#and the guilt? god don’t even imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rileysluvr · 9 months

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literally just könig jacking off to you and being delusional idk

He’s tossing and turning in bed, and he can’t seem to get comfortable no matter what he does. He had ditched his shirt after around an hour of staring up at the dark ceiling and feeling like his chest was going to cave in, but the sensation still wouldn’t leave him even after. Like it’s clinging on to every square inch of his body and eating away at him, similar to his tight shirt before being removed, though refusing to dissipate after the multiple attempts in distracting himself.

He’s burning up, and he feels it most beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. He stretches his back and shoulders against his mattress, but it gives him no relief. And he needs that relief, so desperately, he thinks he may just die if he goes another minute longer in this state. The twitching in his muscles with the compulsion that plagues them are far stronger than his mind. He huffs a final exasperation, mutters some broken and degrading swears in German, and ultimately, he gives in.

He swipes his unusually cold palm over his face before dragging it down his chest, trailing across his abdomen and following the wake of soft hair that disappears beneath the peaking waistband of his boxers. His fingertips stretch the band as they dip beneath it, and his breathing is becoming heavier yet weaker, more shaky-like, as they creep closer to where he needs attention the most.

He’s teasing himself, involuntarily and painfully. Perhaps this is his last attempt to allow himself a second thought, think twice before he commits such a dirty act on military grounds. But his mind is far too fuzzy to pay attention, it’s just been so long.

His hand finds his cock, exhaling a shaky breath at the forbidden contact, this is his last chance to turn back. His boxers are growing to be too tight around him, and this time he won’t be able to just put up with it until his thoughts dissipate. He needs release, and soon. It won’t be much, it’s only once, and then he can finally sleep, he convinces himself.

He pulls his boxers down his pelvis, leaving them just below where his hard cock is now free. He wraps his fist around his base, fingers enveloping each vein that bulges with desperation. He groans ever so softly, jaw slacked and eyes closed as goosebumps coat his chest and arms. It’s mere seconds before his mind is plummeting into uncontrollable thoughts and damned-worthy desires.

It’s your hand, he’s already imagining. It’s your smaller fingers around his cock, not enough to compensate for his size but still a hundred-times better than any fist could work. He knows you’d make it work. You’re clever like that, far more than he is.

It’s your thighs straddling his as your arm moves up and down at an excruciating pace. He needs your weight on him so fucking bad, preferably on his shoulders and face as he’d hold you down on his mouth. Fuck, he needs to taste you so bad.

It’s your voice that would talk him through it, command him on what to do until he’s broken down to the young, naive, want-to-be soldier he once was. He’ll do anything you say. He’ll walk through Hell and back if you tell him to. Hand on his heart, honest to whatever god may be out there. Smack him around.

Anything you say.

And it’s him who would satisfy your every want with unending diligence to thank you. Just fucking use him, already.

He couldn’t shake the thought, no matter how hard he tried.

No matter how dirty he felt imagining his coworker in such a position, rather than a woman of what he thinks his type should be, or even an actress from a porn magazine. No matter how unlikely it was that he’d have a chance with you, it’s downright embarrassing. And no matter how heavy that guilt sat in his gut, his fist only squeezes tighter with his strokes, retaining that languid speed that has him gritting his teeth.

You flood his mind and you don’t even know the magnitude of it because you’re just a girl living your, perhaps slightly unconventional, life in the military, and he’s the coworker that people only look twice at to check if, yes, he really is that tall.

Flashes of your face, and that pretty body of yours in the most innocent of outfits, refuse to quit their tormenting of his mind, and here he was, fucking his fist to them at night like a desperate dog. He wants to see how your skin would contrast his pale and heavily scarred exterior, and how you would surely take him from his comfort zone and make him a better man.

He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock with a broken whine, collecting his pre and spreading it down his shaft as far as it goes; fuck, he’s so sensitive, and he just needs more. He can hear your voice in the back of his mind, conceptualizing what you would say as you guide him past his threshold. You’d be so sweet on him, just as you always are on the rare occasion you’re put in a position together where talking seemed the best option for pastime. You really are just perfectly perfect all around, he thinks, and he wants you to know it, so bad.

You’re too good for him, you’re too striking. Truthfully, while the thought of you taking care of him in his most vulnerable state has him thirsting like a dog and bucking his hips up into nothing but a mangled hand and cold air, he knows that’s not him. No, he needs to be of service, one way or another.

He knows he’d be on his knees in front of you, on the ground you walk on, looking up at you with big eyes as he’d place kisses all up and down your bare thighs, careful not to ruin your clothes. He’d worship every part of your body until all you knew was utter admiration, though he doubts you’ve ever gone a day without being honored for your being.

How could any man not leap at the opportunity to praise your every step in life, especially if you’ve taken him to bed?

He actually whines out into the empty space of his quarters, face all beet red and eyes bleary from surprising himself with such an act. Self-deprecating whispers linger in the back of his mind and will remain for when he’s later clearheaded, but for now, the only thing he can think to do is continue fisting his sensitive cock to the notion of being with you.

He’d let you mold him to whatever you wanted, he’d beg you to ride his face and get yourself off with his assistance. He wants to get drunk on your pussy, he knows he would. He knows you’d taste better than anything he has ever had, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself once he starts unless you say something. Punish him, even, for not doing it right or knowing both of your limits because he’s just such a hungry, greedy whore who only wants more, more, and more.

Should you ever let him into your life, he’d be better off quitting his job and dedicating his future to just making you feel so good and so loved, and so, so proud of him. He wants to hear you call him a good boy, maybe even a loyal slut. Etch it into his skull so he could never forget, as if that’d ever be possible.

He’d fuck you in any position you’d like, and he means any.

Lay on your back, legs spread and just begging for him to bury his face in your cunt, and he’ll listen like the good boy he is until you’re beyond satisfied. Stretch it out to hours if you please; the man has stamina that would put any gold-medalist to shame, and never once in his life, has he been a quitter.

“i’m good, i promise i am… i’ll be a good boy for you, please.”

Pin him to the mattress and ride him until he can’t think or speak, use him to reach your own high while taking him for all that he has because that’s all he’s there for, is to make you feel good. The strictest soldier would turn to putty under your hold.

“das ist—…s’too much, ich flehe dich—ngh—! bitte, bitte—”

Pull him into an abandoned building and make him fuck you on the cold, hard floor despite being at work, on the job. He would jeopardize even the highest value of intel for a piece of you.

“i’ll do anything, i swear… i’ll be quiet, i-i’ll let you use me… jus’ wanna make you feel good. it’ll make me feel good, too.”

Either way, he’s going to end up on his knees once again and, if you allowed, watch his pearly cum drip from your puffy cunt before taking two of his fingers and pushing it back in, words and babbles of endless praise slipping from his lips as he imagines the idea of starting his own little family with you.

His abdomen feels tighter just thinking of it, you, and his hand with a lethargic pace around his cock. His breathing is jagged, ruthlessly so, and it picks up when his fist does as well. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, dying whimpers spilling from his lips. Your name, as well, and he’s blushing more violently then ever. You’ve got a spell on him; he’s all yours, if you want.

Christ, what would you say to him right now? Scold him, berate him. Even slap him for jerking off to the mental image of you without your permission, and edge him until he cries like an abandoned baby. Call him pathetic and promise him he’ll never, ever have a chance because he is such a coward, and all.

Oh, but you’re just so sweet on him. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard you swear, let alone insult someone. You go to such great lengths to lighten the mood, make people feel so safe and welcome around you. And your fucking laugh, Christ, your giggles are always music to his ears. Anything that isn’t praise would sound far too foreign in your voice for him to compute. With those soft, plump lips at his ear, cooing him through his high he’s gonna reach so early, so fucking soon— fuck, he's…

He’s gonna—

A soft knocking on his door causes his hand to stop and eyes to shoot open, lightly gasping for air as he was pulled just seconds away from his orgasm. He’s frozen, dead in his tracks, and he waits for it to happen again to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things. The one time, he succumbs to his perverse hankerings.

A few seconds go by before he hears the knocking once more, this time sure it was for him. He swiftly sits up and then stands, shoving his cock in his boxers and pulling his pants back up. He leans down to grab his shirt, pulling it over his big head, introducing a new type of discomfort from before due to the cold sweat he broke coating his chest. He’s reaching for his helmet when there’s a voice coming from the other side of the door, and the hardened soldier nearly jumps in surprise.

“König?”

Oh, fuck. His entire body tenses up at the wake of your voice. Outside his room, right now, when he was just fucking his fist to the image of you. He couldn’t begin to describe or label what he’s feeling, but it’s something along the lines of utter shame and mortification. He mutters a quick and defeated curse under his breath, aggression only aimed at himself.

You’re speaking up again before he even has time to think, granted his mind was spinning and he was making no move to answer you. He’s frozen, stuck in space. Time seemed to race by him without warning, and he hated it.

“Are you awake?”

Your voice is gentle, as always, and so quiet in order to not wake anyone else in the corridor. He’s surprised he could understand you so well, then again, he’d recognize your voice from a klick away.

Could you hear him from outside his door? He wouldn’t ever be able to recover. His hard cock twitches in his pants at the thought of being caught in the act of jerking off to you, and he shakes his head, fighting back the groan boiling in his chest at the simple, yet so fucking intricate, idea of it. He’s a mess.

He decides against the hood, which would most likely prove a mistake as he could literally feel the heat exuding from his face. He knows his hair is a sore sight and his clothes are wrinkled beyond repair. You’ve ruined him, and you don’t even know it.

He swallows thickly as he trudges over to the door, attempting to clear his throat and stabilize his breathing, and his hot palm lands on the screaming door handle.

#cod mw2 #könig #könig x reader #könig x fem reader #könig x female reader #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig cod

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thesoftestpunk · 1 year

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I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?”

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating.

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?”

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class.

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.”

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering.

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile.

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head.

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago.

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you.

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks.

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you.

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough.

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is.

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings.

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today.

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s.

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?”

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table.

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today.

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense.

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday.

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame.

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either.

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now?

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it.

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?”

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks.

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence.

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?”

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you.

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands.

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault.

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop.

His little sheepies. Which means…

Fuck.

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away.

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!”

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved?

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation.

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.”

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted.

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water.

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows.

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.”

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.”

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you.

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.”

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.”

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open.

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?”

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength.

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head.

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.”

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.”

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap.

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!”

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air.

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves.

“You cheated.”

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water.

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.”

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock.

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.”

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed.

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long.

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him.

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.”

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water.

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile.

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent.

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.”

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long.

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.”

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.”

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #my writing.

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pxtched · 1 month

Text

NSFW IMAGINE…

nerd!miguel using a fleshlight thinking of you

sub!miguel?? - reader is only mentioned - very short - (M)masturbation - use of flesh light - MDNI.

It wasn’t like he hasn’t jacked off before, he did but not that much. BUT after meeting you and him becoming your little helper, oh he did it so more often.

Thinking how tight you feel on his dick, or how your pretty lips would wrap around his dick. Thrusting up in his fist fantasizing about you.

He saw something online, and it caught his attention. It was a flesh light, he dosent even know how it feels but he wants to find out. He feels some shame ordering it, he just has to make sure his roommate or anyone else sees it.

After a couple of days, it delivered and he sees the box outside the door. Thankfully his roommate isn’t there, out partying.

he grabs the box and walks inside, he unpacks the package and gulps at the sight of it. He grows flustered as he feels the texture of it, he’s already feeling hot and bothered so perfect timing.

He grabs it, stands up and walks to his room. He close’s the door and locks it. He puts the pocket pussy on his bed for now as he leans on the wall next to his bed, he pulls up his shirt revealing his abdomen. He holds the shirt from falling down with his teeth as his free hands pull down his pants and reveal his aching dick.

He looks at his night stand and open the last drawer, he pulls up a bottle of lube. He pours it on his hand and whimpered when he feels the cold liquid on his dick.

He grabs the pocket pussy back up and position it, he close’s his eyes and imagine it’s you. You on your knees, your hands on his thighs as you begin to put his dick in your mouth.

He moans when he feeling something entirely different from his hand, he starts moving up slowly still thinking it’s you.

His pace quickens as moans get louder, his hips moving too. Thinking it’s him fucking your mouth and not the toy. His thrusts become frantic as his whines and moans fill his quiet room. He moans when he reaches his climax, coming inside of it and some of it spills on the floor.

He’ll clean it later when shame and guilt gets to him but for now?

It wasn’t enough, so he got on his bed. Fully naked, he began moving the toy again moaning out of overstimulation but he doesn’t care. His eyes closed shut as he thinks your riding him, your breasts bouncing up and down each move you make.

He lets pathetic desperate moans as he fucks the toy, he sounds like he was in a porn video. His glasses almost falling off his face as tears form in his eyes.

“Ah!—ugh!” Miguel moans to himself, his legs started spasm as his hips thrusted up.

“Oh my god! Fuckfuckfuck—! Coming!” Miguel moans loudly as he thrusted his hips up one last time and he came so much. His eyes shot open as he leaned his head back against the pillows, mouth agape, Arching his back as he let out a loud choked up Moan. His legs were shaking as he regain his breathing.

He definitely needs to take a shower and clean up before his roommate comes back.

A/N - IM ALIVEEEE !! I actually forgot how to write, school work and personal stuff was piling up so that’s why I was dead for a while! Sorry y’all!

ps: I was going to make him moan out the readers name but…for me I don’t like writing ‘y/n’ I wanna make a nickname but I don’t know what😭

TAGS - @safixiovi , @syler-griffin , @jadeloverxd , @miguels-aranita , @hyjionie , @migueloharasoulmate hope y’all like this <3

REBLOGS - COMMENTS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

master-list _ guidelines/rules _ abt me !

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slut4thebroken · 1 month

Text

Second Chances

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x reader

Summary | Emmett takes advantage of your kindness and hospitality.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, non con, emotional manipulation, praise, guilt tripping, very large age gap, painful sex, first time, breeding, crying, bro has hella trauma fr.

Words | 2.5 k

Notes | Direct result of my Emmett brain rot (Also two fics in one day??🫣)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Here you go.” You smiled, handing the steaming mug to him.

“Thanks.” His voice was quiet as he took it from you and held it in his lap.

“What’s your name?” You asked, sitting down next to him, hoping you weren’t intruding too much. He paused for a moment, seemingly debating if he actually wanted to make conversation with you and give you “personal” information about himself.

“Emmett.” He finally said.

You gave him your name and watched as his eyes dragged down your body, taking in every inch of you. With a blush, you cleared your throat and looked away for a moment to gather your thoughts. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? Are you warm enough?” He looked over you again with a neutral expression that made you squirm a little.

“Actually I’m still a little cold. Is there anywhere I could go that’s inside?”

“Oh- yes! Of course.” You said quickly as you got to your feet. “My parents will be out of the house for another couple of hours so you can use some extra blankets and maybe lay down on the couch for a while.” You smiled. He didn’t return the expression as he stood up and followed you for a couple minutes until you finally walked up a porch to the front door.

“Okay, let me just grab another blanket and then I’ll start the fire place as well.” You ran off to retrieve a blanket and when you came back, he was sitting on the couch looking around the room.

He gave you a small “thank you” after you handed him the blanket and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked forward, then kneeled down in front of the fireplace. “You live here with your parents?” He suddenly asked, almost startling you.

“Yeah. Since there’s three of us, we got our own place. A lot of other people had to share.” He hummed in acknowledgment and you finished up with starting the fire before turning around to face him, finding his eyes already on you. “Can I get you anything else?”

“This is more than enough.” He said softly.

“Okay… Well, I’ll let you rest. If you’re hungry I can try to make something?” You offered with a kind smile.

“Actually I’d rather talk with you.”

“Oh-” You said, eyes widening in surprise— He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would want to make small talk with a stranger. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to someone like this.” You hesitantly got up and sat down next to him on the couch.

“Like what?” You asked curiously.

“So loud… and about things other than survival.” His voice was still quiet, but this time there was a bit of a solemn undertone to it.

“Oh.” You bit your lip, trying to think of what to say, but not really knowing how to approach this. “You never… had anyone to talk to about normal stuff? Surely it wasn’t all survival.” You can’t even imagine what he must have experienced. When he suddenly looked away and clenched his jaw, you realized that you might’ve over stepped. “I’m sorry, that was— I shouldn't have pried…”

“It’s fine. I had a family, but they’re gone now.” He still wasn’t looking at you. Taking one last sip from the mug, he leaned forward, then placed it on the coffee table.

“God, I- I’m so sorry.” You said quietly.

“It’s silly, but… I miss being able to hug them— to hug people.” He finally looked at you again, this time with a sad smile. “I remember the last time I felt someone’s touch… 11 weeks ago.” That must have been when his family died…

“Would you like a hug?” You offered nervously, hoping you weren’t too bold again. He studied you for another moment before nodding.

“That would be really nice.” Once you had his approval, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him, letting him do the same even though his wet clothes were starting to dampen yours. He let out a quiet breath and relaxed into the embrace. “Thank you… I’ve been so lonely.” He whispered, making you frown.

“You won’t have to be anymore. The people here are very kind, you’ll make plenty of friends.”

“I can tell.” His voice was a little amused now and he pulled back just enough to look at you. “If it’s not too much trouble… could I hug you a little more?”

“Of course.” You said instantly, then let out a startled sound when he lifted you onto his lap so you were straddling his thighs. You thought he meant more as in for a longer period of time, not.. this…

“Thank you.” He said again, pulling you closer and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You were stiff for a few seconds, still trying to process this new development, but finally you relaxed into him and hugged him a little tighter. “I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like.” He whispered against your neck.

“To hug?” You wondered, trying to understand.

“Yes. But also the gentle touch of a woman.” A blush took over your face and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You know, my wife… I was with her when she passed.” He said quietly. You were already dreading where this was going, not sure you could handle learning about any more of the pain he’s suffered since the start of everything. “I had a really hard time understanding and accepting this… but she said she wanted me to move on. To be happy again.” One of his arms stayed wrapped around your upper body, but the other moved a little lower, pulling you closer so your hips were also flush with his.

“Emmett…” You said quietly, trying to pull away, but he just tightened his grip and you finally felt the bulge pressed up against your heat. You tried not to gasp at the realization.

“Shh… It’s okay. I just— You look so much like her…” You had no idea what to say. You’ve never been in a position like this before. “I’m sorry.” He suddenly pulled away and you stared down at him in confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve this. Not after everything I’ve done— everything I didn’t do.” Your lips parted, but no words could come out for a moment.

“You deserve feeling safe and cared for. Everything you had to do was for the sake of staying alive.” At least you assumed it was. Honestly you have no idea what he’s done. “And it’s not your fault— what happened to your family. You did everything you could.” You said softly and he started shaking his head. “Yes. You can’t blame yourself, Emmett. Maybe that’s why your wife said that to you before she passed… because she knew how much you’d struggle with it.”

“You remind me of her so much.” He said through a choked sob, making you freeze. You had no idea he’d get so emotional. Not knowing what else to do, you just pulled him back into the hug and held him tightly. “That’s exactly the kind of response she would’ve given.” He croaked. In response, you just hugged him even tighter.

“It’s okay…” You whispered. “I’m so sorry, Emmett. No one deserves to go through what you have.”

“It hurts.” He cried, making your heart ache for him.

“Tell me what you need. How can I help?” You said quickly, not wanting to see him like this any longer.

“Can I— can I kiss you?”

“What?!” You choked out, making him pull back to look at you. The tear tracks on his cheeks were far less than what you thought they’d be, but maybe they just wiped off on your dress.

“Please. I miss her so much and… god you look exactly like her.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

“I…” You’ve never kissed anyone before. Are you really about to give it away to a stranger you just met less than an hour ago? “Emmett…”

“I know I don’t deserve it— I know. But I just… it hurts so bad, I can’t take it.” He all but whimpered, making your hesitant expression melt into something softer and more sympathetic.

“…I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You admitted quietly and you swore his eyes darkened, but it was too hard to really tell.

“I know I’m asking far too much of you— I know I don’t deserve your kindness,”

“Stop saying things like that.” You frowned. “You deserve kindness, you deserve to feel loved, just like everyone else.” He stared at you for a moment, his eyes still glossy with tears, then he was suddenly leaning forward and capturing your lips in a kiss. You let out a muffled sound of surprise and brought your hands to his chest, trying to push him away. In response, he snaked his hand around your head to grasp your hair, holding you still as he moaned quietly.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled against your lips. You let out another startled sound when he suddenly threw you off of him so you were laying on your back on the couch. Before you could move away, he was crawling over you, kissing you again as his hands roamed your body.

