave, he would.
"Hey, pretty boy, you okay?" You coaxed, running a hand down his cheek.
He doesn't speak, still trying to collect himself. "Mmhmm." Was all you managed to get out of him. His cock was surprisingly still hard.
"Are you ready to feel me now?" You leaned over to whisper in his ear. Licking a strip up his throat before biting down, leaving a tiny little bruise behind.
"Fuck yes." His husky voice as he replied. His eyes are closed, preparing himself for you.
Eddie was ready for this. More than ready. He made himself wait long enough out of fear and anxiety.
"Need your cock so bad." You playfully whine. Hearing that drove him crazy. He doesn't think he'll ever tire listening to someone beg for his cock from now on. Not after tonight.
You smile and move to lean up. Taking his length in your hand and aligning him up at your opening. His breath hitches as you take just his tip in you. Eddies mouth hangs open as he watches you slowly sink down on his length.
You take him inch by inch teasing him as you do. He's so thick it's going to take time adjusting to his size. You don't think you're ever going to feel as full as you will tonight. Somehow, you wonder if Eddie truly knows just how big he is. He has to have an idea? Right?
You continue sinking down on his cock while its spreading you open. It was pleasure and a little pain feeling him splitting you open like this. Your pussy dripping for him. "Ooh, Eddie."
He's biting hard on his closed fist. Fighting hard to contain whatever animalistic moan is threatening to escape. The tip of his cock is a shade of red that's almost purple. The veins in his neck protruding out.
"Please fuck me." He begged you.
Eddie Munson just begged you to fuck him. He's actually begging.
you most definitely are not forgetting tonight and will most certainly never tell anyone. Not even Lila. Sorry, she had a chance to be here and instead picked a roadie. The boost of confidence that just surged through your body after hearing him.
"I-i don't care what you do jus fuck me oh fff-god please!" Eddie whined as he rushed to feel your pussy hugging around his cock.
"Relax, I'm g'nna fuck you." You teased.
Finally you bury him deep inside you until his cock has fully disappeared. You both sigh in unison at the relief. You sit still, allowing yourself to get used to the intrusion. You roll your hips, taunting him a little.
"Sweetheart, dont tease me. I need you." He begs you some more.
"Mmf! god!, you're so big." You whimper. Eddie's cock stretched your sensitive walls the way no one else ever has.
You brace your hands on his abdomen. Eddie, out of nowhere, slaps your ass hard. He was growing extremely impatient all of a sudden. Grabbing your attention immediately. You nod, blowing out a breath of air. Rolling your hips some more before lifting them up and slamming yourself back down on him. His pubic hair tickling at your clit. Your both moaning together as his hips thrust up to meet yours. His tip hit that spongey spot on your walls.
"Fuck fuck... it hurts", Eddie cried with a strangled moan.
"Want me to stop?" You asked stopping yourself from gliding your pussy on his length.
"No! Don't stop!" He half shouts.
"I like it."
You quirk an eyebrow at him. His eyes look into yours, pleading for you to keep going. You lift yourself up and gingerly sink back down on his cock.
"Faster." Eddie demanded with a croak in his voice. You don't hesitate for a second. You lift up and start bouncing on his length at a frantic pace.
The springs in the mattress squeaked from how hard you rode him. Eddies face twisting up, and you know he's about to cum once more. He's blabbering nonsense beneath you. Mumbling to himself, "it hurts... so good," and "You're so tight."
He moves one of his hands to grip and spank your ass harshly. You know he is probably mimicking what he's seen in porn but you dont mind. You enjoyed it. Your pussy making a loud wet schlick noise as Eddie's cock stretched you open.
"Ahh! Eddie." You moan out for him.
"Keep fucking me.....dont stop. Dont f-fking stop." He grunts. His eyes half lidded as he watched you ride his cock. "Goddamn, you're wet!"
You feel your release building back up. You reach a hand between your legs as Eddie watched you. You rub tight circles on your sore bud.
He leans up on his elbows, looking on as you play with yourself. He was getting close again. Another orgasm threatening to spill out of him. Eddie is surprised he's about to give you another. he knows he's about to cum for the third time tonight.
"W-wanna cum again for you." Eddie lets out a small whimper. He sounded so needy.
"Oooh baby." You mewl. Your mouth creating an O shape. Your eyes are closed tight, and your thighs shake. You feel that coil in your belly tightening. "Spank me again." You begged him.
Eddie does as he's told and slaps your ass hard, causing it to ripple. The sound of skin slapping bouncing off the wallpapered room.
He feels your walls pulsing around his cock and he thrusts up repeatedly hitting that spongey spot inside you just right. Your hand moving faster circles on your clit as you struggle to keep riding him.
Eddie keeps thrusting his cock up in your pussy over and over again. It doesn't take much longer before your orgasm is ripping through your body. You let out moan that almost resembles a scream. He's watching you come undone before him. A hint of pride hits him, knowing it was him who did that to you. You won't be surprised if hotel security is called to check and see if any is hurt. The noises coming from this room would cause anyone to be concerned.
Your nails digging in his chest while his cock helps you ride out your orgasm. Your body spasms above him. You lean forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You stay like that while Eddies sweaty skin and leftover cologne invading your nose. Sitting back up your mind feeling foggy and your face tingles. White dots appearing in front of you.
"Sweetheart I-I can't cum inside you." Eddie rasped his face tear stained. His eyes look at you sadly.
"I'm on the pill it's okay." You reassured.
He nods and you move your hips to easily ride on his cock. Your pussy clenching up around his length was sending him over the edge. You were so tight. So wet. His balls are completely saturated in your creamy juices.
You feel his length twitch against your walls. Just a few more pumps of his cock and he's spilling his load for the third time. Eddie cums so deep and hard inside of you he forgets how to breathe for a moment.
His toes curling and eyes go crossed. His mouth hanging wide open. He shoots a hand up to press against the headboard, bracing himself. You're relentless on top of him. Bouncing on his cock the bed is smacking the wall with so much force.
"Fuking christ." He grunts, his head digging back into the pillow. His back arching. You don't stop bouncing up and down on him like a bunny until you've milked him dry. His cock growing more in pain by the minute.
"C-cant cum again" Eddie pleaded. His cock hurt and it was now unbearable. Not like how it felt before when the pain was enjoyable. He can feel himself, getting close again.
Eddie just can't do it. He wants to, but he can't. He wants to fill you up with his cum again. He wants to make a mess of you the same way you did for him. Unfortunately his cock is too worn out and and sensitive to give you another.
You listened and halted.
"No more." He breathed.
"Want me to stop this time?"
Eddie nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. Regretfully, he had to stop. He's drained in more ways than one.
His face all the way to his neck is beet red. If his chest wasn't covered in tattoos, you'd guess he was that color all over.
He lets out a shuddered breath, running a hand in his hair. You take the opportunity to carefully remove him from inside you. Wincing a little at the sudden loss. His cum dripping out of your pussy and down your trembling legs a little getting on him as well. Eddie is quivering beneath you. There is a trail of his cum left behind on his abdomen and chest from his previous orgasm.
You laid back down next to where he was. His cock sore and tired from the abuse you just gave it. You and Eddie lay there not speaking for a while. The only sounds are low hums coming from the A/C. Your breathing evening out.
"Ya okay?" You asked softly, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, I...I feel fan-fuckin-tastic, actually." Eddie laughed, recalling what just happened.
"Well, I should probably get ready to go now." You announce trying to hide the sadness in your voice.
"You're not gonna stay a little longer?" He moves to sit up.
"D-did you want me to stay?" You eyed him curiously.
"....well, yeah." His voice now very horse from grunting for so long. He shifts to look you in the eyes. Letting you know he's serious.
"You can sleep here if you want and leave in the morning. Check out isn't until 11:am."
"Oh okay..I'll stay." You smiled over to him.
"Cool! Hey, did you want to hear this new song I'm working on?" Eddie exclaimed, trying to stand on his wobbly legs.
He carefully walks over to his guitar, still completely naked, and his hair disheveled.
"Is that even a question?" You pick up his discarded grungy t-shirt throwing it over your head. You never realized how cold his room felt until now.
For the rest of the night, Eddie spent the majority of the time playing you little snippets of songs he's been writing. He'd ask you for honest feedback, which you gave.
"Ya know, I'm definitely gonna be writing a song about you." He stated, strumming lazily on his guitar.
Your eyes widened as you laughed at what you thought was a joke." You're serious?"
"As a heart attack." Eddie smiled before getting off the couch, tackling you back on the bed and attacking your neck. Having you both giggling like maniacs.
After this night, you became a legend in your own right. You swore you'd never tell a soul about this, but It didn't take long after the song was officially released for everyone to put two and together. Eddie kept his word about writing a song after you. He didn't mention you were his first, but that's okay. That can be your little secret together. The best kept secret.
Corroded Coffin would go off to win two grammys and headline stadium tours. You went to see them when they came into town, and Eddie gave you the VIP treatment. You promised yourself you wouldn't catch feelings. That was hard to do when he would serenade you in his hotel room.
Eddie was too charming and caring to avoid any of that. You knew better, and you curse yourself for even going against your own set of rules. You were sure Eddie didn't feel the same. He just had a special bond with you after you took his virginity. He definitely didn't possess any true feelings for you besides admiration and friendship. Or did he? Only time will tell.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#rockstar!eddiemunson#eddie munson smut#my writing#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#virgin!eddie munson#sub!eddie#virgin!eddie x reader
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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART ONE !
summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.
chapters :: the masterlist.
word count :: 7.5k
content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, yandere!noir, yandere!hobie, reader death, gore/violence, murder, electrocution, fire, guns, alcohol, cigarettes, suicidal tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, physical restraint, child abuse/neglect, allusions to a child's death, physically abusive ex-boyfriend, infidelity, & torture.
──── October 17th, 2099 — Miguel O'Hara remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. August 24th, 1934 — Peter Parker remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. July 3rd, 2020 — Hobie Brown remembers the day the same way he will never forget you.
Y/N L/N. Miguel O'Hara, Peter Parker, and Hobie Brown will never forget them the same way they will never forget how it felt to lose them.
The inevitable fate of your demise is a cannon event for all spider-people. To love this person with every shred of their being only to live the rest of their lives without them; to love this person with all the might their body can contain only to let go of their hand in the end. It crushes their soul. Countless people are forced to live with the consequences of being bitten by a spider, not one had suspected it would be so detrimental.
Not when it is your life that has been taken.
Written in the stars is this destiny. How they will never love another again, but vow to be a hero and refrain a similar fate from falling onto anyone else. Many have been able to crawl out of the bottomless pit that is grief, but others have succumbed to the unforgiving anguish and let their life escape them. Just the way yours had. After all, what is life if you are not present? What is the point of living if there is no one there to patch up their scars and praise them for their heroic acts? There is no point, which leaves these three particular spider-people here. Their body is stuck in the past, reliving each moment with you up until they lost you forever.
October 17th, 2099. It was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't let his violent tendencies toward anyone who isn't you slip through the seams, maybe if he had been more persistent in his reminders of how loved you are. Maybe if he had tried harder, Miguel O'Hara would still have you here at his side.
Miguel's attempts to make this sudden transition in your life as easy as possible turned out to be disastrous. He is not stupid; he knows this upbringing into this new lifestyle you claim to be "kidnapping" was blunt. He knew this, yet still, his plans on easing you through this change had collapsed right before him. Time had passed, and he naively assumed your fear had depleted, far too caught up in the sheer delight that came from holding you in his arms. Days and nights spent trailing his fingers down the expanse of your skin and kissing away the bruises his fangs had left upon your lips. This is a dream, Miguel always catches himself thinking.
And his sweet daughter, Gabriella. How she adored you so much. Even more so than her own father, he often joked. Coming home to find you both brushing the hair of her numerous dolls, baking treats that were rich with far too much sugar, or fast asleep on the couch while some whiny kids show plays on the television. His heart hammers like a fluttering hummingbird at the sight of you so soft and calm with his daughter. However, your guard then builds itself back up, brick-by-brick, faster than a gust of wind when he makes his presence known. In a way, Miguel found himself... jealous of Gabriella. That gentle and loving nature of yours, why couldn't he have it for himself? Why couldn't you give him some of that attention, even just a blink? What could that crybaby brat possibly have done to deserve such an amazing thing!?
No matter what kind of thoughts suffocate his mind, Miguel always tried to keep himself composed in front of you. With his tall, muscular physique, it makes sense why you are so intimidated by his appearance. If he were to ever let this satiating envy bleed through the bandaids, however, you'd certainly never open your heart to him. The prospect alone makes his chest tighten with dread.
And he had been so negligent towards his daughter, it only makes sense why she would turn to you. With how breathtaking, elegant, brilliant, electrifying you are, Miguel can understand why she loves you so much. Still, this does not refrain him from tightening his jaw whenever his daughter does something as trivial as hug you. That should be me with Y/N. Let me hold them, let me hold them, let me hold them like that.
It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his envy through sharp gazes, a towering frame, and muffled shouts through the thin walls. It's his fault he never assured you these ugly emotions were never your fault, since you could never do any wrong in his eyes, after all. It's his fault he didn't drown you in even more heaps of affection, to further remind you of just how much he needs you.
It is his fault you are dead.
Overcome with drowsiness, Miguel heedlessly packs his daughters lunch for school that day. Despite how you are usually the one who does this task, since you have always adored looking after the little one, you needed your rest. And he was insistent on treating you with even more intensive care, all to prove that he is the right one for you. No one else. Meanwhile, Gabriella sits at the kitchen table with her backpack on, swinging her short legs back and forth. She is bright with full energy that contradicts her father's state in a comical manner.
"Y/N/N always cuts my food into cool shapes! Yesterday, they made my sandwich star-shaped!" Gabriella exclaims to her father with admiration.
The mere mention of your name from someone else makes Miguel freeze. A sudden surge of anger wraps around his lungs like a sheen layer of morning dew resting on Spring grass. You treat her with such attentive care, why can't he get any of that? What is so special about her that he doesn't have? What does he need to change about himself in order to get you to love him the way you so fatuously love her? Miguel casts his gaze across the counter and finds several bottles of cleaning products you must have forgotten to put away. So endearing, so adorable. An idea then sparks. While Gabriella continues to babble about how cool and amazing you are, Miguel finds himself considering something he will never be able to take back.
Just a dash of some drain cleaner in her sandwich and this problem will fade away.
"Y/N/N!" The sound of your nickname shouts through the air upon your arrival. Gabriella is more than elated to greet you, but your eyes remain locked on Miguel. In other circumstances, he'd be thanking the heavens above for this bit of attention you have given him. At this moment, however, there is a disturbed gleam of horror in your expression that makes his stomach twist with apprehension.
The energy is not directed towards Gabriella, as you caress her cheek and gift her that smile of yours that rivals sunlight. Miguel inadvertently rolls his eyes at the sight, envious as ever. As she continues to ramble to you about her success at a recent soccer game, you retrieve all the cleaning products and return them to their respective place underneath the sink. Not without shooting a burning glare at Miguel, however. Had he made his intentions that obvious? You wave him aside from his stance at the pink, glittery lunchbox and he obeys. Pretending to finish up his original efforts, you examine every snack inside for anything this crazed man may have tampered with.
"Good morning, button..." The nervous tremble in Miguel's voice doesn't tarnish the sheer adoration that seeps from his tone.
Your short response of "'morning" could barely be heard over the thunderous sound of his heart shattering. Yet again, you have broken his heart. And still, he will crawl back to you every time, aching for any inkling of your regard. Soon, you're saying your goodbyes to Gabriella and wishing her a wonderful day at school. Planting a quick peck to her cheek, Miguel's talons grow and dig crevices into the steering wheel while he waits for his daughter to join him in the vehicle. Oh, if only you could give him the same act of affection, he would never ask the universe for anything ever again.
And if only he had known how the rest of the morning would play out, he never would have left the house.
When Miguel finally pulls out of the driveway, giving you a quick wave that is not reciprocated, you let your guard down. You almost watched this man murder his daughter. Tears begin to form in your eyes as the revelation simmers like boiling water. With more time here, who knows what lengths he'll travel to?
Fortunately for you, with how occupied he was with his daughter and his own inner turmoil, he had entirely forgotten to lock the door to his office. The one place neither you nor his daughter were allowed to venture into. You were unaware of what is within the room or how anything inside could aid you in your attempts to escape. What you were aware of, however, is how paranoid he was in his efforts to keep you out of there. Peeling back the curtain and taking a fearful glance out the window, just to ensure this psychopath who claimed to be your soulmate wasn't lurking, you embark on your journey into uncharted territory.
Miguel had mentioned several times in his late-night talks with you about his job at Alchemax. His boring explanations about the technology he was working on there did wonders in lulling you to sleep. Now, seeing the scatterings of machinery that littered the room made you gasp from their futuristic appearance. One contraption had caught your attention, however. It seemed to be a current project, evident in the numerous tools and papers inked with equations littered around. Upon stepping closer to the contraption, a holographic screen sputters to life. You find several distorted, glitching files that all attain to you in some shape or form. Y/N's wish list, Y/N's checking account, and Y/N's security camera footage. Curiosity does spark, but with how swiftly Miguel is able to drop his daughter off and speed home to return to you, the time you had was not versatile.
If I can piece together how this gadget works, I may be able to call for help and get Gabriella and I as far away from this man as possible, you think to yourself.
The machine continues to stammer pathetically as if it were desperately chasing its own life. Trying to peruse through the technology to find anything useful, its poor performance prevented you from any fruition. In a fit of frustration, you pull your hand back and deliver a harsh smack! to the side of the machine. With how little time you have, you can feel your opportunity for freedom begin to fade away with every glitch that erupts. With one final, violent slam to the machinery, the metal borders protecting the numerous open wires inside fall, and a sudden wave of electricity surges through you. Your entire body goes rigid before you splat harshly against the ground. You are now left entirely lifeless, except for the electric shocks that cause your stiff form to twitch in response.
With that, your life was over. October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.
August 24th, 1934. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had stayed with you more and neglected the city, maybe if he hadn't been so careless with expressing his love for you. Maybe if he had tried harder, Peter Parker would still have you here at his side.
Peter, too, attempted vigorously to make your transition to this new life with him as smooth as possible. At the very beginning of this new adjustment, hope had still plagued your mind. As days turned into weeks, soon months, the forest fire that was your persistence had slowly been snuffed out like an old candle. Now, all you can do is sit at the window seat of his apartment and just pray that someone will recognize your face. From the numerous missing persons' posters that were now left behind in dumpsters and rain puddles, you could feel your luck grow thin. Everyday looked like this, all with this lovesick maniac at your beck-and-call, deluded enough to believe this fantasy of being your doting partner to be reality. The amount of egg-creams you've drank is bound to make you vomit at some point.
