#don’t wear white after Labor Day
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nsfw 18+ ani forcing you to watch him jerk it idk. also not proofread so sorry.
Anakin would really be the guy who, despite his love for making you feel good, would hold out on you. Make you beg for him, make you whine and whimper without even a touch. Frequently announcing to you that “you weren’t well behaved today…” so “now you have to watch me get off, baby”
He’d be on a couch, maybe a chair, sitting lazily, his knees apart, you kneeling between them. It was truly his favorite way to look at you, he could see the fat on your thighs pushed together, seeing your hips wiggle and move to relieve pressure building between your legs. He could look down the front of your shirt, seeing the swell of your chest, maybe your nipples poking through your shirt. He loved your eyes, how they looked up at him, how your lips parted in anticipation.
He would be stroking himself through his loose pants, making harsh eye contact with you, he wouldn’t let you look away. The last time you did, looked down to his hands movements, he had you bent over his knee in seconds, hands coming down across your ass, so harsh that they left little petechiae across your ass and hips for days.
Anakin would be breathing through this nose, lips pursed, almost in anger, he was angry at you, you were a brat today, after all. That’s how you ended up here. His hand would move under his waistband, finally giving into the pleasure. His calloused hands were a stiff scratch on his member he sometimes needed. Something meaner.
“Watch my eyes baby, don’t look away” as he lifts his hips to pull his pants further down.
Out of your periphery you could see his cock, the fat, rosy tip, almost purple, was covered in a shine of pre cum from his previous movements. A vein on the underside leading from base to tip. His hand moves to cover himself, a white knuckle grip that covered half his length.
“Spit on it, baby” he’d mutter out.
Collecting the saliva in your mouth you lean forward, not breaking eye contact, and let it fall onto his tip, tracking down over his knuckles. The quiet nose from before turned louder, a squelching noise, speeding up already.
His other hand would raise from the arm of the chair, moving to cup his balls, something he learned he loves so much from you. His long fingers massaging what he could, a breathy moan leaving his mouth.
“You wanna help me right now, don’t you?” It was a sneering remark, putting you in your place right now, you couldn’t help him.
Nodding your head, you see his hips begin to move, fucking up into the tight fist he had on himself, thrusts so hard the chair was squeaking. Lips pursed, heavy, punctuated breaths from his nose.
“Well you can’t, can you, wanted to be a fuckin’ slut today and act out.”
The pressure between your legs now unbearable, the sounds of his breaths, in time with his hips, his eye contact, all made you pulse around nothing. But, you deserved to at least make him feel good, right?
“Ani, can I please help you?” you ask, almost whining out, leaning your chest further towards him, in hopes he’d say yes.
“No.” And with that statement his left foot came up, still wearing his boots, and pushed the heel of his sole into your right breast, pushing you further away.
His breathing was speeding up, eyes still boring into yours, as if he was searching for a universe beyond your eye lashes. His hips beginning to get sloppier, hand making up for the uneven thrusting, hand still pulling on his balls.
“Gonna cum, sweetheart, and you’re gonna clean it up”
With a few more messy thrusts of his hips, he groans, long and labored, as he angles his cock up towards his abdomen, a sheen of sweat on his lower stomach becomes marred as his release spills onto himself. You heard a “fuck, fuck, fuck…” muttered under his breath.
It’s pearly and milky white, a little dripping down the head of his cock, still, as his hand still works himself through his orgasm. He wasn’t looking at you, you could see the crown of his head as he looked down at himself, the mess he made, and you look, finally. God you wish you could’ve helped him.
“C’mon ‘n be useful” he’d finally breath out, reaching his sticky, spit, cum covered hand to you, laying it on the back of your neck and you move towards him. Tongue coming out to clean up the mess he made.
#anakin skywalker smut#anakin smut#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker#anakin star wars#anakin x you#𑁍e’s thoughts
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Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Flamyangelwings; Kara gets to Earth on time and the Kents get a two-for-one special on free kids.
Ma and Pa store the wreckages of both of their ships in a building that Kara thinks is a barn and cover them with thick, heavy fabric. She takes the crystals out of the ships first, obviously. The ships are little more than scrap now, but they’ll need the crystals one day.
Not yet, but . . . one day.
She and Kal both wear alien clothes and eat alien food and she does her alien work, and he plays with his alien toys, and Ma and Pa . . . Ma and Pa fuss, Kara can’t help feeling.
Sometimes other aliens visit, or they go into Smoll-Veel for supplies or to eat at the restaurants or visit places Kara doesn’t always understand the purpose of. There’s a park, and a shop for textiles, and a . . . library, she thinks? Ma and Pa don’t exchange money for the things they take from it, anyway; just scan a card, and then bring them back later. Kara thinks they’re some sort of . . . paper records, from what she’s gathered–sheets upon sheets of paper, all bound together on one side. Some of them are slimmer and have pictures, and Ma and Pa like to take turns reading those to Kal. Some of them are thicker and don’t have pictures, or at least not many, and those they either read in silence or read to each other or even Kara.
She doesn’t understand them, obviously, but . . . it’s . . . nice, she thinks.
She actually thinks they might be stories, not just records. Especially the ones with pictures in them.
So it’s very nice, that Ma and Pa are sharing those with them. Very . . . very kind.
In the settlement, Ma and Pa introduce Kara and Kal by slightly different names, and everyone calls them Mar-Tha and Jona-Than, not Ma and Pa. Kara thinks maybe this planet has private names on top of their public ones, though she’s not actually certain.
They call her “Ka-Lair” and call Kal “Ka-Lum” to the other aliens, though they pronounce them a little oddly–“Claire” and “Callum”, more like. Or that’s as close as Kara can get, anyway. Sometimes they say “Ka-Lair Zo-El Kent” and “Ka-Lum El-Ot Kent”–Kara’s not sure why Kal gets the Laborer title attached to his name too, but supposes it must be because children on this planet are associated with their guardian’s guild until they’re old enough to choose their own–though again, the pronunciation is a little odd. More like . . . “Claire Zoelle Kent” and “Callum Elliot Kent”, she thinks.
Most of the other aliens in Smoll-Veel are kind, but none of them are as kind as Ma and Pa. Ma and Pa are . . . they’re so kind. Ma teaches Kara how to make her “pye”, and Pa teaches her how to play a catching game with a small white ball and a peculiar webbed glove and sometimes a stick to hit the ball with, and they both teach her how to work on their little farm and help her take care of Kal. They’ve even gotten him his own little bed, with tall fenced-in sides so he can’t roll or climb out of it, and set it up in a bedroom for him and her to stay in together, with a closet full of clothes for them both and a box of toys for Kal and a shelf of thin paper records with pretty pictures inside of them that they read to him from every night after “supper”.
She thinks Ma is female and Pa is male, now, and is mostly certain that they’re either mated or married or whatever this planet does, not related or just friends. Definitely not just coworkers, either way. They still call Kal’s toy dog “Krippo” instead of “Krypto”, but given Kara’s problems getting her own tongue around their language’s words, she’s not going to hold it against them. Kal understands what they mean when they say it, so that’s all that matters.
She feels vulnerable and uncomfortable whenever they’re off the farm, and sometimes even on it, but . . . but Ma and Pa are so kind, and it’s hard to feel uncomfortable with them.
Vulnerable, maybe, but not quite in the same way as she does out in Smoll-Veel.
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Kyle, 32
“I’m wearing a white shirt dress, vintage white Swedish ski pants, floral babushka, and black tabi tai chi shoes. I’m inspired in the moment. Putting together ideas while I’m still in bed so when I get up all I have to do is gather the items. I wore all white just before Labor Day since they say ’you can’t wear white after Labor Day’ which I don’t believe in by the way.”
Sep 2, 2023 ∙ Williamsburg
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Waking up to find your cowboy not in bed with you. His boots aren't by the door but you can see footprints in the freshly fallen snow outside. You follow them to the barn to see Rhett, asleep on a haybale wearing just his jacket. His flannel is now a nest for the barn cat's new kittens with another fleecy blanket added in for extra warmth.
rhett’s a tender soul. always has been. despite the fact that his father tried to quash that part of him, in an effort to “toughen him up”. rhett always kept that tender part of himself when it came to animals. he’s always had a special connection with them. with his mare, june, despite her stubborn tendencies. with the mysterious crow (affectionately named john) that follows him around every time he’s outside. with the cranky barn cat that tolerates only him. he’s the cowboy snow white, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him. there are always animals in his vicinity. he’s always been good about helping animals when they’re in distress. one time, he stayed up all night with june when she developed a sickness that required round the clock care. he nursed john the crow back to health when he injured his wing. he’s been known to raise orphaned baby squirrels and rabbits.
and then there’s the time that misty the cranky barn cat becomes pregnant. rhett watches over her carefully. it’s really a sight to behold. you’ve always loved watching him interact with animals. when you’re working in the stable or going on trail rides you’ll hear the way he talks to june, a low comforting rumble, communicating with her as if she understands every word he’s saying. you suspect she does. and of course there’s the way he’s so loving toward misty. she’ll always linger around his feet when he’s in the stable, and sometimes she’ll even climb up to sit on his shoulder. that happens less and less the more heavily pregnant she becomes. and then there comes the time when she’s going to give birth.
the closer the time gets, the more rhett checks on her throughout the day. and then, one morning, he slips out of bed early, leaving a lingering kiss to your forehead as you sleep peacefully, before he shoves his boots and jacket on and trudges out through the freshly fallen snow. that’s where he finds misty huddled in a corner of the stable, in the beginning stages of labor. he knows he can’t move her into the house, it would put her into distress. so he sets up camp in the barn. all he has is his flannel, so he shrugs out of it and allows misty to lay upon it. he’s a loving and gentle coach as she births her tiny little kittens, and once they come safely into the world, he tucks an extra blanket that he found in the tack room around the litter to keep them all warm as their mama gets settled around them. not wanting to leave her alone, he leans back against some stacked hay bales, but inevitably ends up falling asleep.
that’s where you find him an hour later. after waking up to an empty bed you head out to the stable to find him fast asleep, and there is misty the barn cat on the floor beside his feet, curled up with her new babies. it’s a precious sight, especially when you see he’s given up his shirt in order for misty to have a soft place to lay. you sit beside him on a hay bale and gently coax him awake. “rise and shine, cowboy,” you murmur. he stirs awake, and as he catches you looking at him, he smiles sleepily. “had t’ come help misty give birth,” he mumbles. “i see that,” you reply. “you make a great cat midwife.” he smirks at that. “thank y’. been practicin’ my whole life for this moment.” which is partly true. he’s been involved in plenty of animal births. “well, now that you’ve helped bring kittens into the world, how about some pancakes and coffee for breakfast? i’m sure midwifing made you work up an appetite.”
the promise of pancakes and coffee gets him up and out of his bed of hay, food motivated as he is. “don’t mind if i do,” he says as he pecks your lips. he still checks on misty throughout the day, and if the temperatures drop too low during the night, he will bring her and her babies inside to keep them warm. soon, your house is full of kittens. rhett is attached to each of them, even though he knows you can’t keep them all. before you find homes for each one, this is what he constantly looks like:
he gives one to amy. he keeps the rest, insisting that this is their home and he doesn’t want to uproot them from it. that’s how you end up having four barn cats. at least you can say you won’t ever have a mouse problem with them around 🤷♀️
(thank you @laracrofted for bringing up rhett covered in kittens because it’s awakened something i think)
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[image description: A person wearing a wrinkled white sheet tied with a hank of rope and an idiotic-looking pointy white hood stands in front of a grove of trees. The only thing that isn’t white is the red circle around the white snowflake on the breast. They’re speaking “But… whaddaya mean? I always wear white after Labor Day.” Text reads, “38, Klueless K. Klamdip, The Small God of Precious White Snowflakes”]
He isn’t an old god, and he resents that, resents the old gods who get respect where he does not, especially the old gods who get respect who are, he feels, genuinely beneath him. Why should anyone listen to Tesla Jefferson or Queen Qatar? Bad enough that any goddess should have a following, but they don’t even have the decency to be offended by their own complexions, as any right-thinking woman would be!
He isn’t an old god, and most of his supposed peers hope he never will be. Hope he’ll fade as so many gods of misinformed supremacy and obstinate pride have faded before him, hope he’ll be nothing more than a footnote in the long and storied mythology of the small gods. Or perhaps an asterisk leading into nothing, like the snowflake symbol he so proudly carries on his breast. They hope.
But too few of them are able to stir their followers into rising up against him.
Klueless is a new god, a new manifestation of an old and toxic way of thinking, a poison that humanity carries with it everywhere it goes; the idea that any one can be superior to any other for reasons other than their own hard work, their own ceaseless toil. He is a reflection of the horrific inner selves too many carry with them, a secret shouted from a mountaintop, and his vey buffoonery is what makes him powerful.
“Surely I can’t belong to that god,” say the women with their teased-up hair, before they remind a darker-skinned stranger to move along, their sidewalks aren’t for vagrants and vagabonds.
“I have dignity; I’m not like that,” say the men with their own symbols on their breasts, and their handguns at their hips, before they go out to patrol neighborhoods they keep safe for their own kind, not any others—and sometimes not even for that.
Comedy’s mask can hide all the horrors in the world.
And he is quite a horror.
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18+ only! Contains smut. Minors DNI.
Perv!bestfriend!Eddie being so touch-starved that he has to be touching you at all times. Whether it’s holding hands, hugging you from behind, or laying his chin on your shoulder. He loves feeling the warmth of your body against his. Your friends worry that he’ll prevent you from getting a boyfriend because everyone’ll think you’re stuck with the freak. But that’s exactly what you want.
Maybe you’re a bit touch starved too. You love touching his arms and tracing his tattoos. In private, you’ll even slip your hand into his back-pocket of his jeans. He gets a little shocked at first but he loves it. He especially loves when you put your foot in his lap. His breathing becomes labored when you begin Rubbing his thighs. You keep your eyes on him and he’s looking at his lap. Lips slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed. He loves how soft your feet are, toes painted a nice white color. You start gently petting his cock that’s semi-hard. “You know,” you say, while sliding your foot up and down his cock, “I don’t mind helping you out Eddie.” He looks up at you with hooded eyes. “Really?” He says. You nod at him. “With anything. It’s what best friends are for.”
Working out after a while, your body starts to get sore. It’s Perv!Bestfriend!Eddie to the rescue! After a shower, You ask him if he’d mind massaging your body for you. His brain practically short-circuits. He blinks a few times, wondering if you actually asked him that. He clears his throat and let’s out a yes. You’re wearing a Calvin Klein casual bra and booty shorts. He starts massaging your back and you’re letting out little moans coupled with “yes, yes right there.” And “God, Eddie, you’re so good with your hands.” He remembers you usually add baby oil right after a shower, he knows this because it makes your skin so glowy and soft. “U-um. Is it okay if I add some oil?” “Why?” He blinks a few times. Thinking about what excuse to come up with that doesn’t sound as perverted as his thoughts. “Well, you usually a-apply the oil to your b-body. Right?” You slowly nod. “Right, good point.” You get up and walk to your bathroom, coming out with baby oil bottle in your hands. “You don’t mind if I take off my bra do you?” Eddie’s quick to shake his head and say no. You turn around to where he can’t see and take it off. Eddie suddenly can’t breath. “Oh, and Eddie?” “Yes?” He replies with a squeak. “Could you also get my ass too? Squats have been murder on my ass.” Needless to say, Eddie is bricked up the entire time. You notice when he’s leaning over to get more oil. You look at him and your eyes wander down to his lap. “Oh, you poor thing. Would you like a massage next?”
Perv!bestfriend!Eddie waking up from having a wet dream about you. Earlier in the day, you both went to the comic book store. You plucked one of them up, letting out a “whoa”. Eddie turned his head in curiosity. “What?” You smiled at him and turned your wrist around to show him the comic. It was one of the Vampirella stories. He would know cause he had several comics at his place. “She looks hot! I think I’m gonna dress like her for Halloween.” He swallowed hard at the thought. He thought about you in that tiny red suit she wears, long, black braids flowing down your back. The gold jewelry complimenting your skin tone. He had to excuse himself to go to the restroom and rub one out, but the thought still remained. Especially after you asked him to take you to the fabric store after buying a few Vampirella comics. So naturally, the dream was of you riding him. The bottom of your Vampirella costume pulled to the side. Eddie had planted his feet on the bed to meet your hips with his. Driving up into you with such a harsh force that inflicted both pleasure and pain. Licking on of his thumbs and placing it on your clit, rubbing you slowly.
“Christ, you’re gorgeous. You don’t know how bad I want you, want this.”
You let out a whimper “Yes, Eddie. Just like that! Oh my-“
“Are you going to cum? Fuck, I can feel it, you’re just sucking me right back in sweetheart. I’m gonna cum too, gonna cum deep inside you.”
He had woke up cumming in his boxers.
Perv!bestfriend!Eddie loves to edge himself to the thought of you. It starts out simple, the thought of how your legs look in shorts and mini skirts. How soft your thighs look and feel. How he’s addicted to how you smell. Then the thoughts become a filthier by each stroke. Like how pretty you’d look in bondage, all vulnerable for him. Or he’d fantasize of role playing with you, you wearing a costume of one of his comic book crushes. But what a lot of people wouldn’t think is how much he’d love to be dominated by you. Just the thought of it has his tip become an angry red, pre-cum leaking out and dripping down his shaft. Just the thought of you handcuffing him to the bed and making him cum over and over again has tears rolling down his cheeks and cum running down his shaft.