“Emmett-” You tried to say as you continued pushing his chest, but he was too strong. “Stop!”

“I know.” He panted before snaking his hand down your stomach all the way to the apex of your thighs. He slipped under your dress easily and roughly cupped your sex, making you whimper.

“Emmett, please stop.”

“I will. I will— I just need this. I haven’t been with a woman in so long…” He whispered. “I promise I’ll be fast.”

“Please don’t,” You whimpered, already feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry.” His hand suddenly left your body to open his pants and free his cock, then he was pulling your panties to the side and lining up.

“Please! I- I’m a..” You sobbed, trying anything to get this to stop.

“I’ll be gentle.” He promised, then faltered and added, “At least… I’ll try to be.” When you felt the head of his cock drag through your folds, your body went completely rigid.

“Please! Emmett, please don’t,” You cried, still trying to push him away.

“Shh…” The blunt head of his cock was against your entrance now, pushing as hard as possible, trying to fit inside you. When he finally breached your opening, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your shrill scream. “Oh— fuck… I'm not gonna last.” He moaned loudly, letting his head drop down for a moment. The tears in your eyes were finally falling and you sobbed almost violently behind his hand. Your crying only got worse though when he continued pushing in.

“Almost there.” He whispered and you let out an anguished sob in response. It felt like you were being ripped open as he continued pushing deeper, a lot farther than what you could comfortably take. “Good girl… Just a little more.” Your body was trembling from the pain and you started clawing at him, trying anything to get this to stop. But he was undeterred. When he finally bottomed out, he let out a low groan that was overshadowed by your cry of pain.

“I know… I’m sorry. Fuck, you feel so good. Just like how she felt.” He whispered. “I think she’d be happy that it’s you.” He gave you a small smile, then slowly pulled out until only the tip was inside before forcing it back in.

“Please!” You cried, the word coming out muffled from behind his hand.

“God- your cunt is so good.” He groaned, picking up the pace, making you cry harder.

“Stop! Please…” You whimpered brokenly.

“I know, baby. I’m almost done, I promise.” He said breathily. You tried kicking your legs, thrashing under him, pushing him away, but he was too strong. “Just a little longer, you’re doing so good.” He removed his hand, but before you could scream, he was kissing you again. This time, he shoved his tongue passed your parted lips, licking into your mouth in a desperate, almost feral manner. That, along with the fact that you couldn’t focus on this kiss because of how hard you were crying, made it incredibly messy and sloppy and wet.

He snapped his hips into you, chasing his orgasm as he kissed you like he’d never be able to kiss anyone ever again, making it feel like you could barely breathe. Mostly because of the kiss, but also because of how overwhelming the pain of the stretch was. He continued kissing you and his facial hair felt scratchy against face, only furthering your discomfort.

“I’m close.” He whispered against your lips. At least it was almost over. “I haven’t filled up a cunt in over a year.” He practically growled, making you stiffen again.

“N-no… Emmett, please don’t. Please pull out.” You begged desperately, trying to speak coherently through all of the crying.

“I thought you said I deserve this? That I deserve to finally be happy after everything.” He frowned, making you falter.

“I didn’t mean… this.” You choked out, not sure what else to say.

“I know…” He said quietly, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I’ll try to pull out.”

“Emmett, please. You have to,” He leaned down and cut you off with another kiss as his thrusts became even rougher.

“You’re such a good girl…” He murmured against your lips, breathing heavily as he neared his release. “So good. I’m gonna make you mine. I’ll take care of you, just like I took care of her. But we’ll be safe this time...” You shook your head, unable to do anything else. “No monsters, no illness— It’s gonna be perfect. We’ll even have some boys, yeah?”

“No,” You sobbed, quickly feeling defeated. You couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried. “Please, Emmett… I just turned 18, I- I can’t…” He moaned quietly when you said that.

“Shh. Yes you can. I’ll help you, baby, we’ll do it together.” You shook your head in disagreement as you continued to cry. “Fuck,” He choked out, eyes closing again. “Ready?”

“No— no, Emmett… please. Please pull out!” You yelled, making him curse under his breath. With one final groan, he forced his cock all the way in, pushing up against your cervix uncomfortably.

“Oh, good girl.” He moaned, lazily rutting into you as he rode out his high. “So fucking good. So tight… milking every fucking drop.” He said proudly, making you cry harder at the verbal reminder that he just came inside you.

“Emmett…” You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

“Thank you.” He said through a breath. “Thank you so much.” He almost sounded like he was about to cry in relief and that made you falter. This man has been alone for weeks, just haunted by the memories of his family with no real outlet or source of comfort. So when someone finally offered him some… he jumped at the chance immediately. You probably would’ve done the same, had you lost your entire family.

“And I meant what I said. I’m going to keep you safe this time, I promise.” He said quietly, reaching down to feel where his cock was bulging your stomach— where a baby would be growing soon enough. “All of you.”

#emmett smut #emmett aqp2 #emmett a quiet place #emmett x reader #emmett x you #cillian murphy

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hardlyinteresting · 2 months

Text

Love, Guilt and Other Wounds

Aaron Hotchner x female reader

When Aaron and his partner are taken hostage, he has to break her heart to save her life.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of domestic fluff, mention of blood, injury (non-graphic), hostage situation, knives, cannon-compliant themes of violence, non-detailed discussion about religion (Christianity), themes of childhood abuse, please let me know if you want me to add anything else.

Word count: (less than I expected, sorry) 3.7k Request here! | Masterlist

"Of course, I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course, we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence". - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Aaron isn't sure if he believes in a God or a higher power. He was taught to read scripture; and spent Sunday mornings perfecting his posture in church pews-- starched shirts and neckties pulled too tight. The preacher's sermons left him wanting-- wondering how this man of God could stand over his congregation preaching every week, and not see all the lies they were holding back. How could he not see the secrets Aaron seemed to read so clearly? At just fourteen Aaron knew who was having an affair and with whom. He could see which children feared their fathers. Every pew had another story, another family growing together, or falling apart. The hypocrisy of it all drove him mad, and he imagined standing from his seat to shout it, overwhelmed as he realized he had unintentionally become the keeper of everyone's secrets. He learned that everyone in that church was a liar in their own right, and he hated it. But, when he left for college, his mother called to ask if he was still going to church on Sundays, and he lied and said yes.

He should have paid more attention. Maybe then he'd understand how he ended up here. Perhaps it's some sick retribution. A cosmic evening of the scales; his penance for his sins. He just wishes you weren't here with him. How dare he think he could love someone when all he's ever done is punish those who love him? His hands are stained with blood; he taints everything he touches.

Very early on in his career, Aaron learned he couldn’t take cases personally. As devastating as it was to have another victim show up while hunting a killer, it wasn’t a personal failure. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He repeated the process again and again. Logically he knows that he is not responsible for the actions of the aggressive sociopath who is now holding the two of you hostage; but, he blames himself for not keeping you safer, for bringing you with him, and for putting you in harm's way. He knows he will not recover if you don’t make it out of here. He won’t forgive himself.

The profile said this man would be anti-social. Physically, he’d be small in stature. It was clear he’d been sneaking up on his victims. He had been taking couples, knocking out the men with a blow to the back of the head, and then the women. It’s a method that the team had seen before, common for UNSUBs without the social ability to lure their victims, or the physical strength or confidence to attack head-on. But they had not profiled that he would escalate to taking out his targets with a taser.

After six days in San Diego, the team finally had a lead on two rental properties in the UNSUB’s comfort zone. One was an old tyre factory, listed as a multipurpose warehouse and storage space; the other was a large storage facility in an industrial neighbourhood. Both units had been paid for in cash, both offered the privacy and space required to hold and torture two people for days at a time. The team split up, Hotch and you arranged to meet the owner of the factory space to find out more about who the renter was and gain access to the property. With no response from the owner of the second property, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi headed over to check it out.

The two of you had only been on the property for five minutes before Aaron had been incapacitated and taken out. He had foolishly made his way into the building while you ran back to the SUV to grab your jacket. Out cold, there was nothing Aaron could do to stop you from meeting the same fate.

It’s not his fault. But he feels like it is as he watches you shiver from across the room. He can’t be certain how much time has passed, but it feels like hours. He can only hope that you’re being kept in the building you were attacked in, that the team will connect the dots and come and get you, but until then you’re stuck. He watches, nauseated as your eyes flutter open, and then shut again. You’re concussed, he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that. His ears are ringing, and he’s sure the blow he took to the head has at the very least temporarily worsened his hearing.

“Doesn’t the FBI have rules against fraternization?” The UNSUB wonders out loud, waving a knife around as he walks towards you.

“What makes you think we’re a couple?” Hotch asks, as he tries to work his hands free from the rope that binds them behind his back, “She’s just a colleague”.

It’s a lie. But it needs to be said. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. Buy time, shift the UNSUB’s interest away from the two of you. Ruin the fantasy.

“I think I’ve been doing this long enough to know a couple when I see a couple, Aaron,” the man taunts, obviously proud of himself. He’s feeling emboldened having taken two FBI agents, but that works in your favour. He’s getting cocky, too full of himself. It’s a level of confidence he isn’t used to having, it just gives him a higher height to fall from. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. “I think it’s time we wake your girlfriend up,” the man says, his hand gripping tightly at your hair, your head tugged back without remorse.

Aaron resists the urge to cringe as he hears you groan, your face twisted with obvious pain as you’re rudely awakened. “She’s pretty. What’s she doing with you?”

“I told you. She’s a colleague”.

Your eyes are unfocused, scanning the room trying to make sense of what is going on.

The man raises the knife, holding it to your throat. This time Aaron blinks, desperate to control his expressions and micro-expressions. In this scenario, the less he cares about you, the safer you are.

It’s the burden of being tied to him. Time after time his love destroys people.

The blade presses closer to your throat. Aaron controls his breathing.

“Impressive agent Hotchner. But I’m still not convinced,” the UNSUB moves the blade but pulls your head back further. Your eyes meet Aaron’s, “Do what you’re going to do, he doesn’t care,” you say. You’re speaking to the man with the knife in his hand as much as you’re speaking to Aaron. He weighs his options, his heart pounding as he watches you hold your breath, willing the tears to leave your eyes. It’s the permission he needs but doesn’t want. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He knows you’re doing the same, telling him to break your heart to save your life.

“Please, Hotc--”.

He doesn’t let you finish, “Just shut up for once. Please,” he thinks the words cut through him more than they cut through you. Knowing his cruelty is a lie does little to soften the blow, and it breaks his heart to be the one throwing it.

But this is all he’s good for, isn’t it? Letting people down. Surely it’s not just coincidence that so many of those who have dared to love him end up damaged. One way or another he destroys people. Who is he to say that he’s the one who is suffering when it’s he who does all the damage?

Even as a child, he couldn’t help it. He thinks perhaps he inherited his sharpened tongue and lack of patience from his mother. She loved him in her own way but could never show it without first tearing him apart. Her biting words, and regular beatings. Prentiss had been right when she once said he was distrustful of women-- unfairly so. Not all women carry the hateful, spiteful heart his mother had. Very few had ever turned their rage at the world and their shortcomings into a personal and violent rage against him. He grew weary nonetheless. Better safe than sorry.

At a young age, it became clear to him that there were few things, if anything, as important to his mother than appearances. On Sundays, she fussed over his clothes and his posture. She lectured him on table manners from the moment he could hold a fork. His room had to be spotless. His grades had to surpass average. Long before his brother was ever born, he learned how to live up to her expectations. But still, there was always something she could find him lacking in, an excuse to take her open fist or wooden spoon to his skin, a reason to send him to bed without dinner. He remembers crashing into the china cabinet trying to escape her one night. She was mortified on Monday when he had to walk into school on Monday with a cast around his arm. “Make sure they know this was your fault,” she told him. Perhaps I was built to fail, he had thought. She loves me and I embarrass her. I will only ever let her down. God, how disappointed she would be to see him now.

Seconds feel like hours as the UNSUB leers expectantly. The man's mouth twists into a smile when he sees the tears forming in your waterline again. Aaron watches your fist clench presumably to distract yourself from the migraine that matches the pounding in his head, just as much as it is to pull your attention away from the hurtful lies he's about to weave.

“You were supposed to have my back,” Arron spits with faux vitriol. “You had one job and couldn't even manage to do that”. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward.

“From the moment you showed up I knew you'd be a problem”.

He continues to try to work his hands out from the binds. He can feel the knot loosening as he continues to buy the two of you time. “Aaron,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks now.

“Following me around with some school girl crush. Look where we are now,” Aaron breathes.

He can feel his father’s rage resting on his shoulders, as heavy as his hands were when he used to pat him on the back. It’s a quiet burning, far more silent than his mother’s anger, but it’s there and threatening him all the same. A silent shame; a fear induced by the knowledge that he’s failing but not being able to stop it. His father lived like a ghost in their home, just as Aaron has learned to haunt his life. He only ever raised his voice when he drank, but even then his hatred was self-directed. A sorrowful self-pity. A cry for help. The affairs, the gambling, the drinking; the man punished himself, stumbling home to a house with a vengeful wife, a silent boy, and a crying baby. It was a heart attack that finally killed him, but Aaron never doubted his father had stopped living long before that.

Aaron breaks his own heart as he delivers each verbal blow. He hopes you understand. He prays that just maybe your concussion might leave the memories of this moment blurry. Selfishly, he begs you to forgive him, because he won’t forgive himself.

He can see the way your wrists strain against your restraints. The UNSUB adjusts his grip on your hair as you struggle to distance yourself from him. Your eyelids flutter and he knows your vision must be swimming but you don’t give up. With a sadistic grin, the UNSUB wipes at the tear stain on your cheek with fake sympathy, grasping your jaw roughly he forces you to look straight at Aaron, “Poor girl… guess boss man doesn’t care about you after all. What a waste,” he sighs his breath heavy against your cheek, as he moves to hold the knife to your throat again, “She’s so pretty,” he directs his commentary at Aaron this time.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve slept with her. How couldn’t I when she was practically throwing herself at me?” The words taste bitter on his tongue as he speaks them. His stomach churns as he continues, “But what we have certainly isn’t love”.

It couldn’t be further from the truth. Aaron grounds himself choosing to remember the quiet morning you two had shared only a few days earlier. Waking up without an alarm but with Jack sneaking in to jump up on the bed. As he watches you cry now he recalls how you had smiled so brightly at the little boy, ruffling his hair and cuddling Jack into your side. He had watched with a smile of his own as you bargained with his son, promising pancakes in exchange for ten more minutes of sleep on your shared day off.

You crept into his heart so slowly he had hardly noticed. Until one day, he looked up from the bright pink sticky note you'd left on your recent report, reminding him not to work too hard; he knew, without a doubt, he was in love with you.

For so much of his life, Aaron conditioned himself to expect a fight around every corner. He learned to make sacrifices from his happiness in fruitless attempts to keep peace. For the first time in forever he's been feeling like maybe, just maybe, he's enough. You’ve been more than patient with him; understanding his hesitance to open up to people again. You don't get upset with him for working late, but you scold him for not getting enough sleep and skipping meals.

He smiles more. He cracks jokes the way he used to. You've helped him see the forest from the trees-- healed parts of him he didn’t know needed mending. He's tried to do the same for you. He's watched you open up and trust the team more. He's seen the way your confidence has grown and he can't take credit for your growth, but he's enamoured by the transformation just the same.

You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better. The thought echoes in his head the same as it does most days. But now, it’s louder. The voice in his head matches the volume of the ringing in his ears, and the rushing sound of his pounding heart. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He fights to remind himself, but the UNSUB is laughing now. Taunting you and your emotions, and there’s nothing Aaron can do but sit there and watch. He struggles to feign indifference, watching as you continue to make yourself smaller. It’s only then that he notices that you too are working your hands out of the rope that restrains you. The UNSUB was stupid enough to tie your wrist in front of you.

Aaron’s eyes focus on the bandaid wrapped around your index finger. You cut yourself making dinner last week. He could have sworn his heart melted when you turned to him holding your hand out, blood beading already. “Aaron, where do you keep your first aid kit?” you’d asked. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pouted. “In the bathroom, the cabinet under the sink,” he’d answered with no intention of letting you go off and tend to your wound alone. Instead, he guided you down the hall, his left hand looped in a gentle hold around your wrist, his other hand on your waist.

Once you were sat on the countertop he took great care, making sure the wound was cleaned before he bandaged it. “My hero,” you teased, leaning in for a kiss.

A simple cut he could manage to fix. Jack promised you could use as many of his Star Wars bandaids as you wanted while you healed as well. A little love and patience could make it better, a philosophy he adopted to heal Jack’s scraped knees, and schoolyard bruises. But the sight before him now is far worse than any kitchen mishap could be.

Your nose is still bleeding. Bruises have already begun to form, red marks turning deep purple with every passing minute. He knows that your concussion is something you'll recover from. The contact burns from where the taser touched your skin will become new skin someday soon. The cuts and scrapes will scab over and then disappear.

Aaron worries the damage he's done can never truly be ameliorated. Your compassion is unmatched. It’s what makes you a good agent, a good partner, and someone Jack can turn to. You are forgiving. God knows you've excused enough of his behaviour. But, he doesn't deserve to be absolved of this guilt. He will carry this day around in the darkest corner of his heart; the same place he holds the memory of Haley and how he failed her. The words “what we have certainly isn't love,” will linger uneffaced by time or kind words.

The squeak of an old door opening piques Aaron's interest. The UNSUB doesn't react. Seemingly only interested in tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes are closing again. It's over now, he wants to tell you. He wants to hold you; comfort you; to apologise because you deserve to hear it anyway.

“Paul Simpson. FBI,” Morgan’s voice booms, “drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them”. Prentiss and Dave come to stand next to Morgan, their guns trained on the newly identified perpetrator. Aaron bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood-- it's all he can do to stop himself from bursting into a fit of bitter laughter. We win, he wants to say.

Disarmed and handcuffed, Paul is escorted outside by Morgan and two members of the local police. Prentiss and Rossi make quick work of untying you and Aaron.

“Aaron?” he can hear you mutter, breathy and quiet.

“Yeah, I’m right here,” he promises kneeling at your side. Your eyes are glazed and unfocused as you nod and tip forward. Unconscious, your entire body falls forward into Prentiss’ arms. Aaron’s voice joins Rossi in calling for a paramedic.

The doctors assure him that you’ll wake up soon. They dealt with his injuries quickly. Bruised ribs are the worst of his injuries. A cut at the back of his head and the taser burns were patched in only a few minutes, though he’ll readily admit he was far from a good patient. Too anxious to keep still much to the nurse’s dismay.

You’re still asleep. A major concussion will have you out of the field for much longer than he knows you’ll be happy with. He makes a mental note to start setting aside some extra paperwork for when you inevitably start hounding him for something to do. With the lights in the room dimmed, and a comfortable silence settling he allows himself to indulge in the illusion that everything might be alright between you.

With your hand in his, he breathes deeply trying to focus. He prays to a God he’s not sure he believes in. And when the quiet starts to get to him, he speaks out loud, as silly as he thinks he may look. He tells you about the phone call he had with Jack earlier and lets you know that Jack has a new painting he can’t wait to show you when you get home. Your hand squeezes his, encouraging him to keep talking.

“Aaron?” your eyelids flutter as you adjust to the light. The nurse had them turned to the dimmest setting but it’s still far more than you feel immediately capable of coping with.

“Yeah, honey,” he affirms. You release the breath you’re holding your brow relaxing.

“I love you,” you tell him. Your voice is steady and steadfast. Your resolve is impressive, unwavering and determined as you focus on making eye contact with him. “It’s not your fault,” you promise. He’s sure you don’t expect the weight on his shoulders to lighten instantaneously. You’ll tell him every day that he’s not to blame; intent on chiselling away at his guilt, shrinking it down before it manages to consume him.