At the end of the day, you had gotten what you had wished for. You were once a journalist, putting all your time into unmasking the famous Spiderman. The truth of his identity was now in the palm of your hands. However, there were far more consequences to this wish than you had originally anticipated. And Peter is overcome with guilt when he thinks back to how disastrous his efforts to give you his heart turned out.
It's his fault he had so carelessly exposed his acts of heroism through the stench of gunpowder and chunks of blood beneath his fingernails. It's his fault he didn't spend more time showering you in the affection you truly deserved. It's his fault he never assured you the inevitable fate of the bastards that hurt you was never your fault, just so you can realize that everything he does, no matter how calamitous, was all for your benefit.
It is his fault you are dead.
Slow dancing with you in the gentle haze of the moonlight peaking through the window, swaying along to some romantic melody echoing from the saloon across the street, amorous words that you'd hear from the lips of a poet whispered into your ear — this is where heaven is. This is all that he has ever dreamed of; this is all he has ever wanted for the two of you. This is what makes him happy.
"My heart is bleeding in your hands, dollface. It's all yours, I'm all yours." Peter's breath tickles your neck, the infatuation-stained harangue finally coming to an end as he continues to sway you along to the harmonies outside.
You often joke to yourself that you could stab Peter in the heart, give him even just a sliver of the turmoil he has forced into your life, and he would still give you a smile with blood painting his teeth and that revolting gleam of pure, unadulterated devotion in his eyes. With this devotion, however, comes dark, dark side effects. This was not a surprise to you, considering how you've been locked up like a bad dog for these past several months. Still, when you inhale and the sharp odor of iron poorly masked with bleach overwhelms your senses, you find yourself taken aback.
The clamoring sound of the bolts to your prison cell your captor claims to be your love den being unlocked brings you out of your thoughts. When the door opens and Peter walks in, all you see is a euphoric, hopelessly-besotted partner. With the sudden stench that is still heavy in the air, however, you feel a new, sudden sense of dread with his presence. He is elated to see you, as he always is. An impassioned kiss to your lips and an ardent compliment are essential to your everyday encounter with the man you thought once to be a superhero. Sometimes, a gift of fresh, blood-red roses may accompany him in his attempts to woo you further, as well.
Through the whiff of cigarettes sitting on his trench coat when he envelops you in a much-needed embrace after his long day of work, you sense something else. The tang you had inhaled from outside the bedroom is now stuck to his form, nestled beneath the aroma of late-night brume and smoke. You force a gag down your throat and reciprocate the affection, trying to push your suspicions to the back burner in your mind. The rest of the evening is like any other: listening to some tunes from the radio as the two of you play a card game, all that Peter deems as a "romantic date". Your winning strike against him (he always lets you win, but he won't tell you this) falters when your brain can't help but wonder what he was so occupied with outside that door.
As devastating and exhausting as the truth is, coming to terms with reality is the only chance you have of returning to the life you once had. Hoping he'll wake from his delusions and let you off your leash is nothing more than a pipe dream, you realize. If you want freedom, you'll have to take it by the neck and claim it as yours. So, as the hours of the night fade into dawn, you conjure a plan in your head while the man beside you snores in a deep slumber (not without a few sleepy mumbles of flattery for you, though).
The scheme you had so flawlessly crafted was quick, simple, and easy. You would do something you have never done before: initiate affection with Peter.
This was your ploy: fulfill all the fantasies his lovesick brain was infested with and watch with a newfound sense of hope as he forgets to lock the door, too dazed from the pleasure your sweet attitude had brought him. And it worked marvelously. Not only did this man forget to lock the bedroom door, he had entirely forgotten to lock the front door of the apartment altogether. The prospect of this mistake being a test of your loyalty lingers, but when you watch through the window as he swings away from building to building, you let out a roar of laughter.
After your fit of hysterics, a smile sits on your face as you tread to the front door. Something stops you in your tracks when your hand hovers over the doorknob. When you leave, you will have nothing but months of memories to defend yourself with. Who are the authorities going to believe — you, a mischievous journalist, prone to bending the rules for a good headline, or Peter, the famous superhero, notorious for his restless efforts to save the city? Despite the freedom you have dreamed of being right in your palms, you step away from the door. Instead, you look around for any evidence deemed beneficial. Whatever can put him under the negative limelight is satisfactory to you.
No stone was left unturned in the apartment, all besides a single door at the end of a long corridor. The night before, Peter had been so frantic with his time inside (all in order to get back to you sooner) that he was sloppy with his efforts in cleaning his mess. The spilled bleach he had accidentally knocked over was still lying in a puddle; the nauseating scent of fresh blood still satiated through the air like a fragrance. And lastly, the latch on the door had been left unlocked.
Without so much as a second thought, you enter the room and let your curious eyes soak in the sheer horror that resides within.
A metal chair rests in the middle of the room, leather straps tightened around a body that sits motionless. Two tables are located on the sides of the room where all sorts of gut-wrenching tools reside. And there is blood everywhere. What was once a second bedroom for buyers of the apartment has now been morphed into a torture chamber of sorts.
The person restrained in the chair, you weren't sure if they were even alive. Everything is drowned in so much heaps of red, attempting to use your mere first-aid knowledge is impossible. What is most perceptible, however, is the way their eye had been forcefully torn from its socket. It resembles a runny egg how it causes bodily fluids to cascade down their face. The amount of flesh on their body that had been torn asunder, the gag in their mouth that was oozing with tears and saliva, the gushing blood that continues to hastily seep from infected wounds. Everything makes your eyes blur and your stomach churn with nauseau.
With the career you once had as a journalist, you've seen some disgusting sights. Sneaking onto crime scenes from a brawly saloon fight gone too far or snapping pictures of the result of Spiderman's "heroic" acts to save citizens, you've become desensitized to gory scenes. But, this. This wasn't like anything you have ever seen.
"Y/N?" You hadn't realized how deafening the silence was until the poor victim is able to speak out.
With one eye practically staring daggers into you, the revelation hits you like a train. That voice, that eye. This is no other than the man you had called your boyfriend before this mess had snuck into your life. Or, ex-boyfriend, as you'd prefer to refer to him as. The status of your relationship was left a mystery after the night he had come to your home drunk and reeking of someone's perfume. Your insistent demands for him to sober up and inform you of his recent whereabouts earned you a harsh slap across the face. With a loud shout of how much of a “shitty partner” and "piece of cityside trash" you are, the person you thought to be the love of your life storms out of your home. Never to be seen again.
Hastily, you unclasp the restraints that left his skin numb and bruised. With how malnourished he had become from his time spent here, it was fairly easy to support his weight. You swing his battered arm around your shoulder and help him stand on his emaciated legs. After only two steps, he pushes you off of him harshly with what little strength his body was able to garner. His attempts served well, as you feel your stomach hit a table adorned with blood-stained utensils that make you sick to imagine how they were used.
"You... How could you...?" As his weak voice fills the air, you feel your stomach fold into itself. Does he think you did this?
Opening your mouth to begin stammering your way through what you intended to be a thorough explanation, a loud bang! then pervades the air. Without a second to process his actions, the man grasped the pistol left on the table and pulled the trigger. A stream of smoke now stems from the barrel. The betrayal, the aversion, and the debility in his expression tell you everything you need to know. You were so close to the finish line that would grant you freedom, but when you shift your gaze down, you're devastated to find a bullet hole protruding through your chest. You then slump to the ground and your killer falls not long after you, the act of merely standing too much for his abused body.
With that, your life was over. August 24th, 1934 — the day Peter Parker inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.
July 3rd, 2020. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had been more attentive to your safety, maybe if he hadn't exposed how soul-crushing the love he has for you is. Maybe if he had tried harder, Hobie Brown would still have you here at his side.
As opposed to the others, Hobie did little to ease you into this new life with him. The transition was curt, violent. With you as a bartender, drunken customers are most certainly not a rare sight. However, when you rejected a man who had one too many drinks and he reacted with violence, it caught you off-guard. And Hobie, the lead singer of the band that consistently played at your bar, had become blind with rage. Through the mess of the blood on your head when the beer bottle shattered against you and the apple-red matter staining Hobie's guitar as he smashes it relentlessly into the man's skull, these events somehow landed you where you are now.
An abandoned building on the outskirts of town, that's where you had woken up. The debris around the room was masked with string lights and band posters adorning the walls, as well as a rickety bed frame scarcely supporting a lone mattress. With bleary vision and an even fuzzier head, you gain consciousness abruptly. You find yourself on the bed with thick, itchy blankets draped around you, clothes that certainly do not belong to you on your body, and spiky belts used to restrain your limbs. Barbed wires and decaying planks of wood board the windows; the lack of passing cars and loud pedestrians outside cause you to worry about how far you are from the lively city you called home.
A lanky figure makes their presence known, dressed in those all-too-familiar garbs. Spider-Punk, the man you'd always see performing at your penurious bar, despite how widespread their band was. Much to your shock, his large hand finds the trim of his mask before tearing the garment off. Beneath is a gorgeous face embellished with piercings and a wild head full of hair. Large, wet eyes overwhelm you. And there is only one discernible trait you could read clearly through his expression: desire.
The way your plump body pools from the hems of the small clothing he dressed you in from his closet, fuck. Hobie has thought of this moment plenty of times — finally being able to take you away, just the two of you. He swore up and down he'd keep his fervid cravings at bay. But, when you're truly here in front of him, looking like that. He has to dig his long nails into his palms to physically restrain himself from lunging for you like a feral animal in heat. God, you look too fucking good.
From here on out, the relationship you have with Hobie sprouted into something only you would call treacherous, something only he would call rapturous. Being trapped within the small expanse of this grimy room, your new life has shown how perceptibly different your reactions are from one another. You are entirely dumbfounded at these new circumstances you've been forcefully thrust into. Meanwhile, Hobie attempts to put space between you both to avoid giving into his irresistible hunger. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice how his hands always find their way to your naked skin and how his eyes linger on the intimate parts of your body. And it most certainly doesn't take a genius to notice the sheer terror and confusion stuck to your expression.
The discomfort the residence brings does little to ease you, as well. How your body is restricted against the firm mattress has your limbs aching with cramps. Your neck throbs from no support, considering the lack of pillows. But, Hobie always remarked that his chest is more comfortable to lay on, anyway. His clothing reeks of alcohol from the numerous bars and parties he’s attended, but also from the expensive perfumes, lotions, as well as the skin and hair products he received from his time being a runway model. The scent now clinging to your skin fails to bring you any of the tranquility he wished you would feel. Meals shared between you two were often dowsed in grease and cheap in flavor. Your captor never put much effort into making your dinnertime together anything reminiscent of a romantic date in Italy or something along those themes. He would much rather eat something else for dinner, after all.
This is what life looked like for the next several months. Records spinning and filling the air with headache-inducing songs he says he had written about you; Polaroid pictures scattered around the room that display different variations of the same scene: you sitting pretty with Hobie's hands and lips all over you. Never, never, has this man ever felt so much bliss in his entire life. He has always preached about how the idea of "love" is nothing more than propaganda meant to earn greedy, capitalistic companies more money with their cheesy movies and Valentine's Day garbage. When you entered his life in all your glory, however, he was ashamed to put his pride aside and admit those irritating pop songs may have been correct.
"I don’t need nothin’ else. 'Long as I have you here, birdie." He fidgets with the necklace he had given you that was currently draped upon your neck. His lucky guitar chip is swung upon the chain, since it always belonged to you, anyway. You will always be his muse.
With how carelessly he let himself be swathed in the warm blankets of love, how carelessly Hobie had let you slip from his fingertips.
It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his protective nature through blood-stained bar floors and constricting arms encompassing your body. It's his fault he never assured you these conflicts weren’t your fault, it was only the monsters outside who wished to separate true love. It's his fault he had disciplined himself so heavily for his big heart, fearful of losing self-control with the love of his life.
It is his fault you are dead.
You regret not tallying the days you've spent locked up in this birdcage. Carving lines into the deteriorating walls to represent the slashes this new life has left in your sanity. It feels as if lifetimes have tread by you, the same day repeating itself like your own personal nightmare. Mere months have gone by and unbeknownst to you, the sweet escape you so despairingly crave is sitting upon the horizon. The circumstances of your freedom were the absolute last thing you had wished for, however.
Hobie’s history of being a heartthrob and heartbreaker were no secret to you, but his newfound loyalty to the innocent person he had taken from their previous life was even more evident. All the possessive, delusional fans that were convinced they'd marry their favorite singer, it was just so easy for Hobie to indulge in some casual fun before leaving them behind in his dust. As the story of all Spider-People goes, however, Y/N L/N is the tool that throws this man into a whirlpool of enamoring disarray. Embracing this newfound happiness was exhilarating for him, but Hobie was so dazed from it, he never had thought that karma would slither itself between you two.
A certain groupie, wholly convinced she and Spider-Punk are soulmates, was devastated to see how carelessly the love of her life abandoned her. Her mind had sprinted to all sorts of gut-wrenching conclusions. Am I not enough? Is he moving on? Is there someone else? Her worst nightmare materializes into reality when she stalks behind his tall figure and follows him to a building one late night, an odd pep in his step as he enters. What she assumes is just another exclusive club location with more taboo forms of partying, she is left stunned when she catches sight of what sights lie within.
The man of her dreams is found in the depths of infidelity. Through the crack of a rickety door coated with locks, there he was. Chest pressed against the back of someone else, who was sound asleep beneath an array of blankets like a baby in a crib. With his arms locked around them like a lifeline, Spider-Punk presses long, intimate kisses to their face. The words she had begged to hear from him, he was so frivolously drowning this stranger in such, despite their unconscious state. Every syllable was dripping with lust and smitten-induced hysteria. Tears brim in her eyes from how desperately she covets to be you in this moment.
With a shattered heart and a festering rage, she comes to the conclusion of what she must do. She will take him back, no matter what it takes.
Rarely did Hobie ever leave the expanse of your room, he wanted to stay with you forever. When he did, however, it was for some quick cash at yet another gig he and his bandmates had landed. Singing his lungs out, knowing every lyric revolves around the one waiting for him back home — you have brought him ecstasy he still cannot fathom the sheer weight of. A Friday night like no other, Hobie would spend the evening beneath the blinding spotlights, drinking the hours away, before returning home and cuddling with the only reason he chooses to live.
Through the barricaded windows and doors, a sudden stench of what appears to be smoke invades your senses. A big city like this, something along these lines is nothing out of the ordinary. After all, you were so thrilled to finally be granted a night to yourself, anything that would jeopardize this gift from the universe is seen as insignificant. When the heavy smell becomes more perceptible and the unmistakable sound of fire cracking gets louder, you feel dread tickle down your spine. The fear settles into your bones before you can think of a logical way to escape. Hobie did everything to ensure you wouldn’t leave his side, after all.
Air soon becomes precious, your lungs begin to squeeze, your skin is burning with scorching pain. It brings you the hell you had carelessly thought you felt before. A final cry of help into the suffocating air and you feel your life begin to fade. Meanwhile, the lost groupie stands near the entrance, holding back a satisfied smile. An onslaught of concerned pedestrians and firefighters accompany her. And Hobie was still far away, alcohol heavy in his system and the joy of returning to you seeping through his body like a drug. So blissfully unaware of what awaits him when he comes back to the place he had called home only with you.
With that, your life was over. July 3rd, 2020 — the day Hobie Brown inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.
The effects your departure has left on these men are all nothing short of disastrous. No longer do they have the vibrant, loving souls they once held. Day by day, they are dragging the dead carcass that is their own body, suffering through every second and hoping it will be their last. The paths your death have led these three are unique from one another, but they all find themselves in one specific space. Spider-HQ, within Nueva York on Earth-928. The story the multiverse has written for them had so selfishly taken their happiness away from them. Taking the pen for themselves and creating the most beautiful fairytale where you are alive and back in their embrace is the only purpose they now have.
Now, Miguel O'Hara stands at the office he earned from becoming the leader of this society. Upon the various monitors displayed around him are scenes taken from numerous different universes. Lethargy sits like bags of bricks beneath his eyes, slowly blinking as he ensures no minor mistake is present. If the multiverse were to crumble, his sole objection to save the only important person in Spiderman's life will fall with it. When he verifies all is well on Earth-1610, something perceptible then catches his gaze and he does a double-take. Any sign of fatigue within him is snatched out of his body, leaving him more awake than ever before.
Within this universe, Miguel finds you.
Before, these universes have only displayed the effects your death has left on all the spider-people. Today, however, is the first time he has seen you alive since the day he lost you. Lyla snickers and accuses him of having a cute, teenage-like crush when she takes notice of the sheer captivation in his expression. Little does she know how much history lies in your mere face. It is heart-crushing, how much the simple sight of you enjoying a cup of coffee (with one too many sugars, as he knows you've always preferred) has such catastrophic effects on him.
Piles of schoolwork are scattered around your desk, covered in information adhering to your current college major. Even with your lack of sleep, school-induced annoyance, and general exhaustion over everything in your life, Miguel has never seen something quite as breathtaking as you in this moment. An epiphany sprouts in his brain as quickly as the sight of you caused his soul to blossom, just like it did all those years ago.
Maybe he can stop it. Maybe he can get you back.
Your death is inevitable, and even though Miguel was aware of this, dread still pervades his stomach at the prospect and churns with his breakfast. What really makes him shudder is when he reads through the cannon events assigned to you. A flare of jealousy ignites within him when he finds an unfamiliar name in the midst of your story.
Miles Morales, the Spiderman you are meant to fall in love with. What good is he? He's just some stupid kid, what more could he possibly do that Miguel can't? Why would you choose this loser when he can give you everything you have ever wanted!? In a sudden fit of rage, he grasps hold of whatever matter was closest to him and uses all the strength within his muscular arms to hurl it across the room. His chest heaves with infuriated huffs; his claws slice into the meat of his palms. He is enraged, yes, but he is mostly devastated that the beautiful face on his screen will soon meet their inescapable demise.
Not only will he do everything in his power to stop your death, but Miguel also vows to put his blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring you do not fall for this boy. Additionally, he will formulate a plan to bring you back into his arms without destroying the multiverse as a whole. With that being said, this does not change how reality on Earth-1610 continues to play out in front of him. It’s like a television show; a show he'd give a 1-star rating out of sheer pettiness.
In his last year of high school, Miles Morales' life was thrown into a tornado when his parents enrolled him in a new school to finish his last semester. And the 18-year-old boy absolutely dreaded this. New people, new location, new clothes that poke and jut at his skin uncomfortably. With the hefty responsibility of being Brooklyn's sole hero and hiding this truth from his loved ones, this sudden alteration in his environment does not relieve any stress. Swiftly, Miles conjures a plan to convince his parents to send him back to the way his life once was. Slack off, play dumb, and bring home report cards that are absolutely atrocious and his parents will have no choice but to give their son what he wants.
However, this is not what happened. Much to Miles' dismay, the grand idea his parents had was to not let him continue his education comfortably. Instead, they hired a tutor to aid him through his final months of high school.