Asking to borrow Perv!bestfriend!Eddie’s camcorder and when he asks for what, you reply with, “if I told you, it’d ruin the surprise.”
Perv!bestfriend!Eddie needing to watch some porn to hopefully get his mind off of you. (As if that’s possible.) he noticed in his collection of tapes in his closet that there’s one unlabeled. He takes it out and pops it into the TV. He pulls down his boxers enough to free himself.He grabs his lotion from the nightstand and pumps some onto his hand. The video plays in his room, it appears to be of an amateur film. He’s confused because he’s never gotten on before. He’s even more confused because the more that he looks at the background, the more it looks like your room. That’s when you come into frame. You’re wearing leather fetish lingerie, getting ready to pleasure yourself and Eddie feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. Needless to say, it’s one of Eddie’s most watched films.
#eddie munson#perv!bestfriend!eddie#perv!eddie munson#perv!eddie#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x black!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie the freak munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader
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What to Expect | Chapter 13
previous part | masterlist | next part
synopsis: The Seresins decide to come to dinner. Jake not only stands up for himself, but for you and his unborn daughter.
word count: 3.2k
warnings: pregnancy, cursing, canon character death, injuries, topgun shit, fighting, questions of paternity, unrequited love and some yearning
No matter how old you got, family dinners always had some ounce of awkwardness to them. Especially when both you and Jake’s families got together. It wasn’t that Margaret and George didn’t get along with your parents, it was that they acted like they were better than them. Your father and George were both very accomplished men, in two different ways. George was a successful businessman, coming from a long line of oil barons in Texas. He was also a big shot donor to the University of Texas, and even had a press box with his name on the door.
The first time you had ever met Margaret and George was at a Texas Longhorns game. Jake had brought you back to Texas for homecoming weekend. You hadn’t ever been big into sports, the college you went to wasn’t very big into football, but you had participated a couple times in the Saturday game day festivities. But like they said, ‘everything is bigger in Texas’.
You stuck out like a sore thumb compared to Jake and his family. For one, you didn’t have anything burnt orange, so you settled on wearing light wash jeans and a white t-shirt. Your skin had a natural tan to it from living in a place where the sun was out almost every day of the year, and it didn’t look orange like some of the women walking around. You also opted to wear your hair in a ponytail, and not teased to the high Heavens. Jake explained that his sisters, and mother were both alumni baton twirlers who had all married alumni football players, so homecoming was a big deal.
You had never once felt comfortable or at home around the Seresins. Jake had tried his hardest whenever he brought you around them. But his parents were always so cold towards you. They hardly welcomed you into the family like they had done with his sisters' spouses. He wasn’t sure if it was because you didn’t come from some wealthy family in Texas, or because you had a very strong personality. But that’s what Jake loved about you. He loved that you were different from every girl he went to highschool with. He loved that you had more ambition than to just be some housewife that waits on him hand and foot.
After his parents basically crashed the baby shower, Sarah decided to deescalate the situation by inviting Margaret and George to dinner. Jake was seething with anger at his parents entrance, they never could walk into a room without causing all the attention to go to them. You were thankful that your mom had a heart of gold and knew exactly what to do, cause you were ready to go run and hide in the bathroom.
“Do we really have to do this?” Jake asked, as he parked in your parents driveway. He had spent the afternoon helping you put baby shower gifts away, and shit talking about his parents.
“Yes, we do,” Bradley said from the backseat of Jake’s truck. You looked over your shoulder at him, “Well. . . you two do. I’m only here because your mom said she’s making pork ribs.”
You giggled, leave it to Rooster to be the comedic relief that everyone needed, “Buckles is right, we have to do this. It’s bad enough we’ve waited until I am literally about to pop.”
“What if they send you into preterm labor?”
“Oh my god, what if they do!?” Jake asked, “We don’t even know if the car seat is secure! I let Fanboy install it.”
“Okay, calm down. You’re making me, the pregnant woman, start to panic and that’s not good,” You said, trying to ease Jake’s nerves, “And they won’t send me into preterm labor. I am fine, we are all fine. We aren’t teenagers sneaking behind our parents back and raw dogging in the back of your truck after Friday night football games. We are adults. We can do this.”
“Speak for yourself,” Rooster rolled his eyes and you shot him a glare which he gave you a smile in return, “Let’s go in!”
Jake let out a breath, and got out of the truck, jogging around to the otherside to help you out of the truck. In the past week or so since Jake has been back, you have found it to be harder and harder to get in and out of Jake’s truck. Jake fixed his shirt and hair as he rang the doorbell to your parents house.
“Jacob, sister, Buckles,” Stephanie said as she answered the door, “Come in!”
“Nice to see you too,” Rooster said and kissed Stephanie’s cheek as he walked in.
“I see that Y/N brought Jake and my unborn niece,” Dylan Kazansky said walking into the entryway, “And what did you bring Bradshaw?”
“Beer,” Bradley said, holding up the six pack that Jake actually bought but he didn’t want to create a bad image of drinking when his heavily pregnant baby momma couldn’t.
“Your parents are insufferable,” Gia added as she joined the conversation, “I thought Y/N had no personality, but your parents are the personification of watching paint dry.”
“You haven’t changed at all,” Bradley rolled his eyes. Bradley and Jake both dislike Gia as much as you did, but they kept the disdain a little better underwraps than you did.
Gia watched as Bradley walked by going towards the kitchen before following after him. You and Jake stood in the entryway by yourselves, Jake trying to talk himself up before going to face his and your parents.
No matter how old Jake got, he would always be somewhat afraid of his father. Even after facing death several times, and constantly flying in a metal death trap, George Seresin was not someone you wanted to be on the bad side of. He was smart, and sneaky which kept him in such good business. He knew how to work the playing field and install fear into those around him. Margaret wouldn’t have her own two feet to stand on if it wasn’t for George constantly being behind her. You always wondered how their children turned out to be some of the kindest people you ever met.
“Hey, we can leave anytime you want. We kind of have a built in excuse for the next couple years,” You pointed to your belly and Jake smiled.
“I’ll be fine,” Jake sighed and touched your belly, “I need to get over it. How can I be a good father if I can’t even face my own?”
You frowned and opened your mouth to say something, but Jake just shook his head and grabbed your hand, guiding you towards the dinning room where everyone was gathered. He took a deep breath as he pushed the door open and was met with the sight of his parents standing at one end, basically talking amongst themselves while everyone was gathered at the other, engaging in another conversation. Jake rolled his eyes at his parents' behavior and walked over to where your family was.
“Jake, glad you’re here,” Ice said and shook his son-in-law’s hand, “Bug,” He kissed your cheek, “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” You said, “Very, very tired. Can we eat?”
“Go engage with your in-laws first,” Ice nodded over towards Jake’s parents. Leave it to your dad to try and promote good hostmanship in the two of you. Jake clenched his jaw and put his hand on the small of your back.
“George, Margaret, it’s nice to see you,” You said and stuck your hand out for them to shake. Margaret’s hands were dainty and always cold, and her handshake was weak, it always made you uncomfortable having to shake her hand. George’s handshake was one he had perfected from years in sales, it was strong as a way for him to assert power.
“I apologize we didn’t have much time to talk after the shower. I was so exhausted from the-”
“I had three children, I know what it is like,” Margaret said and took a sip of her martini. You fought the urge to roll your eyes cause you weren’t quite sure if Margaret really knew what it was like. Of course she did birth all three Seresin kids, but she passed them off quickly to a revolving door of nannies and caretakers. Jake said he can’t remember his mother hugging him before the age of ten.
“Sorry,” You answered, “Thank you for the shower gift.”
“If we had known about. . . it,” Margaret looked down at your bump, “Sooner, we could’ve gotten you something better. I guess a gift card would have to do.”
“Our daughter doesn’t need a Chanel purse or a Versace onesie,” Jake rolled his eyes knowing that was probably something his mother would get. Margaret was always buying lavish gifts with her husband’s credit card. Both Annie and Charlotte had Chanel diaper bags. You were quite happy with the one that you had gotten from Target at your baby shower.
Sarah could sense the tension from across the room, watching as you fisted the sides of your dress in your hands, and Jake shifted his weight from foot to foot. She had only met Jake’s parents a couple of times, once when Jake graduated from TopGun and again when their daughter Charlotte graduated from medical school. Sarah was always nice to Margaret and George, offering them a place to stay in their guest house, and offering to have dinner for Charlotte at the main house. Though both times Margaret and George never responded to Sarah’s invite, they still showed up at the front door. Sarah knew she had to break up the conversation between Mr and Mrs Seresin before either you or Jake threw a drink in someone's face.
“Everybody!” Sarah said, moving away from her husband, “Dinner is ready! Please, take your seats.” Ice smiled at his wife, and kissed her cheek before moving to his spot at the head of the table. Jake grabbed your hand and led you to your spot, pushing your chair in, before taking his usual seat at the end.
“Jacob, what are you doing?” George asked his son, looking at him confused.
“That’s his-”
“Shush,” George said, cutting Gia off. She raised her eyebrows in surprise and then looked at you. You just shrugged and watched as Jake hung his head in defeat, moving away from the chair to sit in the empty chair on your right side.
Ice clenched his jaw as Dominic, the family cook, brought out the plates of food. For as long as Jake has been in this family, he has always sat at the other end of the table, and no one seemed to argue about it. In fact, it was Iceman who placed him there on the very first family dinner he had ever had with the whole Kazansky family. Ice wanted to say something, but he withheld, knowing it would just make things worse for you and Jake. Ice never cared for Jake’s parents. They had always acted like they were better than him, that George was more of an accomplished man than he was. Ice never liked to brag about his accomplishments (unless your name was Pete Mitchell) so he had listened and let George ridicule his awards and medals that hung around the study.
Dinner was awkwardly quiet as everyone ate. Your appetite was nearly diminished which you weren’t sure if it was because of the tension or because you just felt so full all of the time. You didn’t think anyone noticed the way you pushed around the greens and potatoes on your plate, but ever the eagle eyed George Seresin did.
“Don’t you need to eat for the baby?” He asked.
“By the looks of her, I’d say she’s eaten enough,” Margaret mumbled, sipping her drink. Gia huffed and pushed back in her chair a bit. You knew she was wanting to say something but you shot her a look.
“I am just not very hungry tonight,” You said softly, “I’ve been having a lot of heartburn lately and it kind of shuts my appetite down.”
“I never had that with my children,” Margaret said.
“I had it with mine,” Sarah answered. You were so thankful for your mother, you weren’t sure if you would be able to get through this without her.
“Doesn’t heartburn mean the baby is gonna have more hair?” Dylan asked and Stephanie looked at him weird, “What?! Mom said all of us had full heads of hair, and Jake has great hair, so I’m guessing Baby K will too.”
“Baby K?” George asked, looking at his son.
“Kazansky,” You answered, “We both decided that the baby’s last name will be Kazansky, since we aren’t married.”
“Bullshit,” George cursed and Ice clenched his jaw, giving him a death glare, “Once you two get the results of the paternity test, you need to get legally married so the baby’s last name will be Seresin.”
“One, we are not doing a paternity test and two, the baby’s last name is Kazansky. Already talked about,” Jake said, shifting in his seat to face his father. George’s green eyes bore into his sons, trying to give him that same look that used to send a young Jake Seresin cowering into the corner. You grabbed Jake’s hand, seeing them start to shake. He glanced at you quickly and you squeezed his hand reassuring him that everything was okay.
“This is what she has you believing? That the bastard child is-”
“Okay,” Gia said, slamming her hands on the table with enough force to send dishes clattering, and standing up to stare George down.
“Gianna,” You warned and Stephanie shook her head. When Gia was mad she was like a freight train down a hill, you couldn’t stop her, but you could move out of the way quickly enough to save yourself.
“I don’t know what your deal is, but you’re acting like assholes,” Margaret gasped at Gia’s cursing, “Your son is doing the right thing, and he has since he found out about the little crotch goblin. Most men his age and with his occupation would’ve run for the hills if an ex showed up at his doorstep saying she was pregnant with his baby. But Jake hasn’t run, and believe me, he’s had enough ammunition to pack his bags and leave,” Bradley looked down at the piece of chicken on his plate, “So what the Baby’s last name is gonna be Kazansky, that sure means hell of a lot more than Seresin-”
“Little girl, watch your-”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Now your father was standing, staring George down, “I have watched for years as you have belittled not only my daughter but your own son in front of my eyes, and it ends now. He is a good man, and he wants to do right by both of them. Trust me, I am not a fan of my unwed daughter having a baby either, but there is nothing I can do but be there to support her. And as for your son. . . well it’s a damn shame the way you treat him. I am amazed that such a good, caring man can come from two evil people like you.”
Jake fought back tears as he turned to face his father-in-law. Jake had always thought that Iceman didn’t like him. That he was just another pilot walking through the front doors of TopGun, going to be there for thirteen weeks and then gone. But over the years, Tom has shown Jake nothing but compassion and kindness. Jake knew the type of dad he wanted to be like, and he wanted to be like Iceman. Ice gave Jake a nod before sitting back down in his chair.
“Are you going to fucking cry?” George cursed at his son. Jake sniffled and wiped a tear from under his eye.
“Yeah, I am,” Jake said and looked at his father, “I cry, Dad. I cry a lot actually. And I don’t care if that makes me soft, if that makes me look weak. Because I am weak, but I’m also strong enough to stand up for my family and to tell you both to get the hell out.”
“Jacob,” Margaret said, finally speaking up, “Don’t do this-”
“You two will never get to know your granddaughter. And it doesn’t matter if her name is Kazansky or Seresin, or fucking Bradshaw for all I care. . . I love her and she’s mine. And you two,” Jake pointed at his parents, “Do not know the first thing about loving someone other than yourselves. So please, leave my father-in-law's house.”
George clenched his jaw, and looked around the table. Margaret had tears in her eyes as she watched her son stand up for himself and the woman he loved. You looked at Jake with nothing but more adoration in your eyes, and he looked over at you with the same look. George scoffed and wiped his face before throwing his napkin down on the plate. His chair scraped back as he stood up, and then grabbed Margaret up from her chair. The last thing Jake saw of his mother was the tears in her eyes and George pulled her out of the house. When the door slammed shut, it was like everyone let out a collective breath.
“Holy fuck,” You said, “I need a drink.” Everyone laughed and agreed with you.
“How about I start serving up dessert?” Sarah said, getting up her seat, “And we move this into the living room.” Everyone agreed, and slowly they got up from their chairs.
When you and Jake were the only two left in the dining room, you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. He looked up at you, his green eyes wet with tears.
“Oh honey,” You said and moved to sit in Jake’s lap, wrapping your arms around him as he cried, “It’s okay. I promise, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Jake said, pulling away from you a bit. He wiped under his eyes and put his hand on your belly, “Nothing about what happened is even remotely okay. They called our daughter a bastard.”
“I’m not saying that part was okay,” You sighed, and ran your fingers through his blonde hair, “I’m saying that them leaving is probably a good thing. I don’t know about you but I don’t want someone like that in our lives, let alone our daughter’s life.”
“I don’t either,” Jake said, and looked up into your eyes. You two held eye contact for a moment, before you leaned in and kissed him. Jake sighed into the kiss, pulling your body even closer to his. You ran your hands through his hair, pulling on the perfect blonde locks, licking his bottom lip. The kiss turned passionate quickly, the two of your mouths moving against each other with no flaw.
“Jake,” You whispered as his lips moved from yours to your jaw and down to your neck, “As much as I love this, we can’t do this here.” You gently pushed him away and for a second you saw the hurt flash in his eyes, but you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “Take me home.”
He nodded, and patted your thigh so you would stand up from his lap. Jake adjusted himself in his pants before taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen where your family was at. Bradley was telling some enthusiastic story with Dylan and Ice which had the whole Kazansky family laughing, even Gia. A smile graced your lips as Jake wrapped an arm around you.
This was the family you wanted around your baby.
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white horse
pairing: simon x f!reader
warnings: canon s/a, simon feeling worthless, narrative paints him as pathetic because that’s how he feels, pining, one single use of y/n
note: went in a totally different direction for this but i’m happy with it. i think he deserves the world and more. i’ve left it open to your own mind whether you’re actually in a relationship with simon or not
word count: 5k
———————♡
Hands trembling, Simon hurriedly fishes his phone from his jeans pocket. Clothes scattered on the floor, pristine motel shower, towel wrapped too tight around his waist. His heart beats so hard he fears it may just pop right out of his chest, a sick feeling in his gut as he fights back his emotions welling up. Did he go too far..?
It’s subconscious, the way he dials your phone number, anxiously listens to the ring.. ring.. until you answer with a groggy “Hello?”
He steels his nerves, inhaling sharply when he hears your voice, neck straining with the effort to not break down into pieces right there. “Did I wake you?”
“Simon?” You had answered the phone before you realized you were even awake, just now registering it’s him. “No.. no you didn’t. What’s up?” You find yourself rolling over in bed, rapidly waking up. He doesn’t call often, much to your dismay, but you understand he’s undercover and isn’t able to as much as he’d like. So, to get a call so late at night, unprompted, stirs worry in you.
He feels his breath catch in his throat, shutting his eyes for a moment, “Uh.. it’s nothing.” A half truth. It’s been six days since he last called, but it hasn’t been because he doesn’t want to. If anything, he craves the comfort of your voice. He just can’t let you know he’s not okay. That he misses you. That he craves you. “I.. I just.. wanted to check in.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!