“I love you,” he swears. He knows it won’t squash any of the doubt he’s planted. Aaron knows there will soon be days that the niggling insecurity threatens to break what you’ve managed to build together; when the worry that you aren’t enough seems louder than it ever has before. He won’t blame you if you decide it isn’t worth the pain of staying with him. But, he’s hell-bent on loving you through it. He can only hope that it’s enough.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fic #hotch x reader

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itneverendshere · 1 month

Text

erase all of my memories without you - rafe cameron.

part 2 of can't remember anything before you.

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: a lot??

WARNINGS: boyfriend!rafe <3; rafe being the biggest lover boy; tooth-rotting fluff if im being honest; topper's a dick but just for a sec; rafe is down bad; so cute.

“rafe, i told you, no hickeys!”

“can you blame me?” he has that mischievous gleam in his eyes, like he's testing just how far he can push your boundaries. “you’re just so pretty, baby.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain a serious tone despite the playful grin pulling at your lips. “shut up.”

being with rafe cameron was not on your yearly plans, but every single day, you thank your lucky stars for finally doing something right. he's a total game-changer, your personal slice of heaven.

who would have thought the universe had that kind of surprise up its sleeve?

he leans in closer, breath warm against your ear, arms wrapped securely around your waist, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "i should visit more often if that’s how you’re going to greet me each time.”

you can't help but lean back into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness.

"you should." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers gently tracing circles on his hand. “wouldn't mind that at all."

you’d been together ever since that fateful night in your garden, months ago.

sneaking around had its thrills, especially with your brother always lurking nearby, but nothing compared to the challenge of a long-distance relationship. late-night calls, stolen moments of intimacy over video chats, and endless messages are your lifelines.

so when rafe finally stepped through the door of your new york apartment last night, after weeks apart, it was no surprise that you couldn't help but pounce on him, eager to make up for lost time. his slutty grey sweatpants, his choice of comfortable for a flight, were imprinted into your brain.

“so, so pretty." he murmurs, lips brushing against your earlobe, “y'know i can't resist leaving my mark on you."

you playfully swat at him, a grin spreading across your face despite your half-hearted protest, “topper would kill you."

rafe snorts, the sound traveling through your body as he presses a kiss to your temple, “he can try.”

you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of keeping your relationship with rafe under wraps. it’s not like you don’t want to make it official, god, you do. but you’ve spent the last four months having him all to yourself, you don’t want other people to butt in and ruin everything with their unsolicited opinions.

being with him feels right. he's your rock, your constant in a world that's always changing.

“can we go back to bed now?” rafe’s warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks, his voice laced with a hint of grogginess, sleep still clouding his brain, “it’s fucking freezing.”

you chuckle quietly at his sleepy request, the sound mixing with the gentle hum of the heater as it struggles to combat the winter chill.

“course." you murmur, unwrapping yourself from his arms to press a tender kiss to his cheek, "let's get you warmed up."

his fingers don’t let you move an inch away, circling your wrist to pull you closer against his chest again, big cheeky smile on his face as he looks down at you. “you gonna warm me up, peach?”

"i might." you reply with a sly smirk, trailing a finger down his shirtless chest. "but you might have to work for it a little."

rafe's eyes widen with mock surprise. "is that so?" he asks, his voice low and husky as he pulls you closer. “well, lucky for you, i’m up for a challenge."

you’d never felt butterflies in your tummy until you started dating this man. he has you wrapped around his fingers, and you don’t want out. it physically hurts you to even think about a time when you didn’t have rafe like this.

you can't imagine being anywhere else but here, wrapped in his embrace.

with a playful giggle, you give him a knowing look. "’m counting on it," you murmur, as you pull him closer. you stand on your barefoot tiptoes, arms lacing around his neck. “really missed you.”

rafe's arms tighten around you as he pulls you impossibly close, his warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. his gaze softens, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter even faster.

“missed you too, more than you know." he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in to press a docile kiss to your lips.

“always thinking about my girl.”

as his lips meet yours, a wave of warmth washes over you, melting away any lingering traces of cold or distance. fuck, you’re in love with him and if he keeps kissing you like this, you might confess earlier. you’re way in over your head.

you sigh contentedly against his lips, savoring the feeling of being so close to him after being apart for so long. his touch, his scent, his presence—all of it feels like home to you. breaking the kiss reluctantly, you rest your forehead against his.

“stop staring at me like that peach.” he scolds, but there’s no bite to his tone as his fingertips brush your cheek lightly. “gonna end up buying this fucking building if you keep that up.”

you smile again, that’s all you seem to do around him anyway, as his beautiful eyes sweep up from your lips to meet your own. “rafe cameron living in new york? i’d pay to see that.”

rafe chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasant vibrations through your body. his fingers trace lazy patterns along your cheek, his touch sweet and affectionate.

“you'd pay to see it, huh?" he teases, a playful glint in his face as he leans in closer to you, his breath warm against your skin. “’m that good of an investment?”

you can't help but laugh at his playful banter, shaking your head. you love that you get to see this side of him, how soft he is with you, only you.

“you’re alright cameron.”

"jus’ alright?" he feigns offense, his hand moving to rest over his heart in an exaggerated manner. "take it back.”

“nop.”

rafe lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be wounded. "no?”

you can't help but giggle at his theatrics, finding it endearing how he always manages to lighten the mood.

"you big baby." you tease, poking him playfully in the side.

“oh, i’ll show you big.”

before you can even wrap your brain around his innuendo, you’re being thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he does it so effortlessly you almost swoon.

you squeal in surprise, the sudden movement catching you off guard. "rafe, what the fuck?" you laugh, squirming slightly as he carries you effortlessly across the room. “what are you doing—hey!”

his palm smacks against one of your cheeks, covered by nothing except a pair of his ralph lauren boxers. “taking you to bed, where you belong.”

you play along, pretending to protest even as you secretly enjoy the attention.

"and what if i don't want to go to bed?" you retort, trying to sound defiant.

rafe stops in his tracks, his grip tightening around your legs. "oh, trust me, peach," he says, his tone turning serious for a moment, "you definitely want to go to bed."

“hmm, not sure.”

“it’s okay brat, you’ll be sure soon enough." he teases, deep voice making you want to do the most immoral things on every single surface of your apartment.

a repeat of last night.

you play along, feigning uncertainty as he deposits you gently onto the queen-sized bed, his stare burning with desire as he hovers over you, thick arms caging you in. one of your hands wraps around his bicep, nails grazing the skin as you glance up at him, head tilted to the side.

rafe’s eyes instantly move to your neck as your hair slips behind, tongue poking out to wet his lips, "i don't know, baby, might have to convince me."

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "consider it my pleasure." he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly gentle kiss.

you feel a shiver run down your back as rafe's lips meet yours, his kiss sending a surge of electricity through your body. you’ll never get used to this. his touch is both tender and assertive, his lips moving against yours with a practiced finesse that leaves you breathless.

it's like every nerve in your being wakes up, responding eagerly to his touch.

as he deepens the kiss, his hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips with a possessive urgency, with a sense of familiarity as if committing every curve to memory. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss even further, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving into your mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. you melt against him, surrendering.

you feel a surge of heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, your breath catching in your throat as he explores you with a hunger that leaves you trembling.

“better than alright?” he mumbles against your lips and you find yourself unable to resist the pull of his touch, arching against him in silent invitation. his lips trail a path of fire along your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, “lost your voice, huh?”

he’s so addicted to sucking harshly on your skin, nibbling it playfully to drag out and elicit the sweetest sounds from your mouth. a melodic moan escapes your parted lips.

“you’re such an asshole.”

“there she is.” rafe's husky chuckle fills the air, sending pleasant vibrations through your body as he continues to pepper kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fiery trail of craving in its wake. “’m your asshole though.”

“not if you keep teasing.”

his lips pause their trail, hovering just above your skin as he looks up at you, one of his brows raised, "teasing?”

before you can protest his lips are on yours again, hungry and demanding. his hands roam over your body with a newfound urgency, tracing every corner and eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. he has the audacity to hush you when he pins you harder with his hips, clothed cock rubbing perfectly against you.

your nails can’t help but dig into his shoulders, pulling at the skin. the way he's moving against you makes you feel like getting on your knees and letting him do whatever he wants to you, for however long he wishes to.

but then, your stupid intercom is buzzing.

you both freeze, caught in the throes of passion interrupted. rafe drops his head on your shoulder, groaning.

"seriously?" he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he rolls off you, giving you space to sit up.

“it’s probably breakfast.” you’re smoothing out your rumpled clothes— if you can call an oversized tee and boxers an outfit.

rafe lets out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the bed, “’m so hard it hurts.” he whines, throwing an arm over his face.

“you’ll be fine.”

“can’t even see you right now, might cum in my sweats.” he mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric of your pillows.

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head at his melodramatic response.

"you're ridiculous." you tease, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

rafe peeks out from under his arm, giving you a glare, his bottom lip jutting out in a comically exaggerated pout. “and you're making me harder, stop touching me and go get the door.”

you lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, feet planted on the ground as you attempt to get up, but he’s quick to pull you down again. his beefy arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back on top of him.

“rafe.”

“gimme a kiss before you go.”

“though you didn’t want me to touch you.” you tease, leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips. it's meant to be quick, just a peck, but his hand snakes up to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. settling on your lower lip, he draws it into his mouth, sucking lightly, pushing you even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your covered breasts—

“the door,” you manage to stutter out between kisses, “behave.”

when he finally pulls away, both your lips are slightly swollen, red and you’re both breathless.

"there," you say as you push yourself off the bed once more. but this time, rafe lets you go without protest, admiring you with a lazy smile as you make your way to the door.

when you moved back to new york three months ago, you chose to do it independently. while your parents owned at least three penthouses in the city, you needed something smaller. what was the point in living alone in such big apartments? you’d be miserable and alone most of the time.

you chose a smaller studio, fancy enough to be your type, but cozy enough to make you feel at home, even though you were miles away.

as you reach the door, you glance back to see rafe still lounging in your bed, arms crossed lazily behind his head. you shake your own, turn back, and open the door.

your heart immediately falls through your ass.

“topper?!”

he ignores you, pushing you aside to enter as he focuses on removing the thick scarf around his neck, struggling to get it off as he rants.

“about damn time, you know how long i was outside?! swear to god i hate this city, it’s freezing for no reason and—is that rafe fucking cameron on your bed?!”

you freeze in place, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you watch topper's reaction unfold. rafe, ever the cool customer, sits up in bed, a smirk playing at his lips as he meets your brother’s incredulous gaze head-on. you can feel a headache forming in the back of your head.

"hey, top." rafe geets, his tone casual as if he's just encountered an old friend. which he has because that’s his best friend. "long time no see?"

topper's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of rafe lounging on your bed, “okay, okay. what the fuck is going on?”

he's going to freak out on you.

you clear your throat, trying to find the right words to explain the situation, “he’s visiting.”

top nods, not leaving his best friend out of his sight, “clearly! why are you in my sister’s bed, cameron?”

“was i supposed to sleep on the floor?” rafe replies, tone nonchalantly as he shrugs casually.

you’re going to kill him.

topper's jaw clenches as he shoots rafe a glare, clearly unimpressed by his answer. "you know damn well what i mean." he says, his voice menacing, so different from what you're used to.

rafe's smirk only widens, “relax, man," he says, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "we were just hanging out."

and about to have sex, but your brother doesn’t need all the details.

topper's expression darkens further at your boyfriend’s flippant attitude, and you can practically feel the terrible outcome.

"in her bed?" he asks, his voice dangerously low.

you step forward, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalates any further.

"topper, it's not what you think," you begin, but your brother holds up a hand to silence you.

“and why are you wearing his clothes?”

you glance down at your choice of outfit, flustered, you try to come up with a plausible explanation, “uh—well—it's a funny story, i-i'm out of clothes actually, who knew doing your laundry took so much work?”

his attention flickers between you and rafe, suspicion evident in his expression. you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"out of clothes?" he repeats, his tone incredulous. "and you decided to borrow his?"

you shift uncomfortably under his scrutinization, trying to come up with a better explanation, but you can’t. “yeah?”

he squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s in pain, “please tell me my sister isn’t fucking my best friend.”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you, but rafe speaks before you can conjure the words.

“your sister isn’t fucking your best friend, happy?”

you shoot rafe a warning look, silently pleading for him to play along and not make the situation worse.

you step forward, again. “topper, please, it's not what you think,” you say, your voice tinged with desperation. “rafe just came to visit, that's all.”

topper's stare softens as he contemplates, but his expression remains guarded. “and you didn't think to tell me?”

you bite your lip, feeling guilty for keeping your relationship with rafe a secret from your brother. “i wanted to, i just... didn't know how.”

rafe interjects, his tone more serious now. “top, i know this probably looks bad—”

“it looks really bad,” topper interrupts, his frustration evident.

“but nothing's happened,” rafe continues, ignoring the interruption. “we're just friends.”

but your brother is still inspecting you. and it’s only when his eyes descend to your neck, you realize what he’s looking at.

“is that why she got at least three hickeys on her neck?”

you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as topper's accusation hangs heavy in the air. you stare nervously at rafe, hoping he'll come up with a believable explanation, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, as if the hickeys are no big deal.

“they’re not hickeys, i burned myself with my curling iron.”

“yeah and i’m fucking adriana lima on my spare time.”

“okay?” you quickly turn your head back to the wall because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested.

"oh fuck, not you." top groans in frustration, seeing where rafe googly looks are directed, “not you two! you can't be serious?! that's my sister, dude; come on!"

rafe finally stands up from your bed, his tone is firm, his expression serious as he steps closer to your brother, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “it’s not like that.”

topper glances back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the adoration in rafe’s face now that you are looking back at him. a sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him since he walked through the door.

“i can’t fucking believe this.”

“it’s not like that,” rafe repeats, walking to your side, hating the way your eyes are starting to water. he keeps his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your cold skin, “we’re together. and watch your fucking tone when you speak to her.”

“don’t tell me how to speak to my sister!"

rafe's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. despite that, his hand remains steady on your arm, offering you a silent anchor of support. you feel a knot tighten in your stomach as you testify the tension between the two most important men in your life escalates.

"guys, please," you interject, your voice trembling, "this isn't helping anything."

“you’re in love with her, cameron?”

topper’s question makes you want to dig a hole in the middle of your studio and run.

what the hell?!

he can’t just barge in and make everything a mess. this is what you were afraid of, people meddling with your relationship. you and rafe haven’t discussed it yet. yeah it’s clear you’re in love with him, but you want to be the one to tell him and vice versa. you don’t want him to feel pressured to do it.

rafe's hand tightens on your arm, anchoring himself with the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. his eyes search yours for guidance. you can see the conflict in his expression.

he doesn’t shy away from the question, and his gaze never leaves yours. he traces every line of your face, “yeah, i am.”

the words hang in the air, a declaration that changes everything and nothing all at once. then time stops. your stomach turns unhelpfully, and you feel your skin turn clammy.

from the corner of your eye, you see the shock register on your brother’s face before he can hide it. strangely, he seems to understand now, perhaps more than you realized he would. for a moment, there's silence in the room, the weight of rafe's confession settling over all of you. but then topper lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging with the weight of understanding.

"okay," he says, his voice softer now, lacking the edge of anger from before. "okay."

you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling a sense of relief flood through you. despite the uncertainty of what comes next.

rafe's hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch grounding you.

"thank you," you say to topper, your voice barely above a whisper but brimmed with gratitude.

he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "just... take care of each other, okay?"

“can you leave now?” rafe all but interrupts the sentimental exchange, “kinda need to properly confess.”

topper raises an eyebrow at his abrupt request, clearly caught off guard by the bluntness. but after a second of hesitation, he nods, pushing himself off the wall where he's been leaning.

"yeah, sure," he says, giving you a meaningful look before turning to leave. "just... be careful, both of you. i’ll stop by later for dinner."

you offer him a small smile in return, feeling a shit ton of emotions swirling inside you as you watch him go. once he's out of sight, you let out a sigh, the tension in the room finally dissipating.

rafe releases your hand, moving to close the door behind topper before returning to your side. his expression is softer now, focused solely on you.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you nod, offering him a shaky smile. "yeah, think so. that was... unexpected."

rafe pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go.

"m’ sorry peach," he murmurs against your hair, his voice filled with regret. "didn't mean to drop that bomb on ya like that."

you sink into his embrace, finding comfort in the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. "t's okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nuzzle into his chest. "just wish it had been different."

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms tightening around you protectively. "i know," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

then, as if a floodgate has opened within you, the words spill from your lips, raw and unfiltered. "i’m in love with you too, rafe."

his arms around you tighten, as if to reassure himself that your words are real.

"i love you," he murmurs against your hair, "more than anything."

you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

he pulls back slowly, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "hey now, no tears, baby. only happy ones, yeah?"

you nod, sniffling but managing a watery smile. "yeah, happy tears. because i love you, rafe cameron."

he smiles back, a gentleness in him you've never seen before.

"and i love you, more than anything in this world."

you can't help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your cheeks. his stare is full of tenderness, his thumb gently brushing away the last traces of tears.

"you're everything, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice overflowing with sincerity.

you nod, feeling a lump forming in your throat at the depth of his words. "yeah, i do. and so are you.”

he leans in closer, lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss. he moves against you with a gentle fervor, his hands cradling your face as if you're the most precious thing in the world to him. and in that moment, you know without a doubt that you are and as you pull away, breathless yet content, you rest your forehead against his, savoring the closeness and the warmth that surrounds you.

"i love you," you whisper.

"i love you too, always," rafe replies, his voice a gentle caress against your skin.

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theemporium · 2 months

Note

hi!! i have a potential blurb request - Oscar having that "oh my god i love her" moment with reader

ily and i hope you're doing well <33

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

It hit him at the most random, mundane moment—which was ironic, considering it completely turned his world around.

He was still fighting the lingering effects of jet lag when you invited him over to hang out. He knew Mark would have wanted him to be responsible, to sleep and not fuck up his sleep schedule any further. He was still getting used to how taxing the life of a Formula One driver was, and he underestimated how heavily travel and jet lag would play into that.

But it had been so long since he had seen you. And maybe it was guilt or maybe it was his own selfish desire, but he found himself throwing on a hoodie and sweatpants, grabbing his keys and heading to your place before the universe somehow stopped him.

It was no different to the million other days you hung out together. Absolutely nothing different that he had come to expect in the last fifteen or so years you two had been friends. He showed up, knocked four times, waited for you to open the door and settled himself on his side of your coach whilst you did the same.

There was nothing special about the day, or the moment. But it still hit him like a freight train.

“Do you want popcorn? I got the salty flavour from that brand you like, the one that fits into your diet.”

That was all you said. Twenty-one words that somehow managed to send the boy spiralling as he turned to gape at you, his body melted into the couch to the point he didn’t think he could get up if he tried.

And there was you, sitting there as you smiled and waited for his response. You didn’t even look different, just lounging around in some shorts and a hoodie with his number on it. Your hair was a mess, you had even made a joke about it when he first came in. And the bags under your eyes told him your sleep schedule was probably as shit as his was right now, probably from staying up to watch the races.

But, fuck, Oscar thought you looked so pretty.

You had always looked pretty to him, but this was something else. This was a whole new level. This wasn’t just an appreciation of your looks, this was a full kick to the chest that screamed ‘oh shit, this isn’t platonic’. You just looked so cosy and comfortable and domestic, and Oscar could almost let himself imagine that this was a sight he got to see every day, that he got to wake up to, that he spent forever with.

Because Oscar Piastri was in love with his best friend and he hadn’t even realised until now, until this very fucking moment.

“Do you not want popcorn?” You asked, creases forming between your brows as you furrowed them together. He had the strongest urge to smooth the spot with his thumb.

“Uh no, yeah,” he cleared his throat and gave you a sleepy, slightly strained smile. “Popcorn sounds good.”

Your face brightened. “Good, I was gonna make it anyways.”

He watched as you stood from the couch, making your way towards your kitchen. He watched you walk away as his heart pounded in his chest, as he pressed the heel of his palm against his ribs like that would calm him down. He watched as you rambled on, oblivious to the existential crisis your best friend was experiencing.

There was a voice in the back of his head telling him he should say something, that he should tell you how he feels. You two don’t lie to each other, or hold back on anything. He knew he should have told you. But that selfish desire returned and Oscar had the strongest urge to keep his mouth shut for one more night, to enjoy the rush of feelings overwhelming him until he had to tell you.

He couldn’t imagine a life without you, so he let himself have tonight just on the off chance his feelings were the start of the end of your friendship, just in case he lost you forever.