Rio and Jeff had invited this tutor for dinner at their home, which Miles had flaked on entirely. Mostly due to his duty as Spiderman, but partially from how sour he was about the state of affairs. When he returned home, their anger was practically palpable. However, this disappointment soon shifted into a long, insufferable tangent about how marvelously smart, mannerly, and kind this tutor was and how embarrassed they were because of him. That Saturday, he was expected to join this tutor in the school's library or his parents may consider grounding him once again. Miles has to refrain from rolling his eyes at their never-ending lecture.
March 11th, 2023. It will be all his fault. This day is the day Miles Morales will inevitably meet the only thing that will ever matter to him.
To earn some extra support through your time in college, you had decided to take up tutoring in your free time. The myriad of students you had met all possessed the same attitude — the kind of attitude you'd expect from teenagers whose parents forced them to do schoolwork in their free time. Miles fit this category well, at first. And how your situation developed, it was oddly refreshing to finally meet someone who isn't repudiating every second with you.
15 minutes late, open backpack spilling with paper, tie loose around his neck, the student most certainly made his presence known when he stumbled into the silent library. Attempting to fix his untied shoelaces, you rush over to help him and save him from any further embarrassment he was already enduring. You are able to catch the folder that had tumbled out of his bag before it hit the ground, to where he mumbles a quick "thanks" in response. His gaze is still locked to the strings of his shoes he was attempting to tie together as swiftly as possible. Nearly tripping, Miles makes it to the table you had once organized thoroughly, but was now cluttered with everything this boy had thrown onto the surface.
Oblivious to you, the boy whose parents described as having a "heart of gold," was doing everything in his power to appear as rude and ill-mannered as possible. Deliberately arriving late, making a fool of the two of you, messing up the neat array of lesson plans and pencils you arranged. Anything to convince his parents to send him away from the nightmare that is this school. This plan of his was seized from his mind like a rug pulled out beneath his feet when he finally turns his shoulder and shifts his attention to you. What Miles expected would be the slowest, drawn-out hour he's ever experienced would actually be the most exciting, life-beaming 60 minutes he’s ever experienced.
Your voice sounds like honey as you introduce yourself to him. And that heart-stuttering smile of yours works wonders on him. Miles had already known your name, but hearing it from your mouth made him think he was listening to a symphony of angels. Since the last few stages of high school are stressful for everyone, you decided to cut him some slack and offer a kind hand for him to shake. All thoughts of his old school and the comfort it brought are all eradicated as he stares into your soul with those wide, bambi-brown eyes. After months in this new environment, you must be a gift the universe sent to compensate for all the misery he has endured. And fervently, Miles accepts you as the best gift he has ever received.
"I'm Spiderman." His mouth moves before his brain can compute. Your brows furrow in response, scrutinizing the confession for some sort of punchline.
“I mean- shit, uh… I mean, I’m Miles... You-You know, like- kilometers, yards, feet. Except, it's Miles this time... Y-... Y'know?"
His relentless stammering to try and prove himself worthy of your time while also acknowledging he accidentally told you his deepest secret earns him a quick giggle. And the sound bouncing from your lips is nothing short of paradisiacal, especially when he is the cause. A sudden wave of silence then rests between you both. You, laughing nervously to lighten the awkward tension. Miles, entirely flabbergasted at how he could have ever wanted to miss out on something as profoundly magnificent as this. His mind runs rampant while his wide eyes remain locked on your averting ones. Do it, do it, do it. Just do it already, Miles!
He pulls his hands up, your eyebrows furrowing once more trying to consider his intentions. He then lands his touch upon your shoulder.
"Hey..." Miles' voice drops several octaves, a fiddly excuse of a smirk forms on his lips, and he squints his twitching eyes that still hold the same crazed wonder they've had since they first landed on you.
"Hi...?" Your response expresses nothing but sheer confusion, not your face burning from the attention like Miles had initially strived for.
Wrapping your hand around his, your mere physical touch sends flares of electricity down his skin. Goosebumps bloom across his arms and his entire body halts in place, tense with shock and nerves. In an attempt to forcefully remove his hold on you, you're startled to find how he is now stuck to your hand. As if he had lathered his hand in heaps of glue before touching you, the efforts you took to get this boy off of you only resulted in your skin painfully stretching.
So enveloped in the way his heart lurches from holding your hand, a sudden, hushed whimper of "you're hurting me!" and Miles feels a gasp involuntarily escape his throat. Attempting to pull away from you, as much as he wishes not to, only intensifies your pain. What had Peter told him to do when this happened? Oh yeah, just relax! But, how on Earth can he possibly relax when your hand is in his!?
People are staring, exclaiming in annoyed distress over their interrupted study time. You're trying to piece together how Miles had managed to cement his hand to yours and why he refuses to let go of you. Meanwhile, Miles is apologizing profusely for inadvertently harming you, while also soaking in how rhapsodic it is to have your hand in his. He knows he has fully fallen into oblivion when the prospect of letting go of you hurts him more than the relentless pull and twist of his flesh.
So much for first impressions, right?
⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ
❝ MANY LIVES THAT COULD HAVE
BEEN ENTANGLED FOR ETERNITY . . . ❞
gif credits :: miguel, miles, peter, & hobie.
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#moonfairy#atsv#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miles morales#spiderman noir#hobie brown#atsv x reader#across the spiderverse x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miles morales x reader#spiderman noir x reader#hobie brown x reader#atsv imagines#across the spiderverse imagine#miguel o’hara imagine#miles morales imagine#spiderman noir imagine#hobie brown imagine#yandere atsv#yandere across the spiderverse#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere miles morales#yandere spiderman noir#yandere hobie brown#yandere#gn reader#gender neutral reader#Spotify
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caught - jj maybank
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
warning: +18. NSFW CONTENT. MINORS DNI. sex. language. public sex. oral sex
word count: 1.4k
author’s notes: hi!! look who remembered the password to this blog!!! it's been a chaotic but gooooood couple of months, kinda fell out of my obx phase but I'm back and I miss writing sm!!! so to all my horny babes here's a unpublished piece (that was unfinished since october) hope yall enjoy!
masterlist | join the taglist |
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
every time you and JJ were caught.
occupied —
my back is pressed against the wall, JJ holds me tightly, his lips are pecking and biting the side of my neck as he buries himself inside of me. JJ’s hands cover my mouth as his thrust becomes faster.
I didn't even get the chance to get in the shower, my shorts were stuck on my knees, same thing with JJ. I suck him for 5 seconds before he pulls me on my feet and fuck me against the wall.
“y/n did you lock yourself?” Sarah’s voice rasped on the voice
I press my lips together concentrating on giving her an answer, but as JJ keeps pounding into me, I’m pretty sure she can hear my muffled cry.
“I’m gonna come princess, shit,” JJ whispers in my ear
“I…oh gosh, I'm good,” I squeeze out
JJ presses his body closer as he gives me his last thrusts, I look at him and see him control himself not to curse as he fills me with his cum.
“Are you sure?” Sarah insists
“YES,” that was for jj, who cupped my pussy and drew his fingers on my clit.
“for fucks sake, is JJ there with you?” I hear John B. shout at the door
He gives a little chuckle before giving the door a few thumps “Can no one get laid in this house?”
“y’all are disgusting, there's a bedroom, you know?”
“oh my god”
you hear the rest of them say outside, but my mind is far away from this reality and it's focused on JJ giving me an orgasm.
hammock —
we're both spread out in the hammock. it started with a massage, I swear.
It's a massage… on JJ’s dick.
bringing the blanket outside was an unintentional good idea. I threw on top of our lower bodies as my hand accidentally started stroking JJ's cock.
his body joint under my touch, I gave him the perfect amount of pressure, tugging his wet foreskin and sweeping up the beads of precum at the tip.
JJ gasps as I bring my hands to my mouth, giving it a nice lick and stroking him down again. but faster.
I could feel him getting closer. his eyes shut tight, his arms around me felt tense, and then…pope exited the chateau facing us, laying static on our back. too late, he realized JJ’s expression and the motion of my hands.
“Ew guys, c’mon, we all used this,” he says turning his back to us
I buried my face in JJ's neck laughing.
volume –
shoving her bikini bottom to the side, I grip her hips as y/n settles on top of me, slowly sinking. I could die watching her bounce on my cock.
I palm her tits as she rocks back and forth, using me to hit the spot that makes her whine.
speaking of whining, we're lucky that there's no one home, cause we're definitely not using our indoor voices.
her palms planted on my chest, as she supported herself. her nails buried in my skin as she moans.
“just like that baby, let me see you come,”
The dirty request makes her fasten the pace and bounce in circles. I clenched my ass trying to hold the climax.
“oh fuck, jj.” she cries while her legs shake, that's my signal.
I flip us over and bury myself deeper inside of her. groaning, I gave her rough thrusts, feeling her squeezing me.
“fuck baby, don't stop j,” her sweet moans send a bolt of heat to my balls. I rise on my knees, angling her hips watching her pussy slide back and forth as she grasps at the bedsheets.
“yes, yes,” y/n gives me one less moan as she milks my shaft. my muscles clench as she climaxes and I come right away, painting.
“oh fuck, y/n,” I grunt as my body relaxes
“ayo, glad y'all are done, 'cause I need to sleep,” we hear John B shouting as he bangs into the wall.
“oh…no,” y/n says, hiding her face with her palms.
“too late to be shy, cupcake,”
beach —
The tent was mostly in darkness, but the moon's glow peeked through. Y/N slipped in so quietly that I barely noticed. She moved around, and I could sense her doing stuff, but I was too tired to pay much attention.
I gave her a little peak and sure thing, her topless self was taking her shorts out, she was looking for something but all I could care about was the fact that she was only in her bikini, in front of me.
Yep, my dick is semi-hard.
“Can I help you, princess?”
“Sorry babe, I thought you were already asleep,” She whispers
“Luckily, I’m not, otherwise who would appreciate this view?” I told her, sitting up and trying to be as silent as her.
“Yeah, as if,”
“You’re so beautiful,”
“Thank you J” she replied still looking around
“I think what you’re looking for is inside my shorts”
“Huh?” Y/N furrowed her brows as she analyzed my expression, I shot her a malicious smile which made clear my intentions.
“Our friends are literally right there,” She whispered again
“You could be quiet?”
“Can’t guarantee,”
“But I can. Blow me, since you’re already on your knees,”
Y/N covered her mouth to stop the giggle, when she looked at me again, I could see that her mind was made and that it was in the same place as mine.
She adjusted herself in front of me and pushed me to the floor, slowly dragging my shorts out. She put her hair in a ponytail and held my cock in her hand firmly.
I could come just with the sight of her topless self in front of me. I’m leaking already, making her hand slide easily on my dick, I adjust myself and roughly remember that the sand is not that comfortable to be laid on. Still, Y/N lowered herself and closed her mouth around the tip, slowly sucking, and my hips snapped involuntarily.
She sucked me deeper into her mouth, almost to the base, I have to use all my force to not let a groan leave my lips when she chokes on me. Y/N keeps her pace slow but firm, I guess to not make any “suspect” sound.
My breath is heavy and my eyes shut, she releases me and I look down as her tongue glides along my hard-length cock.
“Fuckfuckfuck Y/N” I quietly curse
She uses both of her hands to stroke me and give my balls a nice squeeze, I can see her gaze darkening, she’s getting off and seems to be fighting off the urge to not ride me.
I know this look. I give her a signal to come closer.
“What?”
“Let’s fuck”
“No, not here.”
“I have the keys to the Twinkie,”
“Then what are you waiting for?” She murmurs, cleaning the sides of her mouth, she slid into one of my shirts and I pushed my shorts back, exiting both of us, half-naked.
We successfully sneaked out and the only sound around us was the waves, I grabbed her hand and guided us far from the sand.
As I open the doors, I look around and lock it behind us.
It all happened too fast, I slipped my tongue in her mouth and she desperately climbed on top of me, my shorts were now stuck to my ankles and Y/N’s bikini bottoms were pushed to the side.
Reaching for it, Y/N aligns my erection into her entrance and sinks in it.
Both of us let out a moan, feeling the pleasure fill our bodies, Y/N fastened her pace, bouncing on top of me, I’m too close for her, any minute I’m out, but since my girl is getting there I hold as much as I can.
“Mmm yes JJ, touch me”
I lifted my shirt out of her body and sucked and licked on her buds, she was bouncing and grinding her clit on me, it’s noticeable that she is getting there. The gasps and the nails digging on my tights confirm that.
With my free hand, I hold her waist and meet her halfway through her movements, each deep thrust sends me closer and closer to the edge. I can’t hold it any longer. Her moans are desperate and her whining is music to my ears.
“Y/n, fuck…”
Our breathing grows as our bodies slap together, and her mouth opens without making any sound, that’s my cue. I burst inside of her as her body shook on top of me. My last pound is weak leaking out of her.”
“Fuck baby, that was insane.”
“Thank God for the Twinkie.”
“More like than God for m-”
“JJ, I’m gonna kill you.” John B's voice echoes outside as he bangs the Twinkie door.
My bad, I guess.
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© maybank-archives 2024 — no one has permission to copy or translate any of my works, if you see any of my work being reproduced in another platform please contact me! :)
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Rainy Nights
Mattheo Riddle x Reader (fluff)
➸ summary: cuddling with Mattheo on a rainy day in october
➸ warnings/notes: none
word count: 534
————————
THE RAIN HAS been non-stop for almost a week now. Orange leaves turned to mush as the ground became wetter and wetter as the days rolled by.
Floating jack-o-lanterns littered the Great Hall, and soft melodies played in the background, seemingly coming from nowhere.
A cheesy halloween movie played in-front of you as you laid on your boyfriend’s chest, his breathing pattern becoming more relaxed as time passed. The soft pitter patter of rain could be heard outside, even all the way down in the Slytherin dungeons. The fish in the Black Lake could be seen outside of the common room window, their normal habitat too cold for them to stay at the shallow end for too long.
Mattheo caressed your bare arm as the movie continued playing, his eyes closed and not focused on the movie at all.
“Hey, you said you’d pay attention to the movie,” you scolded.
He only grinned in response. His annoyingly pearly teeth clashed against his skin as his smile spread, his eyes opening ever so slightly to gaze at you.
“I never said that,” he replied, turning his head to see you better. “I said I’d let you pick the movie, not that I’d watch it.”
You only rolled your eyes at him. Of course he would find a loophole in his own statement. What a cheeky bastard.
“Okay but you love me and you want to make me happy. So watch the movie.”
The vibrations in his chest indicated that he found your sentence funny. Sitting upright, you raised your eyebrows at him.
“Do I?” he mumbled jokingly.
Fine. He wanted to play this game? You could handle that.
“Ohhh,” you said calmly, trying not to let a smile slip out. “You don’t love me? There shouldn’t be a problem if I told you to sleep in your own dorm tonight then?”
Almost immediately, Mattheo’s face fell.
“Did I say ‘do I’? I meant yes I do my beautiful princess.”
You burst out laughing at his antics. Despite his attitude you noticed that he was actually paying attention to the movie now. His eyes glinted in the dark room, the light from your laptop illuminating his features.
He really was gorgeous. And you always envied his long lashes.
“I don’t think I’m convinced. I think I should sleep here alone…” you said, trying to gauge his reaction.
In an instance you were flipped over, your laptop toppling over at the foot of the bed. Soft, wet kisses were left all over your face as Mattheo trapped you under his arms. You giggled at the ticklish feeling.
“You know I love you,” he said, his voice muffled by your cheek as he pressed his lips to it.
Heart fluttering, you answered him. “I know. I love you too.”
He dropped his head on your chest after he adjusted the laptop to face you guys once again. Listening to your heartbeat, his eyes began to droop again.
“So I can stay here tonight?”
It was a mere whisper, but you caught it anyway.
“You can always stay here.”
Leaving a chaste kiss to his forehead, it wasn’t long before sleep overtook you as well, the movie long forgotten.
#harry potter#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle imagine#harry potter fandom#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#mattheo riddle fanfic#harry potter imagine#mattheo riddle scenarios#harry potter oneshot#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle oneshot#slytherin reader#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys#hp fanfcition#hp imagine#hp oneshot
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Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!
Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺️
Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!
If You Bite My Hand Again
PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.
WORDCOUNT: 6.6k
WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.
A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long.
As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh.
The dreams weren’t uncommon.
Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten.
As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake.
The tremors in your hands persist.
You never should have met him.
—
Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom.
It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”
The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.
Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley.
Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy.
Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.
He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.
The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?
“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”
You smile and stand straighter.
“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”
You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?”
“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance.
“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.”
“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.”
Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.
“You’re being mean! Apologize!”
“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords.
He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him.
Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.
The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold.
“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”
“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin.
A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more.
You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him.
After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift.
The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you.
“Call me Ember.”
A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter.
He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.
“...Simon.”
You walk together the rest of the way.
The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you.
—
You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing.
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.”
Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now.
And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort.
You hate that it only comes from the memories of him.
“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf.
Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories.
Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock.
Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace.
“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted.
“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.
Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.
Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine.
Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight.
In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt.
“Ember…”
Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper.
There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right.
He left.
“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough.
There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears.
His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.
Simon.
You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways.
His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall.
“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.
Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing.
The same boy you still loved.
The same boy who’d broken your heart.
—
After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny.
When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment.
Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.
When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down.
When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.
So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.
You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you.
The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned.
He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life.
In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free.
You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see.
While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.
He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast.
It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle.
“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.”
“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist.
He was shaking slightly.
“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”
You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you.
In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths.
But something went wrong on one of his deployments.
Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet.
Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months.
You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance.
He didn’t let you touch him.
And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words.
‘Don’t look for me.’
And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together.
All of those years.
All those vows and shared nights.
And he disappeared on you.
—
You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided.
More like chucked at his gut.
No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs.
Simon’s avoiding your eyes.
“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages.
“I’ll be fine in a while—”
“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend.
And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.
The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness.
His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.”
Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?
Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.
So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock.
You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders.
“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.”
You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank.
He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it.
“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”
“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”
Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t.
“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”
“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.”
He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again.
“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”
You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes.
“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”
His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.
Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours.
“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”
“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes.
“But you did.”
“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!”
Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen.
“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”
“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!”
Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly.
“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”
“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”
“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.”
You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.”
He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe.
After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…
Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor.
A pact of loyalty.
Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.
He asks the first thing that comes to his head.
“What happened to your eyes?”
“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.
“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life.
You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet.
“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”
Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself.
He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?”
“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”
His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath.
“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.”
You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon.
Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?
Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he?
How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through?
Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even.
The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth.
“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—”
He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip.
Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.
Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.
“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.”
Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid.
“Ember…”
“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern.
It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.
You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters.
He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking.
“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.
“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath.
“Need you t’know it.”
“...I do.”
“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment.
You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy.
“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain.
In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up.
Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks.
“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”
“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head.
“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself.
Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.”
Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night.
“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax.
Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.
Nearly.
“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you.
“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”
“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it.
A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way.
Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.
Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence.