He slept with Brendan. Slept with him. Let Brady touch and touch and take. He can still feel his hands all over him, his tongue on his skin, rough and sharp. Even after taking a shower, gasping for air, scrubbing his skin so hard it’s sore, washing over his growing and current bruises enough to turn them a shade darker.. it’s still there.
You can obviously tell something is wrong, can hear the way his voice wavers, how he can’t seem to find his words. Sitting up in bed, you flick on your bedside lamp and see the book you were reading discarded beside you. “I must’ve dozed off while reading, so you caught me at a nice time.” You smile, letting him hear your calm and warm tone, not wanting to push immediately.
Simon’s breath is heavy, labored. It’s audible over the phone. He can feel his throat constrict and his hands are trembling, thighs weak. Memories of Brady flash through his mind, his hands, his- It’s not like he had a choice. He has to do whatever it takes. Right? “You sound.. sleepy.” He offers, words nervous like he’s choosing them carefully, “What were you reading?” Please don’t ask please don’t ask.
You can hear it, hear his gasping, as if you were standing right in front of him. The urge to ask what the fuck is wrong is so unbearbly strong but.. you know him. Know enough to wait a moment. Glancing down at your book again, you speak, keeping a soft tone, “That series I told you about last time.. I’m already on the third book.” You laugh a little, fixing the bookmark sticking out of the pages before getting up from bed, “What are you up to?”
Even in this state, a smile touches his cut lip, remembering the previous conversation about some fantasy book you had started. “Just… getting ready for bed. Took a shower.” Another half truth. He’s still wearing the damp towel, stood in the too bright bathroom and avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. He looks awful. “The book’s good?”
“Yeah,” your bare feet pad downstairs, going to the kitchen to get a drink, “I’m breezing through it, but the series isn’t even finished so once I’m caught up I’ll have to wait for the next book.”
This is nice, it’s helping to start to calm him down a little.. but.. his jaw clenches with the effort of holding back a sob. Brady’s hands yanking his shirt up, tongue licking his skin, roughly flipping him over with strength he never wants to feel again, bared before him whilst his lip drips blood onto the wooden floor. His eyes dart to his reflection. He looks.. defeated. Beaten. Bruises adorn his sides, jaw, lip bloody and rapidly scabbing over. The shower did nothing to wash away the ache in his bones, did nothing to cleanse the feeling of being used, his hands, the nails that scratched his back and the pressure of another body atop him.
“Simon?”
It’s too much. Did he go too far? He’s completely broken himself and for what? Revenge? Justice? Cam? Is it worth it? Of course it is. Anything for his baby brother. Even if it shatters him fully.
“Y.. yeah.” It’s whispered out, realizing he hadn’t spoken. The silence between the two of you lingers. He can hear the shutting of your fridge, the way that certain hallway floorboard creaks under your feet as you go back upstairs. It’s comforting really, let’s him know you’re there, real.
Back in your room with a glass of water, you sit back on the edge of your bed, taking a swallow of the cold liquid, “Simon.. what’s wrong?”
There it is.
The way you ask him.. makes his chest ache, and his voice cracks when he answers. He hasn’t told you much about what he has to do while he’s undercover but.. you’re intelligent. You can put things together. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to steady the shakiness of his breath and to not cry. “I..” his voice catches in his throat, almost raw, and he takes a couple more forced breaths.
He can’t. He’ll cry. His throat is tight, eyes blurring with tears. Brendan even patted his head like a dog when he was done.
“Did something happen with Brady? Are you safe?” Had you been more awake, that would’ve been the first thing you asked, if he were safe.
His throat trembles again at the mention of his name. “I’m okay..” he says, voice strained. “Just.. I’m..” He feels like he’s about to crack open entirely. He’s barely got it together as is, a few words and he might fall apart right now.
You know he wouldn’t lie to you if he were to be in danger, if he were at risk of being caught or something, so that eases your worry by only a millimeter. The tone of his voice, hoarse, how he can’t find his words.. “What happened love?” It comes out oh so softly, as if you were speaking to an abandoned animal.
It hurts. It all hurts. His bruises, where he was abused, deep in his chest, his head, it aches all over and he just wishes it were gone.
He nearly bursts into tears right there just from that, as pathetic as it may be. Another deep breath as he finds the words he’s been searching for. I shouldn’t be telling her this. “Just.. Brendan and I..” His hands are trembling, fingered curled around his phone until his knuckles are white.
“Simon.. tell me.” You urge softly. You need to know. Something is eating him apart to the bone and you can tell.
He can’t help it, he’s breaking and his voice quivers a bit. “We slept together.”
His throat hitches when he says it. He hates the way those words sound put together, hates that they’re even true.
It stuns you for a moment, you didn’t know what to expect but.. pieces are clicking in your head and your own throat tightens for a moment, “Simon.. you..” You can’t cry. You won’t. For him. Not yet. “You didn’t want it… did you?”
His legs feel weak, like he might collapse. Breathing is a foreign concept to him as he swallows down more tears, trying to will them back as he glances upwards at the white ceiling. “N.. no.”
His chest is caving in on itself, the reality of it actually hitting him. And the worst part? Come morning he has to do it all over again, slip into that facade he’s been playing for months. The thought makes him nauseous.
Silence lingers for just a few moments as you process the information. You want to begin crying, to weep for him before it’s even fully settled in what happened but you can’t you won’t, you have to be strong for him. “Does he..” you form the words as soft as possible, “Does he know you didn’t want it?”
Brendan tossed him around, punched, kicked, threw him overtop the little table that shattered under his weight, the ceramic lamp cracking and cutting a spot on his hand, his lip. They had been arguing before, that’s what spurred it on. But he needed to get to Brendan, to be trusted. So he played coy, tilted his head.. and kissed him. He formed the plan so quickly in his head he didn’t have time to think of the consequences.
“No..” He whispers. “I had… I had to. Had to act like I did.”
“Oh.. Simon..”
The rooms too bright, such a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of the motel room. He has no where that feels safe to hide away, heart beating at his chest. A sob escapes him before he can stop it, holding the phone tight to his ear. I didn’t have a choice. This is the only way. This was the only way.. It repeats over and over in his head like a mantra, though the words do little to ease his pain. Knees hit the wet tile floor uncomfortably as he shakes with the effort of holding back his cries, rasped pants escaping him.
You have no choice but to just listen to him break. Your brows knit together in worry and you steady your own breathing, trying to remain calm even though pure sadness and anger flood your veins. “Simon.. love, breathe..” He’s panting too hard.
He wants to scream, weep until he passes out, but he tries. He tries. “I… I need you.”
He wants your comfort, needs it. Needs your gentleness, your warmth.. even if he doesn’t deserve it.
A frown forms on your lips. He can’t, it wouldn’t be safe. At least that’s what you think right now, have been told before. Even though you crave to hold him, to cradle him, whatever he wants. “I’m here.. I’m right here. Breathe..”
He just wants to lay next to you, to forget everything. Forget Brady’s wandering hands. He inhales a skaky breath, “I just-.. don’t wanna be alone. I just want you next to me… even if I don’t deserve it.”
“Of course you deserve it.” There’s zero hesitation, “You deserve the world Simon… after.. after everything you’ve done..” All this for his baby brother, laid in the hospital.
“I know.. I just..” Simon takes another raspy breath, fingers hurting with how tight he holds his phone. He wants to beg. He wants to tell you to come get him. All he wants is you. Needs you to tell him everything is going to be okay. “I wish you were here.”
“I am, I’m right here.. I promise.” The walls too cold against his bare arm as he slumps against it, chest heaving. “I’m sorry.. I can’t imagine how much you’re hurting.”
“It’s not just the hurting..” He whispers back, barely able to force the words out. It’s like his heart’s trying to claw it’s way up his throat. Tears burn his eyes, wetting his cheeks and sticking to his lashes. “I hated it.. I hated having to… to.. touch him. I know it’s for-.. I-.. he thinks I enjoyed it and I wish I could just-.. wipe it all from my mind.” It’s a miracle he’s even able to speak right now, even though getting the words out is like nails on a chalkboard. Unbearable.
Blinking back tears of your own, you ask, “Simon..” you would never once doubt his love for Cam but.. “Is it worth it? Will.. doing this all be worth putting him in jail?”
“It has to be..” He has to believe those words. It has to be worth it. He has to believe it. “If it just stopped now.. then it would all be for nothing.” That’s what he has to believe, otherwise.. who knows, maybe it is.
A slight nod to yourself, understanding his words. Cam wouldn’t want.. this.. The thought crosses your mind but God, you’d never say that out loud to him. “You just.. have to keep him convinced.” You confirm softly, understanding his actions.
“Yeah..” He whispers again, raspy. His thumb rubs up and down on the side of his phone. “I just.. wish this was over now.” His voice cracks with another sob.
You heart breaks, tears welling up in your eyes as you exhale softly, “Sweetheart..” How can he do this..? How can he manage to keep this front up with Brady? Your heart is just breaking and you want nothing more than to kill Brady with your own hands.
“It’s just..” His words come separated, panting, crying, “It’s all so hard.” His eyes squeeze shut, head pounding with a deep ache that may never go away.”I don’t-.. how much longer do I have to do this?” He whimpers.
This case is important to him… to get justice for Cam.. to lock Brady up.. but..
“I don’t want you to do it anymore..” You breathe out, tears spilling over your lash line.
He tenses at your words, even his breathing halting, “I have to do it..” His eyes squeeze shut again so tightly they hurt, deep behind his eyelids. A couple of shakey inhales and exhales before he speaks again, “Please.. just please don’t ask me to stop.” If I stop, then I’ll hate myself more than I already do..
Your heart is breaking. It’s cracking into two and you have no idea how to stop it. You can’t. “Okay.. I won’t..” You curl up beneath the covers, leaving your bedside lamp on. The call now on speaker, you set the phone beside your pillow. A weak little thank you comes from him, whimpered, tired. “Just… don’t hold it in. Please… I’m right here and ‘m not leaving, so just let it out..” Your voice is pleading, knowing he only has tonight before going back to playing the part. Know he has to get his emotions out now before they’re shoved back down again.
He’s still white knuckling his phone, trembling, slumped against the cold tile wall as the light above the sink hums annoyingly. “I…” He felt stupid, as the tears begin to flow again, another sob clawing its way out of his throat, “I hate this.”
“I know..” You wish you were with him. You haven’t seen him in months. “Just breathe..”
Another strangled sob, words cut off, “I wish I was with you..” He’s so afraid..
“I know.. I know..” You try to soothe, keeping your voice steady even as tears slip into your hairline as you lay in bed, finger rubbing along the side of your phone like you wish it were his face you were caressing.
He feels weak, pathetic. He wishes he were strong enough to handle the fact that he’s alone in this, but he doesn’t want to. Wants you. Needs the safety of your presence, your touch, to bury himself in your chest and never move.
“Hey.. y’said you took a shower right? Why don’t you get dressed and get into bed..” The suggestion leaves you in a soft voice, like you’re speaking to a child. Despite not being there physically, you want to help the best you can.
“I.. yeah, I did.” Laid against the wall, his tired eyes scan the floor where his shirt and underwear lay before out into the dark room. He takes the time to get to his feet, nearly stumbling, trying to follow your instructions. He’s thirsty, so he gets a glass of water from the tap and downs the entire thing before getting dressed, eyes trained on the increasing time of the phone call to keep himself reassured that you’re there, before crawling into bed.
“All comfy?” Your voice almost startles him as he lays his head down. The bed is.. alright. The blankets are soft, fleece, bringing a contrasting warmth to the chill his damp hair sends through him.
“Yeah.. I...” A moment of silence passes before he resumes speaking, his voice so quiet, “Can I ask you something..?”
“Of course.” He could ask for the moon and stars and you’d present them in the palms of your hands.
“What would you do if I asked you to come and get me..?”
That would ruin everything, his mission, and he’ll never be able to look his Lieutenant in the eyes again, maybe even be fired. It’d also risk you, put you in danger. He knows all that, yet, the desire to have you here right now still lingers. Selfishly, he wants you.
“I’d do it.” No hesitation. That seems to be a theme for you and him. You stare at your phone, hoping this is him asking. You’d do anything for him, yearn to hand him anything he desires.
“You’d.. you’d come?” He’s almost certain this would ruin everything, all these months for absolutely nothing… but would.. would it really? Is this worth what it’s doing to him? “Please.. just…” He trails off, thoughts battling each other.
You, on the other end, stay dead silent. If you let your lips part, you’ll start begging him to let you come. Beg for him to leave it all behind, consequences be damned. So you wait, swallowing, listening to his even breathing as he sniffles.
…
…..
“Could… could you come get me? Please?”
There, he’s done it.
You’ve already begun sitting up before the words finished leaving him, picking up your phone. You stand, feeling the wave of panic and relief flood your system, blowing out the candle you had lit, “Are you sure?”
“Yes.. please.” It’s almost a sob, maybe it is one. Tears start to soak his face again, “Just please come get me. I don’t want to be alone. I-.. I wanna see you.”
There’s no thinking anymore as you rush downstairs, shoving your feet into the nearest sneakers you find and grabbing your keys. Simon can hear the front door shut and gravel crunch beneath your feet as you get into your car. “I need to know where you are.” The engine of your car purrs to life, already backing out. He weeps out the motel name, the bed and breakfast showing up as nearly forty-five minutes away once entered into your GPS. Fuck.
—
He wants to beg, continue to plead as he wails into his pillow, muffled. He doesn’t know how long he lays there, half asleep, body in survival mode and trying to shut down all in the same breath. You make the drive in thirty minutes, your voice startling him out of his half dozed state, “Love? You awake?”
“Mm..” Simon blinks, focusing on his phone, heart speeding up, “Yeah.. yes.. I’m awake.”
“I’m outside.” This almost doesn’t feel real. After being separated for so long and now you’re just… here. You have to stay strong, get him out of here first. Your eyes scan over the big buildings with multiple rooms, seeing the dim lights on them. A silver car is parked a few spaces away from yours and… next to it, Simon’s bike. There’s some shuffling, sniffling, feet thudding on the floor before the call ends and movement catches your eye. Up on the second floor of one of the buildings, the door opens and a tall figure slips out, jacket over his arm. He’s walking with a limp, and the sight of him makes you almost start to wail. You sniffle and wipe at your eyes, leaning over to unlock the passenger door and push it open as he nears.
He looks a mess. His lip is cut, eyes sunken and tired, face wet with smeared tears. He slips into the passenger seat, not even daring to look at you and neither do you dare to continue to stare at his face for a moment longer. You can’t, you’ll break. However you waste no time reversing from the parking spot and driving off, back out onto the road in the direction you came. It’s silent for five entire minutes and you don’t dare stop, just in case, but you do however reach and blindly grab his hand, linking your fingers together. Part of you fears he won’t even want to be touched, but it’s squashed with the way he clutches onto you for dear life.
You’re actually here. With him. You’re really here and he’s really out. He breathes in deep, trying to calm his racing heart, stow his emotions for now. Even just being in your car helps, because it smells familiar. Even as more stifled sobs leave him, he doesn’t let go of your hand, squeezing so tight it must hurt you.
—
He’s nearly cried himself to sleep again, barely feeling the way the car jostles as you pull into your driveway, the gate sliding shut behind your car. Undoing your seatbelt and reaching over, you undo his and slowly unlink your hands, not daring to look at his face yet. “C’mon, let’s get inside..” He listens, slowly, following you up to the front door, taking in the surroundings of your house again. Garage to the right, big gate and large brick walls lining the property. He’s been here countless times but.. oh.. the warmth he feels as you both step inside. A table to the right along the wall for your keys, coats hung up on a wall rack to the left, shoes scattered on the tile entrance way floor. You push open the door to the main hallway, the heart of the house, and he feels so much better.
You finally turn to look at him, both stood in the middle of the hallway, and in the dim light you fear he may see the way you crack open a bit.
He looks… broken. A bruise covers his jaw, scabbed over cut on his lip, eyes red and wet, cheeks flushed yet he’s pale. Bags hang under his eyes, dull, sad. Your hand reaches up instinctively, but you pause mid action, as if it’ll scare him.
He blinks slowly, sniffling, your touch so close yet so far.
But you pull back, “Go upstairs, get in bed. I’ll bring you some water, okay?”
He obeys, feeling comforted by your voice, the simple instruction. He doesn’t need to be pointed to the stairs, the carpet plush under his socked feet as he somehow makes it up there without his legs giving out. Not even considering the guest bedroom, he goes to yours, crawling underneath the duvet and he almost sobs again at the warmth, the smell, you. It smells like lavender and vanilla, the candle you have on your bedside table, mattress made up with a different bedspread than he remembers.
After a minute he hears your footsteps, watches as you come inside with a glass of water, kneeling onto the bed to offer it to him. Now he notices you’re in some pajamas, a cute matching set that he’d compliment if not for the circumstances. He sits up on an elbow, taking the offered drink and sipping some of the ice cold water, before handing it back to you with a whispered thank you. You set it aside and just stare, really looking at him now. “Simon…”
It’s obvious how tired he is, and the way he stares back up at you makes him feel vulnerable, not in a bad way though. “..yes?” His voice is small, barely a whisper. He’s feeling so many overwhelming emotions and doesn’t know which one to settle on. He feels grateful, safe, even though the last thing he feels he deserves is your forgiveness and warmth.
However you reach out again, mirroring your action in the hallway, pausing before your skin meets his, ‘Can I..?” Your fingers curl into your palm, nervous he won’t want the touch.