#oscar piastri #formula one #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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rebelfell · 20 days

Text

Soooo still not done with thoughts of Eddie and an older!fem!Harrington!reader…3k

18+, MDNI cont’d from here

That first night goes on forever.

You don’t think you’ll forget it as long as you live. On your deathbed, you’re sure your last thoughts will be of Eddie Munson and the night he fucked you into oblivion and beyond.

There’s no stopping either one of you. There’s no way to tire of one another. It’s all a blur of tangled sheets and writhing bodies streaked in sweat, of filthy words and ragged breaths, of desperate cries of pleasure you can’t suppress.

The party still going on is enough to drown out your sounds as you fall into your bed, having just enough wherewithal to shut off your light so no one sees your shadows in the window.

Everyone downstairs is too plastered by now to notice anyway. But still.

Eddie is insatiable—drawing out your every orgasm, barely letting one taper off before he’s working you back up towards the next. You nearly want to cry from the overstimulation, but you’ll be damned if you’re tapping out anytime soon.

He takes you apart over and over and over, his fingers, his tongue, his cock all taking their turns with you in an endless fucking cycle.

Literally.

He’s like a goddamn energizer bunny. It’s the kind of sex like you haven’t had since college when you would fuck anything that moved just because you could. It makes you feel chosen and wanted and desired in a way you haven’t felt in years.

Being with Eddie is like indulging in the sweetest, most exquisite dessert—like pure decadence and freedom and fucking bliss.

Again, literally.

At one point, you’re going at it so hard, so vigorously, that you slide right off the bed and tumble together to the floor. But Eddie doesn’t miss a beat. He merely drives himself inside you with all the more determination, the wet clap of his thighs hitting yours bouncing off the walls to mix with your eager and wanton moans.

Yes, Eddie, ohhh god, yes—fuck, that’s it, right there, HARDER—

You lose track of how many times he makes you come, too swept up in the storm of his affections, his rough voice in your ear and his teeth nipping any place he can leave a mark where it won’t be seen. It’s fast, and hot, and dirty—yet somehow he’s still taking his time with you. He’s taking note of what makes you throw your head back into the pillow, or slap your hand over your mouth to stifle a wail, or grip his ass to push him in deeper.

And Eddie is…in heaven.

For weeks, he’s thought of nothing but this. He’s never felt this way before. So free.

There’s no need to hold himself back or disguise his deepest desires anymore. He can finally show you exactly how much he wants you. He’s allowed to be greedy with you and touch you in every way he’s imagined. Except that now it’s so much better, because it’s real.

His mind could never conjure a fantasy as detailed as this—the warmth of your skin under his hands, the shivers that ripple down your back when he kisses behind your ear, the soft hairs that tickle his nose as he buries his face in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent.

And he feels you letting go, too.

You kiss him back zealously, fervently, hungrily. Your hands are voracious as you explore his body, running over his chest and arms, relishing in every twitch of his muscles, nails digging in his skin to leave hot red streaks in their wake as you drag them down the length of his back.

The party ends eventually, but sleep is the furthest thing from your minds.

Steve never even makes it upstairs. He passes out on a pool lounger with the tip of his nose blacked out and some whiskers drawn on his cheeks in Sharpie, courtesy of Robin.

When Eddie slips on his boxers to go downstairs for sustenance, he lays a Gatorade in his friend’s lap, sets a wastebasket by his head, and places a pair of sunglasses over his eyes.

In his sleep, the birthday boy mumbles something that sounded like mashed potato soup and Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a twinge of guilt deep down in his stomach. But the thought of you waiting for him upstairs, and the memory of your body wrapped around his, and the sound of your voice moaning his name so sweetly, promptly snuffs the feeling out.

Between rounds, it’s all soft and gentle touches in stark contrast to the ravenous way you devoured one another. You take the opportunity to examine every tattoo, every faint freckle, every scar. You ask for the stories about them, which he’s quick to tell—all except the one about the gash on his index finger he got trying to feed a cupcake to a raccoon that lived in the trailer park.

You fight back your giggles as he describes his Uncle Wayne scuffing him like a cat by the back of his shirt and hauling him into his truck, ranting and raving about rabies the whole time as he raced across town to urgent care.

“And you were how old?” you ask, imagining him to be six or seven, max, only for him to sheepishly admit he was nineteen at the time.

You keep expecting him to make some excuse to slip away, to slink back across the hall to the other guest room, maybe even to leave altogether now that he’s gotten what he wants. But he’s resistant. He asks if he can stay with you, if he can hold you until you fall asleep, and swears he’ll sneak out in the morning before Steve has woken up.

And you know that it’s too risky. You know it’s stupid for you to agree. But you do.

Because it’s impossible to deny him when he looks at you like that. When he smiles at you all soft and tender. When he kisses you and pulls you into his arms again and again, like he truly cannot get enough of you. Like in all the places you see flaws, all he sees is perfection.

If you thought Eddie hung around the house a lot before, it was nothing compared to now.

He’s there just about every day, especially every night. And the Harrington lawn has never looked so good. He’s tending to it constantly, mowing grass and pruning the trees, planting fucking perennials like his life depends on it.

Any excuse to see you.

And if it happens to be a day when Steve is away, you even let yourself indulge a little. Laying out by the pool to watch Eddie work, coyly offering him sunscreen—which he almost declines until he sees the suggestive arch of your brow and clumsily starts stripping off his shirt.

His head rolls on his shoulders and he groans loudly in relief as your hands run over him, taking special care of his tattoos as the tropical smelling cream glides across his slippery skin. Then he snatches the bottle himself and smirks as he motions for you to turn.

In spite of the heat, you shiver as he runs his fingers up and down your spine, toying with the strings that tie your suit at the nape of your neck. His hands slide forward, squeezing at your waist and tugging you back against him to feel just how hard he is in his shorts.

He presses his hot lips to your ear and begs you to let him have you right there, right now, but you are firm in your refusal. The fence and trees that surround the yard are tall, but there are eyes everywhere and you can’t stomach the risk.

This is dangerous enough as it is.

So you retreat inside, where he takes you apart for the rest of the afternoon, the stainless steel of the fridge cold against your burning body when he pins you up against it and sinks down to his knees to bury his face between your legs.

And it’s all a bad decision. A bad, bad decision. But it’s one you can’t seem to stop making.

You make it over and over and over again.

In your bedroom, late at night. In the early morning, when he has you bent over the kitchen island. When you’re bouncing up and down in his lap on the leather sofa in the den, or in the giant jacuzzi tub in your sister’s bathroom.

You just keep making it.

You know you should feel guilty. You know eventually it has to end. You know you can’t keep this up forever. And yet somehow, none of that knowledge is enough to stop you.

Because all things considered…it’s going well.

Eddie is sweet to you. He dotes on you. He fucks you like an animal in heat and then tucks folded up notes in your hand while you sleep before he slips out of your room with the dawn. He puts you first—before himself, before anything. He ignites something in you, something you haven’t felt for years, a flame you thought had burnt out long ago into a pile of ash.

It’s like you’ve been trapped underwater so long you forgot what it felt like to breathe real air. And you fill your lungs with him to the brim again and again—certain you’ll never get enough.

His hands touch every part of you with pure devotion and his lips kiss yours like it’s an act of worship. Like you’re the only deity he’s ever sought. The only one he’ll ever serve.

But every day the calendar counts you another step closer to your sister’s return, the thick and humid haze of summer having reached its peak and starting to bleed at the edges. Danger lurks on the horizon like a storm cloud, lying in wait for the chance to blot out your sun.

Then the rain comes.

You come home one day to find Eddie and Steve in the middle of an argument. From the looks of it this conversation has been going on for a while and neither seems pleased to be having it.

“Come on, man!” Steve whines, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s one night. Bailey can’t go unless she can bring her cousin. Please?”

“I just don’t feel like going out,” Eddie counters weakly. He rubs a ringed hand across the back of his neck, his face full of guilt like he knows exactly how shitty of an excuse it is.

“Why? Because you wanna sit around the house all night? Again?” Steve scoffs. “What’s up with you? You’ve been like a monk all summer.”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink and his jaw clenches as he frowns, muttering something under his breath as he stares at his feet. If he’s defending himself, it’s not all that convincing. Luckily, Steve is too entrenched in his own agenda to call him out.

“Look, she’s from New York. She’ll probably love your whole edgy…thing.”

He smiles fondly as he gestures to his friend’s shredded jeans and loose-hanging Dio tank top, but all it elicits from Eddie is a distasteful sound from the back of his throat. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, but stop short when they land on you standing in the entry way.

“Um…hi,” he whispers, staring like your eyes are the high beams on a freight truck.

“Hey,” you reply, slipping off your sandals at the door. “What are you guys up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Steve sighs dramatically. “The hottest girl in town finally agreed to go out with me, but I can’t go because Eddie’s the worst wing-man in the history of the planet.”

Eddie’s head drops in shame again and you know those big, pleading eyes of his are dying to look at you. You feel like you can almost see him fighting the urge to turn his head right up until the moment he loses the uphill battle.

“You should go,” you tell him when his eyes find yours. “It sounds like fun.”

The words are like bile in your throat as you hurry past them to the kitchen, pausing at the door to look back at them over your shoulder.

Eddie’s eyes bulge with hope.

“Don’t, um…don’t forget about curfew,” you warn before you disappear.

Neither of them follows.

They keep arguing, the words muffled by the wood paneling you collapse against as you listen through the wall and wait…wait for what, exactly, you aren’t sure. But Steve must finally convince Eddie to go, because the next thing you hear is them shuffling through the door and tires that screech as Steve’s Beemer speeds away.

The silence that descends is oppressive. It makes the empty house feel cavernous and gaping like a wound. You scramble to put on a record, needing something to drown out your racing thoughts.

A lot of good it does, though.

You pace the rooms like a racetrack, certain you can see the furrows you leave in the carpet as you make your tenth or eleventh pass. All the while telling yourself you have no right to be upset.

Because Eddie should go on dates. He should be able to walk through Starcourt Mall with someone special, to lace his fingers with theirs as he asks if they want to share a box of Red Vines.

He shouldn’t have to hide, reduced to skulking in the shadows like some filthy and shameful secret. Even with the way he cloaked himself in mystery and attitude, it wasn’t enough to disguise the brightness that bubbled underneath.

It’s these thoughts and a hundred others that have you pacing right up until the moment you hear Steve’s car pulling into the driveway and the sound of laughter as four pairs of footsteps make their way up the front walk. And before you can think better—or think at all—you sprint to the top of the staircase and listen from the dark recess of the hall as they all stumble inside together.

Steve suggests having some beers by the pool and Bailey agrees. But the other girl—Eddie’s girl, you think, a bit more bitterly than you have any right to—is ready to call it a night.

“Hey, Eddie?” she asks in her high, cutesy voice. “Think I can get a ride home?”

“Ahh…I was actually gonna crash here toni—”

“Dude. Don’t be a dick,” Steve scolds playfully.

And that’s that, apparently.

It’s long past midnight by the time he’s knocking at your door. And before you can even whisper a greeting, he’s pulling you into his arms, almost crushing you he’s holding on so tight.

He goes slower than you’re used with him. He makes no move to tug off your clothes or slip his hand between your thighs. He doesn’t grind into you all rough and desperate, just presses himself close against you and whispers soft and sweet between long and languid kisses.

“Thought about you all night,” he murmurs, his lips skimming your temple. “She tried to kiss me and I felt sick to my stomach.”

“You don’t have to say that, Eddie,” you mutter back. “It’s okay if you like her.”

It makes his eyes flash with disgust, horrified you would even suggest such a thing, but the thought flies straight out his head as your hand begins to wander freely down his body, wrapping around his hardness through his jeans.

He groans at your touch, biting down into the pillow next to your head to muffle the sound, he’s so achingly hard in your delicate grasp.

You undress without a glimmer of haste to your movements. It feels like a dance to an old, old song. The kind that played from a gramophone in an empty gymnasium with crepe paper flowers hung from the ceiling. And when he fills you up, sliding easily inside to the hilt, you’ve never felt as close to another person as you do to him right now. His thrusts are steady and deep, reaching your most uncharted depths. And it seems so absurd to think it’s possible there is any part of you he hasn’t yet reached, but you’re sure he’s never been as deep as he is now.

His face stays close to yours, your breaths mixing as you pant and gasp into one another’s mouths, and he loses himself in you—in the way your heels hit the backs of his thighs, your legs tightening around him as you match his thrusts with rolls of your hips; how the weight of him and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubs against your clit like two flint stones striking sparks to make a bonfire; how your hands grapple for purchase on his sweaty back, needing to hold onto him for dear life as you rush towards your release.

His necklace dangles around his neck and his guitar pick lays flat against your chest, the ball chain clinking softly in time with his thrusts. It’s almost like you’re wearing it instead of him and just that thought—the idea of it hanging around your neck, of everyone knowing you were his and only his—has him careening over the edge.

You start to come apart around him and he lets himself go with you, releasing a long and guttural groan as he empties into the condom faster and harder than he ever has before. Your hand grasps at the back of his neck under the warm curtain of his curls, nails digging in so deep that it makes you both whimper as you press trembling kisses to each other's lips.

It’s quiet as you bask together in the aftermath, the receding tides of your gratification lapping around your ankles, hearing only the sound of your labored breaths expelling. It dwarves you, almost. It’s so serene, so peaceful, you worry anything you say next will only spoil it.

Eddie pulls back to look at you, his eyes shiny either with tears or from the moonlight reflecting in them, sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, his softening cock still buried in your warmth.

“I wanna take you somewhere,” he whispers.

And in what feels like an instant, you have snuck out of the house and are sitting with him in the back of his van, rear doors thrown wide open so you can look out at the vast expanse of Lover’s Lake. He’s got his back up against one side with you resting against him, curled up in his arms with an old blanket draped around you both.

He found his way to this secluded spot on the gravelly bank so easily, you’re sure he’s parked here many times before. And you can’t say you’re entirely surprised. Boundless stars overhead and below, reflecting in the perfectly still water. Full moon glowing like a spotlight, a sultry rock song drifting out of his speakers instead of his usual thundering metal fare.

Pretty much impossible to resist, you think as you lay against his chest and chuckle, “This where you bring all the girls?”

“Used to be,” he murmurs, stroking your arm.

“Not anymore, hm?”

You’re teasing, but he’s turned solemn. His face is set wth seriousness as he tips your chin to look at him, eyes plundering into your soul and fingers tracing featherlight along your jaw.

“No,” he says. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

And there’s something different in his gaze as he says it. Something that makes your spine go rigid and your shoulders tense as you flex away from him. Something that makes your skin turn clammy and cold.

“Eddie,” you start, “Don’t say anything stupi—”

“I’m in love with you.”

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requested tags: @cryingglightningg @the-unforgivenn @hellfire--cult @saramelaniemoon @skyfullofsong123 @tlclick73 @winchester-angel @nope-thanks ♥️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x older!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #TSITA

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perlelune · 3 months

Text

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | x.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Disbelief shimmers in William’s green gaze.

“You’re joking…” He cradles your face, searching your eyes. They are steadily filling with tears. He releases you, retreating as his face distorts with shock. “You’re…not?” He runs his fingers through his brown locks. “God, I’m such an idiot.” He unleashes a humorless laugh. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Your stomach sinks.

“This entire time. I waited for you. I trusted you. And you just…What? A-Are you with him now?” The betrayal quivering in his tone shatters your heart to pieces.

You lower your head and mumble, “It’s complicated…”

“No it’s not. It’s actually quite simple. Do you love him or do you love me? Do you want to marry me or do you want to marry him?”

William’s anger and frustration coat the air, his voice growing louder with every word. You tremble. Your fiancé’s never yelled at you like this before. You’ve argued, of course, like every couple does. But never like this. And never has he looked at you like that. Like you’re a stranger. You wish the earth would open up and swallow you.

“I…”

“Answer me!”

You jolt and step back, the heel of your shoe hitting the bottom of the stairs.

Your father appears in the corner of your vision. An exhale of surprise leaves you. He wedges himself between you and William.

“Do not dare raise your voice at my daughter, young man,” Strabo thunders. You gape at his back. It’s the first time you’ve heard your dad use such a furious tone of voice.

William lifts his hands defensively.

“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand-”

“I think it’s best if you go. Now,” your father urges, pointing at the door.

Your fiancé’s shoulders sag. He tosses you one last, heavy look, his jaw clenching.

“Yeah, maybe it’s for the best,” he belatedly grits out.

The second William slams the door shut, you’re in your father’s arms. The fat tears rolling down your cheeks drench his shirt.

“Dad…”

“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”

He rubs soothing circles on your back as you bury your head in his chest. You sniffle as a sob spills from your throat.

You doubt anything will ever be okay.

The rest of the day is spent in your room weeping underneath your blankets. It’s a wonder there’s any water left in your body, the ceaseless flow of tears soaking your pillows and sheets. Ma and Dad keep visiting your room, bringing you food and trying their best to lighten your spirits.

But nothing can keep you from drowning in your sorrows. William was the best thing that ever happened to you. You remember when you first met him at the University. The two of you were paired for a project and ended up hitting it off while working together. You didn’t even expect him to ask you out. It was no secret half the girls in your cohort harbored a crush on him. And with his boyish charm and outgoing personality, a contrast to your more withdrawn, lonely nature, you never imagined he’d seek your company past the project.

But he did, constantly finding lame excuses to talk to you like asking for your notes on a class or lying about needing a pen for a quizz. One thing led to another and, after a few months of courting, he got on one knee and asked for your hand.

Then Janus died. Your world collapsed. Colors dimmed around you. Everything stopped making sense. Still…William did. Whenever you were around him, you could pretend away your grief, laugh away your pain.

Your heart wasn’t so broken.

And now…you don’t think it’ll ever be put back together.

For days on end, you don’t leave your bed. The sun rises; it sets. Yet the same pains shackle you to your bedroom. Quicksands of guilt and sorrow suffocate you.

…Until you’re swept by a sickness one day.

It happens a little under a week after your return. You rush to your bathroom and pitch forward, dry heaving the near vacant contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. You then huddle on the floor, hugging your stomach as pain pulses through your midriff. Your brows collide in confusion. Hardly a bite of anything has crossed past your lips these days, as you only chewed on a few glum bites of the meals Ma brought to your room. Yet you are nauseous, cramps twisting your insides.

You bolt upward, racing to the toilet bowl again as another surge of queasiness takes you. Following that, you crash into a heap on the floor. Shuddering, you wipe the back of your mouth.

You crawl onto the floor, all the way to your bed.

Every day after this one, you awake sick and cranky, the same ache and nausea plaguing you. You also begin to experience faint headaches. It becomes dire enough for your parents to summon a doctor. However many times, he checks you out, he finds nothing amiss or wrong with you. Throughout the checkup, concern is etched on your parents’ faces. You’re forced to promise them that you’re alright and that, to prove it, you’ll show up for family dinner as you did before. Your father pats your cheek, visibly relieved, but the concern on your mother’s face doesn’t relent. She keeps scrutinizing you with a strange look on her face, one you’re not sure what to make of.

Still, even as you hug Ma and Dad, dread creeps inside you. Something else could still be wrong with you. The kind of thing there isn’t a quick fix-it for. The kind of thing you’d have to deal with for the rest of your life.

But you don’t let your mind wander there. Not yet.

As you end the day with yet another bout of vomiting and stabbing cramps, your mother rushes upstairs. She sinks to her knees at your side and strokes your hair.

“Are you alright? I heard you.” She frowns as she takes in your shuddering frame. “Perhaps we should call the doctor again so he can do more tests…”

You bristle. More tests would mean exploring other possible causes for your affliction. You can’t risk that. Not with Ma and Dad involved.

“It’s nothing, Ma,” you dismiss with haste. You put a hand on her arm. “Could we go to the apothecary this evening?” Her puzzled look draws a nervous chuckle from you. Twisting your hands, you chime falsely, “I bet it’s just a nasty stomach bug.”

Her frown deepens. “A bug? But you haven’t eaten very much lately.”

You shrug.

“It can still happen.” You slip on a mask of cheerfulness. “I’m sure I’ll be right as rain again with some ginger and camomile, Ma.”

“If you say so,” she says, returning your smile.