If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist.
It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name.
“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long. Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.
He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not.
Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?”
“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?”
You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.
You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you.
With you survival became secondary.
Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years.
“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”
You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin.
“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”
“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.”
Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill.
“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”
“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist.
“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.”
That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth.
And he’d give you it. All of it.
Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.
So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time.
And you’d both never slept better
TAGS:
@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast
#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#cod mw22#call of duty#mw2#mw2 2022#x female reader#call of duty mw2#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty mwii#cod ghost#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon ghost riley#cod simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod simon riley#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#cod modern warfare#modern warfare x you#modern warfare x reader
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Night of Sensual Delights
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You plan a sweet and romantic Halloween night with your boyfriend, but he has other ideas for enjoying his candy.
Author's note: I hope you enjoy this sweet sinful Halloween delight! 🍭🎃 Show some love if you liked this, in any way you feel comfortable! Hugs and kisses!
Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral(fem receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, just shameless smut pals.
Kofi ❤️ Wattpad 🧡 AO3 🩷 ASK ME 🩵
October was almost over and James and you decided to do something simple this Halloween just to get into the spirit. You had stocked up on all kinds of candies and planned a Halloween movie night with your boyfriend. With only a candle lit up, you snuggled into the couch, with James tucking you in his arms, a soft blanket draped over you. You cradled a bowl of candy in your arms, remote in the other hand and pressed play.
The movie of the night was a classic; The Addams Family.
Bucky hadn’t seen this one and was exited to find more about the films he had missed during his life as the winter soldier. As the movie started playing, you both watched and munched on the snacks. You laughed quietly at his reactions. He appeared unused to that kind of movies. At some point, he tensed up during a spooky scene and clutched you tight.
You grinned. "What’s wrong, oh, big, strong super soldier?"
He chuckled. “The transition was sudden.”
"Don't worry, Sergeant Barnes, I'll protect you from everything."
He took a popcorn from the bowl and tossed it at you. “You are such a teaser.”
“Hey!” You laughed and tossed another piece of popcorn at him. “Watch the movie!”
“You threw popcorn at me.”
“Well, you started it.” You gasped when he gently pinched your ass through you pajama pants. “You are doing it again!”
“What?” He lifted her against him, now both his palms pinching you bum.
“Barnes stop— ouch!”
“Liar,” he tapped your bottom. “I’m barely squeezing.”
You chuckled. “Well stop teasing my ass and watch the movie.”
“I’d rather watch you”, he drawled, his deep blue eyes gazing at you.
You rolled your eyes playfully. “You are such a flirt.”
“Only with you.”
“Shut up, and have some chocolate,” you said sweetly, pressing a the sweet piece to his mouth.
He consumed it and in a sudden move, he flipped you over, your back colliding with the couch, him pressing between your legs. “I’d rather have something even sweeter.”
You gasped at the feel of him against your core. “What is it you want exactly?”
He caught your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth. “Want to have you for Halloween. Want my sweet girl and her pretty little pussy. Will you give it to me, sweets?”
“Hmm… as if you have to ask…” you said in between wet kisses. “More, please… James…”
“I know baby, I’ve got you.”
And with that, he worked on removing your clothes, tugging at the Halloween pajamas, dragging at your underwear till there was nothing left but your smooth skin exposed to his eyes. He grasped your knees and steered them wide apart, leaning down to enjoy the view. Creamy thighs, and in between was the most pretty, pink puffy cunt begging for attention.
He licked his lips and with a low growl, he descended upon your mound, his teeth nibbling at the fat pussy lips before flicking his tongue around your clit. You threw your head back and threaded your hands through his hair, grinding your pussy against his face. He moaned his approval and thrust two warm fingers inside you, while teasing your clit with the metal one.
A few more thrusts and you keened, shook, and came apart with long-drawn moans. He didn’t stop teasing you, he fucked you with his fingers, moving up to devour your nipples, causing a series of less intense orgasms to rock through you. With a victorious grin, he left one last kiss on your pussy lips and cupped your face.
“My pretty pussy has the sweetest taste. Better than any candy.”
He claimed your mouth and you moaned at the taste of your essence on his tongue. Your hands traveled along his strong body, caressing his broad shoulders before traveling low to slip down his pants along with his boxers. He cooperated and tossed everything off and pressed his hot, raging hard body against you.
Pinning your hands above your head, he grabbed his fat cock and tapped it on your pussy lips. You watched as he rubbed the pulsing shaft until it coated in your juices, teasing you by thrusting the cockhead inside your little slit before drawing back. With a whine, you canted your hips, begging him in a series of whines and murmurs.
Cupping under your knees, he spread your legs and thrust forward, watching as you small slit was forced open by his dick. You both moaned at the sensations and once he was seated to the hilt you needed a few moments to adjust to the invasion. You always did. He was so big and thick, yet you both fit perfectly together.
After a few seconds, he puked back, his dick flushing with your arousal and slammed back in. You saw stars. He slowly did it again, his eyes fixed on your pretty cunt. He drew back till all his length was out, the pushed in, his swollen balls squeezed against your ass.
And then he pounded inside you, claiming your very soul.
Clutching your waist, he went faster, his mouth devouring your nipples while you clung to his shoulders for dear life and floated higher and higher. You shut your eyes tightly and came undone, your walls clenching hard around him. He followed almost immediately, delving to the hilt and shooting ropes of cum inside you. You felt his release, every pump that flooded your pussy and overflowed, dripping down your thighs.
With a sigh of satisfaction, he set you to lay on your side, cuddling you from behind, his still hard cock lodged deep within you. He kissed your lips and swallowed back your moans of pleasure, sucking your nipples and cupping your breasts in his hands. You relaxed into him, your body full and spent.
“We should watch the rest of the movie now,” he said in an absolutely serious tone.
You half-laughed. “We missed most of it.”
He kissed her head with a grin. “Are you complaining?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“I think I’m gonna love celebrating Halloween.”
Grinning, you looked at him. “When did you turn into such a sex monster?”
“When you started making me feel alive again. You did that, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead and added, “Now watch the movie while I enjoy my Halloween treats.”
“What—” you didn’t manage to let out another word and moaned instead when he leaned down to kiss around your flushed breasts.
“James—”
“The movie, darling,” he said and gently thrust his cock, reminding you that he remained rock hard inside you.
“One day, your stamina will be the end of me,” you groaned as he moved against you, his hands, mouth and delicious length of him inside you teasing you to another orgasm. He ended up fucking you until the credits rolled and you had no strength to do anything else but melt sweetly into his arms and enjoy his ministrations.
#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes no smut#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes#james barnes x reader#alpha bucky barnes#the winter soldier#tfatws#happy halloweeeeeeen#halloween smut
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My King
Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?
Chapter summary: You find out König's birthday is coming up.
Pairing: König x Fem Reader
Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI, Arousal (does that count as a warning?)
Word count: 2.9k
Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there. Smut.
A/n: ok, ya'll go feral for domestic Konig. Honestly same though. I love a slow burn because I want to watch you guys suffer! Mwhahahahaha. I hope you guys enjoy.
Previous Chapter
Chapter Three:
Over a week, you and König fell into a comfortable routine. You felt like a middle schooler with a crush around him. Every morning, one of you would wake the other and greet each other with a kiss. You'd be lying if you said you didn't look forward to it. Konig made an effort not to be too forceful with his affection, but he can't help it sometimes.
“König! I have to work, move!” You giggled.
He currently had your arms pinned to your sides tightly. He held you down on the couch as his face inched closer to yours.
“No, one more kiss Liebe.”
“I gave you so many!” You tried to wiggle out of his grasp.
“One more before I go.” He looked at you sadly.
“It's just the grocery store König, you'll live.”
He looked at you with the sweetest puppy dog eyes he could muster. You gave in and pecked his lips quickly. He chased your lips as you pulled away, capturing them once again before releasing you. You sat up and pouted at him as he put on his mask. He waved to you cheekily before leaving. All the laughing made your bladder urge you to go. You walked into the bathroom and did your business. As you washed your hands something on the edge of the sink caught your eye. His dog tags were there, probably placed there this morning. You picked them up curiously. They had just his name König, no last name. Was that his real name? His company and date of birth were also on there. It read October 4th. Your eyes widened. His birthday was in a couple of days, why didn't he tell you?
You rushed out of the bathroom and to your computer to make a note on your calendar. You knew Konig was a private person, he barely talked about his childhood or any family he might have. You didn't pry for these things, he would tell you in his own time. But his birthday?! That was unacceptable. You decided to plan a little surprise for him, an intimate surprise party. Honestly, he didn't seem like the type to celebrate his birthday. Now that you are here, that's gonna change.
You sat at the dining room table doing a little bit of research on what you could do for him. You got lost in researching cute little decorations and food, you jumped when the door opened. You quickly changed tabs and pretended to be writing. Königset the groceries down on the table and took off his mask. You looked up at him and smiled. He walked around the table and put his phone and wallet on the table while kissing your cheek. You got up to help him put the groceries away eyeing his phone. You didn't know how to get him to leave you for a couple of hours to execute the surprise, but you had an idea. After the food was put away he went to his room. You moved quickly grabbing his phone. It was a flip phone, you didn't know those still existed. His most used contact was you, but under that two other names popped up. Ghost, and Soap. Military names... You decided to take Soap's number down, too intimidated by the name Ghost to ask him. You hoped this person could help you out. You put his phone back in the same spot he placed it and sat down inconspicuously.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You said goodnight to König with a kiss and closed your door. Sitting on the edge of your nest you nervously composed your text to whoever soap was.
'Hello, Soap! I know this is weird but I'm König's Omega. I got your number from his phone. I have a favor to ask you if you're up for it. I hope this isn't too unprofessional for him.'
You sent the text, immediately placing your phone down to try to forget about it. You brainstormed other ideas in case this one didn't work out. Your phone buzzed and you gasped quietly. You picked up your phone and looked at the notification, Soap had texted you back.
'Definitely weird to hear from you lol. I hoped to meet you in real life before we spoke but this is ok as well. What kind of favor?'
'I'm sorry about that. The reason I'm contacting you is because König's Birthday is in a few days on October 4th. I was hoping that someone can get him out of the house for a few hours while I set up his surprise. He never leaves my side, so I just need some time. He doesn't seem to have any friends outside of work so...'
'I see, that's no problem love. It takes him about an hour and a half to get to the base. So I'll make him come in for something little. That should give you about 3 to 4 hours.' He responded.
'Omg, that would be great! Thank you so so so much! I'll be sure to get you something when we meet Soap.'
'You're welcome. I could already tell you're a sweetheart doing something like this for the colonal'
'You flatter me :)'
You went to bed that night proud of yourself. The plan was underway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was hard keeping König out of the loop. He was over your shoulder constantly interested in things you were doing. He almost caught you ordering a cake. You planned to have an at-home movie night for him. You'd have to get snacks, the cake, and balloons, as well as make the pillow fort. You made a meticulous list of what to buy at every store and your walking path to optimize time. Making the pillow fort was gonna take the longest. You were gonna make a nest inside and invite him into it. You haven't let him into your bedroom nest officially but you'd like to soon, this could be a good introduction to that. When the day came around Soap warned you that König might be a little upset on the day. He explicitly told his soldiers not to contact him while he was on leave.
Pissed was an understatement. König was fuming. He tried to hide it from you but his scent was so sour it was hard for you to be in the room.
“What's wrong Alpha?” He rushed through the apartment almost stomping.
“Nothing Schatz.” He responded shortly.
You almost felt bad making him this upset. You hoped it would be worth it. König told you he would be gone for a couple of hours and promptly left. You looked out the window, watching him get into the car and drive off. You texted Soap asking for the all-clear.
'Is he on his way?'
'Yes, he's gonna kill me. I told him that he needed to come in but it was only for some paperwork Ghost could've done.'
' I'll tell him that it was all me and to let you off the hook. I'm gonna bake you something you like cookies?'
'Love them.'
'Good.'
You grabbed your bag and headed out the door. The first stop was to get his gift. You wanted to get him something he needed but also something sentimental. You landed on a leather briefcase. Although he was on leave, there were still things he needed to sign off on as a corporal. His documents were always splayed out on the table only to be messily placed in a folder. The shop that makes them does hand embroidery. You requested them to put your's and Konig's initials' on it with a heart in the middle. It was in a beautiful font on the front corner of the bag. The bag pick up was fast as it was only a ten-minute walk. Next was the party store. You weren't going to overdo it with the decor but you wanted it to be a little festive. It took you a little while to pick out things but you eventually settled on simple green balloons and a happy birthday banner. You also got a box and wrapping paper for your gift.
You checked the time a little over an hour went by so far. König has to be close to the base by now. Soap will text you when he's on his way back. The next and last stop was the grocery store. You were gonna make him a classic American dinner, save for the red dye 40. Burgers and American-style fries were the way to go since you were sure you wouldn't be able to find much American food in Amsterdam. As you were gathering the ingredients Soap texted you.
'König is on his way home. I couldn't convince him that he should stay for a few more minutes. It should take him 2 hours because of traffic.'
'Shit ok, thanks for the heads up. I appreciate you Soap.'
'No problem, Love. Take pictures for ghost and I please.'
'Of course.'
You practically ran through the grocery store to pick up the last items and checked out. When you got home you were sweaty and out of breath. You had two hours to cook, set up the fort, wrap his gift, and decorate. You had your work cut out for you. You didn't bother putting the groceries away, placing them on the kitchen counter, and running to your room. You grabbed extra blankets that you didn't use for your nest and put them in the living room. You hung a sheet with thumbtacks and lined it with pillows. The fort didn't take as long as you thought it would. You chalked it up to your nesting skills. You hung some fairy lights on the inside making sure you still had a good view of the TV. You went to the dining room table and began wrapping the briefcase. you brought a simple brown paper with moons on it. After you finished you started blowing up balloons. After you blew up a few balloons you froze.
The Cake! How could you forget! You called the bakery telling them you were on your way. You checked the time. You only had an hour left. You left the door unlocked and power walked down the street. You kept checking the time watching the clock run down. It took you seven minutes to get to the bakery. They handed you the cake and you power walked back to the apartment careful not to bump the cake. You placed the cake in the fridge and preheated the oven before blowing up more balloons. You had forty minutes left and you still had to cook. Once you were satisfied with the amount of balloons you placed the fries in the oven and started making the burgers. You had 25 minutes left.
While the burgers were cooking you got the toppings ready and took the cake out placing it on the table. The burgers were cooked you assembled them on a plate and piled fries on the side. You made very American concoctions of condiments. Mayo and ketchup, ranch and mustard, ketchup and ranch. You placed the plates on the table. You ran to change into PJs and turn the lights down. You found some candles to use on the table making the mood romantic. Movement outside caught your eye. You pulled the curtain back seeing König's car pulling into a parking space. You glanced around once more making sure everything was in order. You stood near the dining room table waiting for him to open the door. The key turned and in walked a very annoyed-looking König.
“Surprise!” You said sheepishly.
König's eyes widened. He had his sniper hood on but promptly took it off. He looked around at the decorations and then toward the table.
“You...Schatz, what is this?”
“Your birthday party! Happy birthday Konig.”
König closed the door slowly his eyes taking in everything you set up for him. He had an unreadable expression on his face making you a bit nervous.
“Do you like it?” You asked.
König's face dropped. He covered his face with both of his hands. He tried to hold back the tears but they fell anyway. You grabbed his arms trying to soothe him.
“Oh no! I'm sorry Alpha please don't cry. Did I do something wrong?”
König chuckled through his sobs. “No Schatz. I'm just...very surprised.”
He pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, Omega.”
You hugged him back. “Why are you crying, König?”
“I've never celebrated my birthday. My parents never did anything for me. This is a nice surprise.”
“Come, let's eat.” You guide him to the table.
His plate had a bigger burger with more fries. He sat down the tears still dropping occasionally.
“Don't be mad at Soap.” You said. König looked up and furrowed his eyebrows.
“You know Soap? How?”
“Well, I had to find a way to get you out of the house for a few hours so I kinda got his number from your phone and convinced him to make you come into work for something stupid so I had time to set this all up.” You said without taking a breath.
“Wow, what a plan liebe.” He chuckled.
“You didn't have to do all this for me.” He said
“I know, but I wanted to. So please let Soap off the hook colonel? ” You smiled.
“Sure liebe.”
The two of you ate as he asked you about your sneaky plans to make this happen and how he suspected nothing. After you were done you cut him a slice of cake and sent him to change into PJs. You formally invited him into the fort you built making sure he was cozy.
“Ok so we have a few options, but I also wanted to surprise you with the movie. Pick a number between one and five.”
“Hmm, four.”
“Ok close your eyes.” He covered them and you searched for the movie. He chose 'V for Vendetta'. Once the movie was on you told him he could look.
“What is this?” He asked
“V for Vendetta. I love this movie.”
“I have never seen it.”
“Good, you're in for a treat.”
You cuddled him tightly in the nest fort. He fed you your slice of cake so you wouldn't have to move. Suddenly you gasped and grabbed the remote to pause the movie.
“Ugh, I forgot again! My brain is all over the place today.”
You ran to your room and grabbed his birthday present. back in the fort, you gave it to him.
“Happy Birthday Alpha.”
“This is too much Liebe.”
“Just open it!”
He tore the paper and opened the box, taking care not to make a mess. When he saw the briefcase his lips parted slightly taking in the detail you added to it. The urge to cry was overwhelming to him but he held it back.
“I don't deserve you.” He said.
“No, you deserve more.”
He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down into the nest resting his cheek against your forehead.
“How can I thank you?”
“There's no repayment for a birthday gift König.”
“There will be for you.”
“No no, it's not my birthday.” You insisted.
“I don't care.” He gave you a stubborn look.
“König-”
“Be quiet, I won't say it again.” He said sternly.
You nodded. When he put his foot down it was extremely difficult for you to defy him. The Apex rarely used his authority over you like that but you supposed he didn't know how to simply accept someone doing something nice for him. Despite his stern tone he caressed for face giving you sweet kisses on your cheek and forehead. You smiled and leaned into him. You hit play on the movie holding him until you both fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You stirred awake feeling weight on your waist. You looked back seeing König sleeping form. He almost looked boyish, hair messy, and a König's until he woke up naturally before moving, not wanting to wake him from his peace-filled rest. It didn't take long before König's eyes fluttered open. You turned to his and smiled. He kissed you deeply. You returned the kiss with passion, his tongue slipped into your mouth licking yours playfully. When he pulled away s a string of saliva was connecting the two of you.
“Good morning to you too.” You giggled.
You sat up and stretched. You cleaned up the fort a bit from last night putting his gift in his room. He followed you around sleepily trying to help you tidy up. After you finished you went back into the nest fort and turned the TV on. König followed you in, collapsing beside you.
He grabbed your hips pulling your ass against him. His hand trailed up your front resting loosely around your neck. König has been keeping his sexual urges at bay, his resolve was starting to chip away every day. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose brushing against your scent glands. You shivered and clenched your legs together. You tried not to let his ministrations get to you but it was proving difficult when he knew exactly how to get you going.