But he does want it, wants it so badly. To feel the comfort of your hand, the love of your fingers… Simon reaches up, his own hand curving around your wrist. He tugs softly, pulling your hand forward, feeling the tickling touch of your fingertips before you lean more into it and cradle his cheek. His eyes flutter, he could start crying again, if he had any more tears in him. He whimpers as his hand drops from your wrist, pushing into the touch with his eyes closed. The warmth on his bruised jaw feels so good, so safe. He looks so defeated, so broken, he’s had everything ripped away from him except you.
“Y/N..” Simon utters, it’s all he can do.
You’re so gentle, as if calming a skittish animal, thumb gently brushing the cut on his lip. “I’m right here…”
It almost brings tears to his eyes again. This is where he feels safest.
“I’m sorry..” He leans into your hand, the touch slowing his heart, and for the first time in he doesn’t know how long, he relaxes.
A frown finds its way to your lips, cradling his face, “What for?” you ask back, keeping your voice just as low as his.
“For.. everything, for..” The words won’t fully come to him, eyes fluttering halfway open as he gazes up at you, watering again, “I’m sorry, I..”
You shift, laying down ontop of the covers whilst he’s tucked under them. Your other hand comes up, and you falter for just a fraction of a second before it slides against his other cheek, cradling his face in your palms. “You have nothing to be sorry for Simon.”
He can’t help it, the moment you lay down he reaches out and pulls you close. His arms loop around you in a hug, burying his face against your neck. “I missed you.” He sniffles, lip wobbling against your skin. You cradle him back, one arm curling under his head for support and the other loops over him, hand finding his hair and petting it gently. It almost startles him, because Brendan did the same thing, albeit rougher, but your hand is so… it feels much nicer, your fingers tangling into the clean locks and scratching at his scalp.
“I missed you.”
The sensation of you caress is enough to make him curl into you more, face pressed against the base of your neck. Simon inhales deeply, smelling your body wash, the compassionate hug making him relax. His arms are tense though, as if he’s scared you’ll be taken from his grasp. Fingers paw at your back, pressing into your shirt, feeling. He needs to know you’re real. And you know that, so you let him even if it hurts a little, “Do you want me to turn the light off?” He answers with a shake of his head, a quiet ‘mm mm’, trying to wiggle impossibly closer. Now that he has you he doesn’t want to let go, fearful you’ll slip away.
“Do you.. want me under the covers?” Even if it sounds silly you have to ask for permission, petting your hand down his hair and over the nape of his neck, where Brendan’s lips were.
One little word slips from him, “Please..”
He is tired, exhausted, sore and scared, but the thought of snuggling with you, feeling your heat, your body against him, is enough to keep him awake. Your hand on his nape brings a small whimper from him, he’s so relieved you haven’t pulled away from him. He feels used, like he doesn’t deserve this touch, but here you are. Your nails scrape over his skin and it makes him shiver in a good way, bringing back memories, a comforting feeling.
A whispered okay is your response, twisting to lift the duvet up and slide yourself under it. He’s immediately pulling you into his arms again, right to his front so not an inch is found between you. The touch makes his heart race, nuzzling back into your neck, breathing in your scent like a hungry animal. He whimpers again, clinging to you for dear life.
“Shh.. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” Your chin is ontop of his head, hand back in his hair to pet and scratch, soothing him. The sensation is enough to break him completely. His lip wobbles again, blinking as tears flood his eyes, legs tangled with yours. He’s really here.. It’s all over.. he doesn’t have to go back.. He can feel your heartbeat, steady and solid. The moment the tears slip from his eyes, his grasp on you tightens desperately. He buries himself closer, wanting nothing, not even oxygen, just you.
“Don’t..” He chokes out, trembling, hiccuping a little cry.
You give him a squeeze, cradling his head and keeping him close, “What?” You whisper, “What d’you need Simon?” It’s pleading. Anything. You’ll do anything for him.
“Don’t let go. Please.. Don’t.” His fingers tense again so much they hurt, wanting to make sure you don’t fall through his grip. He needs you now more than he’s ever needed you before, your hands in his hair, your heartbeat sounding in his ears.
“I won’t.” You tilt your head down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I promise. You can go to sleep, I’ll be here, I’m not leaving.” Your hand tangles in his hair in a light grip, enough for him to know you’re there. Leaning into him, he grasps so hard it hurts, but you’d prefer the bruises of his fingertips over the absence of his body.
This is all he needs, all he wants. Forget everything else, he doesn’t want to turn to that life anymore, wants to forget it all and stay hidden away tucked beneath your duvet. Reality can wait.
———————♡
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I Was The Best Husband
An Elvis Presley One-Shot
A response to the writing prompt "‘are you always this shy?"
Many thanks to my lovely compatriots @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis for talking me off the ledge every time and holding my hand and reminding me why I love Elvis and how fun this can be.
Summary: It is March 1972, a month after Priscilla officially told Elvis about her affair with Mike Stone and her decision to leave him and request a divorce. He is in LA, getting ready to go back on tour and his entourage have invited some women over to help cheer him up.
Warnings: Some mild soft core make-out stuff. I think my smut generator is broken. Please send help. Oh, I wrote this today and there are a lot of typos. And some of it or all of it may not make sense. I'd honestly skip it.
Word Count: 4.2K
I Was the Best Husband
Friday, March 31, 1972, 8:30 p.m.
La Fortuna Apartment Complex
Just off Pico Blvd in West Los Angeles, CA
Her first response had been a firm no when Caroline stuck her head around Maureen’s bedroom door and asked if she wanted to come to a party in the hills at Elvis Presley’s house.
“Please, please PLEASE, Mo, I need you there to make sure I don’t drink too much or do anything stupid. 'Sides, Joe told me to bring some friends.”
“Who’s Joe?”
Caroline walked into Maureen’s room and sat on her vanity stool, wiping the corners of her mouth.
“I met him at the Whiskey last summer, when I was in the cage. He’s works for Elvis, took me out to Palm Springs for Labor Day, ‘member?” Carolyn's long, golden hair glistened in the bedroom lamp light.
“Right, how many girls were there? Twenty? Didn’t you say the trip was a bust?”
“I go to sit on Elvis’ lap for a whole gospel song, and then he asked me and another girl to make out in front of him. That’s a story I’ll be telling my grandchildren one day. Don’t you want to be able to do that?”
Maureen shook her head. “Hmmm, I think I’d probably leave out the second part. I don’t know, Cari, I -”
“Ah ha! You’re thinking about it. Get dressed, we gotta pick up Teresa. You don’t want to miss your opportunity to meet Elvis!”
“Right, maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get to watch the two of you make out on his lap. I don’t know why you need me to come if Teresa is, she makes since, you' 're both waitresses at Bootlegger’s. I’m not sure this Joe was thinking of me when he told you to bring some friends.”
Maureen looked down, smoothing her tee over her small bust while Caroline jumped up and spritzed Maureen’s perfume over her wrists.
“You’re cute, you’re funny, and you have a car, so shake a tail feather and let’s go.”
**************************
Carolyn turned up the radio and “Maggie May” resounded through the car as Maureen guided her Volkswagen bug up the steep incline into the Hollywood Hills. The road twisted and got narrower as they went along and she had to lean forward to feel steady shifting the gears.
Maureen found herself staring at Teresa’s beautiful brown skin as it gleaming in the streetlights while they walked up to the front of the large, white Tudor-style house. Maureen felt like an ugly duckling about to wander into lake full of swans, and hastened her gait, jogging up to link her arm between the other two taller, dazzling women as she balanced herself on her wooden clogs.
Knocking a few times, the door was finally opened by a tall white guy whose name was either Dick, Rick or Nick, and the women made their way into the foyer and down the split level steps towards an large open living room where guests were milling around talking, dancing, drinking.
Carolyn leaned into whisper, “Joe says they’re trying to cheer Elvis up, his wife just asked for a divorce and moved out.”
Maureen only had a moment to reflect on this when Carolyn’s wrist was grabbed by a stout, short balding guy wearing black sunglasses inside at 10 p.m. at night. This, apparently, was Joe. He reminded Maureen of a a think, fat ground hog with no neck and a big, friendly expression that hid rows of sharp teeth. Joe smiled as he kissed Carolyn’s cheeks and checked out Teresa, then nodded politely at Maureen, as he took Carolyn in hand and led them to go meet “the boss.”
They could hear Elvis’ voice echoing through the air before they saw him as they walked out to the pool patio.
“Man, I don’t know how she could do this to me, I was the best husband a woman could ask for. Ain't no one in my family ever been divorced, 'cept my mean-ass, desertin' no good sonofabitch grandaddy. Unnatural for a woman to wanna break up a family like that. After everything I gave her, too. Provided everything a woman could ask for. And what thanks do I get? She steals my baby away and breaks up our fucking family .”
Elvis stood there at the side of the pool, his arms around two beautiful women as he spoke to a short young white guy, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with long greasy dark hair and bushy eyebrows. Elvis paused his diatribe to kiss one of the woman’s cheeks and ask what her name was again, before his eyes met Joe’s and he made a half grin.
“Hey, EP, you remember Cari from Palm Springs, huh?”
Elvis let go of the women he was with and drew Carolyn into his side, kissing her cheek and saying of course he remembered her. He hummed a few bars of a gospel song, which made Carolyn giggle, and then asked her to introduce him to her friends as he took Teresa and then Maureen’s hands, kissing them one at a time. Maureen shivered when Elvis took her hand, his eyes narrowed as his mouth turned upward into a crooked grin and he winked at her. She forgot how to talk as his nose grazed the top of her hand and he squeezed it to his mouth for light, warm kiss.
“This here is Arty Shiskee, he’s workin’ on this picture we’re makin’ with MGM, been filming our tour rehearsals all day.”
The short, dark haired man smiled anxiously, and uncrossed his arms to shake their hands. Carolyn leaned into Elvis, and Joe took Maureen by the waist to “show you around, maybe get you a drink, babe?”
Maureen felt as Joe was moving her out to pasture with the other guests not selected for Elvis’ harem, so she tilting her head toward the bar inside and said thanks.
Waiting for three white wine spritzers, Maureen turned to see Arty.
“Hey, Art, is it?”
“Actually, it’s Marty. I don’t have the guts to correct him, he’s Elvis, ya know? I guess I’m a coward. Also, how can I give the guy a hard time? He’s wife just left him.”
“Yeah, he seems real broken up about, huh? How will he ever find another companion?”
Marty chuckled, and pulled his hair behind his ear as Maureen carried on, she always talked more when she felt nervous.
“I guess it’s good he feels comfortable talking about it.”
“Um, yeah, ‘comfortable,’ that’s one way to put it.”
Before Maureen could ask him what he meant, her drinks were ready, and she enlisted Marty’s help carrying them back to the others. This was not easy, Elvis and the girls had disappeared from the patio, and Marty diligently followed Maureen through the mansion until they spotted the back of his shag hairdo on a couch in a large den. Maureen handed her friends their drinks and settled onto the floor, leaning back against the side of a brown velour couch and resting her shoes on the fur rug that extended out from the coffee table. Carolyn seemed at home sitting atop Elvis’ lap, buffeted by two other women sitting on either side all listening attentively as Elvis spoke.
“I am telling ya what, man, I gave her everything a wife could ask for, she wanted a horse, I got her a horse. She wanted ranch we drove by in Mississippi, by god, I got her the damn ranch. And I bought everyone a truck for the ranch. She wanted a bigger house in Los Angle -lesss, why, I bought this huge goddamn house. Gave her unlimited budget to decorate this place to her heart’s desire. New car every time she blinked. Jewelry boxes filled with diamonds. A closet full of new designer clothes.”
Elvis rubbed Carolyns waist and extended his other arm around the redhead next to him, looking at one, then the other, as he asked. “Now, wouldn’t you like that, honey? Would that have made you happy?”
“Uh huh, daddy. That wouldda made me the happiest.”
Elvis kissed Carolyn’s cheek as she said this. “Right? Thank ya, baby. That’s cuz you’re sweet, normal, nice girl, ain’t got anti-freeze running through your veins.”
He kissed the redhead’s cheek too, and then her lips as she turned toward him and put her hands around his neck.
“I would have been so happy, Elvis, I wouldda let you know, twenty five hours a day, eight days a week.”
The loud smacks of their sloppy kisses echoed through the room, and Maureen suddenly felt very self conscious, as if she was watching something she ought not to. She didn’t go to these Hollywood people parties very often, although perhaps it wasn’t soo weird, she reasoned, for a handsome, wealthy, star like Elvis to make out with good looking women in his own house.
Surrounded by other good looking people.
Who were mostly 20-something females.
Maureen looked around and clocked at least another ten girls just in their area alone, with only three other men hanging out among the guests. Two after Marty waved a small goodbye and slipped out through the side door onto the patio.
Maureen returned her gaze to Elvis, who had paused his kisses with the sympathetic redhead in order to continue talking. Every few moments, Maureen thought she caught Elvis glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but she told herself it was nothing.
“Ya see, honey, now, that’s what I told her, I said any other woman would fuckin’ kill to be where you are, to have what you have, to have a husband like me. Uh huh, but not my wife. Nah, that bitch has a heart of stone. What thanks do I get for everything I’ve done? Come home to find all that swag I bought, gone, man, gone.”
He snapped his fingers. “She packed it all up, gave up on a ten year relationship, over ten years, and and left me for another man.” Elvis shook his head, his squeezing Carolyn’s knee.
A smile came over Elvis’ face as he looked from Carolyn to the redhead, and Maureen thought maybe he was going to try and get the two to make out. Instead, he asked them, “Hey, want to see something out of sight?”
As they nodded, he jumped up, and looked around, his eyes settling on Maureen as reached out his hand to draw her up from the floor.
“Check this out honey, Imma show you how a real man protects his family. ’Git up here, woman, I need ya.” Maureen stumbled up as Elvis pulled her to the middle of the room and positioned her arms out. “Alright, baby, now stand still and Do. Not. Move. Do you trust me?”
Maureen nodded hesitantly, her eyes wide with what could probably be best described as the opposite of trust. Elvis face lit up, and then he took a deep breath, his hands together in prayer as he centered them in front of his face and down to his chest. Then he proceeded to thrust his leg up, extending the knee forward in a swift karate kick out at her side.
Maureen froze in terror as Elvis grunted loudly and proceeded to demonstrate a rash of karate chops on either side of her face, followed by a few more high thrusting kicks, his black hair flounced in the air from his movements and “hiyas!” echoing around the room. He chuckled as he caught his breath, rubbing her shoulder.
“Whoa, hey there, you can breath darlin, it’s ok. I’m a black belt.”
He turned to the little crowd that had formed around the room as they clapped and he took a bow.
“See y’all? That’s how karate can be, if ya know what ya doin’ like I do. I can control my movements precisely and protect my family. I could kill a man with my bare hands if I wanted to.”
Then his face erupted into a grin as Maureen chuckled nervously.
“Course, I wouldn’t. A true master only uses deadly force as a last resort. Against those who mean him or his family harm.” Elvis growled, and Maureen quickly ducked under his arm, about to sit, or flee, an option she was seriously considering until she felt his grip on her wrist.
“You did great, darlin, I could tell you liked it, saw it in your eyes. Watch out, once it gets you, there's no going back,’” he murmured, and kissed her on her lips, his hands on the sides if her face. Then he held out her hand for her to take a bow before he released her.
“Didn’t she seem fearless? Give it up for Colleen, everyone, bravest little gal in here. Probably the craziest too. Could see it in her eyes.”
He winked as Maureen joined people standing at the edge of the room, before sneaking off to use the bathroom and grateful she hadn’t peed her pants during Elvis’ karate demonstration. It had been terrifying, exhilarating, and mesmerizing. The violence and intensity of Elvis might even have turned her on a bit, but this sensation was almost certainly overwhelmed by the mortal fear that he was going to kill or seriously injure her.
***************************
It was past one when Maureen made a concerted effort to find her friends and persuade them to go home. She had been enjoying the free drinks and picking at some fried chicken as she made small talk with other guests, avoiding the areas where she heard the loud refrain of the best husband in all of Memphis, Hollywood and the goddamn world. But now she would have to face him, and found Elvis in the living room where she made her way to the corner and scanned the area for Carolyn and Teresa. She was distracted by Elvis' direct glances at her every few minutes. Realizing her friends weren’t with him or in the room, Maureen turned to leave but was stopped by Joe's hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, boss man wants you to come join us," his arm snaked around her as he led her over to the few people still hanging out.
“Hey there, it’s my karate partner. Where’s the fire, honey? Come on, take a load off.”
Maureen’s eyes widened but she found herself stuttering and unable to talk in the glow of Elvis full attention.
“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, I have to find my friends, Carolyn and Teresa, I think they may have actually been on your lap, at one point.”
Elvis’ lips curled up, and he bit his bottom one as he muttered. “Oh yes, Careful Carolyn, mmhmmm, yeah, I think she and that purty Black girl went home with Jerry, huh Joe?"
The ground hog nodded.
Elvis winked, and then his eyebrows creased as he saw Maureen’s face fall. “Oh it’s ok, baby, did your friends leave you behind? It’s ok, I, uh, I think they was lookin’ for ya, actually, yeah, they said to tell you not ta worry.”
Elvis squeezed her hand and nodded to the others as he turned and guided Maureen away from the living through a hall.
“C’mon, I know something that will make ya feel better. It’s my cure all for when life gets me down.”