You’re a bit unsettled as you find yourself outside. The brightness of the sun sears your eyelids. You squint at the blue sky. You wobble down the stairs as your mother holds your arm. You’ve grown so accustomed to keeping yourself cloistered inside, either by your own will or the will of…others. Strolling along the cobblestoned path while the winter breeze caresses your face has a strange tickle running through you.

An awkward silence hangs between you and your mother once you’re in the back of a taxi.

Your fingers twiddle in your lap as you keep your eyes low. Who knows what Ma could discern in your gaze. You never managed to conceal much from her ever since you were a little girl. She was always freakishly aware of every blunder, bad grade and secret.

Her motherly instinct is infallible.

“Dad and I haven’t seen much of you these days,” she suddenly notes, causing your head to whip up. “I know you’re sad about William but…” She hesitates, gauging you before stating, “I think it’s a good thing.”

“Ma…”

“He was never right for you,” she insists, her inflection stern. “You’re a Plinth. You should aim higher.”

“Mother!” you hiss.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but it needed to be said.” She reaches out to drape her hand over yours. “You’re hurting right now but it’ll all be for the best in the end. You have a bright future ahead of you. That young man, nice as he is, was just holding you back.”

Mouth agape, you stare at your mother. While you know that she and Dad have never cradled William near their heart and weren’t too thrilled with your decision to marry him, you never expected her to be so callous about your engagement ending. In her mouth, it nearly sounds like a business deal gone wrong. But she knew William, talked to him many times, saw you with him. She has to understand how much losing him means to you. How can she be so cold and dismissive about it? You quell the budding sobs in your throat.

The quickness of the drive to the shop is a small mercy you bask in. After your mother spoke, the air in the car grew heavier, every lungful becoming torturous.

You hastily climb outside the car once it comes to a stop in front of the apothecary.

Windchimes sing above the door as you enter, your mother at your heel.

You linger by every shelf, pretending to be lost between all the labels.

“We could call the clerk to help…”

“No, it’s okay,” you cut her off. You giggle and shrug. “I like taking my time. Actually, you know what?” You grab a vial and shake it, pretending to study the label. You wave your hand at your mother. “I’m gonna stay behind and gather some more herbs. You should go. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Befuddlement knits her brow. “I could stay…”

“I won’t be long,” you snap, your lips curving in a wide, painful grin. You squeeze her arm, your tone softening. “I promise. Just wait for me in the car, Ma. Then we could stop by a café and have a bite. How does that sound?”

She yields with a nod. “That sounds lovely.”

Relief fills you when she walks away.

The second she’s out the door, you’re racing to the front desk.

“I need a pregnancy test, please,” you blurt out, your voice barely above a breath as you keep stealing wary glances behind you.

The mere utterance of the request has your insides coiling in horror. For a while, you were in staunch denial of that being a possibility. But you mulled it over, long and hard. It made you realize that, besides the sickness you’ve experienced lately, you also can’t remember the last time you had your monthly bleeding. You’ve never been late before. Not even once. And while things are a little fuzzy in your head…you’re pretty sure over two months isn’t a good sign.

The clerk blinks at you, seemingly taken aback. Still, she silently moves her head in agreement and dives through a door leading to what you assume to be the back of the shop.

The wait is agony. You count every second, praying your mother won’t show up out of the blue and start questioning what you’re up to.

When the clerk returns, you free a deep breath.

She places a small, clear vial inside your palm. You give her an inquiring look.

“You must…relieve yourself and transfer it in this vial,” she explains. “If it turns blue, well congratulations are in order.” Her smile dies as she notices your tight expression. “Or perhaps…not?”

“Thank you very much,” you say, carefully squeezing the vial and shoving it at the very bottom of your bag.

For good form, you ask for some medicinal herbs, some for stomach pains and others for sleeplessness. Just in case your mother inquires about your purchases. One can never be too careful.

When you’re back inside the car, your mother beams at you.

“Did you find what you were looking for, sweetie?”

“Y-Yes, I did, mother,” you stammer, clearing your throat and letting your gaze roam outside the window.

You’re thankful she cannot hear the cacophony of your pounding heart.

You spend the rest of the evening with your mother, drinking tea and eating cake while she babbles about trivial topics. You try your best to listen, giving vague, half-hearted replies.

But your mind is already far away, a million thoughts bumping inside your head.

The entire evening, you’re restless, eager to go home and get answers to your questions.

It requires every morsel of self-control within you not to make a beeline upstairs once the two of you are back home. You give a swift apology and tell your mother the day’s exhausted you and you need a quick nap. She reminds you that dinner is in less than two hours and you need to dress up. You don’t argue, all too happy to finally be on your own.

Once the door to your bedroom is closed, you slump against it, all the tension in your body draining all at once. You take a minute to breathe, leaning your head against the wood.

You retrieve the vial inside your bag. Your hands quake. Your heart drums.

Hesitation slithers through you. What if you just tossed it out the window, forgot about all this?

No. This isn’t something you can cower or hide from. You have to face this.

Your entire life could change in an instant. And it might be about more than just your life.

Shaking from head to toe, you proceed inside the bathroom. You pee in a glass and pour a small amount in the vial.

Insides painfully tight, you chew on your lip as you wait.

Stay clear, stay clear, you pray in silence, as if the water could hear your plea and change the course of your fate by some fantastical twist.

After a few minutes, blue starts bleeding inside the water. It doesn’t stop until all of it has morphed into the horrifying color, bubbles rising to the surface.

The air in your lungs falters. The vial crashes to the floor, scattering into tiny shards as you collapse on the floor of your bathroom.

You gape at the blue puddle on the floor. Maybe it’s a mistake. Tests aren’t always foolproof. They’re wrong sometimes. Perhaps yours was defective.

For a while, you loiter in your denial, conjuring a plethora of reasons why this isn’t happening.

Then you slowly blink. You realize the puddle hasn’t moved. The shards are still on the floor. The blue isn’t gone.

An audible exhale bursts from your chest.

Despite your desire to pretend otherwise, you can’t escape the truth. The ghastly, awful truth. There are no more ifs and buts, no ‘perhaps’, no ‘maybe’…Just the reality that will make itself known to all much sooner than you’d like.

You’re going to be a mother. You’re carrying Coriolanus Snow’s child. The urge to puke, cry and scream all at once surges through you.

“Sweetie, dinner’s ready.”

Your mother’s abrupt call from downstairs has your heart miss a beat.

“I’m not hungry, mom,” you reply automatically, tamping down the quiver in your voice.

“You promised,” she yells.

Right. You did. Perhaps it was foolish of you. How can you carry on with dinner and smile at your parents as if everything’s normal? As if your whole life didn’t take a gigantic turn…the biggest one there could ever be.

You collect yourself. You rub your sweaty palms on your skirt and pick a random dress from your wardrobe. You’re a little shocked to find the closet half-empty, gut wrenching as you remember a good chunk of your clothes are still at the Snows’ apartment.

Emptying your thoughts, you get dressed, your fingers slipping as you fumble with the buttons of your dress.

Get it together.

You slap your cheeks and will yourself to act normal. You’ll figure out the next steps later. Right now, you need to make it through dinner.

The facsimile of a smile nudges your lips upward as you drag your feet downstairs.

However all shallow semblance of happiness evaporates from your face when you take in who’s standing at the bottom of the stairs by your parents.

His smooth lilt ripples through the room.

“Hey, princess.”

Your stomach drops to your feet. Victory sways in his cobalt orbs as he savors your reaction.

He looks the exact same as the last time you saw him, simply more put together in his crisp red suit and white shirt, his blonde locks slicked back from his face.

Every cell in your body is screeching at you to run from him. As far as you can. For as long as you can. And never look back.

Your fingers clutch the stairs’ handrail.

Your appalled gaze turns to your parents. They are entirely too calm for your liking. In fact, they appear more wary of you than him.

“What’s going on? W-Why is he here?”

Your father takes careful steps towards you.

“Sweetheart, maybe we should sit, have a discussion as a family…”

You scoff, shying away from his outstretched hand.

“But he’s not…He’s not part of our family. Or did you forget, Dad?”

Your father’s shoulders fall, a great weariness settling upon his features. In that moment, he looks every bit of his years, all the built-up grief and exhaustion displayed on his face.

“Yes, but, in the current circumstances-”

“What circumstances?” you interrupt.

“Stop it,” Ma snaps. She sighs, approaching you. You stiffen. “We’re not stupid.” She lifts her hand to cup your cheek, her voice mellowing. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Your eyes bulge, shock striking you mute.

Coriolanus uses that moment to join your mother’s side. He places a soothing hand on her shoulder.

Your heart threatens to leap outside your chest when his eyes lock with yours.

“Your father’s right, princess. How about you come down so we can talk about this…” He flashes you a wicked smile. “As a family.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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charliemwrites · 3 months

Text

Part 4 of Nikto’s commandments

A little spice at the end.

You moan his name sometimes in your sleep.

Usually just before you wake up, panting and overheated, shooting wide-eyed glances his way. Lying to you would be a sin beyond redemption so he always lets you know that he’s awake. You often apologize, sometimes you assure him you’re alright. It takes him a while to identify the look in your eyes those nights — he was unfamiliar with it even before: guilt.

You feel guilty.

Puzzling out the why of that takes longer still. You’re a mystery to him, ineffable. The way god is supposed to be. Unlike the Christian one, you almost always have a purpose behind what you do, and you’ll answer Nikto whenever he dares to ask. (He’s not going to ask about this.)

He first thought that you were calling for his help in dreamt pain. That your blown out pupils, trembling hands, and flushed face were products of fear and imagined torture.

But then you started to lean into his neck in your sleep, making soft, high noises. Would press your ass into the cradle of his hips, grind against his thigh. Alien as his body is to him now, he can recognize emotion in others. Lust, desire.

Coming to terms that you feel these things for him has been another challenge altogether. (But you are a loving god, a compassionate keeper. The sweetness and mercy and nobility found in the viscera of his world. If there is anything of him worth wanting, you would find it.) If you are attracted to this… vessel he inhabits, who is he to question you?

The guilt, though. That he is still puzzling out.

If anyone should feel guilt, it is him (though he doesn’t, isn’t even sure if he can). Now that you’ve made him more aware of his body, of his desires, there’s a constant buzz of arousal in his blood. For you. He craves you constantly. Your touch, your voice, your scent in his nose. He could suffocate on you.

It’s selfish, it’s sinful. To desire anything of you when you have given him everything and asked for nothing in return. Not even his loyalty, freely given. It is why he could not say yes when you offered to slake his desire; it would have been akin to blasphemy.

Unless.

Unless you have asked something of him.

“Whoa!” A giggle as you tilt your head back to him, amused and curious. “What was that for?”

He feels wooden as he glances down at you. His arm is around your waist, nearly crushing you to him. Hadn’t even realized he moved. You don’t seem to mind, palms light on his forearm. Still looking to him.

He does not answer. Can’t find the words past the panic clawing at his throat. Lets you go slowly, finger by finger. You don’t step away once free.

You say something else. Something about rain maybe? He’s too busy staring at the deft hands you cup around your mouth.

How soft and gentle they are on his skin, skipping over the worst scars. The first thing you always do is touch him. When he’s out of a shower, just changed, climbing into bed, waking up. You reach for him, as if you can’t bear to be parted with the same intensity he feels.

Do you crave to touch him in other ways? Has he denied you, unwitting as it may have been?

It would be one thing to ask anything of you, especially for his own sake. But to give you something… even if it’s such an unworthy offering as himself…

“Nikto?”

His eyes flick down to yours. You smile at him, point at your own temple.

“Busy up there today, huh?” It’s not even a tease, but he feels as if he’s made another misstep.

“Sorry.”

You shake your head, bump your shoulder into his arm. “I’m just checking that you’re alright.”

“Alright” being relative. He objectively understands that he is broken and damaged. That he does not operate at full capacity all — or even most — of the time.

But with your help he’s established a baseline, a “normal.” Something to measure his body, and more importantly his damaged mind by.

“I am… alright,” he decides finally. “Just thinking.”

“Okay,” you answer, easy as that. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen — but you don’t have to.”

You don’t have to is your favorite thing to say to him. He would laugh if he remembered how.

He grunts an affirmative and follows you to wherever you’re headed next.

—

That night, your ankle is hurting. Nothing serious, you assure Nikto. Just rolled it a bit. You promise it just needs rest, low level painkillers, and a bit of elevation.

Nikto is unpracticed at care. For all he practically lives in your pocket, medical care is unusual for you. He spends so much time keeping you safe, protected, alive and unharmed. He has little direction when it comes to your discomfort.

Luckily, you provide direction in spades.

“Two pills from the bottle with the red cap and a glass of water please.”

His cock twitches hard. Fills out almost dizzyingly fast in the confines of his tac pants.

He fetches both for you, holding each in turn as you pluck the pills from his hand and sip the water. You sigh gratefully and tell him to set the glass on the nightstand. Another bolt of pleasure to obey, while you like droplets from your bottom lip.

“Can you grab my computer and the charger? I want to watch something before bed.”

He brings them, stands waiting while you fiddle with it. Waiting for another request. He’s achingly hard now. Throbbing in his underwear.

“Oh! Hairbrush too, please?”

When he hands it to you this time, hand almost to the point of shaking, you give him a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry, I keep making you run around.”

“Don’t be.” His voice is gruff, but it so often is that you don’t seem to find anything amiss. “More?”

“Ah… well, if it’s not too much trouble, could you grab the extra blanket? It’s cold tonight.”

He tries to pace himself. To balance the pleasure of obeying against the speed of completing the task. You hum in delight as he drapes it over you — a fluffy monstrosity of a thing. Utterly decadent, he’d never even entertain the idea of having one. But you deserve a dozen of them if you wanted them. He’d retrieve them now for you if only you asked.

(He wishes you would ask.)

He is harder than he ever remembers being. (Granted, there are many gaps in his memory, even now. But there is enough there to know this is true.)

“Okay that should be the last thing for a bit.” You’re looking away and don’t see the minute deflation of his shoulders. He’s nearly panting. “Come snuggle in?”

“In a moment,” he says, surprising himself. You seem a bit (pleasantly) surprised too. He’s never denied you anything for even a moment. But if he sits next to you now…

“Ah, gotcha,” you say when he turns for the bathroom.

You start playing whatever tv show you have queued up to offer him privacy. He closes the door after himself and for the first time since regaining his freedom, takes himself in hand.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #nikto x reader #cod nikto

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janaispunk · 1 month

Text

no one has to know what we do

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.

word count: 4.4k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.

It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.

Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.

It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.

You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.

But David — David is refreshing.

He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.

You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.

He’s not expecting you to reach out.

Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.

Because all he can think about is seeing you again.

It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.

Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.

He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.

Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.

And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.

He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.

Seconds after the first, another text comes through:

[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone

Fuck. Fuck.

His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.

He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.

The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.

His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.

“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.

He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”

“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.

Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.

“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”

His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.

“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.

“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”

You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.

“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.

“You don’t like me?”

He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.

The call disconnects with a beep.

You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.

His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.

“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.

“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”

Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.

“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.

“Probably not.”

You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.

When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.

Have fun last night?

From David, sent five minutes ago.

You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.

Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.

i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you

His reply comes almost instantly.

Who said you bothered me?

You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.

It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.

When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.

You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.

He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.

Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.

You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.

He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.

You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.

You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.

You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.

After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.

But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.

On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.

Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.

He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.

“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”

It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.

He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.

He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.

The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?

“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”

He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.

“Yes. Come on.”

He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.

He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.

So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.

You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.

He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.

He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.

You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.

“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.

“You want me to take care of you?”

You nod.

“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”

Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.

“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.

Slap.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.

Slap.

“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”

You gasp.

Slap.

“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”

It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.

He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.

He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.

You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.

No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.

He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.

He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.

“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”

He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.

You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.

One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.

“I thought I told you no begging.”

You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”

He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”

You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.

He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.

It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.

He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.

Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.

“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”

You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.

He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.

You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.

Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.

He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.

“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.

You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.

“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.

Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.

The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.

When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.

It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.

He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.

Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.

[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.

It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.

Maybe just one more time.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: wildest dreams #dave york x reader #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedrostories

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corrodedcorpses · 1 year

Text

Boys on Film. Part ii.

Pairing: PS!Steve x PS!Eddie x Virgin!reader

Summary: It's been a week since you watched that tape and you haven't been able to get the images of Eddie and Steve out of your head since. Scared you'd say or do something weird around them, you've decided to avoid them instead. But of course, they show up announced just to torture you.

Warnings: Smut (18+), light angst, Masturbation (female), Voyeurism, Oral sex (m)

Word count: 9.5k (god damn)

a/n: Here's part 2!! Finally! Thank you so much for the love on the first part and I hope everyone enjoys this part!! Definitely more parts to come 🫢

Part 1 // Part 3

It’s been a week since you’d watched that damn video. A week since you’d even dared to touch yourself, the feelings of guilt growing each second that past since you’d come down from the most intense orgasm of your life.

Ever since that night you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to see them, or hardly even talk to them. They’d been ringing you nonstop but everytime you picked up the phone and heard their voice you could practically hear them moaning through the receiver. Each time you’d given them some excuse to end the call early, opting now to just not pick up the phone at all.

Of course they wouldn’t know what you’d done but you couldn’t shake the intense feeling of guilt. You felt guilty for seeing them like that, sure but you mostly felt the guilt at how much you ached for them now. How you would do anything to swap places with the girl in the video.

How you wanted your first time to be them.

You’d thought about nothing else and had imagined every scenario of you asking them to be your firsts. But every scenario you played out in your head ended with rejection. There’s no way they would ever see you like that, you were certain.

You also knew that they would sense something was wrong and you were certain Steve’s charm and Eddie’s smirk could convince you to confess to murder. There’s no way you would be able to keep your mouth shut.

But, even if you did somehow manage to just not mention it you weren’t sure you could be around them with all these new and weird feelings bubbling inside you. How could you stand to be around someone when your whole body longed for them?

***

Steve waited outside his house as he heard the familiar sounds of Eddie’s van coming down his street, the usual beat of some metal song Steve automatically recognises being heard before he could even see the van. I definitely hang out with Eddie too much, he thinks to himself with a fond smirk.

He nervously picks at the skin on his fingers as he waits for Eddie’s van to park before jogging down the driveway to meet him. He isn’t nervous to see Eddie, it's you. You've been distant with both of them and they’re worried. It’s not like you to push them away no matter what. So they both decided to show up at your house tonight, favourite takeaway in hand and get to the bottom of what was going on with you.

Eddie greets Steve as he climbs into his van.

“Do you think she’d prefer Chinese or Pizza tonight?” Eddie asks while backing out of the driveway.

“You choose,” Steve mumbles back. He’s uncharacteristically quiet and maybe even a little sad, Eddie notices.

“Hey, I’m sure whatever’s bothering her isn’t that big of a deal. She’ll talk to us, don’t worry.

Steve sighs in response, “you’re probably right, I guess I’m just thinking the worst. But what if we’ve done something, what if I’ve done something? Like something really bad and I didn’t realise?” Steve rambles.

Eddie tries his best to listen intently as Steve goes through the list of scenarios swimming around in his head.

“What if she has a boyfriend?” Steve questions, practically spitting the last word. He freezes as he realises how that must have sounded, “No- ah, I don't mean like that, of course she can have a boyfriend, it's not like she needs, my- um our permission and I wouldn’t like care, just, her last boyfriend was awful and I don’t want her hurt like that again”.

“Yeah, shit, I hated that guy,” Eddie agrees, brushing over the other awkwardness but Steve sees a weird and unreadable expression on Eddie’s face at the mention of your possible boyfriend being the cause for you pulling away so suddenly. “We only saw her less than two weeks ago anyway, there’s no way she could have met someone that fast,” Eddie reassures Steve, although it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more.

“Well, ah that’s not exactly true man,” Steve says sheepishly, “I did see her a couple days ago at the grocery store, right before I called you actually”.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I said hi and she was weird man, she was looking around too, like anywhere but me as if she was looking for someone maybe?”

“Oh.” Eddie clenched his jaw as his knuckles turned white against the steering wheel.

*****

You had just gotten home from work and changed into something comfortable, contemplating what you wanted for dinner tonight when you heard the unmistakable sound of Eddie’s van pull up your driveway

Shit.

You knew it was too good to be true that you would be able to keep your distance. Your goddamn amazing, sweet and thoughtful bestfriends of course knew you were avoiding them and of course they couldn’t just let you.