König pressed a kiss to your scent gland and you moaned softly. Encouraged by the small gasps and moans you gave him, he nibbled and licked the same spot.
“König...” He stopped.
He pulled back and smiled. “Sorry, Liebe.” He got up and headed to the bathroom to shower.
He left you with a hot face and a puddle in between your legs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
taglist: I hope all the tags worked
@that-fangirl-1106 @itsryuken @midwesternwitchery @hiken-no-stark @rouge-swears @the-chaotic-cow @a-gay-cryptid @wybwtjmiadz @somanyminidragons @tizylish @smutslutsposts @y2katsuki @thychuvaluswife @gxdsmonsters
#konig fluff#konig mw2#konig cod#konig x you#konig x reader#könig call of duty#könig x reader#könig x y/n#könig fluff#könig#könig cod#colonel könig#cod mwii fanfic#cod mwii#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#alpha konig#tw a/b/o#a/b/o fic
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trios dont work. // satosugu x reader (business AU)
test to see how people like this idea
✦ Pairing: satoru gojo x suguru geto x afab!reader (she/her)
✦ Summary: trios dont work, and nine years later consequences hit
✦ Warnings: alcoholism, mention of death (mamagumi), passing out due to alcohol consumption, abandonment, clubs dunno what else lmk
✦ A/n: this so far isnt done yet, ive been writing a mucchhhh longer version since october, but i wanna see if you guys like this idea so lmk in the comments if yall want more so i can post the whole thing
✦ Wordcount: 2905
✦ ATTENTION!!! do not copy. translate, remake my work, i do not give you permission to so dont do it. also GIF not mine, credits to the creator.
full post!!!
nine years. It had been nine years.
The first year felt unrealistic. It was strange. going from being side by side with each other almost 24/7 to no contact at all. [Name] didn’t know what she did wrong, just that one day Satoru and Suguru decided they didn’t want her in their life anymore.
She remembered everything of their last day together, every once in a while it would suddenly pop back up into her head, but in that first year, it replayed again and again; every day.
“Suguru!” [Name] had called out to one of the two teenage boys as she caught up to them “hi!”
Suguru flung his arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her into his side as she greeted Satoru.
“Where have you been, doll? We were looking for you.”
[Name] laughed as she grabbed their hands and pulled them along. “Shoko and I accidentally forgot to sleep, so when I did fall asleep around ten I was doomed to wake up late.”
The two boys looked at each other and smiled, the little ball of sunshine walking in front still pulling them along.
“So four hours of sleep and already this energetic? you still gotta teach me that trick.” Satoru commented as he looked at her, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She replied with a ‘real magicians don’t explain their best tricks’
After they walked for a while, they finally reached the top of a mountain, looking down on the city below.
The beginning of summer break celebration was going on, kids from their private school and from public schools in the city came together to celebrate. Many people crowded the streets, there was music, and they could see everything perfectly.
“look who knows the best spots once again”
They had spent the entire afternoon on the top of that mountain since classes were canceled due to the celebration, their fellow students were down there, having fun.
But as they were probably dancing and partying; Satoru took on the challenge to chase [Name] around the hill, she yelped and ran behind the other boy, clutching to the back of his shirt for protection as she heard the two boys negotiate.
“Don’t you dare Suguru,” she warned, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. He placed one of his hands on hers and suddenly pulled her to the front. “Not you too please! ah!” she yelped, but the next moment she was giggling, she could never stand a chance against their tickle war. Ever since they found out she was very ticklish a few years ago it had become a thing for them to annoy her with. Whenever it was if she were sad, annoyed, angry, or if they felt like it, the boys would look at each other and [Name] would run instantly if she saw. (Which she most of the time didn’t and fell into their grasp giggling.)
Later at night they went back to the school, they had watched the sun set, then the fireworks, and then [name] and Satoru listened and looked in awe as Suguru pointed out constellations in the night sky. It was perfect.
At some point her eyes fell and she slept. The black haired boy looked down at her sleeping on Satoru's shoulder before giving a sad smile.
“She will never forgive us.”
“But at least we'll protect her.”
The next morning when [name] woke up in the room she shared with Shoko there was a little note on her nightstand.
‘you’re gonna be okay’ in Satoru’s messy and rushed handwriting. She got dressed and ran out of her room, looking for her best friends. what did Satoru mean with that she was gonna be okay?
She looked all over the grounds, the dining hall, library, common rooms, classrooms, the fields and gardens. Eventually she decided to also check their dorm. Girls and boys weren’t originally allowed in each other's dorm rooms, but since everyone was packing their stuff for summer the teachers didn’t care. So she followed the familiar path towards the boys their shared room. The posters were gone from their door, but they probably took those down first she thought. [name] knocked on the door, no reaction. She opened the door to find it completely empty except for the furniture that belonged to the school.
Graduation was next week, why were they moved out already? For the last few years they always did that together. Where were they? As she turned around and bumped into Nanami, he looked just as confused as he took in the empty room.
He looked at her, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. She knew what he was gonna ask, “They’re putting their stuff into the car or?”
She showed him the note in her hand and Nanami just got more question marks behind his eyes.
For a week she wondered where they were, she held hope they’d come knocking on her temporary apartment building her parents owned as she waited in the city for graduation. However; no knock came, no call, no letter or note, nothing. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru disappeared from the radar.
When graduation rolled around word went round that Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru would not be attending. They had waited for this moment for she didn’t know how long. Plans were made to go out with their other friends after, they had plans for the future! But now, instead of her two best friends cheering on her louder than anyone else as she held her valedictorian speech, her other friends cheered double as hard. They knew she’d been struggling this week. Shoko had crashed at her temporary apartment since she didn’t want to deal with her parents. Nanami also came by daily, and if they hadn’t been there, no one would’ve known what would’ve happened to [name].
The second year was still unbearable. [Name] worked a lot, saving money, attending college, going out with her friends on the weekends. She often found herself looking to her sides, expecting to see one of her two former best friends walking there. She always looked for them in crowds, she looked everywhere, but they were nowhere to be found.
In the third year [name] finally figured out her future. She was in her third year but decided to drop out. She saved a lot of money, and she was relatively well off so she bought a building in the busy city and within six months the place opened to a magnificent night club and partially a cafe two times a week. It took a lot of promotion, and a lot of patience until the place blew up.
In just the first year that it opened, she gained so much she paid off the entire loan of the building. It hit off with people her age, and at just nineteen [name] was going to become one of the youngest millionaires of her time, she just didn’t know it yet.
Her friends loved the place too, and they were immensely proud of [name] after what she had gone through a few years prior. She proved to the world that the only person she truly needed was herself and that she could do whatever she wanted to.
The second year after opening the fourth without Gojo and Geto [name] opened a second location of her club across the world in Los Angeles.
And now nine years later, and six locations in Tokyo, Los Angeles, Amsterdam, NYC, Paris and London [Name] had in fact become the fastest growing self made millionaire at her age. She lived in Beverly Hills, had her own place designed and built and she was living the life.
Now; in her bathroom it was still a calm Saturday night but she knew that in an hour she would be in her own club, observing the people as she sipped on her drink. Saturdays were the busiest; first day of the weekend but that also meant a lot of money.
“Scarlett?” [name] called out to her assistant who walked towards the entrance of the bathroom. “Take two weeks off, alright? Paid vacation of course, take your wife anywhere you want, put it on my bill. It’s summer and you haven’t been on a break since last year. It’s not up for debate.” She was fixing the last strands of her hair before turning towards the woman in her doorframe who looked a bit ill at her words. “Now, how do I look?” she gave Scarlett a smile.
“As beautiful as always. And… Are you sure you’ll be fine? I mean… Two weeks is a lot.” Scarlett loved her job, not because it paid well, or because her boss was very generous. She loved her job because her boss felt more like a close friend rather than a boss.
“You’re right, make it three weeks. You deserve it, you and your wife both. I’ll be fine, I know how to start a washer and dryer, I know how to do the dishes. What else would I need? Now, have fun on your vacation, you better send me pics, and have fun! I gotta get going now though cause I'm already late.”
Scarlett still looked a bit sick as she bid farewell to her boss, but at least she could finally take a break, which she was too shy to admit she actually needed.
[Name] walked through the front door of the club, she didn’t pick favorites is what she told others, but the location here in LA and the one in Paris were definitely her favorites of the six she owned. The music was beaming, lights flashing and the scent of alcohol and sweat hung in the air. Security guards nodded at her in a silent greeting as she made her way to her office, one of them trailing her for her own protection. Tonight was going to be a good night, she thought as she poured herself a drink, quickly drowning it before taking a glance at the paperwork that had been assembled on her desk during the last few days. She’d take it home when she left tonight. The security guard opened the door again and waited for her to lock it, after she gave him the signal he didn’t have to trail her tonight.
She walked past the VIP area, making some small conversations with people she’d seen before. There were new faces too, there always were. All different types of ‘em too. It was a safe space as well as a club. She stopped at Toji’s table, how he and her met was a long story. Everyone at [Name] her boarding school knew of the Zen’in family and their generations at the school, same as the Gojo family, as well as her own. She’d seen him here at the club one day a few years ago, standing at the bar and damn he looked familiar she had thought. It soon clicked in her head and she walked up to him.
“Zen’in?” she had called as she stood behind him.
“Fushiguro now actually, took my wife's last name.” he said as he turned around, looking at the young woman in front of him. “Wait,” he had studied her face, until his eyes landed on the obvious giveaway of her family “[last name]?”. She nodded and smiled in response to his guess. “Never thought I’d see one of you all the way out here.”
“Well, someone has to be the millionaire of the family.” Toji’s eyes widened as he asked for more details, giving an impressed grin when he found out she was the owner.
“You got it good, girl. I wouldn’t have suspected you to be the type.”
“Hello again, it’s been a while.” She sat down on the couch next to him, observing the people as they danced to the music. There were some empty glasses in front of him but Toji seemed rather sober.
“[Last name], you look good tonight.” he gave her a grin, it had been a few years since his wife died, the first few years were a mess for him, he was in here every night drinking away his grief. But over the years he had come to accept her passing and actually started taking care of his son again. Now he came every weekend, mostly just Saturdays since that's when his son was at his friends’ or godfathers house.
“Thank you,” she smiled at him, smoothing out the satin dress on her body. “How’s Megs?” She hadn’t seen either of them ‘cause they’d been residing in Japan for a while.
Toji smiled at the mention of his son. It took him too long to realize that the little boy was his light in life, his wife lived on in him and oh he was amazing.
“He’s fine, great actually. He graduated from Jujutsu High a few weeks ago…” as Toji said that an old but familliar scent hit [name] her nostrils and she immediately turned her head around but didn’t find what she smelled. “It was amazing to see him receive his diploma. To be really honest, a few years ago I thought I’d never be back at that place again after I graduated years and years ago myself.”
“He’s so grown up already, I can remember when you told me he just started.” [Name] turned her head back towards her friend with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “And to be fair, I don’t think I’ll ever return to Jujutsu High again, no matter the reason.” there was a reason- there were simply too many memories there that she had tried her hardest to forget. Those memories being the ones she just smelled.
The mixed scent of sweet floral yet strong cologne and a really overwhelming smell of pine and vanilla still hung faintly in the air.
It can’t be, she thought. Her mind was just playing tricks on her because Toji had her remember things she didn’t want to. There’s no way.
Yet when she bid farewell to Toji and walked towards the bar she smelled it again. The bartenders didn’t look up when she walked behind the bar and poured herself a drink, yet she overheard their conversations.
“That man's eyes… wow! I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that bright!”
It’s not him. They’re not here.
“But the other one! His shoulders… my god.”
[Name] walked away before she’d drive herself insane over this. There was no way they were here. If they were, she would’ve spotted them already. Even though a decade can change a lot about a person; Gojo’s bright blue eyes and bright hair and Geto’s long dark hair and muscled figure always stood out, especially when together.
She wasn’t even sure if they’d regcronise her. She cut her hair, the final stages of puberty hit her later so she got some more curves and flesh, her style had changed and so had her personality. Though deep down she knew that if she’d ever see those two boys again, she’d turn back into her old bubbly self if it took too long. She always had a soft spot for them, no matter what happened or how much she denied it, they would always be a part of her past. Toji had also once told her she walked around like she owned the place, to which she replied that she did. He’d given her credit for the remark and she’d told him to put things on her tab that night.
With a racing heart she went back to observing the crowds. Walking alongside tables, along the dancefloor, everywhere.
Theres no way these two fucks still wear the same cologne after years.
She sipped her drink, it burned in her throat, but it wasn't unpleasant. She walked towards the staircase for staff and security. All the way up it overlooked the layout of the building and she could spot things easier.
I’m going to drive myself insane by looking for people that aren’t-
Her train of thoughts stopped when she saw a mob of bright white hair, she stared at it for ten seconds before looking at the person's face and she felt her head get light, looking besides him she saw a familiar black haired man.
Fuck.
She turned around, not being able to look anymore. The top of the stairs wasn't lit, so the chance they would’ve seen her was slim, very slim. [Name] sunk to the ground and drowned her drink in one go, this time the burn lasted longer and she closed her eyes. A few years ago she had promised herself that if she’d ever find them in her club- her property, she’d get them kicked out. Yet now that she found them, that seemed impossible. She couldn’t just walk up to them and tell them to get out of here.
Why not?
Why not? There was no reason as to why not. As she said, it was her property, she could do whatever she wanted and before she realized it herself she was already making her way to the table they were sitting at.
The music seemed to dim, the world became clearer yet also blurrier as she stood in front of them.
“Get the fuck out of my place.” she said, there was anger and aggression in her voice as she looked at them. “Now.”
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lmk what you think of this in the comments so i can post the whole thing!!!! OH AND LMK IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN THE FULL THING ONCE I POST IT :3
#satosugu#gojo x reader#geto x reader#satosugu x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#suguru geto#gojo x reader smut#geto x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen
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I wanna eat Thomas up like he my LAST MEAL 😫😫
Shawtyyy like I’m beating up his guts like I die TOMORROW!! 💖💖
Honestly if I saw him with my (dumbass) group of friends I would turn to them and be like “hol’ on i’ma try to wife up this super model ova here, go on without me cuz this town is my new home as long as he here.” While LOUDLY pointing to Thomas and trying to be suave AF but lookin dumb in the process. Lowkey though I feel like realistically he would think I’m making fun of him and kill me first 😭😭.
What’s your take on it?? How would our (hot-sexy-mouthwatering) Thomas Hewitt take a very bold flirtatious reader?? Thanks and bye!! ✌️💖💖
I am having thoughts and feelings about this thank you very much
So, we all know Thomas is a very shy and reserved man. He isn't bold or confident by any means. He does as he's told, and sticks to himself, pretty much never leaving his comfort zone.
But, Luda Mae's getting older, and despite her head-strong and strong-willed demeanor, Thomas worries about her.
So, he starts spending more time at the old country store, if for no reason other than to serve as a deterrent for the off-handed biker or degenerate looking for an excuse to try and rob a poor old station clerk.
It works, and Luda Mae enjoys spending more time with her son.
There's not much to do out at the shop, and so more often than not Thomas finds himself resting out in the old rocker to escape the hot smoky air wafting from the patron's and his mother's cigarettes.
It's a cool October afternoon, a nice breeze keeping the hot sun at bay as he gently pushes himself back and forth with his foot, eyes closed as he rests.
He hears you before he sees you, the loud, excited yells of a group of young women fading in from the distance as a jeep kicks up dirt, pulling up to one of the old, rusty pumps.
He squints his eyes open, watching as the four of you sing along to the radio, no one concerned with how off-key y'all may be.
He sighs, closing his eyes again, not moving from his seat in the old rocker as your group continues having the time of your lives.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," A clear voice suddenly emerges from the chaos, the music lowering to a quiet hum, "Who is that?"
He opens his eyes again, seeing that you have set your eyes on him from your place in the backseat, sunglasses lowered to take in a better look.
He frowns behind his mask, face scrunching in expectancy, waiting to hear the barrage of rude comments and hideous bullying.
The rest of your friends glance over his way as he shuffles in his seat, shoulders tensing as he looks away, uncomfortable with the attention.
"Goddamn." You start again, letting out a low whistle, "If this is what this town has to offer y'all can just leave me here."
A large eruption of playful teasing, groans, and eye rolls come from your friend group as you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a large, flirtatious grin.
He looks back, caught off guard by the terrible pick up line, frozen in place as you blow him a kiss.
"Are you for sale, pumpkin, 'cause I could just eat you up!"
"Oh, my god, leave the poor man alone." One of your friends tease you, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you further into the car.
He can't help but stare, left in shock by the sudden and unexpected flirting.
You couldn't be serious, right...?
There's no way you could actually be flirting with him right now... Right?
His thought process is broken as you ungracefully climb out of the truck, pulling yourself over the door and almost busting your face in the process.
Brown eyes stay glued to you as you walk over to him, hips swaying in what he was sure to be a much more suave and appealing way than the dorky saunter you were pulling now.
...This was definitely a joke.
"Hey." You barely stifle through your amused giggling to speak, "Do you have a name or can I just call you mine?"
"Y/N!" Your friends groan loudly from the car, watching you attempt to work your magic.
He looks you up and down, trying to figure out if this was some strange attempt to mock him or if you were actually coming onto him, the latter making his face flush pink at the idea.
"Thomas!" His mother steps out of the shop, poking her head out to look at the two of you, "Come help me put this stuff up."
He isn't sure if she really needs help or if it's a feeble attempt to get him out of the situation, and to be completely honest, he's not really sure he wants to leave.
But his mother says she needs help, so he stands from his chair, rising to his full height, something that would cause most people to take at least a small step back, but your smile only seems to grow as you stand in place, clearly checking him out as you look him up and down.
He starts to ignore you, heading back inside, only to hear the wooden floorboards creak behind him as he reaches the counter.
He looks back, a confused look on his face as he sees you following behind like a lost duckling.
"Don't mind me," You wink, "My mama just always told me to follow my dreams."
He huffs in amusement at that, shaking his head.
Maybe your pickup lines weren't all that bad.
...
As time goes on, and the more he gets to know you, the more he's going to find your flirtatious advances amusing and endearing, but if you don't make it very clear from the beginning that there's actual feelings behind your remarks, he's going to assume that they're just jokes and you're not actually into him.
He's a big romantic, he'll catch feelings rather easily the more you flirt and tease him, and if he isn't 100% sure that they're more than just jokes, he'll eventually grow to resent them because he feels like he's being teased, even if you have no idea he has feelings for you at all, so communication (while a big deal in every relationship) will be especially important if you're a flirtatious person.