Elvis’ hand slipped around Maureen’s waist, and she let her head dip into his side, more from exhaustion than anything else. The feeling of Elvis tall, sturdy body as he held her to him and kissed the top of her head was comforting, she made the decision not to think about how he seemed to be instantly intimate with every woman he met. She definitely decided not to question whether this quality had been appreciated by his soon-to-be ex-wife.
Elvis pushed them into a large country style kitchen, with a wide, wooden island in the middle. Loosening his grip, Elvis went to the fridge while Maureen determined she would be more comfortable sitting down and settled on the nearest and therefore most logical option: the island’s yellow tiled counter. This is where she sat swinging her legs as Elvis returned with a gallon of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup.
“Well, now, ya hardly said a word all night, sweetheart, are you always this shy?”
“Um, only with people I don’t know.” Maureen murmured, looking down and pulling the strap of her black jersey dress back up from her shoulder.
“You sayin’ you don’t know me?”
Maureen looked up into Elvis’s eyes, and her heart fluttered as he stepped closer. Now his long arms pushed over her lap to settled alongside her body on the counter as he moved between her legs. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and felt the movements of his chest acutely against her nipples as he leaned closer and hovered in front of her. Exhaling through her nose, she tried not to gasp as she tapped out her fingers nervously and looked down. A lone, nervous giggle escaped her mouth.
“Um, not really. Not who you really are.” Maureen whispered to her lap, which now included Elvis’ hands, rubbing her waist.
He lifted her chin, speaking softly as he looked into her eyes. “S’ok baby, I don’t bite. Much.”
Then Elvis chomped his teeth together loudly into Maureen's face and she jerked back with a giggling gasp.
Elvis laughed, straightening his yellow tinted sunglasses. “Well, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley. Nice ta meet ya, Colleen.”
“Maureen. It’s Maureen, though my friends all call me Mo.”
Elvis’ finger’s trailed up the side of Maureen’s outer thigh, and she swallowed as he widened her legs around him.
“Alright then, see, I didn’t really know who you were.” He murmured into her cheek. “Nice ta meet ya, Mo.”
Elvis seemed to recognize the effect he had on her, as her breath hitched in her throat and she found her self incapable of talking. He stepped back with a chuckle, and dragged the ice cream over the counter next to Maureen’s hip, pulling off the container top and flipping the chocolate syrup lid with his teeth and a dramatic exaggerated “humpf."
Maureen and guffawed watching Elvis poured the chocolate sauce directly into the ice cream container.
"What are you doing? No one else'll be able to eat that."
“Honey, do you see anyone else here? S’my house, now, dammit, and I’ll do what I want. Ain’t got no wife to nag at me. If I wanna eating ice cream outta the box, then I'll get it out of the box." He said, slurping a messy spoonful into his open mouth.
Elvis brought a second helping to Maureen’s lips. “Now, open wide, like a good lil gal.” He chuckled as she let him push the spoon into her mouth slowly, moaning in delight as she swallowed the sweet, cold, sugary goodness.
“MMhmmm. See, now, do I know how to make women happy or what? You wouldn’t have left me, would ya, Mo Mo?”
“No, but I'm pretty easy to win over. I'd forgive almost anything if a man feeds me ice cream.”
Maureen winked at him and wiped her mouth just in time for another spoon of chocolate swirled ice cream, which Elvis followed with a soft, grateful kiss. He threw the spoon down and leaned into her, his hands moving up her body until they were cupping the back of her head and his lips settled again over hers.
Slow, soft, tender movements turned needier as they rocked back and forth. Maureen’s hands stroked the top of Elvis' shoulders, pulling him in by the lapel as she opened her mouth to meet his tongue. Her wooden platforms hit against each other as she notched her legs around Elvis, gripping him to her, as close as as she could bring him. Elvis stepped back, panting as he wiped his mouth, his lips contorted in a dopey grin.
She could hear the front door slam as people left the party, but they weren't going back to that way when he drew her off the counter and left the ice cream melting where it sat. She could see it in his eyes, a hungry wolfish glare, and his arm pulled her the other way, away from the people, the music, and the main part of the house.
“C’mon, baby, let me give you the VIP tour.” Elvis announced as they walked through the other side of the kitchen to a narrow stair case.
“These are some stupid, expensive-ass refurbished stairs.”
He bounced into the second floor, and turned to draw Maureen into him once more, his hand at the back of her neck and her body thrummed with need as his fingers played with the scruff of her hair. Then he was pressing her to the wall, pressing all her thoughts and misgivings away with his lips, while his hands blindly felt their way over her hips.
Minutes passed by measured by the metronome of air popping softly between their lips. Elvis fingers began to migrate lower, tugging at the hem of her dress. He smiled at the arousal in Maureen’s wide, brown eyes, leading her through a door at the end of the hall.
“Oh loook, huh, I think,” he paused as he walked to turn on one solitary lamp on top of a dresser on. “I think we found, the, uh, bedroom.” He looked down, almost shy, as he grinned.
Maureen swished from side to side playfully, anxiously, hesitantly in place where she stood across the room from him. Suddenly self-conscious, her desire faltered as she thought about where she was and who she was with, and became profoundly insecure about her sexual prowess.
“MMhmmmm. There is a bed.” She murmured, her arm up behind her neck, twisting her long, brown hair aside. “And, it is a room. So I guess it fits the definition.”
Elvis eyes narrowed in recognition as he strode back to her and took her hand, his lips kissing the top lightly and his nose nuzzling into Maureen’s knuckles. “Hey baby, we don’t gotta do nothin’, ok? You’re the boss.”
Maureen felt a blistering heat grow between her legs, and she let out a breathy exhale as Elvis moved his lips up her arm, kissing his way to the nape of her neck.
“We aint’t gotta do nothin’ you don't wanna do, nothin' at all, ok honey? Don’t shake, sshhhh, s’ok.”
Maureen put her hands around Elvis’ neck, willing away her trembling nerves as the knot in her belly propelled her to be as close to him as possible. She felt ashamed of how much she wanted to do the opposite of nothing, right now, all at once as soon as possible.
“I, um, I’m not one for, I mean, I don’t usually do one night stands.”
He took her hand, and led her over to the bed and pulling her onto his lap. “There, we don’t have ta stand at all.”
Maureen exhaled with a chuckle as Elvis rubbed his hand up and down her thigh slowly, suddenly sheepish and uncertain. He let out a hesitant exhale. For some inexplicable reason, Elvis’ sudden nervousness made Maureen relax a little, and she lifted her fingers to caress his cheek before stranding to take off her dress.
He stopped her, and lifted her right foot to his lap, and then her left, chuckling at her cries as he throw her shoes across the room. Then he pulled her up in front of him, instructing her to lift her dress slowly. Very slowly.
Maureen’s breath escaped her nose in long gasps as she lifted her black dress, drawing it over her head, inch by inch, encouraged by the short gasps Elvis' throat made as his eyes locked into hers. He groaned loudly and bit his lip when she revealed the light, yellow flowered panties with a little yellow bow at the middle. Lifting her dress like a curtain, revealing her belly inch-by-inch, then her breasts, then her nipples, the feel of the fabric brushing over her skin was titillating. Naked, except for her panties, she moved her arms over her tummy and did an awkward little wiggle as she hurriedly sought out the warm of Elvis’ embrace.
His movements were slow and purposeful, trailing his over her as he removed her arms from her tummy and just soaked in the sight of her body, biting his lip and breathing. He met her eyes, and gather her body on top of his, planting kisses along her clavicle, each breath made Maureen’s pulse quicken and she ran her hands through Elvis’ soft hair. He laid her back on to the bed, on his knees between her legs as he slid her underwear off, watching as he revealed her wooly, warm labia, sucking in air as he shook his head with reverence and whispered a low goddamn, goddamn.
Maureen let out a breathy chuckle. “What? What is it?”
“Just beautiful, honey, I just like looking at it.”
“I’m, uh. I think I’ve probably done this less than you.” She let out another nervous chuckle, every cell in her body was telling her to shut up but when Maureen got nervous, she started talking more. “I don’t know how I’ll compare to Vegas showgirls or or even —”
Elvis put his finger her to her lips, then he calmly stood up and kicked off his shoes, hanging up his sports coat and printed dress shirt over a chair.
“S’ok, honey, don’t get all up in your head like that. Shhh, just remember to breath and uh, follow my lead.”
Elvis returned to hoover above Maureen and kissed her gently. He winked, and Maureen felt him tremble as he moved to unzipped his pants.
“I really was the best husband, ya know? I never expected anything from my wife. Ever. Knew it was my job to provide. And, uh, when it cimes to making love." He blushed. " I, uh, know, well, that its the man’s job to make it good. You’ll see.”
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Sleeping Beauty
Pairing: Asmo x f!reader
Genre: smut
Warnings: sexsomina, (consensual) somnophilia, blowjobs, cowgirl style, and I think that's it
Summary: You awake to find Asmo having a wet dream—or is it? Either way, you take him for a ride while he continues to slumber
WC: 1.4k words
Kinktober Day 17
Read on AO3!
You grunt as you open your eyes, blearily looking at the white–sorry, eggshell–wall in front of you. For a moment, you try to fall back asleep, but it's then you feel the prominent poking of something on your ass Or…that’s what you thought anyway. The normal fondling or dirty talk that your lover would pair with it on nights like these was completely absent.
You raise a brow.
Odd.
Looking over your shoulder at Asmo, you find him, assumingly, still sound asleep. The longer you stare, the more awake you begin to feel. This is when you notice his current state.
He’s sweating all over, face red and scrunched up in what seems to be a mix of pain and pleasure. His chest is moving fast with his labored breathing, and he occasionally lets out quiet whimpers and moans. While finding Asmo in the middle of a wet dream, or waking up to the occasional morning wood pressing against you, was a normal occurrence, you’re pretty sure that’s not what was going on here.
You bite your lip as you slowly roll over to face him, careful not to wake him. You lift up the blanket, revealing the silk pajama bottoms that he always wears. Well, they aren’t so much pajamas as they are underwear. He either wears these or nothing at all. As of right now though, they’re strained from how hard he is and a wet patch is growing by his hip. The sight alone has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip harder, your eyes moving up his body to his face once more.
You recall the talk you’ve had before about sex when one of you is asleep, mainly he was asking you what you thought about it since pretty much anything is hot to him. You were unsure of it at first, but after being with him for so long, you’d trust him with your life.
Typically it’s always him waking you up by licking your folds or stretching you out with his fingers before filling you up with his thick cock.
Maybe tonight though it can be your turn.
You lick your lips at the thought, cautiously pushing the blanket off of you both. You then sit up and assess him for a moment. Goosebumps rise on his wet skin from the cool air touching his sweaty body. His nipples harden too, his body quivering before going still again.
You leisurely make your way down the bed and position yourself between his legs, moving them apart bit by bit to fit you better. Once laid out on your tummy, you ghost your hands up his thighs before gripping the top of his silk bottoms. You stare up at his face to study his reaction as you slip them down his smooth legs. His body has no response other than his full cock springing up to slap against his toned stomach.
You lick and spit on your hand before wrapping it around his member, going slow as your raise and drop your fist around his shaft. Your eyes flicker back up to his face when he starts thrusting into your hand and moans. You pout, expecting him to be awake now since he’s moving so much and making louder noises. To your surprise though, he still remains asleep even as he clenches the sheets in his hands and thrusts up into your tight grip.
You bite your lip as you watch him do all the work, just keeping your fist tight as you allow him to please himself. You gasp when his cum suddenly spurts out and lands on your face, you turn your head away and feel the rest of it land on your hair and cheek. Your nose wrinkles in disgust, but you don’t feel that way for long when you turn to look back at him.
You find that the pinch between his brow is gone, the part of his expression that showed pain now subsiding into full pleasure. He’s panting harshly now, chest and cock flushed red much like his face. You lick your lips as you lean forward to give his still-hard dick a lick. God, you love demon biology. You wrap your mouth around the tip and give the top a little suck, observing how his body writhes beneath you. You gag a bit when he suddenly jolts up and shoves his cock halfway down your mouth. You pull back and take a deep breath as you study him, checking to see if he’s still asleep. After confirming he is, you go back down to continue your blowjob. You lick and suck on his member like it’s a melting popsicle, panting as you start to get more and more worked up. When you feel him twitch in your mouth, signaling he’s about to cum again, you pull back. You catch your breath as you stare up at him, noticing he’s started to sweat more and is panting just as hard as you.
After catching your breath, you go up on your knees and slip your own bottoms off. Your slick sticks to the panties as you slip them off, it breaking off and landing on your thigh. You whine in anticipation as you crawl over him, reaching down to grab him and giving him a few pumps. You then angle him upwards and rub the head against your heat. You gasp when his hands suddenly come up and grip your thighs. You look up at his face to find his eyes are still closed, and the grip on your legs is a weak one.
With that thought in mind, you slowly sink down onto his cock. You let out a whimper before biting your lip to silence yourself, looking up from where he’s entering you to look at his face once more. You continue to observe him as you bottom out, your jaw unhinging as your pussy clenches around him. You take a few moments to adjust to his size before you rise yourself up before dropping back down just before his member could leave your hole.
You start up a steady rhythm, watching his slack body jerk and flop on the bed with each of your bounces. Despite how hard you’re trying, you start to weakly moan. You tilt your head back as you continue to bounce on his cock, running your hands along both of your chests. You moan loudly when you feel cum suddenly shoot inside of you, your head tipping back up to look down at him. His eyes are open now and he has his usual o-face on, but his eyes are glassy and far away. Your hands land on his chest for leverage as you quickly pick up the pace to bring yourself to your peak.
You clench and squeeze around him as you cum, both of your ecstasies dripping down your thighs and wetting his body. You slowly come to a stop and you look back up at him only to find his eyes closed, soft snores escaping his mouth. Did he wake up only to fall back asleep right after?
You huff and shrug it off as you pull him out of you, quickly dashing to his private bathroom to clean yourself up. You come back out afterward with a warm rag and begging to clean him up. After that, you lay back down beside him and fall asleep almost immediately.
You’re woken up in the morning to kisses on your naked shoulder and neck. “Good morning, my love. How’d you sleep?” he coos, leaning on one elbow and looking down at you. You hum and wipe the sleep from your eyes, smirking up at him afterward.
“Wonderfully after last night,” you coo seductively. He smirks at that for a moment before realizing something.
“What do you mean?” he asks, brushing some stray hair out of your face. You also become confused.
“Last night. Sex. Ringing any bells?” Asmo’s shaped brows furrow as he shakes his head.
“Sorry, my little dove. No bells have been rung,” he says dramatically before giving you a kiss. “Maybe I rocked your world in your dream,” he says teasingly against your lips, biting down on the bottom one. You hum and pull away, shaking your head.
“No, it was real, babe. Look,” you say, motioning to his chest and neck where you had marked him last night. He pulls away from you to look at where you’re motioning.
“Oh,” he says surprised. You raise a brow as you wait for more of a reaction, but receive none as he suddenly pops another kiss onto your lips and rolls out of bed. “Would you like breakfast, mon chéri?” You sigh as you watch him slide his silk robe on. Guess it’s not much of a surprise for him.
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MASTERLISTS
More with Asmo
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⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰
#asmo x reader smut#obey me smut#asmo smut#asmo x reader#obey me x reader#obey me asmo#asmo#swd asmo#asmodeus#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#asmodeus x reader#obey me asmodeus#swd asmodeus#smut#nsft#nsft obey me#nsft asmo#nsft asmodeus#kinktober#kinktober 2020#con noncon#tw con noncon
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can you do part 2 to the Kenny omega Babies piece where the Reader is watching one of Kenny Aew match or at an Aew paper view in person or is either at Reader and Kenny Home in NORTH CARRROLLINNNAAAA. And the reader ends up going into Labor but Kenny ends up making it to see either his Baby boy or Baby Girl born and the golden elite come to visit after the baby is born?
Babies Part 3
Main Masterlist Kenny Omega Masterlist
Part 1 Part 2 Part 4
Summary: Your ringside for The Elite VS JAS VS HOB for the trios titles in Winnipeg when you go into Labor.
Word count: 1565
Just about everyone advised me not to go to Winnipeg for Dynamite due to the fact that there was a really high possibility that I could go into labor during the show. Being the stubborn person I am, I refused and was determined to be there. I was so angry that I couldn't make it to AEW’s first ever show in Canada nonetheless in my home town of Toronto because of the whole suspension thing. Even though I was not suspended it was recommended that I also stay away for a while. Now we are in Winnipeg Manitoba Canada, and I am so excited to be a part of the show, even if it is just me being ringside for the boys match.
I was sitting in hair and makeup getting ready for the show when Shannon, one of the costume designers approached me.
“Hey Mama, how’s it going” Shannon said excitedly as she approached me
“Hi Shan, I’m doing alright for the most part. I feel huge” I said pointing down to my baby bump
“Hey now, don’t be so mean to bumpy. I can’t wait to meet that little girl. You and Kenny are going to be great parents!”
“Oh yeah? I’m not too sure about that one. She could come any day and I’m literally terrified. I can hardly take care of myself let alone a little human baby!”
“Please Y/N, You will be a great mother. I see how you treat the young talent here. You are like a second mother to them”
“That’s different, yes they are my babies but they are 18 to early 20s. That is a big difference to a newborn child! Before you cut me off, yes I know that I treat AEW as my baby but it is my baby. You have been here since day one girl. You know I would do absolutely anything for this company. You remember how hard it was in the beginning!”