You quickly check yourself in the mirror, brushing down your hair and feeling weirdly self conscious in the tiny lounge shorts and singlet top both Eddie and Steve had seen you in countless times.

You contemplated changing into something more baggy but didn’t have time as you heard a rap at your door. It’s just Eddie and Steve you tell yourself as you open it.

The minute you see them they’re pulling you into tight hugs, telling you how much they both missed you. You mumble back that you missed them too but can’t help feeling tense under their once comforting touch.

“We bought your favourite”, Eddie sang as you let them inside, jiggling the plastic bag in his hand.

Your gaze lingered a little too long on Eddie's fingers as he gripped the bag, thoughts immediately going to how they looked wrapped around his cock or tangled in Steve’s hair. It’s not like you’d never noticed Eddie’s hands before, especially with those bloody rings he wore but it seemed as though you were seeing them, really seeing them for the first time.

You felt arousal pool at your core at the thought of them exploring all over you, inside of you.

I’m going to ask them.

You jumped as you felt Steve’s hand on your shoulder, realising you’d been staring at Eddie for way too long.

“You okay honey?” Steve asked, concern scrunching his features.

“Y-yeah, yeah sorry, I’m just a bit tired I think,” you replied with a weak laugh, “let's eat.”

Eddie and Steve share a look but don’t say anything as you all sit at the table at your usual spots. The spots you’ve all sat in millions of time, eating, laughing and drinking with the closest friends you’ve ever had. Friends that meant the world to you. Friends you couldn’t lose.

I can’t ask them.

Eddie and Steve started up a conversation, talking about a new scene Steve had done, how it was “by far one of the craziest”. Usually you’d be interested in what it was but as Steve kept rambling on, you just couldn’t get yourself to listen. Too caught up in your own thoughts as you mentally battled the ache between your legs.

It’s not like they’d care right? I mean they do this for work. It’d just be like work. It couldn’t hurt to ask at least… unless they completely reject you and you ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had.

But they did that scene together, they even kissed and did… other stuff and it didn’t ruin their friendship. If anything they seem closer now, it would be the same for you, right?

But that’s their job. It would be different with you. You’re less skilled, less confident, this isn’t your job.

Maybe it would be better with you? You’ve known them forever, maybe they’d be even more comfortable if it were you?

God, you’re not even listening to what Steve’s saying. You feel like such a bad friend. Here you are thinking about fucking both of them instead of listening and having a nice dinner with them. A dinner of your favourite food that they surprised you with because they knew something was off with you.

How did I get lucky enough to have these two boys in my life?

But you were lucky. These two boys knew you. They knew everything about you and would never judge you. Even if they didn’t want to do it with you, you knew they’d be nice about it. God knows they’ve said and asked you more embarrassing things, they’d forgive you, they’d be kind.

You want your first time to be them.

You knew you’d never be able to think straight unless you just asked them. Before your brain could catch up with your mouth you suddenly blurted it out.

“I wanna fuck,” you cut off Steve suddenly, almost yelling it out and startling them both, “me, both of you, want you to fuck me.” The last bit comes out in barely a whisper.

Wow so smooth

Eddie all but chokes on his food while Steve lets out a shocked what????

You look down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers as your cheeks flush with embarrassment… this wasn’t how you were going to ask and that definitely wasn;t the reaction you’d hoped for.

They both stare at you, waiting for some kind of explanation.

“I watched the tape,” you mumble.

“Ohhhhh,” Eddie says as Steve looks at him confused. Steve didn’t know that Eddie dropped the tape off, shit.

“The tape, Harrington,” Eddie explains, “you know, of the two sexiest men alive doing some very naughty things together.”

It finally clicks in Steve’s head what you’re both talking about. “You gave her a copy of the tape?” He asks.

He sounds angry, you think as shame washes over you.

“How did you even get extra copies yet?” Steve asks Eddie.

“I gave her my personal copy,” Eddie shrugs.

They’re glossing over your question.

You sink in on yourself further. This was such a bad idea, of course they wouldn’t want to fuck you. The girl in the tape was so confident, so experienced. Why would they want to go for someone like you? There’s no way they’d have any fun with you.

“Didn’t want her to have to wait until it was fully released and good thing I didn’t. You liked what ya saw that much huh sweetheart?” Eddie says cockily.

You know he doesn’t mean it to come out mean but it has you on the verge of tears. You feel so embarrassed, contemplating running to your room and locking yourself in until they leave. You can’t bring yourself to look at them.

Steve kicks Eddie under the table at seeing your reaction to his comment.

“Ouch! Dude what the-“ he goes to scold Steve but quickly stops at the look on Steve’s face. Steve cocks his head towards you and gives Eddie a look of shut up, look what you did.

Eddie looks over at you, seeming to only just notice how much you’ve shrunk in your seat. Tears threatening to fall out of the corner of your sad, embarrassed eyes.

“No, sweetheart, I’m sorry please don’t cry,” Eddie tried to console. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you I just ah, did not expect that.”

Steve seems somewhat pleased with that and tries his best to sooth you too. “Come on honey, we’re not mad or anything, promise,” Eddie nods in agreement and mumbles out a “yeah absolutely not”. “We were just a little shocked is all.” Steve continues with a laugh.

You finally chance a glance at them. You’re surprised to see no anger or teasing looks on their faces. They look kind, safe and maybe like pitying you just a little bit. Still not what you were hoping for but you’d take it over them being angry and hating you forever.

You take a deep breath before finally talking properly for the first time all night.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve found a better way to ask, it’s just,” you sigh, trying to form the right words this time, “you both know I’m not the most experienced - or really experienced at all- and the little experience I do have… wasn’t the best.”

Eddie snorts, recalling you ex- douchebag with a scoff of “understatement”. You smile slightly at how annoyed he still is at how your ex treated you.

“And I just,” you continue, “when I saw both of you, with that chick, and how much she was enjoying it and how much fun it looked, I guess I just felt like maybe I was missing out.”

“Hey,” Steve coos, taking your hand gently in his,”you’re not missing out on anything, there's no timeframe for when you have to do that stuff.”

“I mean, it is definitely fun,” Eddie expands, “but only if you’re comfortable and feel like it’s the right time for you.”

You give them both a small smile. They’re so nice, but they still didn’t say yes.

“I’m sorry I asked,” you say sheepishly, “I just feel so safe with you both and I guess just thought that maybe sex would actually be good with you. I know that was stupid because you’re my best friends and I wouldn’t know what I’m doing so I know you wouldn’t have fun with me. I can’t do the things that the other girl did.”

Their hearts swell at your confession, you feel safe with them. But they grow confused as you mention the girl from the tape.

“Hey,” Eddie tries, “experience doesn’t mean shit -”

“Eddie, I can hardly even make myself cum!” you practically yell at him, you appreciate them trying to be nice but you’re growing frustrated at the whole situation, “I know you both don’t want to and I know you wouldn’t have fun, it’s okay.”

“Wait seriously?” Eddie exclaims before he can stop himself.

Great, another thing to feel shame about.

This earns him another look from Steve. “No not like that,” Eddie tries to rectify what he said, “it just seems like a real shame that a pretty thing like you hardly ever gets to feel good, even from herself.”

You roll your eyes at his trademark flirting but have to hide the smile trying to grace your lips at him calling you pretty.

Steve and Eddie share a look, seemingly having a silent conversation. You really hate how much closer they’ve gotten recently.

“Alright,” Eddie says with a nod, “we'll do it.”

“What?” you question.

“We wanna help you out,” Steve explains, “we want to be your firsts, if you still want to.”

You’re hearing things. You must be. The shame got too much and you passed out, this is now some weird and cruel trick your brain is playing on you. It has to be.

“A-are you sure?” you question hesitantly.

“Positive,” Eddie says while flashing his gorgeous smile, “hell, if I’d known it wouldn’t ruin our friendship I would’ve been all over you since highschool sweetheart.”

You shake your head and bite back a smile. You know he’s joking and just trying to butter you up - but you’re only half right.

“Well, how do we start?” You blurt out, you want them, need them right now.

“We’re not going to do anything tonight babe” Steve says sweetly.

“Oh, right,” you say embarrassed but they both smile sweetly at your eagerness.

“I’m free Tuesday and Wednesday next week, what about you two?” you ask.

“Yeah Tuesday works for me.”

“Me too.”

“Perfect,” Eddie says, “so Tuesday we’ll meet here and then we can sit down with you and figure out your likes and dislikes, what you have and haven’t done, and what you’d like to try. Just like we do before any scene we’re in.”

You’re kind of surprised to see Eddie so serious, all business. But you guess that makes sense, this is his job after all.

You appreciate how serious they’re treating this but can’t help but feel a little nervous now, you’re not even sure what you like.

Sensing your nerves, Steve quickly reassures you, “don’t worry, we’ll walk you through it okay?”.

“Yeah, we’ll figure all that stuff out together,” Eddie adds.

“Okay”, you reply.

Steve gives your knee a reassuring squeeze while Eddie flashes you a smile. You can’t believe how much you trust both men in front of you.

The rest of dinner went by smoothly. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest and you finally felt like your old self again. It was back to normal, just you, Eddie and Steve.

****

Wednesday comes around faster than you expected. You thought that the days in between would drag on but as Wednesday approached you found your nerves easily drawing the excitement you’d once felt. That’s when Wednesday seemed to be in front of you too quickly.

You’ve spent all afternoon after you got off work frantically cleaning, showering, drowning yourself in nice smelling things, washing your hair, moisturising, your whole routine practically 5 times over.

You hear a knock on the door, yelling that it’s open as you check yourself over once more in the mirror. You wipe your clammy palms on the front of your singlet top and shorts while trying to huff out all of your anxieties.

Come on you can do this, you wanted this.

You reach for the door with shaky hands, slinking out of the bathroom on jelly legs. You find them both relaxing on the couch, looking much more comfortable than you feel.

“H-hey,” you stutter out sheepishly. Their heads turn to you as they hear you enter. Comforting smiles adorn their faces, melting a tinge of your worries as soft heys leave their lips. Eddie pats the couch in between the two of them and you plop down between them, not meeting their eyes as you pick nervously at the skin on your fingers.

Eddie puts his arm on the back of the couch, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair as Steve places his warm hand on your knee. The gestures are supposed to be comforting but you can’t help but flinch slightly under their touch.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks softly, ducking his head to try and meet your gaze.

“Y-yeah,” you respond shakily, hating how small your voice sounds.

“Hey, you know we don’t have to do this, yeah?” Eddie asks reassuringly, “say the word sweetheart and we’ll just hang out and watch a movie or something.”

“No, no, I want to… I just have no clue what I'm doing,” you respond with a nervous laugh.

“That’s what your own personal sex gods are for darling,” Eddie quips.

This earns a chuckle from you and Steve, your shoulders relaxing slightly at the familiar feeling of Eddie.

“So,” Steve announces, “what are some of your “hard no”s?” And at the confused look on your face, “what’s something that, no matter what, you do not want us to do.”

You looked away from him as you thought long and hard…. You came up blank though, how could you know what you didn’t like if you didn’t even know what you do?

“Hard No’s could be something like you hate neck kisses or in more intense situations you’re not a massive fan of face slapping, things like that.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything like that now! No slapping or anything, yet,” Eddie emphasised that with a wink, “but those are some examples.”

“I-I like neck kisses… I think,” you mumble, “and if we’re not going to do anything that… intense right now I guess I don’t really have any?”

Eddie and Steve nod as they hang on to your every word. The care in which they’re approaching this definitely helping to lower your rapid heart rate.

“Okay,” Steve continues, “anything you really want to try right now?”

“Umm… I guess I wish I was better at kissing,” you say with a cringe, embarrassed at how tame that request was, you try to cover yourself as your cheeks heat up. “I mean, I have kissed before, obviously, I just haven’t for a while and I dunno I feel like I kind of do it weird I don-“

Eddie cuts off your rambling when he brings his hand to cup your cheek. You look in his eyes hesitantly as you subconsciously nuzzle into his calloused hand.

A small smile adorns his lips as he searches your eyes, his own chocolate orbs darkening slightly as he glances at your lips.

He slowly brings his thumb up to ghost over your bottom lip, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms.

“We can definitely help with that, sweetheart,” he whispers lowly as he moves increasingly closer to you.

You nod slightly. Trying to will him to close the sliver of a distance between your lips.

“Words,” he whispers.

“Please,” you breathe. And it’s all Eddie needs to hear before closing the distance, his lips barely pressing into yours as if too much pressure would break you under him.

Feeling a surge of confidence you push your lips into his more. It’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s deepening the kiss. It’s all consuming, years of emotion, comfort and longing all coming to the surface as you kiss each other with vigour.

You feel Steve’s soft lips travel up your shoulder to the slope of your neck and up along your throat. You audibly shiver at the feeling, causing Eddie and Steve to smile into your lips and neck.

“Yeah you definitely like neck kisses,” Steve teases in between the feather touches. You don’t know if it’s from Steve’s tone or the kisses themselves but you can feel arousal pool in your panties because of it.

You feel all consumed by Steve and Eddie but before you can lose yourself in them completely you feel Eddie pull away. He smirks as you chase his lips but uses the hand still cupping your cheek to gently direct you towards Steve. You see that he also has his other hand cupping Steve’s cheek as he brings you both together.

Steve’s kiss is gentler than Eddies, where Eddie was all consuming Steve is controlled, where Eddie was intense and a little messy Steve is gentle and longing. Eddie’s hand on your face means he can slightly manoeuvre your face, gently guiding you as you and Steve explore each other's mouths.

Eddie then pulls you away from Steve, you’re about to protest but before you can Eddie leans forward on the couch, dragging Steve with him before crashing his lips against Steve’s in front of you.

You watch in awe as they practically devour each other. You can tell they were definitely holding back for you as this kiss is feral and bruising. It has you clenching your thighs together, longing for them to handle you like this.

You’re also very aware of Eddie’s hand still cupping your face and Steve’s hand still on your knee, both of them rubbing soothing circles in your skin to let you know they haven’t forgotten about you.

You whine as you watch the continued onslaught, causing Eddie and Steve to finally break the kiss.

“This is supposed to be about her,” Steve breathes into Eddie’s lips, faces barely pulled away from each other.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Eddie mumbles, staring at Steve’s raw and glistening lips.

“I don’t mind,” you say quickly, as much as you’d love for their attention to be back on you, you cannot deny how erotic it was watching them together, “trust me.”

They chuckle at how breathless you sound just from some kissing, but it only spurs them on more.

Eddie leans away from Steve then, dropping his hand from Steve’s face to bring both hands up to your face, palms pressed into your cheeks gently, contrasting the fierce kiss he seers into your lips.

The kiss still doesn’t match the roughness of Eddie and Steve’s kiss but it’s by far the most intensely you’ve ever been kissed. It’s all consuming and leaves you breathless but aching for more. You subconsciously press yourself further into Eddie as you let him consume you.

Eddie can’t get enough of you either, wishing he’d had the courage to do this years ago. He expertly hooks his hands under your knees and drags you on to his lap, swallowing the gasp you let out into his mouth, lips never leaving each other.

His hands venture up the sides of your plush thighs, you can tell that he’s holding back, doing his best to not overwhelm you but you need more. You tangle your fingers in his soft, frizzy hair, pulling every so slightly, as you start to timidly rock your hips against him, earning the most beautiful groan from him.

You hear Steve shuffle closer, sitting with his thigh pressed into the side of calf as you straddle Eddie. His hand travelling up your back soothingly until it comes to rest on the side of your neck.

At hearing Steve shuffle forward, Eddie pulls back from you again, so that Steve can capture your lips but also so he can take a breather, self control drastically slipping away the longer he feels your body move on his.

Steve matches Eddie’s intensity, causing you to let little moans and sighs slip into his lips as you continue to grind against Eddie. Your little shorts and soft fabric of your underwear were almost soaked through.

Eddie watches you both, pupils blown completely black from lust. You rock your hips at a particularly good angle, dragging sinfully over Eddie’s almost hard dick. He hisses and throws his head back, willing himself to stay softer for long. This is about you, he tries to remind himself.

“We should take this to the bedroom,” Eddie sighs with a shaky breath, desperation lacing his words.

You giggle and hop off his lap, taking both of their hands and pulling them up off the couch before turning to lead them to your room. Boy are they thankful for you going first, their eyes watching your ass jiggle in your incredibly tight and tiny shorts as you walk.

You stand awkwardly in the middle of the room as they both filter in after you.

“So, we’ve talked about it,” Steve breaks the silence first, “and we think the first thing should be you showing us how you get yourself off.”

“That way at least you know how to make yourself feel good and it's a real shame you’re missing out.”

“O-okay,” you mumble, but don’t move, you’re not really sure what they want from you and you’re frozen from the fear of making a fool of yourself. Also trying not to think about the fact that they’ve talked about it, talked about you and how to make you feel good without you. But also very thankful that they’re obviously taking this very seriously.

After a pause Eddie continues, “why don’t you take your shorts off for us, yeah?”

You nod, and with trembling fingers you slowly slide your shorts off. Both boys eye your core, clad in cute cotton panties.

“These are cute,” Eddie whispers, ghosting his fingers along your bare thigh before snapping your waistband lightly against you. You jump and giggle, ducking your head as your cheeks turn crimson.

“Hop on the bed for us?” Eddie asks, but it’s more of a request, “Get nice and comfy against the headboard.”

You do as they say, leaning back against your pillows half propped up as the boys come to kneel at the end of your bed, watching you intently. You’re confused as to why you’re not fully naked, or at least have your underwear off but don’t have time to dwell on that.

“Whenever you’re ready, beautiful,” Steve coos.

Before you can overthink it you move your underwear to the side, plunging your finger in straight away. “Whoa whoa whoa, hey,” Eddie stops you and you freeze and take your finger out instantly, looking up at him with worried eyes, anxious thoughts swimming in your head, “you just put your fingers in straight away?”

“Well yeah…” how else were you supposed to finger yourself?

Steve smiles at your innocence, trying not to laugh at how adorable you look right now.

“Jesus well no wonder you can’t make yourself cum, there’s no foreplay”

You just look at them confused.

“You know,” Steve tries, “you gotta get yourself warmed up.” But you still just stare confusedly at them.

They exchange a look, wondering how else to explain it to you.

“Hang on I got an idea,” Steve says, climbing towards you on the bed. Your breath hitches as you watch him crawl towards you, very aware of his proximity to your half naked form, even though you just had your lips all over his minutes ago. “Sit up and scoot down for me a little bit honey?”

You do as he says and he comes to sit behind you, legs outstretched on either side of yours. He softly drags his fingertips down your arms, until he reaches your hands, you go to hold his hands and you feel him smile against the side of your head.

“Other way,” he whispers and you flip your hands so that the back of yours is resting in his palms.

“That’s it,” he coos, “now rub your hands up your thighs, yeah, just like that.” Goosebumps started to rise on your skin from the slight touches, running up and down your legs, sometimes dipping in between them but never actually touching your core.

“Give those gorgeous tits some attention Stevie,” Eddie demands softly, eyes burning holes into you and Steve in front of him.

Steve complies silently. Bringing your hands up for you to cup one of your breasts, squeezing softly as your other hand teases the waistband of your panties. Everything feels so good and so sensual but it’s not enough. You start to get antsy, whimpering softly and arching into your own touch, willing Steve to give you more.

Your eyes meet Eddie’s silently begging him to make Steve do something. You’re lucky that Eddie seems to be in a gentle mood today as he smirks at you.

“Why don’t you show us those pretty tits properly huh?”

“Please,” you whine desperately.

Steve lets go of your hands to lift your shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. You suddenly feel very self conscious but the look of awe on Eddie’s face and the sharp intake of breath you hear Steve take behind you has you feeling more confident than you thought.

You can’t help but think back to the look on their faces as they watched the other girl on the tape. You feel almost pride as you realise the way Eddie is looking at you is different, better. He’s looking at you not just with lust but with awe and adoration.

Steve finally brings both of your hands up to cup your tits firmly, nudging your thumbs up to rub your nipples into hard perks. You moan at the feeling, head lulling back against his shoulder and grinding into the mattress to try and gain some friction.

“God, look at you,” Eddie practically moans, “wish you could see how pretty and needy she looks right now, and so wet.” You whimper at his words, grinding harder and pinching your nipples.

“Yeah?” Steve whispers, lips grazing your ear, “that feel good princess? You ready for some more?”