#is this cat calling?#maybe#but thats okay#thomas hewitt#thomas hewitt x reader#thomas hewitt x you#thomas hewitt x y/n#thomas hewitt x s/o#slashers#slasher fandom#slasher x reader#slasher x you#slasher x y/n#slasher x s/o
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secret santa | j. fleming
summary; jessie leaves your real present at home. [SMUT]
🎵 right my wrongs - bryson tiller
you watched on excitedly as millie opened her present from you, a massive grin appearing on her face once she caught sight of the white t-shirt you'd had custom made for her. a cartoon drawing of her and rachel was in the middle alongside their dogs by their feet, a massive 'daly dose of brightness' calligraphy sign above them as they pointed up to it, millie looking up and finding you immediately as she knew only you would get her something like that.
"i'm putting this on right now!"
she stood up to take off her shirt and modelled for the girls when they wolf-whistled at the sight of her shirtless, quickly putting on her new shirt and continuing to model it as you all cheered her on. the defender made her lap of the group whilst doing a model walk and arrived at you, kissing your forehead with a thanks before sitting down again. emma picked up a gift from the pile in the middle of you all and read the name, looking up to find you.
"think fast!"
she threw it towards you and applauded when you caught it with ease, slightly disappointed you didn't let it drop. the present was shaped like a flat rectangle and light, the price limit on your secret santa was twenty-five pounds so you had no idea what it could be, all the girls watching to see what it was as you tore it open. you noticed it was a 2024 calendar - cleary personalised - with the back showing twelve pictures of your teammates dressed up in stupid outfits matching the seasons.
january was erin and guro wearing new years hats with partyblowers in their mouths, february was jessie holding a heart-shaped pillow and wearing a hat that said 'happy valentines day' whilst blowing a kiss to the camera, april was jess dressed up like the easter bunny and mia sneaking out of frame with a basket full of eggs, june was zecira and lauren wearing hawaiian shirts with sunglasses on a fake beach whilst pushing their cocktail glasses together in cheers, october was niamh and fran dressed in matching vampire costumes alongside guro fighting them off with a garlic clove and wooden stake and december was all of the girls in different christmas jumpers surrounded by presents.
the remaining months were just your teammates wearing random things and being stupid if there wasn't any specific holidays, one of them being millie dressed up as a firefighter and pretending to slide down a pole with one leg popped up behind her and a finger on her pouting lips, a running inside joke on your team being that she'd make a great firefighter purely for the 'sexy' calendar photoshoots they have.
"oh this is so cute! best present ever."
you commented whilst flicking through the months and showing your teammates your favourites, getting slightly distracted on february but quickly snapping out of it once erin started teasing you for shamelessly staring at jessie. there could have only been one person who came up with this thoughtful idea and actually went through with it, no one but your girlfriend would take the time to make such a cute gift. you quickly stood up and walked over to the canadian whilst kissing her on the cheek, thanking her quietly as she smiled brightly with a blush, so happy you liked the gift but still growing a little shy once you kissed her.
the rest of the girls opened their presents and were all happy with what they received, sitting and talking for an hour or so before some people started to leave once emma dismissed you all from the team bonding session. jessie informed you earlier that she had another gift waiting at home, claiming she forgot to bring it as she was in a hurry that morning but wanting you to open it when you got back to your shared place anyways. your curiosity got the better of you and you'd practically dragged your girlfriend out of cobham training grounds towards your car, ignoring the chuckle she'd let out when you were beginning to grow restless out of anticipation.
"come on we're literally there! you might as well tell me what it is."
"sorry baby, no can do."
jessie refused for the umteenth time after you asked her to say what your actual gift was, unlocking the door to your shared apartment and letting you in first as she watched you practically sprint towards the bedroom where you knew it would be. you saw a neat box laying on the bottom of your bed with a red bow over it, picking it up to see there was no brand name or indication of what it could be. you carefully untied the ribbon with jessie leaning against the doorframe as she watched on with a smirk, grinning when you took off the lid and gasped at what you saw.
a black lace lingerie set was neatly laid out in the box in front of you, your eyes unable to leave it as you'd never worn anything like that before and didn't think jessie would be into it. (future you would be screaming about just how into it jessie is.)
"you like it?"
you turned to jessie and nodded your head shyly, kicking off your shoes by the end of the bed and pulling the set out of the box, holding it up to find thankfully she hadn't bought you a thong as you didn't like wearing them. it was a simple black lace lingerie set- yet you were obsessed. you hurried into the ensuite as jessie sat down on your side of the bed patiently, slowly getting more and more riled up at the thought of you in lingerie just for her, thinking about how gorgeous you'd look in the set and that she was definitely going to make you keep it on somehow as she fucked you later on.
she was knocked out of her thoughts by you opening the ensuite door and leaning against the doorframe shyly, not knowing what to do with yourself as jessie took you in and chuckled at your awkward nature when it came to things like this. she waved you over with a massive grin playing on her face, shamelessly checking you out as your arms went around her neck whilst you straddled her lap when she moved to lean against the headboard, squealing at the unexpected slap she landed to your ass before squeezing it.
"you like it?"
you repeated her earlier question in a teasing manner, watching the way her eyes wouldn't stay still as they roamed all over your body alongside her hands.
"god, i love it. this is so much better than i ever could've imagined. you get more beautiful by the day."
you blushed at her endless array of compliments as she babbled them out like she was drunk, lips moving forward to take the skin above your breasts and below your collarbone into her teeth as she bit harshly, grinning at the hiss of pain you exerted before she ran her tongue over it whilst sucking. she continued this all over your chest and neck, moving to flip you over so she could move her lips down your stomach and repeat her actions, loving the way your hands tangled in her hair and breathing picked up. the canadian looked up to see your chest rising and falling at a faster rate, absolutely adoring the way your bra was hugging your breasts in all the right ways to drive her feral; she couldn't help but move back up to your chest and pay them extra special attention once she was done with your stomach.
"god i love your tits. they look so fucking gorgeous right now- i'm gonna go insane."
"the least you could do is fuck me before i commit you to an insane asylum then."
jessie shook her head at your stupid joke, chuckling alongside you as she leaned down to kiss you sweetly, moving her lips down your neck to make more marks.
"if i could i'd take a picture to make sure this moment never ends."
"i never said you couldn't."
you smirked up at her, watching her eyes light up as you nodded your head in approval of her questioning glance. the midfielder reached for her bedside table and found her polaroid amongst her mini collection of cameras, positioning the lens in a way that only showed the bottom of your jaw all the way down to the waistband of your underwear, quickly taking a picture and placing the camera back on her drawer to sort out later on. her lips quickly found their way to your inner thighs and continued the trail of love bites she'd set herself on a mission of making, teeth wrapping around your waistband and pulling back before letting go, grinning at the whine you let out when it snapped back against your skin.
unable to control herself anymore, her fingers dipped under and softly began rubbing your clit to earn a moan of her name, your legs spreading open further in a silent plea as jessie moved her digits down to your entrance and prodded them both in slowly to not stretch you out too painfully. you pulled her into a heated kiss as she moved her free hand to massage your breast over the bra she'd gotten you, your hands tangling into her hair and tugging when she started moving her fingers. she quickly built you up and attached her mouth to your nipple over the bra, curling her fingers simultaneously as you pushed her head further into you and arched your back with a groan of pleasure.
"you're so fuckin' sexy babygirl. been dreaming of havin' you wear something like this for months now."
"won't be the last time if you keep fucking me this good every time i wear it."
you promised with a wink whilst keeping back your moans, throwing back your head as she observed the way your body was reacting to her hand. she was curling her fingers into your g-spot, pulling out every now and then to tease as she rubbed your wetness over your puffy clit frantically before going back to finger-fucking you like her life depended on it, loving the way you were whimpering at the loss of her digits every time. you grabbed her wrist when you felt her pulling out and gave her a look of warning, loving the way she cowered under your gaze and stopped the games with a peck on your lips in apology.
her thrusts started to get rougher and more forceful when she began to take in your body again, the sight of you getting fucked in lingerie riling her up to no end as she moaned, no longer keeping the thoughts of what she wanted to do to you at bay. jessie felt your walls clamping down on her fingers every time she pushed them in, growing tighter with each thrust whilst she groaned in response to the feeling of your arousal flooding her fingers.
"you gonna cum baby? am i fucking you good?"
"m'gonna cum- don't stop!"
you begged continuously as she kissed along the love bites she'd left behind in response, moving her thumb up at an awkward angle to rub your clit in tight circles whilst your nails raked blood-red trails down her back like she'd just been mauled by a tiger. jessie grunted in pain whilst biting her lip to distract herself from it, focusing on making you feel as good as possible.
"gonna be a good girl and look pretty whilst you cum all over my fingers?"
"m'your good girl."
"that's right baby. such a pretty princess. dressing up for me and letting me fuck you like this, such a good girl. my good girl."
that's all it took for the floodgates to open and your mouth to start letting out as many expletives as you could think of, nails continuing to make their mark on her waist and back as jessies hand didn't relent for one second. your breathing eventually evened out as your orgasm finally subsided, realising your girlfriend still had her fingers knuckle-deep inside you as you looked to her in confusion, seeing the dark look in her eyes as she raked them up and down your body in a way that said 'i'm not done with you yet' whilst she turned you over so you were straddling her again.
oh, she was gonna fuck you so good.
#jessie fleming#canada wnt#canada womens#chelsea wfc#chelsea women#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso x reader#jessie fleming smut#jessie fleming imagine#jessie fleming fanfic#jessie fleming x reader#jessie fleming x you#jessie fleming x y/n#woso smut#woso#canada women#canada#cwnt x reader#chelsea womens#chelsea wfc x reader
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you're so calm. you're only feral when you're fighting and . . . y'know
DAY 4 | OCTOBER 14 | PUBLIC SEX
genre: nsfw, smut
character: dom!megumi x sub!reader
summary: doing the deed outside and almost getting caught
warnings: public sex, brat taming, cockstepping, unprotected sex, degradation (use of slut), exhibitionism
He never thought shoving his cock into you outside the house would ever cross his mind, nor even cross off his checklist. Never did you, but it did. You can thank yourself for this.
All you wanted to do was rile him up so he can slam you to a wall as soon as you guys got home but you didn't think he wouldn't wait. He's always been patient so you intended it as a joke.
But yes, now is not a joke anymore with him deep inside your hole in an alley that you're pretty sure passersby can watch the show you guys are putting on.
In a restaurant, you accidently brushed your feet to his crotch when you were adjusting your position. And his reaction did not go unnoticed in your eyes. Your devilish smirk is hidden as your feet crawls up his shin to his thigh. He smacked you away with a glaring look, telling you to behave. But of course you don't listen. You continue rubbing his cock under the table and he's trying his best to keep in his moans, only having to fake cough for coverup. His blush was noticeable, though. His hands flailing to make you stop and his eyes sending death glares. However, all of that went over your head, thinking that he won't do such things in public so you have to wait at home.
After dinner, instead of making your way to both of your car, Megumi pulled you in the alleyway next to the restaurant. The thing is, it's a one way window glass--you can see the people inside but they can't see the outside.
"You wanted to act like slut, huh? Well, I'll treat you like one. Don't worry." His pants are down and your dress is hiked up to your hips. Your panties are long gone in his pocket. He maneuvered you to the window, bending you down ass up, tits and face pressed up against the cold glass. He gives you a loud smack on your ass and aligned his cock to your pussy. You moaned out from the sudden stretch with no prep.
"Oh, you really want the customers to know, huh? You love that, don't you?" He hisses when he feels your walls clench around him from his dirty talks. His hips started thrusting, pounding into your wet, sopping cunt. His grip on your hips will surely leave a mark. If you gave him no chance to contain his dignity just now, then he will do the same.
Not even two minutes have passed and you're already creaming on his raging cock. Somehow you couldn't control your voice, forgetting that you're out in the open. The two customers that was close to the two of spin their head into your direction. You weren't sure if they heard you or not. But after awhile, their turn back to their food.
Megumi lets out a low groan as he also bust his nut inside you. He didn't stop there, oh no. He wants to tease you like you did. He pounded his dick into you so hard you jolted into the glass. Then, he waits a little before doing it again. Waiting and pounding, waiting and pounding. Your moans accompanying each thrust, getting higher and higher. The same two customers look back to both of your direction again and you shut your mouth this time. Whimpers only coming out. Megumi leans in to you and whispered in your ear.
"They're watching you and here you are with my pussy clenching down my cock? You want me to fuck you again, you little horny bastard? C'mon, let's give them some entertainment."
He starts picking up his pace, his pelvis smacking into your ass, giving you spanks at a time. His fingers crawl up to you lips, forcing them open so you can be loud. At this point, you're pretty his shyness and usual timid self has thrown to who-knows-where and you kind of not complaining. You were the one who brought this upon yourself.
The customer has called a waiter to come check the mysterious noise near them, which the waiter obeyed the orders and approach your direction. You lifted yourself off the glass so you won't be seen if looked closely. However, Megumi notices your intention and pushed you back to the glass. This time caging you so you have no way to move around. His head is buried into your neck, biting it to only contain his voice while yours and still forced open with his fingers shoved down your throat. You met the waiter's eyes and you couldn't help to cum for the second time on his cock.
"You dirty slut," he coos before smacking your ass from your naughtiness.
Thankfully, the waiter turned back around and shook his head to the customer. You both assume it was nothing and he only came to 'check' the noise just to satisfy the customer needs. You sigh in relief as Megumi came again in your pussy. He groans out as he removed himself from you. Your hole now dripping with white cum in huge globs. You hear him growl from behind you as he shoved back his cum into you with his fingers so it wouldn't drip again when you walk to your car or staining the seat of his car because he won't be giving you your panties back.
#kinktober 2023#jjk smut#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#megumi smut#megumi#fushiguro smut#fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi x reader
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Gf!Ellie on Halloween
a.n - Happy Halloween everyone!! Needed to post this because Halloween is my fav ever..hope your Halloween is good!! Enjoy <3 🎃
warnings - provocative language, fluff, Ellie being a dork and scared of everything, kissing.
; I
Ellie was never the type to celebrate holidays. Her peers would be lucky if she accepted a cake on her birthday.
But you changed that, persistent that Ellie get dressed up and went out with you for Halloween. You went all out and made her close her eyes, grabbing a costume you bought for her a few days prior and holding it in front her.
“You can open ‘em.”
“Holy shit!” Ellie muttered, her brows raising as her hands went to her knees, rubbing them over her jeans lightly. And you could slowly see her crack a smile on her chapped lips.
“Do you like it?” You asked, already knowing the answer. The helmet; which was admittedly the best part to the beloved astronaut costume was still in the closet, and you smiled at the thought of Ellie’s reaction to that. Ellie nodded and felt the fabric of the costume before kissing you, quickly pulling away to look at it again.
“It’s fuckin’ sick!”
; II
Throughout the month of October, you’d been practically forcing Ellie to partake in any Halloween events. Haunted houses, pumpkin carving, pumpkin patches, you name it, the two of you did it.
She most definitely did not agree to the haunted house at first, scared shitless but she’d never admit it.
And god, it was like hell on actual earth when the two of you arrived. Ellie let out something of a scream-groan when the two of you were waiting In line, a man sliding over to the two of you. You laughed, not only finding it cool but also at Ellie’s reaction. She covered her face and squeezed her sweaty palm onto yours.
And let’s not get started on when the two of you actually went inside. She insisted you go first so the scare wouldn’t be as bad for her, but she somehow ended up in the front halfway through. She jumped and practically squealed every time someone popped out, a gush of wind hit the two of you, or a light would make a weird noise.
By the time you and Ellie left the haunted house, she was out of breath, sweaty, and half dead.
“Never. Fucking. Again.”
; III
“That’s for like, five year olds.” Ellie muttered.
“Right, because parents trust a five year old with a sharp object.” You laughed, wielding a carving tool in your hand with two pumpkins on the counter in front of the both of you.
“You never know.”
“What’re you gonna make?” You questioned with almost a devilish grin, knowing Ellie did not wanna do this. “I don’t know yet..”
…
She turned her pumpkin around with a tiny smile on her face, and you glanced down at it, caught off guard. She made a portrait of Joel, and god was it good.
“You should make that into a profession..” you mumbled, glancing down at your pumpkin. It was a stick-figure Ellie that you knew she’d make of you for. Onto to the next one.
; IV
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” You asked, throwing a piece of popcorn into your mouth. Ellie shrugged from the corner of your eye and sat up. “I thought we were watching interstellar.”
“Ellie, we’ve seen that movie like 10 times..plus it’s Halloween, we should have like, a marathon or something.”
She immediately sat back, defeated. She let out a long sigh which caused you to smile and roll your eyes. “Drama queen.”
You could see Ellie’s mouth widen at your words as her brows furrowed, but she again, was defeated. So she stood silent.
Eventually, the two of you agreed on the movie ‘Saw X’, and you glanced over at Ellie who glanced over at you a few times.
Safe to say the night ended with Ellie in your arms, half asleep, drooling on you but also refused to sleep since she was convinced she’d have a nightmare about the movie.
“It wasn’t even that scary.” You said, caressing her auburn hair.
“You’re so full of shit.” Ellie said, smiling a bit once she heard you laugh in response.
#castasplla#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#ellie x reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie tlou2#ellie x y/n
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prized possession | dan heng || honkai star rail one shot
published on october 22nd, 2023.
pairing: dan heng x reader
genre: fluff, with a sprinkle of jelly + possessive dan heng
word count: who knows at this point, but it is kind of short anyway.
synopsis: your boyfriend, dan heng, gets jealous over you talking with another guy that he doesn’t know. that’s the gist of it.
warning: lowercase is intended! there might be some spoilers if you are not caught up with dan heng IL’s lore. dan heng IL has me on my KNEES fr. i’m aware that “the guy that should not be named rn” and dan heng know each other. they just don’t know each other in this story.
it is a normal day in the xianzhou lufou, with the clear, sunny skies shining with glory.
along with a great number of cycranes soaring in the skies and the residents’ chattering the day away, xianzhou lufou is clearly a nation specializing in business. new ships arrive at the docks of xianzhou lufou as well, dropping off raw materials and such. starskiffs also does the same, picking up materials from xianzhou lufou and shipping them to a different places around the world. trade is one of the many reasons why the xianzhou lufou businesses flourish.
although it is the complete opposite in sclaegorge waterscape, a location that is a part of xianzhou lufou. this place is mostly secluded and not many people go here. however, it is a place that withholds xianzhou’s history. it is the place where dan feng was reincarnated into dan heng, the person he is now.
at the moment, dan heng is meditating near a pond in scalegorge waterscape, its own quietness and tranquility is pleasant to him. the sounds of water rippling from a nearby waterfall is also relaxing to listen to.
dan heng recalls how he and bailu explored many different parts of xianzhou lufou to discover more lore about dan feng, his past incarnation. he has to stand in the shadow of dan feng for the rest of his life, but he has come to accept this fact. it is something he can’t change, however, he is aware that he is his own person. this new revelation has unlocked a new perspective of his life. for once, he is alright with how his life is heading right now.
while he was meditating, he notices a familiar figure in the distance. or perhaps, he senses a similar feeling that he knows all too well. in other words, he is acknowledging their presence. when he opens his eyes and observes his surroundings, he sees you. however, you don’t seem to notice him yet.
why is that the case?
well, that’s because you were communicating with someone, that someone being another guy. someone that dan heng doesn’t entirely know. for some reason, he has a strong urge to protect you from this man, especially when this man is carrying a large coffin.
hearing you laugh because of what the unknown man has said caused an uncomfortable jab in his chest. seeing you smile because of another reason besides him makes him feel anxious and uneasy. he tries to meditate again to calm down his frantic mind, but the thought of you being with another guy makes him shake in his boots.
is he jealous? no way. he trusts you enough to know that you wouldn’t cheat behind his back. so why does he feel so tense when he sees you with this guy? he figures that it is one of your colleagues, but you two seem closer than that.
in fact, this guy is far more handsome than he is. with his luscious golden hair and his light green eyes. it’s only natural that he feels…anxious about this, right?
he’s afraid of losing you after all. he loves you too much to let you go.
and so, while you were casually conversing with this tall, handsome guy, you suddenly feel something wrapped around your waist protectively. looking down for a second, you see a turquoise-colored tail that you know all too well.
the guy that you were talking to was also astonished and confused by dan heng’s sudden appearance. he seems intrigued though as if he is aware that he knows who dan heng is.
looking back up at dan heng, you raise an eyebrow at dan heng. it’s like you’re silently asking him what is he doing, completely unaware of how tense he is right now. in fact, you are slightly taken aback by his sudden appearance as well since he just appears out of nowhere. you didn’t even hear his footsteps!
your guy friend introduces himself politely.