“I remember very well Y/N! But that is not why I’m here. I came here to give this to you” Shannon said as she handed me a gift bag with tissue paper sticking out of the top
When I opened the gift I was shocked to see a matching set of ring gear to the ones the boys would be wearing tonight
“Shan!!! You shouldn't have!”
“Yes I should, do you like it?”
“I love it!!! The real question is, is it going to fit me?”
“It should fit, If not I can make a quick fix if needed. I thought you would like something cute to wear tonight!” Shannon said with the largest smile on her face!
“Thank you so much, you have no idea what this means to me!”
XXX
When I put on the gear I was shocked to see that it fit like a glove. The white and silver bodysuit hugged my curves perfectly, surprisingly making my baby bump look flattering. The matching Jacket put the whole outfit together perfectly although I did swap out the boots for my Dior Jordans. No way was my swollen ankles were going to get into the boots.
Once I was all ready I headed over to the Elite locker room to show Tyson and The Bucks my new outfit.
*knock knock knock*
“Come in!” Nick yelled through the door
When I opened the door I was greated by Tyson, Hangman and both Matt and Nick!
“Hi, everyone!” I said
“Jesus christ Y/N!!!” Kenny said, almost in disbelief
“Do you like it?” I asked
“Like it, I love it!!! How did you get this?”
“Shannon surprised me with it!”
“Of course she did” Matt said, interrupting our conversation “She’s the best isn’t she Y/n!”
“She really is Matt! How is everyone feeling? Ready for tonight?” I asked felling a bit of tension in the room
“Yeah, we are great! I’m honestly just a bit nervous” Kenny admitted
After being friends for 14 years and together for the past 10 I knew by now that Kenny does not get nervous EVER. Not even when main eventing the tokyo dome. To him that was just another match. So I knew that although Kenny might not be nervous Tyson was. It was strange, normally he was Kenny Omega 24/7, and only few were granted the wish to use his government name but I could see that I wasn’t talking to Kenny Omega, this was Tyson Smith.
XXX
A couple of hours have passed and it’s now time for the main event!
The Elite Consisting of Kenny, Nick and Matt VS the team of the house of black consisting of Malachi Black, Brody King and Buddy Matthews VS The Jericho Appreciation Society consisting of Chris Jericho, Sammy Guevara and Daniel Garcia. A match for the trios titles that The Elite had just lost a few weeks ago to HOB at revolution.
I was waiting backstage for the cue to make our entrance to Carry on Wayward son when I was greeted with a worried Tyson. That is when I figured out just why he was so nervous.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea Y/N” Kenny said nervously pacing around the small area
“What’s not a good idea?” I said, unsure just what he was referring to
“You being ringside for this match!”
“Why not? Everyone knows that I'm pregnant and will be careful not to run into me. Plus I can look out for myself. I will be fine, I think you forgot I am also a wrestler.”
“No it’s not that”
“What? It’s not I will go into labor during the match” I said
Tyson said nothing he just gave me that look
“I will be fine, promise, ok?”
“Alright, I love you Y/N”
“I love you too Tyson”
XXX
The match was going great, The pop from the crowd when I made the surprise appearance with the Elite almost made me cry. I feel like they were almost more excited to see me than the boys. I did my usual interference and interactions with the crowd when I felt an abnormally hard kick to my stomach. Then I felt it, hot liquid running down my legs. I looked over to Brandon Cutler who was also ringside, filming for BTE when I whispered “I think my water just broke”
I looked down to see the pool of fluid on the ground and when I looked up I made eye contact with Kenny who looked like he saw a ghost.
I heard some people in the crowd gasp when it happened, almost everyone in the ring having the same reaction as Kenny. Thankfully Kenny wasn’t in the match when it happened so I was able to tell him that I was ok and that I would stay ringside until the match was over. And boy did those 20 minutes feel like the longest 20 minutes of my life.
Once the match was finished I went to the backstage doctors who told me I should go to the hospital since I was in active labor. Me being the stubborn person I am, I refused. I wanted to stay until they taped rampage, since The Elite was booked to have a little speech after the taping to thank the crowd and have a little celebration For Kenny and Jericho. Tony Khan told me to forget about it and that I should really go to the hospital. I was getting tired of everyone telling me that but I was determined to stay. “If I have this baby backstage then I have it backstage!” I told a frustrated Kenny Omega. “ I am staying, end of story”
Somehow I managed to make it through an extra 3 hours before we finally made it to the hospital. The celebration went well and in between some pretty nasty contractions I let the crowd know that I did indeed go into labor during the match!
When I arrived at the hospital I was not alone. Tyson, Matt, Nick, Hangman, Adam Cole, Britt Baker and Matt’s wife Dana insisted on coming with us. Although it was weird at first I didn’t mind having my best friends with me. Although it was a bit of a sticky situation having this baby in Winnipeg it wasn’t all that bad. Kenny and I had a house in Toronto which was only about 2 and a half hrs by plane and due to the fact we would have an infant it would take around 20-24 hrs to drive. Kenny and I also both had family that lived in Winnipeg including Kenny’s parents who were kind enough to let us stay with them for a bit before we could get back home.
I ended up having a natural birth due to my fear of needles and it was probably the worst decision I made in my life. The amount of pain I was in was insane but in the end it would be worth it. Tyson was scared, understandable so and so was I.
Tyson, Britt and Dana were all there with me when I gave birth to my daughter. Tyson and I decided on the name Violet for our baby girl. She was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen in my life. To make things better I was surrounded by my best friends.
#aew smut#bullet clubs bitch#all elite wrestling#the elite#kenny omega#aew#aew fanfiction#bullet club#kenny omega x reader#kenny omega fluff#kenny omega smut#kenny the cleaner#kenny omega imagine#pro wrestling smut#pregnancy#pro wrestling
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i literally saw this picture and immediately thought what a perfect story you could write about it😭😭
tomorrow will be the prince’s 21st birthday.
your mother has had you setting up the banquet hall since the start of the week.
it’s been a struggle between laboring away in the kitchen’s and decorating the expansive area for the young Alphas adult ceremony.
his mother, the head Omega of the household, has been breathing down your neck everyday, insisting you scrub the absolute most minuscule spot from the ballroom floor on your hands and knees.
on your hands and knees as you were in the elder prince’s quarters later that evening. the demanding older brother who loved to control you and use you in the dark.
“with Jeno stepping into adulthood, mother has been berating me to find a mate.” Jaemin scoffed, pressed to your side after ravaging your exhausted body for the last three hours.
“do you believe she is suspicious of us?” it frightens you to ask him, enacting fear and worry that the prince will reprimand you for speaking back to him.
Jaemin’s mood must be light tonight, because he smiles, he strokes your cheek in a gentle manner. admiring you the way he once used to daily, before presenting and discarding your friendship.
friendship replaced by hierarchies and pure royal bloodlines. friendship you once cherished like the days spent in the fields picking ripe cherries with your two best friends, the two sweetest morsels gone sour before your eyes with years and time gone by.
“I don’t care what my mother wishes of me.” Jaemin states, returning to his cold and confident way. “I will be king, even if I must dethrone my own father.”
Jaemin changed after presenting as an Alpha. you could no longer call him your friend, only your master, evident by the way he never once spoke your name again.
servant. that is all you are to him now. a servant who could never carry his future pups, a servant who only deserved his ‘love’ behind locked doors in the middle of the night when his mother’s sleeping pills had already kicked in.
having a part of him felt better than nothing, at least that is what you would tell yourself.
the rising sun would erase your pain, bring on a new day of acting and pretending that the elder prince’s derogatory behavior toward you meant nothing. not when you’d land in his bed once more in the middle of the night.
not even as you watched royal Omegas nearly fall to their knees to garner his attention at the ball the next evening.
“my stomach seems to be upset with the last course my mother planned for tonight.” Jeno’s voice deteres your attention away from your beloved prince.
he’s regal in the crisp white suit that head Omega marveled over for weeks. a silk creme cummerbund custom tailored to fit his trim waist perfectly, defining the width of his broad shoulders and muscular neck adorned with the mother queen’s pearls and honorary royal coming of age pendant. a stunning vision in comparison to the drabe lifeless garments for all of the servants to wear, shades that could blend easily to the wall.
invisible, unable to disrupt celebrations that only those with wealth and alleged holy blood blessed by the moon Goddess are meant to enjoy.
invisible to all, except him.
Jeno followed you around like a sappy pup. the younger prince managed his free time with your time, offering to clean his own living quarters so that the two of you could spend the time by the lake. feed the ducks and bask in the afternoon sun as you did growing up, before your mother had difficulties completing her tasks with old age and pain overcoming her body over years of strenuous service.
head Omega never held much issue with your closeness to her sons, not until you presented as an Omega yourself. from that day forward she assigned you only the most grueling tasks, worked you from dusk till dawn until your back and feet screamed for mercy.
Jeno’s tender puppy eyes constantly searching for you throughout the evening didn’t help. fortunate that his mother was far too distracted with entertaining royal guests that traveled far from different lands day and night to be here.
“some hot tea for the young master?” you smiled, a playfulness added to your question.
Jeno sighs at the counter near you, sneaking into the kitchens with you after whining that you must make him a remedy to cure the pangs of pain shooting throughout his tummy. the baby Alpha pouted, patting his corseted abdomen while batting long thick eyelashes until you gave in.
“ah, don’t call me that.” he grunts, playing with the strings holding your apron together. “Jaemin is the master. he wants the crown, I could care less.”
“the throne is rightfully yours as much as it is his, young Alpha.”
“stop that!” Jeno sighs, chuckling and untying your apron. “you know this changes nothing right? I do not wish to run this land.”
“then what do you wish for my prince?” you ask, setting aside the boiled herbs. allowing the Alpha to maneuver you and place the back of your waist against the countertop.
“there is something..” Jeno removes his suit jacket, loosening the first row of buttons from the sheer beige top, displaying an unmarked clavicle. one you will never have the opportunity to bite or claim as your own.
“what is it, my prince?”
“you know that I have only ever wanted you.” he confesses. less than secret, Jeno has chased you for years now, unbeknownst to his older brother. “but you want him.”
he knows, he’s always known.
Jeno’s lips brush against yours airy light, tempting, pleading for more than a kiss. he grips your waist with strength and control, a control that says you can still get away, you can make him stop. a control that says he would give up everything for you, he would cherish you and leave all of this behind.
“I want you to be mine.” his nose grazes down your neck in search of your scent gland. lightly pressed to your skin taking deep inhales, inhales that drum through his chest, roaring ‘mate’. his mate.
he knows he can’t bite, can’t leave marks. Jaemin will see, he’ll find out..
Jeno unbuttons your blouse, sucking lightly at the mounds of your breast. licking and nipping at your hardened nipples. enough to ignite a familiar ache between your thighs, clutching at his nape as he draws your breast between his pink pout.
“I’ll do anything for you.” the Alpha says, determined. “my mate.”
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Too Perfect
Severus x Reader
Hello guys, I hope you all are having a great day/night. I am actually graduating high school tomorrow and I have been incredibly busy and have not had time to get on tumblr. I have been brain storming some one shots for you guys. Hope you enjoy.
An: I know in the HP universe wizard don’t use car often but I love this idea so just for this story Severus has a car. Also this was simply just an excuse for me to write smut. Also Also I like to think Sev is more of a sub but I was wanting to write him as more of a dom.
Summary- You had a little trick up your sleeve on the way to the Malfoy manor.
NSWF
Severus had to practically peel you away from him since he wanted to be at the party on time. But how could you not jump on him in a hot fever, when he is wearing an all black suit with his hair back in a bun. (Ever since you started pulling his hair up for fun, he has started to find himself wearing it that way more often) Severus put on your favorite Cologne of his and he smelled absolutely Devine. You watched him with lust clouded eyes as he grabbed his coat and car keys.
He took notice of your heated glare “Watch it Mrs.Snape or we won’t leave the house.” He said sternly, opening the front door for you.
You playfully rolled your eyes and made your way to the car, Severus’ hand rested comfortably on the small of your back as you made your way to the car. It was about a 30 minute drive from your shared house at spinners end to the Malfoy Manor and you already had planned something for the car ride.
After Severus pulled out of the drive way, his hand went immediately to your thigh and his thumb rubbed an invisible pattern that set your skin on fire. About 15 minutes into the drive you started innocently playing with Severus fingers, tracing the outline of his hand with your fingers until you got a better idea. You pulled his hand up to your mouth and started to trace his middle finger with your tongue, then taking his finger into your mouth and sucking on it lightly.
Severus gaze was on you instantly, his other hand gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. “Y/n.” he said almost as a warning.
You licked a long stripe up his ring and middle finger “Yes, my dear?” you questioned innocently as if you had no clue why he called you. You could see his jaw tighten as he looked back at the road. “I am just getting your fingers ready for it’s next job.” you said as you guided his hand to your throbbing clit.
“Is that so” he said rubbing his fingers in a circle sending pleasure straight to your core, causing you to let out a stifled moan. You gripped his wrist tighter as his fingers worked your clit perfectly.
“Sev” you moaned, as you gripped the seat with your other hand as his fingers continued to work at your clit. Before you even had time to realize, his fingers were thrusting hard inside of you, causing you to gasp and buck your hips into his fingers. You spread your legs wider to give him better access to your dripping cunt in hopes he would go faster.
Severus fingers worked at your g-spot, causing your head to fall back against the head rest, Your breath was labored you tried to fuck his fingers. You could feel the bubble start to build in your lower abdomen, and all you wanted to do was make it pop. “Fuck Severus.” You said as you dug your nails into his forearm.
“So needy tonight, aren’t you my love?” he said with a smirk on his face as he watched your face contort into pleasure. His voice sent sparks down your spine causing your orgasm to approach quickly. You could feel it coming, taste it approaching, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers as you tried to chase that high you so desperately wanted. Suddenly you felt nothing, Severus had stopped moving his fingers but they remained inside of you. You didn't even realize the car had stopped moving and you were inside the manors gates. Severus pulled his fingers out of you and licked them clean, then brought his finger up to your chin so you could look into his eyes. “I asked a question, pretty girl.” he put heavy pronunciation on the last part of his sentence.
You had to catch your breathe, you could feel your release quickly fading away as Severus got out of the car and move to your side. “What the fuck, Severus.” You said angrily, making sure he could here you as he walked to your door.
Severus did not answer,instead he opened your door and waited for you to get out, but you just sat there pissed at the fact that he did not let you come. Severus leaned down so his mouth was at your ear. “I am going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know you’re mine for miles.” he said grabbing your hand as you got out of the car. You couldn't help but feel your whole body flush at his word.
Once again, his hand was placed on the small of your back as you both walked to the front doors of the manor. The doors were were a beautiful dark work with black iron detailing, they were quite large as you had to tilt your head back to look at the whole thing. To your amusement, Severus got very protective towards you in these settings, mostly because Lucius did not know how to stay away from something that wasn't his. The moment the doors opened you could feel his hand snake around your hip pulling you closer to him, you glanced at him trying to read the expression on his face. Severus looked at you with his lips slightly curled, lust filled his eyes as you searched his dark eyes.
----
You were enjoying the party more than you planned (which normally was the opposite), dancing, talking, and eating. Normally with the friends Lucius had you would keep to yourself but tonight you were chatting with everyone and Severus made sure to stay within hearing distance from you at all times, making sure to give you your space of course. After a while you you needed to go to the bathroom and Severus had shown you is personal bathroom in the manor. You walked up the stairs into the bedroom, which had dark marble walls with green and gold accents. There was a balcony on on the other side of the room that looked out over the garden in the backyard, his room was breath taking.
When you got out of the bathroom, you made your way over to the set of double doors that opened up to the balcony. It was beautiful, you could see every inch of the garden, covered in a variety of different flowers and plants with a little stone path that made its way through the garden. You were so lost in the details of the garden that you were startled when you felt a pair of hands weave their way into you backless dress. Before you could turn around to see who it was, your husbands cologne invaded your senses causing you to get lightheaded in the best way possible. You went to turn in his arms but he held you there, pressing his hard cock into your back.
“You are simply this most beautiful creation my eyes have ever laid upon.” his lips were right at your ear, nibbling at the lobe before turning you around. Severus’ lips were on yours instantly, the kiss was filled with hungry and need, but somehow it was still gentle. His hands roamed every inch of your body, needy grabs at your breast, nails digging into your ass lifting you up and pinning you against the nearest wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you tried to grind yourself into him. Severus lips explored your neck, nipping at your collar bone as his hands went to work on his belt and trousers.
“Sev please.” you pleaded with the same need you had in the car. Needing him inside of you, feeling every inch of him against your walls. You need to be connected with him, you craved it as if you had never had it before.
His lips were back on your in an instant claiming you as his, his tongue made its’s way into your mouth and you did not protest letting him in. Without warning he thrust up into you, hitting deep inside you, you let out a loud moan as he filled you. Your hand covering your mouth muffling the sounds of your desperate moans. Severus quickly moved your hand away “I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel, how I am the only one who gets to do this to you.” he was still letting you adjust as he spoke, but quickly removing himself fully just to slam right back into you. He gasped for air at the feeling of you as you let out a strangled cry, he felt so amazing after hours of wanting.