“Please more, n-need more,” you beg.

“Mmm good girl using your manners,” Eddie teases, as he inches his hands towards your core, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. Your stomach flips at the praise, breath hitching. Finally you get to be their good girl. Steve takes note of that.

Eddie pauses, looking at you for confirmation before pulling them down your legs once you nod.

Any previous nerves you might have had at being fully naked before them, especially while they were still fully clothed is gone. Replaces only with lust and your need to come.

Eddie repositions your legs so that they’re spread open and bent before him as he leans back on his heels between them. Steve finally directs your hand to your core.

“Think you can do this part yourself?” He checks, “we’ll still walk you through it though okay?”

“Yeah, I can,” you reply.

“Good girl,” he coos much more sweetly than Eddie, smirking when he gets a similar reaction, “leave this hand up here though, keep giving these tits some love.”

You nod and Steve lets go of your other hand, it’s all up to you now. You dip your fingers near your core, but this time you run your fingers over it, surprised at how wet you feel as you smear the slick around.

“That’s it, pretty girl, nice and slow,” Eddie coos.

You finally dip your finger into your dripping cunt, moaning at how much more intense it is compared to usual. You pump your finger inside you, and try your best to remember to play with your nipple at the same time.

Slowly you add another finger, pumping them faster.

“Do you usually play with your clit too baby?”

You shake your head, “it’s never really felt that good.”

“You’re nice and wet, trust me it’ll feel good,” Eddie assures you, “use your thumb but keep those fingers going in your pretty cunt.”

Your eyes roll back at his words as you bring your thumb up to circle your clit. You jolt as you feel the pad slide over the wet bud,

“Fuck it feels so good,” you moan as the boys smirk at you.

You speed up your assault on your sopping pussy. Feeling the telltale signs that your orgasm was rapidly approaching.

“‘M close,” you warn desperately. The sounds of your fingers flying in and out of your dripping core filling the room.

You vaguely hear them tell you that you can cum before your orgasm crashes into you. It's so intense it has you practically screaming, legs shaking as you drench your hand and wrist.

It lasts for what seems like hours as you continue to finger yourself through it before slumping back against Steve, fingers falling from your abused hole.

You’re a panting, whimpering mess as you finally register Eddie and Steve whispering sweet praises of you did so good for us, you’re so pretty baby and bet that felt good sweet girl. All while Steve caresses your shoulders and arms as Eddie smooths circles in your ankles.

When Eddie can see you’ve finally returned to earth he asks how it was, a smug look gracing his features.

“So good,” you moan with a laugh.

Eddie then climbs in between your legs, giving you a soft kiss as he mumbles “you look so pretty when you cum for us little one.” The old nickname has your heart swelling and cunt pulsing.

“More,” you whimper against his lips. They chuckle at you as Steve presses a kiss to your temple.

“Not today sweetheart,” Eddie responds, “wouldn’t want to overwhelm you”.

“But what about you two?” you ask innocently, wanting nothing more than to get your hands on more of them.

“It’s okay sweet girl,” Eddie coos, “you don’t have to worry about us.” Steve mumbles in agreement, pressing more kisses to your temple and cheek.

You suddenly remember the position in the tape that made you get to the edge fastest, Steve on his knees in front of Eddie. You need to see them fully, you need to see what you got a glimpse at on the tape.

“Hey you know, in the- ah, in the film,” you start, nerves suddenly returning. Eddie cocks his head, interested in where this is going. “A-after you,” you nod towards Eddie, “had fucked her and then Steve um… knelt in front of you and um-” you try your best to explain it but you can’t seem to form the words you need. Brain foggy from your orgasm and nerves.

“You wanna watch Stevie suck my cock baby?” Eddie asks cockily, finishing your request for you.

You nod.

“hmm guess it’s a good way to teach her how,” Steve reasons.

“Mmm,” Eddie hums in agreement, “and I’d be lying if I said seeing you cum didn’t make me as hard as a rock sweetheart”. You look down and blush at the obvious outline of Eddie’s hard cock in his pants, eyes bulging slightly. You knew he was big, you saw it in the tape, but seeing even the outline in person was completely different. You meet his eyes again and he gives you a wink, causing your cheeks to heat up.

“Yeah shit,” Steve replies, “me too.” That’s when you realise you can feel his boner pressed against your back, causing you to blush even further. Surprised you had the effect on both of them.

“Besides,” Steve continues, tone flirty, “would love to get my mouth around that pretty cock of yours again Eds.” You whimper at his words which causes both of them to chuckle fondly at you.

“Hop up baby,” Steve instructs while patting the sides of your ass fondly, “We’ll go kneel in front of Ed’s on the floor while he sits on the bed, everyone can be nice and comfortable like that.”

You nod as you hop off the bed. Eddie rids himself of his shirt as he sits at the end of the bed, grabbing one of your pillows to place on the floor before helping you to kneel on it in between his spread legs.

Your eyes wander over the expanse of his chest and stomach unabashedly. Feeling much bolder in your post orgasm haze. You take in the black ink that lines his chest and arms, a few more than you realised he’d had and that you’d definitely missed while watching the tape. In your defence you were a little preoccupied then.

Your eyes linger a little on the happy trail that dips into the waist of his jeans. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re going to see Eddie, all of Eddie in person. Something you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about, many times, since that first week at highschool.

Your eyes travel up and take in how his curly locks cascade over his shoulders, almost covering the demon that adorns his upper chest. Your eyes finally meet his and you realise he’s been watching you watch him the whole time, an amused expression on his face.

He brings his hand up to cup your face, rubbing soothing circles in your skin. Your eyes flutter slightly as you nuzzle into his hand.

You notice Steve as he comes to stand next to you, having taken his shirt off too as well as his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his boxers before you. His dick has softened slightly but you can still make out a pretty clear outline of it in your boxers. The site makes you ache for them, but you know they’re going to make you take this painfully slow.

You look up at him in awe as he comes to kneel beside you, capturing your lips with his, smiling as he kisses you sweetly.

“Ready Eds?” Steve asks tauntingly, pulling away from you, already knowing Eddie’s answer.

“Yep,” Eddie replies, popping the last letter of the word.

Steve’s hands smooth up Eddie’s thighs, looking up at him innocently. He goes to pop open the button of Eddie’s jeans but before he can, a thought crosses your mind.

“Do guys need to be, like, “warmed up” too?” you ask innocently.

“Not exactly,” Eddie responds with a sweet, gentle smile, “maybe a little bit to get hard but trust me, watching you cum and having you two pretty things kneeling in front of me is more than enough warming up for me.” He chuckles with a shake of his head, like he’s in disbelief of the sight in front of him.

Steve finally unbuttons Eddie's jeans, pulling his pants and boxers down as Eddie lifts his hips to help. You and Steve move back slightly so Eddie can get his pants off fully.

You watch, mouth slightly agape as his dick springs up against his stomach, tip red and leaking precum. Your mouth waters at the sight, but you wait for Steve to demonstrate.

You watch as Steve takes Eddie in his hand, gripping loosely as he licks from his balls all the way to the tip. Your eyes flick to Eddie’s face, watching as his eyes flutter softly as he sucks in a breath at the feeling of Steve's tongue on his shaft.

After licking up and down Eddie’s length a couple of times Steve finally takes the tip into his mouth, sucking wetly on it. You watch with lidded eyes as Eddie’s head lulls back, exposing the length of his gorgeous neck as he moans out “jesus Steve.”

Steve smiles as much as he can with Eddie still in his mouth before bobbing his head up and down along the length, taking more and more into his mouth with each movement. He suddenly brings his hand up to the length not in his mouth before pulling off Eddie fully with a pop and spitting a string of saliva over the tip.

You watch it drip slowly down the length, mouth opening slightly at the urge to lick it up.

Steve then brings his hand up, catching the spit and rubbing it all over Eddie before taking him back in his mouth, Eddie’s hand flying to Steve’s head to tangle his fingers in the golden locks. You feel more arousal coat your slit as you watch Steve suck Eddie’s cock desperately.

You hear pretty, soft moans coming from Eddie. You tear your eyes away from Steve to glance up at Eddie’s face. You look at him through lust filled eyes. His lips parted slightly as his moans fall off them, eyebrows furrowed slightly as his face contorts with the onslaught of pleasure, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead. He looks breathtaking.

Eddie notices you staring, dark, chocolate orbs finding your lust filled ones as he holds your gaze, staring deep into you as he continues to moan and whimper.

Your body feels like it's on fire. You need to feel Eddie down your throat.

“Can I try?” you ask suddenly. Tearing your gaze from Eddie back to Steve as he releases the older boy from his mouth. His lips are red and swollen, mouth wet from a mix of saliva and Eddie’s precum, his hair dishevelled from Eddie’s fingers and tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Sure thing pretty girl,” Steve rasps, his throat raw from Eddie’s cock, “you think you got it?”

You nod before leaning forward, tongue darting out to rub along Eddie’s slit as Steve still holds the shaft for you. The salty, musky taste of the mix of Eddie’s pre and Steve’s saliva invades your mouth, you need more.

Cautiously you take the tip into your mouth, sucking on it lightly. You hear Eddie suck in a shaky breath in response, your confidence growing as you start to suck more harshly.

You start to bob your head before Steve pats your head mumbling out a one second. You release Eddie from your mouth with a confused look on your face and Steve just wants to kiss it away.

He grabs your hand with the one not around Eddie and brings it to his lips. Kissing the palm before spitting directly on to it. You gasp slightly at the action, not realising how turned on that would make you.

Steve then directs your hand to Eddie’s length, replacing his hand with yours. You take the tip in your mouth again, using the other hand to jerk off the length not in your mouth, as Steve had.

You start to bob your head faster and take more of Eddie into your throat. His moans increase and you can tell he’s trying his best not to tangle his fingers roughly in your hair too, knuckles white as he grips the duvet instead.

“God, you’re such a good girl,” he moans. You get a little too cocky when his head hits the back of your throat violently, causing you to gag on his thick length, you hear Eddie moan in surprise before you’re pulling off of him, spluttering as tears prick your eyes.

Eddie rubs your head soothingly, while Steve rubs your back, cooing softly at you until you stop coughing.

“Sorry,” you mumble, feeling embarrassed by your reaction. Eddie wipes away a stray tear that’s fallen down your cheek

“S’okay baby,” he reassures, “you don’t have to go that deep.”

“I just wanted to make you cum,” you mumble, looking down at the floor.

“Oh sweet girl, trust me you will,” he expels air, almost in disbelief at how good you were making him feel, “you were getting me so close.”

“Really?” you ask, eyes twinkling up at him.

He nods with a fond look on his face, “wanna try again?”

You nod vigorously, gripping on to his shaft again. You remember how Steve had licked the length of Eddie before taking him into his mouth. You repeat his action from earlier while maintaining eye contact with Eddie, earning you a low moan of oh fuck before taking him into your mouth once more.

You bob your head a couple more times, speeding up and making sure you keep jerking off the part you can’t fit into your mouth. Eddie's hand flies to your head but he tries his best to not push your head or grab your hair too tightly.

His head tips back with a groan, orgasm hurtling towards him after holding back and being edged for so long - not that he minded, he wanted to make this good for you, even if that meant being edged all night.

Eddie turns into a babbling mess, “fuck baby I’m getting so close, yeah just like that, you’re such a good girl for us, yeah, don’t take it too deep, just keep going like that sweetheart.”

You feel Eddie’s dick get incredibly hard, pulsing in your mouth and you know he’s close.

“Oh fuck baby, if you don’t stop I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth,” he warns. You only look up at him, maintaining eye contact as you continue to suck him.

“Shit, you want it, don’t ya baby? My dirty fucking girl,” he drawls out.

You moan in response, the vibrations shooting straight up Eddie’s spine. It’s all Eddie needs to send him over the edge.

“I’m gonna, fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna-” Eddie cums down your throat with a loud moan, you do your best to swallow it all but some of his cum dribbles out the side of your mouth involuntarily.

Once you’re sure you've got the last drop you let Eddie fall out of your mouth with a pop. Eddie and Steve stare at you in awe, you look completely fucked out with you glassy eyes, swollen lips and cum dripping down to your chin.

Steve can’t help himself - he’d missed the taste of Eddie too much- he leans forward, licking from your chin to your mouth before capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss. Tongue frantically exploring every crevice, savouring any taste of Eddie he can get.

Eddie watches you both, panting as he comes down from his high. He can see the outline of Steve’s hard cock straining painfully against his boxers, his mouth waters as he gets an idea.

“I’d hate to break you two up but I think Stevie more than deserves some attention from us too sweetheart.”

You break the kiss with a wicked smile on your face, oh he definitely does.

“Wanna help me babe?” He asks you.

“Please,” you reply too sweetly.

“Alright, swap with me Steve,” Eddie instructs.

The boys swap positions and Steve rids himself of his boxers before sitting in his spot on the bed. You swallow hard at the sight of his thick cock before you, much thicker than Eddie’s is and you’d struggled with his. Your uncertainty must show on your face because Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry, Eddie’s gotcha honey,” he reassures cockily.

“I’m gonna put my hand on your head okay?” Eddie explains, “then I’m gonna move it so one of us is sucking him off while the other plays with his balls and then we’ll swap, sound okay?”

“Jesus…” Steve pants at the idea, there’s no way he’s gonna last with both of you playing with him. You nod at Eddie’s question as his hand comes to tangle softly in your hair.

He guides you to Steve’s balls while he takes Steve’s tip into his mouth. Steve groans loudly at the sudden onslaught of pleasure from you both.

You lick Steve’s fuzzy sack sloppily before chancing at taking one into your mouth and sucking lightly. He gasps at the feeling, accidentally bucking at the feeling. You expect Eddie to gag but you’re surprised at how easily Eddie takes him almost all the way down his throat before continuing to bob on him lazily.

You feel Eddie tug your hair lightly, making you change positions with him. You open your mouth as far as it’ll go before taking Steve’s glistening tip into your mouth. The stretch to your jaw was intoxicating.

You feel Eddie’s head move up again towards the tip so you release Steve from your mouth, thinking you’re swapping positions again but Eddie doesn’t let you move your head back to Steve’s balls. You watch as he continues to lick all over Steve’s shaft and tip, so you decide to copy his motions instead.

You both lick messily around Steve, a mix of saliva and pre coating every inch of him. Every now and then you feel Eddie’s tongue graze your own until you’re both practically making out over the tip. You can hear Steve panting and moaning above you. Every time you glance up at him he's watching you both with a dazed, almost pained expression.

“You guys are, fuck, I’m getting close,” Steve warns.

At Steve's warning Eddie directs you back to Steve’s balls and you gleefully take one back into your mouth. Eddie takes most of Steve’s length into his mouth, deepthroating him and swallowing, before hallowing his cheeks and dragging his mouth up to the tip . He repeats this over and over until you feel Steve start to shake above you.

Steve doesn’t even get a chance to warn you both before he’s cumming in Eddie’s mouth with a broken cry, hands flying to both of your heads, holding you both close to him. You’re the first to pull back, watching as Eddie sucks the last out of Steve’s tip with a whine.

Eddie hears it, and before you see him swallow he’s crashing his lips to yours, shoving his cum covered tongue down your throat. You gasp as it invades your mouth but the sound quickly turns into a moan as you taste Steve on your tongue.

The kiss is heated and dizzyingly dirty. You’re moaning into each other’s mouths, hands gripping on to each other as your bodies start to inch closer together. You think you’re finally going to feel Eddie’s body pressed against yours when he stops suddenly.

Eddie could feel himself getting worked up again, and knew if this continued he would have a hard time holding back, wanting nothing more than to make you cum over and over again on his fingers, tongue and cock. Another time he reminds himself.

All three of you sit panting, none of you willing to break the silence that’s fallen over the room.

You laugh breathlessly, “holy shit”, you exclaim in disbelief at how the night had unfolded, it was perfect.

Eddie and Steve copy your breathless laugh.

“That good huh?” Eddie asks

“It was, shit, it was so good.”

“Good,” steve responds, “it was fucking good for us too.”

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie agrees.

“Alright,” Steve groans as he stands up with a stretch, “I desperately need a shower.”

You and Eddie roll your eyes and chuckle at Steve fondly, he sees and give you both the finger while walking back to the living room to grab his and Eddie’s bag, throwing it at the other boy, earning a full blown laugh from you.

Eddie then stands up before flopping on to the bed, grabbing out to you until you crawl up beside him to join him. He lays on his back while you snuggle up on your side next to him, barely touching each other but close enough to take in the comfort of the others presence.

“Ya know, if I didn’t know you better I’d think you were lying about being a virgin babe,” he says with no malice behind it, tucking your hair sweetly behind your ear.

You snort and roll your eyes at him.

“I’m serious!” he assures you, “one of the best blowjobs of my life.”

You shake your head at him but take the compliment anyway, a smile plastered to your face.

You lie like that for a while, staring at each other in comfortable silence. Eddie loses himself in your gentle eyes, all the feelings he’s harboured since highschool threatening to spill once again.

He keeps them to himself though, not wanting to ruin the moment and knowing that wasn’t what this was about. This was just about helping out a friend, so she could be more confident. So she can finally show everyone else the amazing person he’s always seen.

He watches as your face seems to fall slightly, it’s a subtle change but he picks it up either way.

“Hey,” he coos, “you still with me?”

“Y-yeah, im fine,” you insist. He doesn’t buy it.

He gives you the look he always does when he sees straight through your lies, you know there’s no point hiding it.

“I, um, I don’t know if I wanna be alone tonight,” you whisper.

You hadn’t noticed the shower had stopped until you hear Steve walk into the room, beating Eddies to reply to you.

“Duh, of course we’re staying,” he answers. You look up at him in the doorway, drying his hair with a towel and you notice the green and white plaid pjs hanging low on his hips and soft cotton shirt tight against his chest.

“You’re staying?” you exclaim excitedly.

“Of course,” Eddie chuckles, “Great sex always needs great aftercare little one.” He plants a sloppy smack of a kiss to your forehead before going for his turn in the shower.

Steve flops down next to you on his stomach as you roll onto your back, looking up at his damp face and hair.

“You have fun?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“So much fun,” you confirm with a smile.

“I think I died and went to heaven when you and Eddie were sucking me off together,” he laughs and you giggle at his dramatics, he’s definitely been spending too much time with Eddie.

After your laughter has died down he looks at you seriously, tone softening “hey, I’m glad you trusted us enough to do this.”

“Me too,” you reply, soft tone matching his own.

“And I know eds is glad too,” he continues, you can tell there’s something deeper behind that statement but you’re too tired and blissed out right now to care.

“I hope so,” is all you reply instead.

Eddie comes back into the room in his own black pj pants and worn band shirt, letting you know the shower is all yours.

You grab some pjs out of your drawers before having the quickest shower of your life, scared that you’ll take too long and by the time you get out they’ll be gone. This whole evening some sick hallucination your brain made up.

After you’re dried and dressed you practically run to the room, heart swelling when you see the two men tucked into your bed, facing each other as they whisper softly, Steve on the side closest to your door. They’ve turned off all the lights bar your bedside lamp and have cleaned up all the stray pieces of clothing, all now in a pile at the corner of your room next to their bags.

At hearing you enter the room Steve rolls on to his back, arm outstretched to you. You take his hand and he helps you climb over him and into the middle of both of them. They mumble hey pretty girl and hey honey and you snuggle up between the two.

Eddie pulls you on to his chest as Steve snakes an arm around your waist, cuddling up to your back. You’ve all shared a bed together many times before but this time feels different, more intimate. You slowly drift off into a peaceful sleep to the sounds of Eddie’s heartbeat and Steve’s steady breathing.

Tag List: @andvys @pxrxcxa @wroteclassicaly @eddiemunsonfuxks @usedtobecooler @translatemunson @glorykaterina @bandofoxxking @littledemondani @hellfirebabes @eveatethefruit

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tragedybunny · 7 months

Note

Helloooooooooo! I saw that you were taking Astarion requests, and I’ve had something living rent free in my head for awhile nowwwww.

Basically, how would Astarion do with an s/o who is able to handle him well because of their own traumatic past? Maybe s/o came from a controlling/abusive household, so they already had to teach themself what a stable relationship looks like, and can now apply that here.