“greetings, kind sir. i’m luocha, a merchant from a foreign land.” he does a polite bow as well to express how genuine he is.
“you’re more than a merchant, luocha. your expertise on herbal medicine is fascinating.” you comment, a bit amused that luocha is actually introducing himself to dan heng. dan heng knows that you’re just being nice by praising him like that, but that statement made him a little insecure, deep down.
“you’re not wrong, i am skilled in herbal medicine and help those in need.” luocha chuckles, he nods in agreement. you only sigh and tell your boyfriend that you are helping luocha collect some herbs for pharmaceutical purposes.
dan heng slightly becomes less tense when you clarified luocha's statement. perhaps dan heng is still iffy about luocha, but he trusts you enough that luocha is telling the truth.
luocha then briefly tells you that he will see you later because he has some other matters to attend to. it seems like he knows that he is making dan heng uncomfortable for some unknown reason. he’s being considerate. in addition, luocha has a hunch that dan heng was silently telling him that you belong to him.
after all, he knows that vidyaharas are loyal, but territorial creatures.
when luocha leaves with his giant coffin, you also tell him your farewell. the grip from dan heng’s tail tightens a little, as if he doesn’t want you going anywhere right now. noticing this, you wonder why dan heng is so tense around luocha.
giving him a hug, you want to soothe his nerves. dan heng, a bit taken aback by this, immediately calms down when he feels your warmth and closeness.
you always know how to calm his anxieties. however, he is still insecure, but he decides that he will keep them quiet. he thinks that he shouldn’t worry your pretty little head about it.
his tail wraps around your body in multiple ways, entrapping you in his tail like a warm blanket. his tail is always very gentle and comfortable to you. the end of his tail starts ticking your cheek. you can feel how fluffy it is.
dan heng hugs you back, but his arms hug you such a way that he is protecting you from danger, even though there isn’t anything dangerous in scalegorge waterscape right now.
it’s like he is telling others to back off, just like what he did to luocha. without you noticing, he was staring down at luocha in the most subtle way possible. perhaps that is the real reason why luocha left. but you wouldn’t know that, would you? he thinks that it is only natural that he wants to protect you because he cherishes you deeply. this isn’t entirely wrong, is it?
you are his. he is yours. makes sense, right?
“where did you come from, dan heng?” you ask dan heng out of the blue, he did just pop out of nowhere while you were walking around xianzhou lufou with luocha.
“i do come to scalegorge waterscape sometimes. after all, it’s a place that holds many memories of my past life. i just saw you with luocha while i was meditating.” dan heng explains. it makes sense. dan heng then tightens his hug around you, not wanting to let you go yet.
“do you know why luocha carries that coffin everywhere? who is in that coffin?” dan heng then asks you a question, a bit tense about what you are going to say. you raise your eyebrows at this question, not even considering the fact why luocha is carrying a coffin in the first place.
“you know, i never thought of that.” you said. dan heng looks at you with one of his eyebrows raising now, a bit surprised that you didn’t think of that. dan heng then looks a little cautious, his expression looks genuinely concerned.
“i have a feeling that luocha is more than he meets the eye.” dan heng says with a hint of caution. “you should just avoid him at all costs, [your name]. what if he hurts you?” he adds.
“well, luocha can also be a mortician, which is why he is carrying that coffin around.” you exclaim. that’s the most logical explanation, but dan heng is still tense about this.
he didn’t like that you are friends with luocha. he doesn’t even trust luocha right now. is he being understandably cautious or overly paranoid? whatever it is, he doesn’t like the idea of you hanging around with luocha.
“a merchant, a doctor, and a mortician? can someone have that many occupations?”
“that’s a fair argument,” you replied. rubbing your chin in thought, you think about other reasons why luocha would carry a coffin around everywhere.
“[your name], i think you should just stay away from him for now on. i don’t trust him.”
“now you just sound jealous.” you respond with a hint of playfulness in your tone.
“i’m not jealous. i’m just making sure my girlfriend stays safe.” dan heng says.
“sure, keep telling yourself that.” you said, your teasing tone clearly distinct in your voice.
dan heng sighs in frustration, realizing that he can’t really change your mind. maybe he is jealous, but would he admit it to your face? no.
“i’m not jealous, i swear.”
“are you sure? would you like me to provide evidence that led me to this conclusion?”
burying his face into your shoulder, his cheek gently nuzzles with the skin of your neck. his cyan horns are close to your face now, seeing how sturdy they look up close. his horns emit a soft turquoise colored light. it’s barely noticeable right now, but it is there.
“that’s not necessary. i am just afraid of losing you, dear.”
“so you are jealous?”
“good riddance.” he sighs again and his turquoise colored tail continues to embrace you warmly. his arms are still around you too. after all, this is a very comfortable position to dan heng. you are always a good person to hug thanks to your soft skin and your gentle nature. in fact, the hug becomes more firmer and gentle, as if he doesn’t want to let you go out of his sight.
lightly chuckling in amusement, you rub dan heng’s back softly.
“your response just revealed your answer, honey,” you said gently. good aeons, dan heng loves it when you refer to him as cute nicknames like that.
“it’s only natural that i want to protect who i love though.” dan heng retorts back. you hum in thought, knowing that is a good explanation.
you are a gemstone that is more precious to a diamond, a gemstone that outshines the other gemstones. you are the only gemstone he has eyes on. you are perfect in his eyes. he is lucky that he found you first.
you are his and he is yours.
no one else will take you away from him, and no one else will take him away from you.
after all, you are his prized possession.
end of one shot. next chapter: n/a
#dan heng#dan heng x reader#honkai dan heng#honkai star rail#hsr dan heng#imbibitor lunae#hsr fluff#hsr#hsr fanfic#hsr x reader#luocha#hsr luocha#dan heng fanfic#dan heng il
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October Sun
summary: your mother had warned you. Don't let them know, she'd said, her nails digging angry crescents into the flesh of your upper arms, eyes wild and imploring, don't let them know you can see. you'd listened, all these years, you'd lived your life by that rule. until you couldn't.
pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader
warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.
bon reading, frens
___________________________💀
OCTOBER SUN pt.1
Like most things, it started with a look.
A boy. A girl. A crowded place; a friend talking—their voice muted as if heard through a motel wall. Time slows. People filter in and out of the space between, chatting, laughing, in frame just long enough to emphasize the weight behind something that, in any other context, would be utterly unimportant.
Simon had urged you outside at lunch, pulled you away from your table, tone frayed in desperation as he interrogated you about things you're certain you'd made seem the expression of a morbidly quirky imagination.
"Well," He said, like jabbing the eraser-end of a pencil into your sternum, "Can you?"
You hesitated, gaze lifting away from his to skirt the middle-distance behind him.
And then—
It happened molasses-slow. Your eyes caught his; lingered a beat too long to be played off as anything other than what it was. Acknowledgment.
Those sweet-sultry cow eyes widened a fraction.
Oh no.
Then time rushed back in and snapped into the correct rhythm. You didn't have a chance to process what had just happened because Simon sighed with the weight of the world, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling. Quickly, you arranged your expression into something slightly put-off.
"Si, what are you talking about?"
Simon groaned and took a few steps back then forward again. He reminded you of a caged animal being forced to perform. Lately, his mannerisms had been erratic, a little unhinged. You'd caught him talking to himself a couple of times, in classrooms or the cafeteria. The last couple of days he'd been glued to his phone, taking spontaneous calls that he'd never received before. Initially, you'd assumed he was in touch with Maddie; the only one she'd trusted enough to keep in the loop. However, the more you'd observed, the more you'd doubted the assumption.
You'd watched him unravel from a distance, of course. Nicole had turned inward, Simon was bursting at the seams, and you, as the casual friend with a life separate to theirs, stayed away out of a sense of insecurity.
You and Maddie hadn't been as close as she and Simon and Nicole. You shared interests in the macabre and spooky, but that's where it ended. Event Buddies who became familiar through exposure, lacking that profound connection that would give you a reason to call about something other than the next horror film release date.
You didn't feel right about asking to share their grief. It felt intrusive.
Simon paced the length of the bus shelter once more before stopping in front of you. He was clearly nervous, frustrated, avoiding your gaze for a second while he collected his thoughts.
Finally, he took a deep breath, glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, and said, low and secret, "You talked about the ghosts here—" You folded your arms and tilted your head in what you hoped came across as confused. "—Last year," Simon grabbed your arm and pulled you in closer when a group of younger girls walked by, "Last year, you told us about the crush you had on your mom's dead boyfriend, remember? The guy who died during the '83 homecoming game?"
"They never dated." You corrected, fighting the urge to chew your lip. A giveaway that you were about to choose your words very carefully. "But, look, Simon, I talked about that stuff because I thought it was fun. Not because I can commune with the dead."
"But your mom—"
"Is a fraud and you know it." Then you frowned, genuinely intrigued, "What's going on?"
Simon shot you a dazed look, "Huh?"
"Why are you suddenly into this Sixth Sense shit? You've never believed in it before. A stance you've made very clear you take." Every time you joked about reaching out to the Other Side, Simon would scoff and roast you endlessly. Something that you found endearing. Like a prickly inside joke. It was your thing.
Suddenly, Simon got that look on his face, the one he got in class when your teachers outlined your homework. As if he were listening to someone. Except there was no one else close enough to hear.
The silence stretched into a thin static between you until, at last, Simon said, "Never mind." He sounded equal parts defeated and aggravated.
Taking a cautious step forward, you placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry about Maddie, Si, I—" Have no idea how to put into words how fucked up it all is, "—I wish there was something, anything, I could do to help."
Simon pressed his lips together and nodded. From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching the bus shelter. Tall, broad, donning the unmistakable colors of the Split River Bandits, née Devils. You had to get out of there before you irrevocably fucked up and found yourself at the center of what your mother warned you would be a swarm.
"Look," You dropped your hand to Simon's, squeezing supportively. You might not have been able to tell the whole truth but you could try to offer some comfort. Whether or not he believed you was up to him. "Maddie's okay, Simon. Wherever she is. Whatever happened to her..." You paused, considering your next words, "She can't be so far gone that we won't get her back."
You said it with all the conviction you had in you, believed it to your core.
You'd seen the beatnik with her lollipops, the shy boy with the glasses; you'd seen the young man in the outdated suit, and the modest, Sally Olsson lookalike, and the girl with the daydream eyes. You'd seen the myspace emo punk, the lanky autoshop geek, the dark-skinned disco queen; the marching band, and the theater kid...and him. The charming, high-on-life football star currently stood outside the bus shelter, his hands cupped around his eyes as he peeked through the glass against the glare of the sun.
You hadn't seen Maddie. Not a glimmer or a shadow or the impression that she'd been and gone. Nothing. And you'd done your due diligence as soon as you'd heard about the blood in the boiler room. You'd scoured the town after dark, before school, whenever you could get away without raising suspicion. Her old haunts and favorite places had been empty.
Minus a couple of exceptions, but they hadn't been Maddie, so you didn't see the harm in continuing to keep the truth from Simon.
"Yeah." Simon said. He didn't sound convinced. "Thanks. For that."
You deflated, released his hand with an affirming squeeze, and made your excuse, "I gotta get ready for next period."
He didn't meet your eyes, simply pulled his phone out and put it to his ear. "See you later." The smile he gave you was tight, quick, insincere.
Taking that as your cue to leave, you turned and exited the bus shelter, tall dark 'n' handsome keeping pace as you made your way back into the school, his gaze a warm weight on the side of your face.
All you had to do was pretend he wasn't there. You'd done it countless times in the past, were well-versed in how to cover your mistakes.
You stopped briefly, reached out to open the door, and in that second, you felt a tingle up your spine and the closeness of a body behind you. His voice, low and teasing, spoke directly into your ear, the parody of soft breath tickling the hairs on your neck.
"I know you can see me."
You forced yourself not to react, perhaps stood a second too long before yanking the door open and marching inside, but you kept your eyes forward, and relaxed your jaw and shoulders. To the students milling about the hall, you were the picture of normal.
"Do what you want but I'm not going anywhere until you admit it." He said lightly, a step behind you as you maneuvered toward your locker.
Once again, you had to stop, twisting in the combination to open your lock. You fumbled, missing a number, had to start again. He leaned his shoulder against the locker beside yours, watched you through his lashes, a smirk pulling one side of his mouth upward.
You'd always been attracted to him. Had to suppress the urge to stare at him when he appeared in the same classroom or hallway you happened to be in. Having him interact with you, intentionally, made your heart quicken and the ability to think critically dissolve.
Oh God, not again...
Your brain fired a thousand synapses in every direction as you willed yourself to hurry before you accidentally did something stupid; steadied your hand to input the combination correctly. You tugged the lock. It stayed stubbornly latched. And then he leaned in, too close, the tip of his nose practically grazing your temple.
"You missed the 3."
The air was syrupy thick, fuzzy. In an effort to concentrate, you closed your eyes, repeating a mantra your mother had taught you to center yourself.
You sensed his body shift, tilted further toward you like a bracket, then the sensation of blunt nails traveling up up up your back, catching in the material of your shirt as if the touch were real. Goosebumps erupted over your arms, your breath hitched, and you found your head slanting in his direction.
Fuck. You needed to—BANG—Jesus Christ!
Your eyes snapped open at the abrupt noise, your friend cackling wickedly as she took in your shock.
"Hey, silly." Mathilda Grace—of The Split River Graces, not that she'd ever say it like that—grinned proudly at the reaction she'd gotten out of you. "You ready to fail this test with me?"
You could still feel him hovering, but it seemed he'd put an appropriate amount of distance between you. Shaking your head to clear the last of the muzziness from a moment ago, you plastered on your most natural smile and responded, "Let's go disappoint our parents."
You managed to undo the lock and grab the right textbooks, transferring what you didn't need from your bag into your locker while Mathilda regaled you with what you'd missed after Simon had dragged you outside.
"What did he want, anyway?" Mathilda asked, more concerned than curious.
"To talk about Maddie." You replied as close to the truth as you dared. It had the added benefit of making Mathilda feel awkward enough to change the subject immediately.
"K, c'mon, bell's about to go and I need to grab my book, too."
Shutting and locking your locker, you chanced a sideways glance and were relieved to find that it was just you and Mathilda and the regular stream of other alive-and-well students making their way to their next class.
Still, as you and Mathilda walked toward Ms. Fields' class, you felt the tingle of his gaze on the back of your neck.
The next couple of days would be white-knuckle hard, but you'd dealt with it before and could do it again. Had to do it again.
What you didn't anticipate—and probably should've, given what you knew about him—was Wally Clark's steadfast determination and his refusal to let sleeping dogs lie for a second time.
💀___________________________
PART TWO
note: i'll just leave this here for now :) i have a whole idea, fully fleshed out, but am also developing an actual Series Compliant fic that uses some of the same elements as this story 😅
if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please join the tag list!
#Milo Manheim#Wally Clark#Wally Clark x Reader#fem!reader#Wally Clark smut#Wally Clark fanfiction#Milo Manheim fanfiction#School Spirits
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soft slow, morning glow
Steve Harrington x Reader
A prosaic peek at Steve Harrington’s inability to sleep in and stay in bed and his reasons for changing his ways.
October 1997; a cosy easy morning, where kisses are shared and ABBA songs are sung as a lullaby.
Word count: 4.3K
Content/Warnings: TW for talk of bleeding during pregnancy, borderline neglectful parents.
Mention of sex (18+), not explicit. This contains dad!Steve & mom! reader toward the end; pregnant reader. Kinda rambling. Very soft. Low angst (but not none).
Note: Thank you to my ST rewatch for making me fall for Steve all over again.
Proofread by @specialagentmonkey | Divider by @silkholland
Steve Harrington was always an early riser.
As a honey-haired little boy, he spent Saturday mornings on the sofa watching cartoons with the volume dialled low as his parents slept. He knew not to make a mess with the cereal, or the milk, rewarded with a stack of pancakes or a new toy for keeping himself amused as Richard and Katherine Harrington slept off the previous evening’s dinner party hangover.
Always the first awake at sleepovers, he would wait with bated breath for Tommy to stir or feign a sneeze to wake him.
He never had to be dragged from bed to go to school during the week, always up and at ‘em to go see his friends, play tag and swap baseball cards on the playground.
As a sporty and popular teenager, he started running when he didn’t have early swim practice or basketball. Steve rose with the sun and waved to his neighbours politely as his shiny sneakers slapped the pavements of Loch Nora.
He was never sure what he was running from, or towards, but the burn of chilly morning air in his lungs made him feel alive.
When he started going to house parties and hangouts on Saturday nights, his Sundays still started early, dragged to show face at his parent’s church. It was less about faith and god and all about appearances. He snuck out of bedroom windows, hopped white picket fences as the sun rose, fought hangovers as the priest’s voice droned and caught the eyes of pretty girls from the convent school a town over - they always blushed when he smiled at them or dropped them a sly little wink as the collection plate was passed around.
When his parents started travelling more, after the shortlived re-commitment to the church, Steve’s Sunday morning hangovers were kept at bay with cold swims in the pool or hot coffee and loud music in the kitchen as he tried and failed to focus on homework.