Severus set a brutal pace as he worked at your cunt making your head lol back and hit the cobblestone wall behind you. The tip of his cock hit you g-spot perfectly causing you to practically scream his name again and again. “Look at me” Severus voice rattle through you as he spoke, sending electricity down your spine. Your eyes mets his dark gaze as he fucked you hard. “I love you” he said as one of his hands went to your clit, causing you to bite down on your lip probably drawing blood but you couldn’t care less.
You could see stars in your vision as you felt the coil in your lower stomach. All you could manage to say in your bliss filled state was “Mark me as your Severus” and that alone could have cause him to go over the edge but he didn't want to stop just yet. Severus sucked at your collarbone, leaving purple marks in place of his lips soothing each mark with his tongue. You cried out in pleasure as your orgasm washed over you, causing your breath to quicken. You pulled at his hair as he fucked you through your orgasm, causing your head to fall back involuntarily. You could feel he was close, his cock twitching against your walls as you whimpered at the overstimulation. His thrust started to falter as he came hard into you, letting out a loud moan as he finished.
You both stayed connected not moving as you both tried to catch your breath. Severus whispered the cleaning charm as your head stayed in the crook of his neck. A moment later he pulled out of you and tucked himself away, letting you down slowly. You looked up into his beautiful dark eyes as you leaned in to give him a tender kiss. “I love you too, Severus Snape.” You gave him a warm smile but his eyes traveled to your collarbone and you could see the horror that filled his eyes.
“Fuck, im sorry. I got carried away, they are going to-”
You kissed him lips before he could get too carried away. “I asked you to mark me. I want them to see” you said in sultry tone and you could see a little bit of worry leave his gaze.
“You are too perfect for me Y/N, and I will worship you forever.” he said giving you another long, tender kiss.
#severus snape#severus snape x reader#severus snape x y/n#professor severus snape#severussnape#snape smut#snap fluff
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After Dark Pt. 2
Synopsis: What do you do when there’s a man with fangs lurking in the shadows, swearing he can keep you safe but ever since he’s popped up in your life things get worse? Change is weird and very permanent.
Pairing: Spider-Man 2099 x Female Reader
Word Count:
Genre and Warnings: Romance, Angst, Smut (eventually), Violence, Slow Burn (kind of)
18+ Part 1. 3 (A.N. This was not proofread!)
Miguel was making a mess. He truly was.
“Look, it’s okay if you don’t have it. (Y/N) will call me when she’s back and I’ll come by to grab it. It’s really no issue.” A younger woman who had been flirting with him had been here for now an hour told him as she leaned over the counter, proudly displaying her breasts through the thin white shirt she was wearing. She was beautiful but Miguel wasn’t interested in that at the moment, he was trying to find her blue evening gown. He shook his head as he silently berated himself looking everywhere for the hung up garment. Why did he agree to this? There were at least 3 people here waiting for a while for their stuff and although they were more amused by this tall buff guy running around trying to get their correct items, Miguel couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. All that high iq and fancy job as a chemist for what? Just to not be able to find simple clothes that were hung up? He wanted to scream and break everything in here out of anger but he couldn’t because he made a promise as Spider-Man that he would help out even if she didn’t know that he was in fact Spider-Man helping out.
“No, I’ll find them. I’m just, this is my first day.” The old man smiles and begins to walk out the store, followed by the rest of the customers as well as the girl who had unsuccessfully tried to get his attention.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miguel.” She winked and closed the door behind her.
He let out a scream and slammed the cash register into the concrete floor, breaking it.
“Oh.” Miguel covered his face in further frustration. Well, it wasn’t like it was new or working. He made a mental note to buy her a new one eventually since hers was severely banged up already and didn’t open right due to how much trauma it had went through. He was happy that he didn’t take out his anger on her little iPad that did card transactions. Now that would have been worse.
After he had fixed the broken floor with more concrete, which he had to close shop for a bit and go find the materials and do so much more manual labor, he put up a little sign next to it to warn others to not step on that side of the store. He was admiring his work when a teenager came in. Miguel looked up at the clock seeing it was 30 past 3 and sighed. This was (Y/N)’s star client for today.
“Hey, I have your jersey right here.” Miguel stepped to go to the back of the store when he realised that he had in fact left the jersey at the hospital with (Y/N), she was going to definitely kill him. “Uh, actually-“
The bell of the front door rang and in came in (Y/N), her timing being of a movie’s. She frowned looking at the sign by the newly put down concrete in her flooring.
“What happened here?”
“Hi, do you happen to have his jersey on you by any chance?” Miguel wasted no time as he went up to you.
(Y/N) frowns. What happened to her floor? “Uh, yeah.” She goes through the motions of getting the jersey out of her hospital bag and hold it out while staring at the semi fresh concrete filling what looked like a hole and cracks. Literally happened?
“Thank you so much!” The jersey is pulled out from her fingers and the bell of the door shakes indicating it’s been opened again and then the door shuts.
“What happened to my floor?” She holds her hands at her hips, the hospital bag’s cords wrapped around one of her wrists.
Miguel remembers that he didn’t even make up an excuse for why that hole was there and why he had to fill it.
“There was an at-,” (Y/N) finally looks up and is taken aback seeing the tall buff man behind the counter top of her business. “-tempt on the store but they broke the register and threw it so it left a hole.” It was the first thing that came to his head. He walks out from behind to counter and stands in front of you with his hands on his waist. You blink.
“How does that cause such a massive hole?”
“My name is Miguel, you’re (Y/N) right?” He puts his hand out offering you a handshake. You look at his hand, then up to his face. Without breaking eye contact you put your hand in his, also very large as Spider-Man’s. What was going on with men? When did they get so.. massive? And so attractive?
“Hey Miguel, what happened to my floor?” He repeats the story of the failed robbery and how they broke the register with the floor. You weren’t convinced.
“Okay but, they tend to not be that strong?” You tilt your head and he closes his eyes in frustration. The first time you tilted your head at him and he almost forgot how to breathe, you were just so pretty to him and here you were doing it again.
“How’s your head?” He opened his eyes and puts a hand around your head softly and moves your head back, changing it from the puppy tilt you did that left him wondering if he should just leave before he told you how beautiful you were. Your hands go up and grab his wrist and pull his hand down.
“I don’t know any strangers who go up to people and grab their heads.” You let go of his wrist and he feels a warm buzzing where your fingers were seconds ago.
“Sorry, uh, how’s your head?” You look at him and roll your eyes walking past him to the back of the counter.
“It’s fine, thanks for the concern.” It looked like everything else was fine and in its own place. Maybe this Miguel guy wasn’t a complete idiot like you were thinking he was as you walked to the store moments ago. And he was so, so, so beautiful. You look up and see him deep in thought, hands on his waist as he looked at the drying cement in the store where he claimed someone threw your cash register. Fuck, even like that he looked beautiful. His onyx black locks were messily pushed out of his face and they looked so soft, his olive skin tone was almost mouth watering as it looked inviting and warm, his broad shoulders made him look like he could throw you over them and built you a house out of wood. Where had he been hiding this whole time? Sure he looked a lot older, maybe 10 years an older but it added to his attractiveness.
Something peeps through his lips, out the corner of his mouth, it looks sharp.
You shake your head.
Business continues as normally throughout the day with Miguel trying his best to alleviate the work load, while there wasn’t many people there was a lot of stuff the small amount of people brought in. Everyone was generally kind and understanding, most were concerned with (Y/N) and her health. It made Miguel’s heart warm seeing how the people of this community were so tight and loving of each other. It took him a long time to get that same love from his community back at home and while he still didn’t have it with his legion, he was content. In this moment at this time in this universe he was more than happy.
“I’ll be coming in tomorrow at 7 am, if that’s fine with you?” Miguel told you as you turned off the lights at the front of the store and began to close the curtains to the windows so the outside moonlight wouldn’t come in. You hum in response.
“I don’t have the money to pay you for work tomorrow.” You lock the doors and pull out a wad of money from your back pocket, walking over to Miguel as he stood behind the counter. “But here’s for today. Thank you for your help.” You put the money on the counter and smile. It’s a genuine smile. His heart skips a beat.
“I am not to receive payment, Spider-Man made that very clear.” He leans down, his arms on the counter and he leans towards you. You realise how close he is to you but yet he still towers over you despite his upper body being on the counter, of course held up by his arms but still. The look in his eyes was serious but yet, inviting?
“I’m okay to work by myself tomorrow.” You walk past the counter, the money still there in front of Miguel as you made your way to the back of the store. You hear his footsteps as he follows you. “And no, you can’t stay here.” You open another door and make your way to your small room. The room use to be a little janitorial closet but you remodelled it and even torn down the wall that separated it from the only bathroom in your store, you had instead set up a little curtain to give it a sense of privacy but you did what you could to make your room cute and girly. Miguel walked in from behind you, seeing the pastel pink painted walls, the small mattress on the floor with white duvets that had strawberries on it, multiple plush animals decorated the room, a small tv set in front of the mattress, plants decorated the room from being on the floor to being hung from the ceiling, the only light source was some yellow fairy lights hanging off the ceiling and a long rack of clothing was in the corner with clothes.
“You have a very nice set up here.” Miguel lowly says to you as you make your way to a small coffee table by your bed and fumble with some keys. You make your way back to him as he stood in your doorway, it looked almost out of place. Here was this big massive tall strong masculine man and he was surrounded by the pink of your room. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself a bit as you hold your closed fist to him.
“Thank you, here.” He puts his hand out, palm up and you drop a set of keys in his hand.
“Here is a copy to the store’s keys. You can let yourself out from the back doors, I’m sure you know where it is since it a next to my room. Spider-Man does in fact owe me so I’ll take the help.” He looks at the keys, they are also pink but with glitter. They look almost hand painted. He puts them in his back pocket and smiles at you politely.
“Wait so you stay here all alone?” His smile drops as he remembers that the front is mostly glass, there was no cage or anything to protect you if someone decided to break in. And the door to your room wasn’t exactly a strong door.
“Yeah, the guy that I pay for protection keeps his people patrolling at night, at least he can provide me protection at night.” You dismiss Miguel’s scrunched up eyebrows and the worry in his eyes as you turn away to take off your shoes and socks. “I’m safe only at night.” He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Someone had literally just came to basically shoot at you like two evenings ago and here you were, behind cardboard and glass. No wonder you were mad at him for failing at his job, and worst of all you were alone. You didn’t have parents or friends nearby, he realised that the other night at the hospital. It was difficult for him to process that. He couldn’t believe that you were genuinely alone, had he not been there you wouldn’t be here.
“Luckily Spider-Man is usually active at night, right?” He lets out an uncomfortable chuckle as you grab some clothes off the rack and go behind the curtain. You start to undress, unbothered by the tall man standing in your doorway.
“Yeah right.” You roll your eyes as you start to put on your pjs, some shorts and an oversized shirt that a client had abandoned. Clothes that were left behind you would take for yourself or give them to the people in your community.
“Okay well, I’ll see myself out.” Miguel says and you step out from behind the curtains. He keeps his eyes on your face as you shrug and begin to set yourself down on the mattress.
“Goodnight, Miguel.” You look for your remote between the sheets. There’s a long pause and you look up towards the doorway. Miguel is still standing there. “I’ll see you tomorrow. But I open at 10 am so I’ll see you then.” He nods curtly and closes your door.
Miguel was currently perched up on the top of your building, legs hanging over the edge as he ate a burger. He was busy wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, the suit tickling his cheek.
“Miguel,” his assistant ai’s voice came out from his gizmo and he straighten his arm away from his face. Layla came up from it, looking at him with a disappointed look on her face, arms crossed over his shoulder. He kept chewing, unbothered. “Miguel, you need to come back.” He hummed in response and kept eating. “I’m being serious. I ran the tests, while yes everything will be okay with the universe you’re in, we need you here. There’s other universes that need your help.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. Hm, he knew he should have said no tomatoes. “Are you ignoring me right now?” Layla’s voice went up an octave, indicating she was angry. Miguel opened his eyes.
“Look, I left Peter in charge. He’s got this, this is my well deserved vacation time. Things worked out with Miles, everything is fine, let me enjoy this.” He took another bite from his burger.
“Miguel, it’s been a while.” She quietly said. “When are you coming back?” He put his arm down. He hasn’t really thought about that. When would he come back?
“I haven’t thought about that yet.”
“Well you need to, because you’re the only reason we are here. We can respect you needing time off but crime doesn’t stop.” She was right, that’s why he had to stay here. He took a last bite of the burger and began to crumple up the paper that was wrapped around it. He held it in his fist.
“Mm,” He got up and started pacing around in slow circles. “Is Peter not doing a good job?”
“No, he’s doing great but it’s ju-“ Miguel’s mask pixalated off his face as he ran his free hand through his hair while he decided to interrupt his assistant.
“Great! We’ll talk later, yeah? Missed you already.” He quickly said and clicked on his gizmo to activate do not disturb on her. He didn’t understand what part of do not bother me she didn’t understand. Peter knew how to reach him in case of an emergency, which he hasn’t yet done. Not that Peter didn’t know how to handle situations, he very much did but Miguel didn’t need to worry. He was constantly stressed out at headquarters in Nueva York, here he was basically cruising. That was until you appeared in his life. He felt stressed out, much more but it would be fine. It wasn’t the end of the world.
He heard a noise from the streets and his mask rematerialised on him as he walked over to the edge and looked up. There was just some guys in face masks with spray cans in their hands. Miguel decided to look the other way, who was he to interrupt artists.
Miguel later on left, heading to his home in this universe. Thankfully the money wasn’t different in this universe from his so he was able to buy a condo in cash. He threw away the burger wrapper into his trash can in the kitchen. He was truthfully tired and sleepy but as the night progressed and he laid in his bed he couldn’t help thinking back to you. You lying on your mattress that was on the floor, in a makeshift room that was protected by a cheap cardboard material like door, that was inside a store that was essentially all glass. He tried his best to sleep but his anxiety was getting the best of him the more his mind roamed to you, there, alone.
“FUCK!” He got up from bed angrily and changed into casual clothes with his suit underneath. At least he had tried to sleep. He swung and clawed his way back to your store, landing in the back alley of it with the keys in his hands. He knew you gave the keys to Miguel but you didn’t say he couldn’t give them to Spider-Man and he was Miguel so technically he could use them. His awful logic was more than enough for him unlock the back door and go in. He locked the door behind and heard muffled talking. His almost keen senses let him know that there was no danger and as he passed your bedroom door he heard the talking more clearly.
You had left the tv on and it was playing an infomercial on a knife set. Miguel thought to himself that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get you a knife at least so you could have some sort of protection outside of him. Miguel was soon next to the clothes and he saw a pile that said clean. Well, if he was going to stay and be security, he had to stay. Miguel walked over to the clothes and dropped down into them. He was extremely tired, his body felt soo heavy he felt his chest tighten. He breathed in the smell of the detergent you used and sighed. He felt like you charged a little, that you needed to charge more but then again realistically in the area your store was in, there was no way that would happen or be profitable for you. Miguel set an alarm on his gizmo, projecting to wake up in 4 hours, hopefully sooner than you do. Then as he laid there on the clothes a thought came to him. Where was your kitchen? What did you eat? Sleep then overtook him.
Miguel woke up, and as he had hoped, before you by a few. The soft murmurs of your tv emitted from the door of your room and Miguel walked by with clothes. He had found a pile of clothes labelled, “clothes to wash regularly” which meant these were clothes that were sent out to be washed with no special treatment. He was googling a lot of things at this point as he learned how to separate clothes depending on colours, water temps, detergents. He put them in the regular machines and then when it was time, he put some in the regular dryer and some he hung up on a regular clothing rack. He went about this for a while until he decided to step out and buy breakfast for himself and for you.
After some time you woke up. Your head was pounding but you felt good considering everything. You got up and started to undress. The tv was still on, playing some cartoon now. You walked around putting the clothes in a corner and began to put on some leggings and an oversized sweater along with sock and some shoes. Today shouldn’t be so bad, you thought to yourself as you made your way to the bathroom.
While this was happening Miguel was actually holding onto a takeout bag with one hand and with the other he was holding onto his bright red neon web was currently on a man’s chest.
“You’re making me late.” He hissed to the man as he pulled in, a sharp flick of his wrist and the man came flying toward and fell onto Miguel’s feet. “I fucking hate being late.” His mask dematerialised off his face slowly and as soon as his mouth was shown, Miguel leaned down and grabbed the man up by the collar of his shirt and proceeded to sing his fangs into his throat. The man let out a horrifying scream but as quick as the scream came out, it subsided and the man went stiff. Miguel’s mask materialised again before it completely showed his face. His claws had torn through the man’s shirt but thankfully not through his skin, it was something Spider-Man slowly had to master as to not rip people’s hearts by accident. He threw the man over his shoulder and walked out the alleyway into the busy streets of New York.
“Spider-Man!” A little boy yelled out excitedly and Miguel rolled his eyes. He wasn’t upset with the little boy, he was upset because he was already running late and a meet and greet was going to slow him down. Thankfully people in this city minded their business so no one really looked up or come up to him, only the little boy did.
“Hey,” Miguel said as he kept walking. Usually on this side of town there were cop cars stationed because NYPD was usually up and about eating.
“What are you doing?” The little boy bounced happily next to Miguel like a sidekick.
“I’m going to leave this man with the police and then I have a breakfast date.” The little boy stopped walking and Miguel quickly stopped to turn and look at the child who was probably no older than 8.
“A date? Spider-Man has a girlfriend?” The child said it as if it were the most scandalous thing that had to be kept secret, his voice was hushed and he looked up at him. Miguel laughed and nodded.