Essentially, I keep thinking about Astarion talking about how “patient” tab is with him when romantically involved, and I just keep thinking of s/o responding by saying “someone had to be patient with me too, Astarion. I learned the importance of it from that”

This has been awhile, I hope I put something together that works. Apologies for the wait. 💖

Until the World Falls Down - Astarion x F!Reader -

Love isn't always easy, but Astarion is worth having patience for.

You weren’t sure exactly where the argument came from or how it reached a boiling point at such speed. Astarion had been complaining that your house, the little house in the lower city that you loved so much because it belonged to the two of you, didn’t feel terribly secure. True, it was left empty while you traveled, looking for a way he could walk in the sunlight again, but Dammon was stone’s throw away, along with a number of the other tieflings from the Grove. When you’d been asked by the city’s rulers what you wanted in return for your heroics, a place you and him could call home was all you could think of.

“I’m just saying we could look for something else,” he snips, pushing things further.

There’s a rising pounding in your head, he’s giving into the paranoia. This was the inheritance passed down from Cazador, an endless fountain of ill that also included outbursts of anger, fits of melancholy, and more guilt than you could have ever imagined he was capable of. “Love,” you try your best to diffuse it, something you’ve grown well practiced with, “this is our home, I don’t want to change it.”

He snorts, “I don’t know why I expected you to understand, you had all the safety and security in the world and ran from it.”

The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, it’s not the first time he’s lashed out at you, but he’s never weaponized your past before. “Astarion, that…that hurts.”

“What? It’s the truth, a pampered little noble girl who fled her sheltered life, because it was what, boring? Do you know what I would’ve given to be in your place?”

You stare at him wide-eyed, gasping at what feels like a ruptured wound in your chest. There’s only been bits and snatches of your past he’s been able to learn, the Warlock pact making it impossible to reveal all. But it’s shattering to have that little bit he knows turned on you. Fingernails curling into the palms of your hand, you try to steady your breathing, reminding yourself he really doesn’t know everything, he can’t tell how deeply those words cut. But you’re no saint, sometimes the pain is too much. “Gods, you really don’t care if you hurt me, do you?” All you’ve ever asked of him is love, and you die a little inside when he can’t seem to give it, even if you know why. “I need some air,” turning you stalk away from him and your little kitchen you adore, where tea sits now growing cold, towards your front door, tears blossoming that you fight, and memories you've locked away pushing to the front of your mind.

Maybe it’s your words, maybe it’s the hard reality of your hand pulling the door open, but behind you, Astarion quietly exclaims,“no.” He sounds far away though, sounds and shapes from another time clouding your senses.

Beyond your threshold, Baldur's Gate bustles in the early dawn light, but you only see bleak halls, filled with looming dread, and hear the whispers of the House of Air and Darkness. Push past it, you tell yourself, one foot crossing into the warm light. You're running, maybe that's what you're good at, maybe he's right, you run when you shouldn’t. Another breath, you're standing just outside the door. The noise of the city starts to pull you out of the past.

A hand grabs at your’s. “Don’t leave m-” his words end in a hiss of pain.

Shaking your head, you finish pushing back at the past to find Astarion’s hand clutching yours, starting to smolder in the sun. “Astarion, stop.”

“No, what if you don’t come back?” He’s frantic, tugging you back toward the shelter of the darkness inside the door. The scent of his flesh starting to singe fills your nostrils. The churning maelstrom of emotions hasn’t calmed enough, leaving you rooted where you stand. “Damn it,” grimacing, he takes a step forward, towards you, towards the light.

As though you’d been under a slow spell that finally releases you, there’s understanding, and you lunge toward him, pushing him back into the safety of your home, door slamming in your wake. Arms wrap around him as he clings to you, he’s quivering. Sinking to the floor, the sounds of rough sobbing start to escape from him. “I’m sorry Love,” you whisper, trying your best to soothe him, while your own mind recovers.

Words tumble out between fits of crying. “Not your…sorry…don’t know why…didn’t mean that…don’t leave me.”

“Hush, Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” It aches inside, you didn’t mean to frighten him.

With gentle words and touches, you try to calm him until he finally stills in your arms. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you leaving? Why do you stay? I’m a monster, no better than Cazador, turning your words back on you to torture you.” There’s no tears, but you realize it’s only because he’s too tired to keep crying.

“You are not a monster Astarion, your emotions get the better of you sometimes.” Leaning down, you kiss the crown of his head, his forehead, his cheek, anywhere you can get. “I know you’re trying.”

“How can you be so patient with me?” His hand searches out yours.

Once, you lived in a world where only power mattered, where your parents would’ve given you to a monster to secure their place. But you were shown a better way. “Someone was patient with me too once. She showed me how to love, I think she saved my life.” You stop there, knowing the price for saying more.

Astarion doesn’t ask either, understanding you can’t. “I can do better,” he promises earnestly.

“I know you will, but you’re still healing. And I’m sorry I let it get to me.”

“No,” quickly, he sits, eyes locked onto yours, “you have feelings too, and it’s not fair for me to hurt you just because I hurt. I will do better, you deserve better from me, after everything you’ve done.”

You look at him, a teary wreck, and realizing you’re probably not much better yourself, lose yourself to an unexpected giggle. "Gods, we're a mess. I love you."

"Speak for yourself, I'm perfection." he laughs, laying his head back on your shoulder. "I love you too, more than anything."

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x f!reader #my fanfic #my writing #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #x reader #asks #requests

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months

Note

hi😼

so like y’know how bi han is like a rlly big meanie (i love him (๑╹ω╹๑ ) ) soooo can i pls request a bi han hurt/no comfort fic

like imagine the IMMENSE guilt he feels after something bad happens to reader like i live for that.

but please don’t feel obligated to do this request if u r not comfy!! thank u so much i love ur writing sm^^

Bi-Han is a big meanie for sure but then tell me why are his tiddies screaming at me to lay my head on them? Or squeeze them wait- also sorry if this is shit.

Part 2

Bi-Han had always made it apparent to accompany you on missions, regardless of it’s scale and his full confidence in your abilities to keeping yourself safe, seeing as he took it upon himself to train you in the most efficient methods he knew. However there was this constant need that ate away at the back of this mind, telling him that he needed to stay nearby in the instance where you would have him to fall back on to make up for your shortcomings in battle. Bi-Han had promised you this and you knew that he’d always honoured his word, especially more so with you and yet he had felt that in that very moment he had failed you within that regard as he sat himself down by your bedside.

His hand immediately finding your own, holding onto it as though you were going to slip through his grasp. He was fearful that no matter how hard he tried in keeping you close and relatively unharmed, you would inevitably slip through his grasp regardless of his efforts. Bi-Han feared that he was being shown how unfit he was to being your protector by fate itself. Bi-Han was stood outside at the time, awaiting patiently for your return to Lin Kuei with news of a successful mission upon your lips and a sparkle in your eyes, but something told him that it wasn’t going to be a joyous reunion and instead a somber one, and yet he pushed it aside for he had waited long enough for you to come home to suddenly become speculative of your condition.

‘I should’ve been there.’ Bi-Han said to no one in particular. ‘Had I knew beforehand of how bad things had gotten, I could’ve been there to prevent you from ending up in the medbay, where I await for you to awake.’ He adds on, feeling immense guilt, immense shame towards himself for your current predicament, as though he was personally to blame for you fighting for your life.

‘How were you meant to know brother?’ Kuai Liang had said from the doorway, unable to see such heartbreak upon Bi-Han’s face. Many had said that his brothers’ heart was encased in ice but Kuai Liang was lucky enough to say that wasn’t true when you came into his life, you had all but melted the ice that had once entrapped Bi-Han’s heart and nurtured it to embrace the warmth, and for that Kuai Liang was eternally grateful to you for being there for his brother when he couldn’t. ‘How were you meant to know this would happen and even if you did, how would you have been able to prevent it from happing.’ Kuai Liang then gestured to your heavily injured state.

Your wounds had mainly consisted of several lacerations, stab wounds and many other serious afflictions that when the medics had seen to you, they called it a miracle that you were still somehow alive. ‘The gods have their eye on this one, Grandmaster.’ One of the had told Bi-Han, who had been watching over the entire procedure with a watchful eye. ‘Had they been brought to us a fraction of a second later,’ they paused briefly as though to let the severity of the situation sink in, ‘we wouldn’t have been able to save them. We were extremely lucky that fate was on our side this day.’ Bi-Han had held his tongue upon hearing that you had been so close to death, instead bringing himself to focus on the fact that you had been brought back to the Lin Kuei just in time; For he wouldn’t know what he would do had you been just that fraction of a second late.

‘I could’ve saved them Kuai Liang!’ Bi-Han snapped, glaring at his brother and holding his gaze before looking back towards you where his eyes became warm. ‘I could’ve saved them.’ He said for a second time but it came out a lot more sombre, mournful even as he squeezed your hand, raising it raised to his masked lips before resting his forehead against it, his eyes clamped shut as he prayed that he would awake from this seemingly never ending nightmare, hoping to seeing you free of injuries and accompanied with a face full of life.

‘Get some sleep brother, they’ll want you at full health for when they awake.’ Kuai Liang said almost pleadingly but he knew Bi-Han was way beyond reasoning with now that the one person who could talk him out of his self destructive tendencies was laid out on the bed before him, unable to speak sense into him and to go to bed.

‘No. I must stay here, stay with them until they awake.’ Bi-Han stared firmly, keeping his emotions clearly concealed under a stone cold demeanour. ‘I must do better. I almost lost them today and I must.do.better. No.’ Bi-Han clenched the fist that rested in his lap, blunt nails digging into his palm so that he may feel something, anything instead of the numbing sensation that had already begun to spread throughout his chest, ‘I need to do better. So until then, my eyes don’t deserve to rest while they’re consenting fighting for the chance to open theirs.’

#mk1 #mk x y/n #mk x reader #mk imagine #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat x you #bi han x y/n #bi han imagine #bi han x reader #bi han x you #bi han imagines #sub zero x reader

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abbyromanoff · 6 months

Text

YOU’LL ALWAYS BE MINE

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 2,475

WARNINGS: angst, cheating, divorce, depression, fluff, mind manipulation, the hex being created, pregnancy, kinda dark, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda hummed as the flavors hit her taste buds, her eyes directed at you as she smiled warmly.

“How do you like the dinner, sweetheart?” You grinned beneath the fork inside your mouth, instantly returning your lips back to a thin line when her eyes left you.

“Well, I hope you’d like it, I spent many hours prepping this.” She chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze from across the table. You still didn’t utter a word, she was growing concerned.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You shrugged, nervously playing with your food as you bit the inside of your cheek, a habit you started and failed to stop, much to Wanda’s liking.

“C’mon, you can talk to me, that’s what I’m here for.” You looked up, noticing her intense gaze that showed she knew exactly what you were going to say.

“You still haven’t signed the papers.” Her body tensed, her eyes shutting as she sighed. Her hand balled into a tight fist as she continued to eat. She could see you were lacking the ring on your finger, the sight making her want to crawl into a corner and cry her eyes out. There was no way out of this, she realized, so she had to make one.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“My fucking God, Wanda,” You slammed your hands down, standing as you paced urgently. She refused to look, instead finding her meal all the more interesting.

“You’re pathetic, you know that? You can’t sign some fucking papers, really? This marriage has been ruined the moment you slept with that tramp.” The realization made her throat tighten, tears nearly ready to spill from her loopy eyes.

“I told you it was a mistake, it meant nothing-”

“That doesn’t stop the fact that it happened, Wanda! Do you think it’s easy for me to have to live here daily? To see you and constantly be reminded of what you did? I worked so hard to even convince myself I was worthy of you, and you go and do this?” She cowered down, wiping her hands on the small cloth in her lap while you stared at her, nostrils flared and eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t fix what you did-”

“God, will you let me fucking speak?” She yelled, growing frustrated with the constant interruption. You didn’t refute, instead placing your hands on your hips as you waited for her voice to return.

“I told you, I was drunk and she looked so much like you. We were fighting, I was upset, you were too, so I went out and got wasted to the point I could barely walk. I saw her there and I…I let her take me home, but when I woke up I- I realized what I did and I knew I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did.” You already heard the story before, the same one that haunted you in your dreams. You imagined someone else being able to hear the moans she promised were only for you, it made you violently ill.

“I made a promise to you, and I plan to keep it. I will never, and I mean never, touch a drink again. I won’t even look in another woman’s direction because I don’t need to when I have my wife right in front of me. My perfect, breathtaking, loving wife that I care for so much.” She wrapped her arms around your waist as she dropped to her knees, placing her forehead against your thigh.

“Please, baby, I don’t know how many times I have to apologize before you forgive me, but I’ll continue to tell you for the rest of my life.” She placed small kisses against the covered skin, feeling the warmth that you supplied, the same warmth that brought her comfort at night. Now it brought her shame and guilt, but she’d rather carry that burden for the rest of her life than lose you for even a moment.

“I don’t want to have to be reminded of what you did for the rest of my life, Wanda. I’m constantly having someone down my ear telling me how terrible you are, and how I should never forgive you. For fucks sake, even our friends have told me to leave you! How am I going to look them in the eye again knowing all they see is someone who’s too gullible to even leave their cheating wife?” You sobbed, and the look on your face only brought misery to the woman. You seemed so lost, so exhausted, and she was the cause.

“I know, I know, and none of this is fair to you, and I’m so sorry I caused this-”

“Stop saying sorry. Please, I can’t do this.” You begged, your voice cracking as you drew more emotions.

“But I mean it! I never want you to feel like I don’t want you because I want you more than anything. I need you, Y/N, I need you in my life.” It was true, she didn’t know how to properly function without you. You were the only one who kept her going, you were the one who held her when she felt like she couldn’t stand. When she was ready to give up, she had you holding her back. Without you, she’d be nothing.

“You say you need me, but you don’t consider what I need. And what I need is for you to let me go, and sign the papers.” You wanted to give in, to fall into her embrace and let her make it up to you. But you couldn’t, your mind would never let you forget the scene you walked in on. And maybe you’d still remember it vividly without her, but at least you wouldn’t have to be in the exact place it happened with the person who did it. At least you could move on and find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like this, intoxicated or not.

“No- no, I won’t do it.” Tear stains painted your shirt from where her head rested, you knew you’d have to throw this out sooner than later.

“Wanda, please, just do it.” You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to ignore her pleas.

“But-”

“I’m begging you, Wanda. If you truly loved me, you’d want me to be happy.” She rushed towards you when you tried to escape her tight hold.

“You’re happier with me-”

“I can’t be happy with you, not when I can’t stop thinking about what you did. It ruined me, Wands, and it continues to haunt me every breathing moment.” The nickname brought a crack to her rotting heart. Her body felt like it was decaying the more you pulled away and the more she tried to hold on.

“You’re going to sign the papers. And then I’ll be gone. This is best for the both of us, you’ll learn to live without me.” She felt as though she was going to be sick, why were you still denying her? She couldn’t let you go. No, she couldn’t.

You leaned down to her level, moving the hair that covered her face out of the way. You cupped her cheeks, smiling sadly as her sobs caused her hands to shake lightly. She reached out hopefully, copying your action and bringing herself closer.

“Can I- can I have one last kiss, at least?” You looked down, sighing as you shook your head before returning her gaze.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think either of us will be able to stop.”

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” You chuckled, and it felt like music to her ears. She smiled warmly, even though her chest tightened and her breath cut short.

“I love you, Wanda, I always will. Maybe we were just never meant to be, and that’s okay. But if I don’t let you go now, I’ll never be able to be happy.” But you could’ve been meant to be, she realized. You could’ve been the best, most loving couple. Your kids would’ve grown up in a healthy, safe household full of love. But that all came to an end when that night left her hopeless, she pleaded with God constantly to rid her actions but they were never heard.

“I love you too, Y/N, and I want you to be happy, I just wish I could’ve been the reason.”

“You were.” The past tense was what caused her body to crash into yours. She lost all control as your arms brought her a sense of comfort she lacked for so long.

“I’m sorry I failed you.”

In a few months, the divorce was being settled and you officially moved out. You had been staying with a friend for some time, and she was more than happy to help you out. She had been in a similar situation before, so it was clear what she had to do when she saw you standing on her front porch. Wanda thought she would be able to see you when you would gather your stuff from her place, but a multitude of your friends went instead, all of them giving glares to the older woman as she refused to look at the empty home. It seemed wrong without your stuff here, and all she had were pictures of the two of you that she couldn’t remove.

She felt hopeless as time progressed, and the lack of messages or calls from you only made time move slower. Every day felt like a decade as she failed to execute basic human needs. She often struggled to get out of bed or brush her teeth, and now it’s been two days since she last showered. She wondered how you were, she hoped you weren’t in such a horrid state like herself. But a part of her also hoped you were, just so she knew you still cared.

Eventually, it all became too much. She hadn’t slept in her bed in over a year, the constant reminder that another laid where you once were disgusted her. The couch had become her home, but even the couch seemed to shame her. Her favorite movies didn’t feel the same without you laughing with her. The sitcoms she loved so much now annoyed her; she had changed completely, and it was all her fault.

She couldn’t hold it back anymore, she broke. Her small, empty home in the town of Westview became full once again. She didn’t know what happened. One moment she was sobbing uncontrollably while huddling close to the stuffed animal she had won for you on your first date, then the plain walls filled with hope. Her heart slowly gained a beat, and her hands felt warm again. She stood in front of a door, her fist finding the wood and creating a small knock.

“It’s open!” She heard, and she stopped in her tracks. It was you, it was your angelic voice that was slowly fading from her mind. She gulped fearfully before twisting the knob, letting her legs take control as she stepped forward.

“Love, you’re home!” You greeted with a smile, turning to face her as Wanda’s eyes fell on the toddler being held in your arms. She had the same hair as Wanda, and while it wasn’t easy to spot from so far away, she could see her green, piercing eyes looking back at her. The child giggled and pointed her chubby finger her way, causing a smile to break out on her face.

“Everything alright, sweetie?” You asked when she didn’t move, her mouth agape and her hands nearly releasing the briefcase she held.

“Yes…everything is just perfect, my love.” She mustered out, rushing towards your figure and embracing you in a tight hold. The replica of her was left with a small kiss to her forehead before she took her into her arms, blowing raspberries on her exposed tummy. Alana giggled again, and it felt like Wanda’s ear would explode. She felt like she was dreaming, only this wasn’t the nightmare she fought with every night. No, this time you were here to cure her.

“Momma!” She heard from a distance, seeing a young boy running to greet her. He hugged her leg tightly, causing Wanda to stumble before she leaned down, ruffling his hair before she gave him a small side hug, the baby in her arms restricting her from embracing him as much as she wanted to.

“Hey, kiddo! How was your day?”

“It was amazing! Me, Mommy, and Alana made dinner!” She gasped, showing her appreciation towards the excited boy before he ran off to the kitchen as she requested. He was still too young to carry his little sister, so she continued to do so.

“And hello to you, my sweet baby.” Wanda placed a small kiss against your stomach, placing her hand against the bump and rubbing her thumb in small, soothing circles.

“Have they been giving you any trouble today?” She asked, resulting in a small sigh from your end.

“They’ve been kicking all day. I swear, if they’re not professional soccer players, I don’t know what else they’ll do.” Wanda laughed before leaving multiple pecks to your lips, grasping your hand in hers before leading you to the kitchen.

“Well, it’s only a few more months until they’ll be out of you, I know you can do it.” You stopped in your tracks, eyeing her and causing the taller woman to stall. Nobody wanted to see you angry, especially when you were pregnant.

“First of all, I don’t see you carrying two demons in your stomach, so I’d shut up if I were you. And, second of all, this is the third time I’m doing this, you are no longer allowed to go without a condom.” She placed her hand on her chest as if she was offended and you grinned, leaving a kiss on her cheek before walking through the kitchen door where your son laid out all the dishes for you four. You thanked him before he climbed onto his seat, still finding himself to be too short for the chairs you had. Wanda placed your daughter in the high chair before taking the seat next to her. You noticed her smiling large, her eyes being filled with more joy than usual.

“What’s got you all happy?” She admired the scene in front of her, Pietro Jr and Alana sitting peacefully, both of them sharing the genes she was blessed with. Her partner, smiling back at her while they carried her twins, she couldn’t have asked for anything more.

“Oh, nothing, I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have all of you.” You blushed, tilting your head slightly as you bit your lip.

“Well, that’s never going to change, sweetheart.” ‘I’ll make sure of it’, she thought.

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