Steve started working right out of school as punishment for unsubmitted college applications and lower-than-predicted grades. He volunteered for the opening shifts in Scoops Ahoy and Family Video - he liked the responsibility and having a purpose, having an excuse to be out of the house before his parents could tutt and fuss and lecture him. It was easier when they weren’t there; when the office in Indy needed Richard’s attention more than his wife and son did, when Katherine spotted smears of lipstick on his collars again and insisted she spend some time with him in the city apartment.
In their absence, the Harrington house was a mausoleum of failure that Steve couldn’t bear to be in. So he raised his hand for early delivery shifts and stock takes and drove his friends to school when he didn’t have to, already awake after another night of nightmares, memories of flying fists.
Steve Harrington rose early and burned bright; burned out quickly when he realised he didn’t know what to do with himself or what his purpose was.
He filled his time with making himself useful to other people, chasing and seeking a purpose or a person to fill the gaps and spaces in his chest; the hollows once reserved for the people who didn’t return the outpouring of love he offered so freely, so innocently. He found and made a rag-bag bunch of friends, a found family, who returned the love he deserved in the ways they knew how. Woven and knotted friendship bracelets, squished candy bars, mixtapes, weed sold and rolled at buddy rates or for nothing at all.
Steve Harrington moved to the city with his best friends; a Beemer and a battered van filled with boxes and suitcases. The early morning drive made Steve Harrington glow golden in the rising sun, his excited eyes hidden behind dark-tinted sunglasses as Robin Buckley snored in the passenger seat and Eddie Munson listened to metal at an ear-bleeding volume in his van and flipped Steve off with that big grin in the rearview mirror. They stopped for strong coffee and sweet pancakes and started a new chapter in the city.
When you fell in love with Steve in 1990, he found a reason to stay in bed a little longer. A reason to slow down, soak up the sunshine glow you shone on him.
You spent Saturday nights with friends, a patchwork group cheering on Corroded Coffin and selling T-shirts and tapes at a merch table when they scored a bigger venue and a bigger crowd. Movie nights and takeout Chinese food and a stack of new and old movies from Blockbuster. Date nights at swanky bars and restaurants, with flickering candles and pizza on the way home because you didn’t want the night to end yet. You spent hours in bed together, night and morning, talking about everything under the rising sun and dwindling moon, learning about each other’s life and mapping each other’s body with kisses and gentle touches.
In the morning he gazed at your sleepy softness and took his own pulse to make sure he wasn’t dying. No heart attack, just falling in love.
He brought you cups of coffee and sweet pastries from the bakery a block away when his limbs felt restless. He always got back into bed with you to cuddle and while away the morning without a moment wasted. With Steve, those mornings were syrupy slow; he worshipped you between your thighs and held your hands as the headboard bashed against the wall.
You became Mrs. Steve Harrington in the spring of ‘94.
A small wedding. A big party for your friends. A honeymoon week where every morning felt like a perfect lazy Saturday.
When Steve found his reason to stay in bed, together you created a reason that kept you from it.
Bethany Rose Harrington. Born June 21st 1995.
Beth had her Daddy’s eyes and her Mama’s nose, and the sweetest little dimples in her smiley pink cheeks. She was her Daddy’s little doughnut, her Mama’s little bee. She inherited Steve’s charm and wrapped her extensive collection of doting uncles and aunts right around her tiny finger. She took after you in the way that Steve was completely and utterly in love with her.
Just like her Dad, Beth liked to start the day early. After a few weeks of seeking out and settling into a routine, Steve spent the earliest part of the day feeding his little Bethie her bottle of milk in the cosy armchair nestled in the corner of her pale yellow nursery. As he watched her big brown eyes gaze and blink, felt her tiny fist wrap around his finger, Steve decided that these were the happiest mornings of his life.
On those soft and slow mornings, you could hear Steve’s low murmur to your little girl through the baby monitor when his excitement to see her gummy smile or stop her sad fat tears bypassed the off-switch. You fell back asleep to the sound of Steve telling Beth about how the Cubs and the Bulls (their teams now) were doing this season, or about the walk in the park you were going to go on once ‘beautiful mama’ was awake. He sang to her; never typical lullabies, Queen and ABBA and Dusty Springfield.
Steve basked in the joy of her little smiles, soaked in the soft cooing noises as Beth found her voice to talk back to her Daddy. When she fell asleep again, milk-drunk with her cheek against his heartbeat, Steve watched the morning sky shift and brighten and listened out for the sound of your waking time. The soft thud and shuffle from bed to bathroom, running water, your yawn and stretch, the gentle steps to seek and find him and your little treasure. You filled reams of camera film, documenting Steve as a Dad, your little girl's first weeks and months. Lit by morning light, by afternoon sun and the shade of the tree in your yard, and dusky nighttime lit by nightlights.
When your laundry list of chores allowed it, you took one of your three options on those mornings of parenthood - take turns to bask in the warmth of lavender and milk-scented baby cuddles while the other showered; bring the sleeping beauty back to your bed to gaze at the ten fingers and ten toes you had created together; or leave the sleepy and full-tummied grub to sleep in her crib again to spend the slow dawn hours holding each other and trading kisses, and knotting yourselves up in the sheets together once the doctor gave you the all-clear and a prescription for birth control.
You did plenty of all three.
Summer turned to Autumn, then Winter, and Steve balanced being a father and husband with keeping a roof over your heads and the final year of his programme to get his qualification to become a guidance counsellor. His mornings with Beth were part of his routine, leaving her smiling and drooly for you when he kissed his girls goodbye. Missing him during full days of supervised sessions and hours in the college library when he wasn’t in classes bonded you and Beth, thick as thieves and lovestruck for the golden Harrington boy-turned-man. You made sure that he never missed a moment with how many pictures you took, and Beth saved all of her firsts for when he was home. You coached her to say ‘dada’ in Steve’s absence and he sobbed happy tears when she parroted it back. (He had been coaching her to say ‘mama’ during their early mornings together).
Your late nights of talking turned to early-to-bed nights, sleeping when the baby slept and when your little home was some semblance of clean and tidy. Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bethie’s breath on the monitor, your heart under his cheek and the soft stroke of your fingers in his hair, along the length of his arm.
Both of you were exhausted. Neither of you had ever been happier.
When he graduated in the Summer, you and Beth cheered and clapped for your golden boy along with his best friends - the loudest bunch in the college auditorium. A picture of the Harrington trio - Steve in his shirt and tie and graduation gown balancing a smiley baby and his degree as you kiss his cheek and tickle Beth’s tummy for the camera - was placed with pride on his desk when he started a counsellor job that landed in his lap in the late summer of ‘96. He coached basketball two afternoons a week on the side; it was perfect for him.
You go back to work part-time and you balance taking care of Beth and each other with the utmost care. With help from your family and Steve’s trust fund from the Harrington’s, you make it work. You are what he holds dear, pride of place in the centre of his chest, once vacant and hollow. The gaping space he yearned to fill with the wrong friends, the wrong girls, watery beer and too many cigarettes.
By the Fall of ‘97, Steve had learned to sleep again. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Enjoy your days off. Enjoy every moment. He is. He’s so tired but never happier.
This morning, you wake first.
Your little house in the Chicago suburbs is bathed in autumn darkness on a lazy Saturday. Six a.m. and Steve snores peacefully.
Beth is silent, dreaming of her two favourite things: fairies and pancakes. That top five list favourites is rounded out by her Daddy and Mama and Mrs. Murphy’s orange cat that visits the backyard.
The littlest Harrington is an early bird too, twirling in your tummy beneath Steve’s protective hand. Until Steve can take the morning shift, you are the early riser.
Beth is your sleepy little dreamer, she loves her bed like her Mama. She sneaks in between you and Steve (and the bump now too) when she wakes too early; you spend those mornings gazing and counting fingers and toes again like when she was a tiny thing.
This baby however seems to take after her father’s love of sport, the way she practices the aim and strength of her kicks on your bladder. You don’t officially know yet (they were less than cooperative at the last ultrasound), but you know it’s a girl. Steve swayed to boy for a day or two before realising you were right. Maybe next time…
The flush and sigh-groan from your aching back pulls Steve from sleep. When you pad back in from the little bathroom, he’s just about upright and wild-haired.
“Y’okay?” Eyes swollen with sleep, he reaches blindly for you to help you back into the cosy nest of blankets.
“Mm, needed to pee.”
You try to keep your cold feet away but Steve sandwiches them between his own size fourteen and always warm feet. His lips brush your shoulder and the back of your neck when you settle into a comfortable position; Bump dictates what will suffice as ‘comfortable’ and settles under her father’s comforting hand. Harrington’s magic touch is famed in your home; settling gassy babies and working out knotted shoulders, fixing leaky faucets and carrying all of the groceries inside in two heavy handfuls, making shadow-puppet shows on the bedroom wall and holding back your hair when you’re not well.
Slowly, small-spooned by Steve’s bigger body, you drift again. Sleep comes and goes like an inconsistent tide, and you are anchored safely in his arms. Baby names ebb and flow into your tired head and you wish Steve was awake to tell you what he thought of ‘Heather’ or ‘Ava’. Whether your (very slow) re-read of Little Women was influencing you too much to ‘Josie’. You wonder about how much candy you should get for the trick-or-treaters, and whether Beth will be too scared to help you answer the door to them this year.
You wish he was awake - because you always wish your every waking moment was spent with Steve Harrington - but you’re so glad he is sleeping soundly, snoring sweetly behind you. You wish you could take more responsibility, take the pressure he puts on his own shoulders from him, but this pregnancy is less easy than the first and you hate that you can’t do it all anymore. You take solace in the fact that Steve is asleep, not awake worrying or nesting.
Turning in his sleepy hold, you place his hand back on the bump to keep the littlest Harrington settled and content, and watch your handsome husband look like the teenager you wish you had known. You map the laughter lines instead of the ones etched by worry, counting the happy memories (which are insurmountable) as you fall back to sleep with him at last.
Sleeping Beauty herself slumbers on until almost 8 a.m., meaning that both you and Steve sleep until almost 8 a.m. too - later on you will toast coffee (decaf for you) over that parent win. For the next few months, the weekends mean Steve will be hitting snooze on his body clock when the chances arise.
This morning Beth’s little voice sings his name down the hall. Steve wakes with a smile and kisses your sleepy face as you stretch and peel your eyes open.
“You’re up, Coach.” Your voice is a tired yawn, mumbled into the fluffy duvet Steve untangles himself from.
“Bring her in for cuddles please.” You pout for a tired kiss and hum happily when he grants your wish.
Steve’s ankles crack as he walks from your room to Beth’s. She’s wide awake and wild-haired, matching her Dad, and she sits up in her bed with her bunny-teddy clutched in her fist.
“Hi bumblebee,” he gasps, his tiredness swept away by his genuine joy to see her. Steve lays down on her too-small-for-him baby bed and pretends to get comfy to sleep again. “Sleepover?” he asks, opening his arm for her.
“Nooooo, yo’bed!” Her sweet voice crackles with sleepiness and the remnants of a cold she picked up as the seasons changed.
In the warmth of your bed, you can hear the mini-eye-roll she’s giving her Dad as he plays up to her dramatics. Uncle Dustin has a lot to answer for.
“Bethie,” you call from your nest, “I miss you.”
Steve watches with barely restrained amusement as her face beams bright like sunshine before leaving him in the lurch to seek out Mama. “Hey! What about me?!”
You can hear his grumbling as he hauls himself up from the tiny toddler bed but your focus is the bundle of sunshine that bounds her way to your room in her sky-blue jammies. Pushing messy hair from her face, she squeaks happily as you lift her before Steve can beat you to it. You didn’t want another moment apart from your girl and she burrows against your chest under the toasty-warm duvet.
“Morning Betty Boop.” You press kisses to her smiling face and hear Steve stomp and flop back into the room and into the bed.
“Is Daddy not invited to this love-in? Just for Mama and Beth?” he asks, scowling at your smushed-together faces.
You cuddle Beth and stroke her back as the girl shifts her impish gaze to Steve. “What do you think, Betty? Kisses for Dada?”
She can never ever resist him and reach-grabs out to be gathered in his big strong arms for kisses and cuddles.
Steve lights up, features relaxing from his feigned annoyance, as he gives and receives morning kisses. You are gathered up alongside the titch of a girl and with her help, you smother kisses all over Steve’s happy face.
“Never ever not invited to the love-in, my love.” You kiss his shadowed jaw once and tuck yourself under his arm.
“Kiss d’baby?” Beth’s messy head pops up and looks at you hopefully.
“You wanna say good morning to Baby?” Steve asks, and she nods. “Mama?”
“I think she’s asleep, but I bet she’ll wake up when she hears Big Sis and Dada.” Beneath the pitched tent of the duvet, you lift Steve’s t-shirt and present the rounded bump for inclusion in the morning love-in.
Beth has been immensely eager to meet her baby since she took notice of your bump and realised the new baby was actually in there.
The little girl’s pillow-soft cheek rests against the curve as she hugs around your middle. “Moh’nin, baby.” Her little voice is still a little stuffed up, nasal.
Your heart and tears swell as you watch her with Steve, who kisses the bump and murmurs hello. You’re at that point of pregnancy where you could cry when the wind changes and you cover your eyes so Beth won’t go out in sympathy-tears with you.
Steve’s big hand squeezes your hand as he distracts Beth, who babbles in toddler talk to her sibling. His eyes are wide and worried as he looks up and sees the hitch of your chest. He’s had that worried look since you bled at ten weeks and the doctor put you on bed rest, just three weeks into actually knowing you were pregnant. Everything has settled bar your hormones and emotions; two perfect heartbeats, an active healthy baby, a happy but tired Mom. Steve is more scared now than he was with Beth but pretends to be brave for you.
You swipe at your hot tears, dry your hand in your t-shirt before reaching down to stroke through Steve’s thick hair.
“M’okay.” You give him a watery smile. “She’s just… so sweet, Stevie.”
Moving up to lie along your side, Steve wipes your cheek and presses a kiss to the trail of the tears left behind. “Sweetest. Sweet Bee. Feelin’ okay?”
His hand stays on top of your bump and then passes over Bethany’s bedhead when she looks up curiously.
Seeing that she is missing out, Beth decides she has had enough and wants to cuddle with you instead of the baby who won’t kick back hello. She wiggles up to lie on Steve’s chest, little fingers poking into the freckles and moles as he pulls the duvet back around you all like a cosy cocoon.
“Feeling good. You okay?”
Steve has tucked away his worry again, but you still see the pinch in his brow - though the curious little fingers might be the reason for that.
“Peachy.” He chases the poking fingers with a growling kiss, pulling a shrieking giggle from Beth. “Hello, can I help you? Why are we poking Daddy this morning, huh?”
You giggle with Beth and kiss where her fingers had pressed, modelling the gentle sweetness you know she possesses in multitudes. “Poor Daddy. See, Betty? Gentle kissies.” A kiss is snuck onto his mouth for good measure.
“Daddy,” Beth sing-songs, patting his cheek lovingly.
“Bethie,” Steve sings back to her, echoing her melody. He accepts a wet baby-kiss as you curl close to them both.
You twirl a finger in the messy wave of her hair. “What will we do today? Do you want to get some library books? Or we could… go to the park?”
Steve pats her back gently. “Oh wow. All the possibilities, huh?” His lips press to Beth’s forehead as she cuddles up to him, her fingers distracted by the gold chain he wears around his neck. “Gentle, please.” He kisses her head again and looks at you. “We can do both… Go get a t-r-e-a-t?”
You smile and nod, covering Steve’s hand on Beth’s small back. “I like t-r-e-a-ts. What do you want to do, big guy?”
Steve’s fingers slot with yours. His lips brush your head as you share his pillow - the firm one to help with his neck pain. “Just be with you two. Could stay right here all day and I’d be the happiest guy.”
You press your nose against his cheek and close your eyes; you’re both surrounded by your favourite people, it is utter bliss.
“I love you.” Your voice is soft and tired against his stubbly jaw.
“Love you. So much, babe.”
Steve tilts his head so you can share a morning-breath-be-damned kiss. He wishes he had woke up sooner, before the wide-eyed toddler, so that he could have showered you with kisses, made out like teenagers (despite the baby bump between you).
“No! Me!” The frustrated little whine makes you smile apologetically to each other, chancing one more peck before you both look to scowling Beth.
“Sorry, Bee. Mama’s too delicious for me to resist.”
“Steve!” you tuck your face in his neck as you laugh, an affectionate headbutt.
“What? The kid’s gotta know.”
The two-year-old smushes her face to her Dad’s chest, still too little to comprehend her Dad’s silly banter when she just wants to be the centre of both of your attention. You have a few months left to figure that out before the baby arrives, but it scares you that she might feel like she’s not the best thing that ever happened you (bar her Dad, of course).
Your pout matches hers and you push back the stinging Mom Guilt Tears. She is only coaxed away with sweet little cheek-kisses from you as you hum-sing Take a Chance on Me (accompanied by Steve’s tapping fingers on her back ‘take a chance, take a chance, take a, take a chance-chance.)
The girl's smile splits her frustrated face, a quiet giggle as she is serenaded by her current favourite song (you have just got I Was Made For Lovin’ You out of your head after Steve had introduced her to KISS in the car). Her little arm hooks around your head as you whisper how much you love her, soft voice tickling her ear and cheek.
Beth’s laughter coaxes a fluttering kick against your belly, which Steve feels against his side as you spoon against him. He wears the same wide-eyed joy on his face every time he has felt your babies kick.
“Oo, she’s awake again. Finally joining the party.” You rest your hand against the side of your rounded belly and telepathically tell the tiny one how much you love them too, how you can’t wait to meet them but please stay in there until they’re fully cooked and ready.
Steve’s free hand - the one not keeping Beth upright as she sits up on his torso - joins yours and echoes your telepathic communication to the littlest Harrington - I love you, I can’t wait to hold you, please stay safe in there and be nice to your Mom.
His wide palm on your bump settles the fluttering before she aims her kick right against it Hi Dad! Okay, Dad!
You share a secret little smile with him and kiss his cheek as his eyes shimmer before rolling onto your achy back, feeling the satisfaction of the pop and crack as your spine relaxes against the mattress. Steve’s hand stays on your belly, and you hug his arm to your chest, as Beth sings her toddler-babble version of an ABBA mashup for you both from her throne.
Steve’s face hurts from smiling as he listens to her, hears some semblance of the lyrics in Beth-speak. He doesn’t remember mornings like this with his parents, few and far between were the times he was even allowed to cuddle with them in bed on a weekend morning.
You glance at his face, watching shifting emotions come and go as he remembers, tries to forget and focuses on the memories being made right now in your cosy nest of a bed. You squeeze his arm and hold his hand on your belly - matching gold wedding rings clicking against each other as your fingers intertwine.
Steve squeezes your hand, three pulses. There is simply nowhere he would rather be.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington character study#dad!steve harrington#dad!steve harrington x mom!reader#stranger things#steve harrington fluff#steve stranger things#stranger things fic#steve harrington x f!reader#prosaic fic#bangaveragefics
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