“You can say I’m trying.” They kept walking. “Hey where’s your mom?”
“She went to also get us breakfast, I can’t walk too far away.” Miguel hummed in response, agreeing that maybe he should walk away too far either.
“I’m guessing you have to turn back now.” He said looking down at the little boy. The child smiled shyly and nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you around. What’s your name?”
“Sebastien.”
“See you around Sebastian and remember, listen to your mom.” Sebastien nodded and began to run the other opposite way towards his mother. Miguel eventually found a cop car and threw the guy into the backseat. Usually he did this as he had an okay relationship with the police, most of the people on the force liked him so they didn’t mind him but the force as itself wasn’t exactly excited with a stranger popping up and making them look stupid. A police officer saw him and smiled.
“Hey Spider-Man. Another one?” She nudged towards the direction of the backseat as Miguel shut the door.
“Yeah, he was trying to rob one of the bodegas and well, can’t have that.” She nodded as she walked over to back of the car and peered into the car through the window.
“How do you get them knocked out like that?”
Miguel shrugs.
“Anyways I gotta go,” he proceeded to give her the address of the convince store in case the owner wished to press charges.
You walked out of your room and towards the clothing side of the store. It was usually silent in the mornings but there was a soft humming from a machine coming through the air. Had you left a machine on last night? No, you didn’t. You prayed that no one had broken in last night otherwise you would be extremely upset with Leo for this. He was suppose to at minimum keep you safe at night. You find the machine that was making the noise and see it’s actually washing clothes you were lagging on.
When did you get up and do that?
Clothes are thrown every which way, organised in different colours, fabrics, according to sensitivity. This was nice. You grabbed your phone and hook it up to the tiny speaker on top of one of the bigger machines that were for dry cleaning and started playing music. Music poured out of the speaker, trying it’s best to fill the empty space with its sounds as you walked around grabbing clothes from the dryer and folding it. There wasn’t a moment you didn’t enjoy working here. If you had a crew, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy your mornings before opening correctly. Your mind however kept going back to Spider-Man. He wasn’t exactly bad like you had expected. It was actually super sweet how he had stayed in the hospital with you and it was sweet how he had managed to get you there in the first place, because he really didn’t have to. But you thought back to what the nurse had said to you about how he tried to fight his way in to stay with you and yet he was there but by getting through a window.
Time passed as you began to finish up everything for today. Usually you weren’t hungry in the mornings so breakfast wasn’t something you regularly did but maybe you should. You were alive, you were healthy. Why not?
You heard a door from the back side of the store open. Who could that- oh.
“Hey! Miguel is going to be running a bit late but I decided to come check up on you.” Spider-Man walked in holding a brown bag in his hand, blood stains on his suit were heard to miss as they were on his left shoulder. You looked at him. “I brought you some croissant sandwiches.” Silence. He narrowed his eye lenses at you. “Some people would say, ‘thank you’.”
“Thank you.” He put the bag down on top of one of the smaller machines and began to take out the sandwiches.
“I wasn’t sure if you liked cheese or if you ate pork. So I got you one of everything.”
“Thank you.” You look at him as he began to walk over to you and give you a croissant that was neatly wrapped. You look at it and see a number written on the wrapper. “I actually think this one is for you.” He looks down and sighs.
“Ignore that, here.” He hands it to you unwrapped. “It’s from my favourite place, I hope you like it.” You take a bite and yes, you could see why it was his favourite place.
“Thank you.” You say covering your mouth between bites.
“Is thank you all we say?” He says with a smile in his voice. You look up at his red eye lenses. He looks intimating, his suit was intimidating as well. Did he know that? Wait, Miguel’s eyes yesterday. They were red. Like the colour part of the eyes, they were red. And now here you were feeling small under another man’s red eyes.
“Are your eyes red too?” You managed to say between bites and swallows. Miguel’s lenses narrow ever so slightly.
“No, why?” Shit, he had forgotten to put on brown eye contacts yesterday.
“Just wondering.” You finish your sandwich and crumple up the wrapper in your hands, Spider-Man takes it from your hands and looks around the small space for a trash bin. Your phone then begins to play an embarrassing song so you quickly grab your phone and hit pause. Spider-Man seems unfazed as he throws the trash away.
“A dangerous thing for a little girl to be wondering.” He says absentmindedly. He could stay with her through the day as Spider-Man and help out. If someone else needed him, he would just be told by his gizmo on his wrist.
The day dragged on slowly, he would rather be out in the streets than to be dealing with the awkward silence in the store. People would come in, see Spider-Man and began to talk to him all while ignoring (Y/N) as she would charge them out and bring them their stuff. She didn’t mind it, it was a nice change for her as she didn’t really like forcing polite conversation with everyone that entered her store but she was a bit hurt. Everyone seemed to be so happy to see him and not her. It stung a bit but it wasn’t that horrible. She actually preferred Miguel now, at least they spoke. With Spider-Man it was awkward. Why was he here?
“Uh, so where’s Miguel?” You asked innocently as the day slowed down towards the evening. People had told other that Spider-Man was at the dry cleaners which was good for business because people came in for a picture with him and to drop off clothes. But while that meant more money for you, it also meant that tonight was going to be busy for you.
Miguel felt his heart skip a beat as he sat on a stool next to you as you stood at the counter, he was currently trying to hide and people peeked in from the windows to see if they could catch a glimpse at Spider-Man. He looked up at you, watching how unbothered you were as you sprayed down the counter and then cleaned it with a rag.
“He had some last minute things to do so I came to relieve him.”
You hun in response. You put the rag under the counter and turn to look at Spider-Man, he looked so comical on the tiny stool. Usually he towered over you but this was nice for a change. You put your hands on your hips and smiled down at him. Miguel felt like a child under your gaze.
“I like Miguel more than you.” You were testing the waters, wanting to see how he would react to this. He just looked up at you, unfazed it seemed. But under the mask Miguel felt like smiling.
“Yeah?” He says softly as he reached out his arms and circles them around the back of your knees. The sudden movement takes you by surprise as you buck forward as he pulled in close, your hands immediately go out and they land on his muscular shoulders as you hold yourself up. You look down at the man holding you like a child. You feel the sudden urge to place your hand on the side of his face. But he was faceless.
“Yes.” A whisper leaves you. He sighs.
“Why is that?” A gloved hand brushed the back of your right knee, you can feel his claws lightly caress you.
“He doesn’t speak much.” Your heart starts to beat faster as he presses the side of his face against your thighs.
“I can be silent too,” he murmurs into your thighs. “But I don’t think you would like that.” His hot breath brushes on your skin through the thin material.
“Okay well,” you pull his hands off you from behind and pull away. “I just wish Miguel had told me something.”
“Yeah, he’s not great at communicating at times.” He lets you go reluctantly. Was that too much? What Miguel didn’t know was that you were getting aroused. Well, he did know but he rather act oblivious to it.
You go past the counter, past him and his stool and begin to lock the doors. It was a bit early to be closing but you already had a heavy workload tonight and no one else was going to be coming in soon to pick up so why not? You were starting to close the curtains when two man in black baklavas knocked on your closed door. Spider-Man peeked go from the counter and saw how you unlocked the door, he sensed no anxiety from you.
“Sorry, I’m closed for the day.” You saw as they come in.
“We’re here for the rest of the week’s payment.” The taller man from last time says. You frown.
“How much?” You begin to make your way to the back of the counter, they are right at your heel. Spider-Man stands up.
“Oh, so it was true.” The shorter man says, excitement in his voice as he stands there looking at Spider-Man.
“Yeah and I don’t appreciate people coming in after hours and trying to shake down my boss for money.” Miguel’s voice is low with a hint of anger. His boss? (Y/N) feels confused. Who’s his boss?
“Look, we like what you do for the community but this isn’t your neighbourhood.” The taller one says, despite him being taller he looks tiny compared to Spider-Man. Miguel narrows his eyes. You put a hand on his chest and he looks down at you, your eyes filled with worry. You shake your head. There was a conversation going on between the two of you with your eyes, well eyes and lenses. You pull your hand away and go over to the makeup bag under the counter where you were storing the cash for today.
“How much again?” You say as you crouch down counting the money. What was going on? You had Spider-Man here! Might as well use him but you couldn’t as much as you wanted.
“400. Plus 200 as a tip.” The taller man says harshly. Miguel stands there, it’s like he might as well not be there. You count the money and get up.
“I only have 300.” You walk towards them to hand them the money but Spider-Man holds you back by the waist, his arm firm.
“No, you guys can go home. Like I said, my boss isn’t here to be shaken down. You guys did not provide her protection at all. She almost was shot at in the head and ended up in the hospital. Why should she pay when she got hurt?” Miguel was furious. He walked out in front of you and his claws seemed to have extended as he locked his eyes onto the two men. The man who had been talking more angrily walked up to Miguel as if to face off.
“That’s not our problem, she’s safe at night right? That’s all that matters.” Miguel scoffed as the guy said this.
“You have got to be fucking stupid.” He growled and immediately put his hands on the guy’s chest and picked him up by his jacket and shirt and threw him towards the side of the store. The man was shocked and out of breath as his back forcefully hit the brick wall. He crumpled down and laid there for a bit, trying to catch his breath. Miguel looked at the other shorter guy who held his hands up as if to say, “I’m not here.” “You go tell your boss that mine has protection already and if you want to come down here, it better be with clothes that need cleaning, now get out.” Your heart was pounding in your ears, your eyes traced Spider-Man’s large back and his broad shoulders. He didn’t even know just how hot he was right now. He called you his boss!
The man on the floor got up, coughing and groaning in pain. The shorter man ran to him and helped him up.
“Got it, love what you do Spidey!” The man says happily as he drags his injured partner out of the store with Miguel following behind them. He stopped at the doorway of the store and has to breathe to calm himself down. The doors and then locked up again and curtains are drawn for the night after some time.
Neither of you spoke.
You had put the money back into the makeup bag and began to sift through the clothes, making note of which was here for what and what they needed and so on. Miguel helped you as well, only the occasional here and thanks were exchanged between the two of you as you worked through the night.
You stole glances at him every so often. He seemed busy in thought as he loaded clothes into machines after you finished with them. It was so comforting in a way to have him here but you were keeping him from protecting the city. You didn’t want to be selfish so you finally broke the silence after a few hours.
“Any nightly patrols?”
“The police have got it.” He grunts in response. You nod and hang up clothes.
“But don’t you need to-“
“(Y/N), it’s fine.” Miguel wishes he could take off his mask.
“But you-“
“It’s fine, (Y/N).” He exasperates. “New York took well care of itself before I did.” You nod once again. You understood his unspoken words. Silence continues between the two of you outside of the sound of the machines and the occasional here and thanks. After some time you decide to call it a night.
“I’m going to go to sleep now.” Miguel nods. “Will Miguel-?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly and walks out the back of the store and you hear the locks turn, indicating he had locked you in.
“Okay.” You say to no one in particular. What an uncomfortable moment with him. You make your way to your room but before turning the light off from your work station. As you laid in bed with the soft buzzing of the tv you hoped you would see Miguel.
“If you ever come near (Y/N), I’ll rip your throat out.”
“I don’t think Spider-Man is suppose to talk to civilians that way.” A rather large man says to Miguel from behind a desk. Miguel had stalked around around your neighbourhood and found the shorter man that had been in your store previously and in exchange of protection from his technically former boss, he would take Miguel to him. But Miguel needed someone on the inside of it so he found himself with this man alone in an office.
How classy that this guy would have a building, it was actually really corny Miguel thought to himself.
“And how would you know?” Spider-Man’s eye lenses narrowed. Leo, the larger man, stared back at him and laughed.
“You’re too hippy to actually do anything. The shit you’re spitting out at me isn’t something I take lightly.” Leo stood up from his chair and put his hands on the desk. “You are not there right now with her, neither is your friend that was there yesterday. Your tone better start changing.” Miguel didn’t need to be there to wring this guy’s neck.
“Are you threatening me now too?” He murmurs.
“Didn’t you come in here first to threaten me?” Leo smiles and looks down at his desk, moving a few papers away. “Her business is my business, I own the building. She stays there because I allow it. Keep sniffing around and I’ll throw her into the streets. I doubt an unpaid vigilante even has money.” He sneered. While he could have been right had Miguel been any other usual Spider-Man variant, specifically Peter Parker, this just wasn’t the truth when it came to him.
“I see,” Miguel crossed his arms over his chest and let out a chuckle. “Well, again, don’t come near her ever again and don’t send your people out to shake her down. She doesn’t need your protection anymore so your services are not needed.”
“Oh and she’s under your protection now?” Miguel didn’t say anything. Leo rolled his eyes. “You might think your imitation tactics work but that works only on the low kind of criminals you usually go after, I work in politics, with companies. This is a different league that you’re trying to web yourself in and you’re going to end up finding that you’ll be the one with his head ripped off.” Miguel growled and without a single thought, immediately lunged at the crime boss, not a care in the world, seeing pure red as angry shook his very core. It was a very immature and undisciplined action from him, something he hadn’t done in so long because since he didn’t possess the Spidey-Senses his fellow Spider-Men did, he had taught himself to be more perceiving about things. Had he not acted out before taking careful note of Leo’s body language, he would have seen the rather sharp dagger that Leo was quietly nursing to his leg had come out and was now within the outer corner of his eyes. What a stupid mistake he had made.
#miguel o’hara x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x y/n#spiderman 2099 x y/n
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serotonin machine broke. here's 600 words of wedding planner steve and wedding singer eddie.
“So what do you think?”
When he first started in this industry a decade ago, as a bright eyed and bushy tailed twenty-something who still believed love could conquer all, Steve would have never entertained a game like this.
The reception hall is a glistening wonderland of whites and blues. The ice sculpture in the corner - two swans whose necks form a perfect heart and whose beaks meet in the middle to share a kiss - frames the cake and the snowglobe topper just like Steve had envisioned it would. The centerpieces that adorn the tables glitter beneath the chandeliers like freshly fallen snow. There are no screaming children, none of the guests are wearing white, and the ceremony had gone off without a hitch.
Overall, a perfect night.
Of course it is. Steve planned it. He’s very good at what he does.
The maid of honor is giving a speech.
Steve is at the bar with the wedding singer, a guy whose name constantly escapes him until the happy couple he’s working with tell him they’d like a live band for the wedding, and then it’s I know the perfect group, let me give you Eddie’s contact information.
This is something they do sometimes when they work a wedding together; speculate on the destiny of the couple at the center of this whole ostentatious shindig.
“Give ‘em a few years, I think,” Steve says with a shrug, still surveying the fruits of his labors.
Eddie makes a considering noise. “That long? Awful optimistic, even for you.”
Steve shrugs. “They seem pretty in tune with each other. Support each other’s ideas. They agreed on the cake without even having to discuss it. He was involved from the beginning.”
“I sense a but here.”
Steve sucks at his mixed drink through the shitty little plastic straw.
“I clocked the way he and the best man have been looking at each other all night.”
Eddie clicks his tongue, takes a deep pull from his glass of light beer.
“Maybe he’s trying to find them a third for their wedding night,” Eddie suggests.
“Kinky.”
Over the past few years, Steve’s become disillusioned with it. The whole thing. He can count on one hand the number of couples he’s planned weddings for that are still together. Love doesn’t conquer anything, no matter how much money you throw at it to make it just right. People cheat, people are dishonest, people get themselves into debt and hide it from their partner.
He used to be a real hopeless romantic in his early days, but something about this industry has dulled that fire in him.
Robin says he’s become a cynic. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s just the institution of marriage. He doesn’t buy into it anymore. He’s watched enough marriages come together and fall apart, he’s seen fights happen at receptions, watched brides weep into their champagne, watched grooms shove cake into brides’ faces even after explicitly being begged not to. People just don’t care about each other like they should when they make the decision to get married. They don’t take it seriously.
Steve’s never going to let himself go down that road.
Robin says he wouldn’t know true love if it came up and bit him on the ass.
He doesn’t even know if he believes in love anymore.
Beside him, the wedding singer is sighing and knocking back the last of his beer. At the head table, the best man is finishing his speech. The groom is hugging him. They linger.
“I give it four months,” says Eddie. “Six on the outside.”
Steve looks over at him. Big brown eyes smile back. Eddie winks and goes back to the stage, where his band is waiting for his return.
Steve watches as he picks his guitar back up and offers up some scripted line about the sweetness of love, calls a toast to the bride and groom, and then he launches into the opening chords of some Marvin Gaye song he’s played at every wedding they’ve worked together.
#bee's blurbs#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things fic#will this turn into something bigger? who fuckin knows man
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npc! kim dokja
Pro gamer Yoo Joonghyuk would play a cozy game off-stream to relax after an intense playout. He stumbled upon the oldest dreams created by an indie game developer Guwon.
The game itself is set on a moving train with no destination. His task is to feed Kim Dokja, an NPC standing at the door, looking gloomy as he stares at the window, stories to make him happy. Other side quests would sometimes be giving Kim Dokja stuff to keep him company while he hunts stories outside the train. The stuff would sometimes be a Kkoma, a phone, a sword, or a pet named Biyoo. An interesting side quest however includes the person playing making Kim Dokja eat his food! the funny thing is when you feed Kim Dokja tomatoes he would pout and not talk to you for a while, very cute.
As time passes by, Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t help but feel a deep emotion toward a character that was not even real. On days when he streams, he would always think “Would Kim Dokja like this? Is Kim Dokja feeling bored? if I was there I would make sure Kim Dokja does not feel sad” but alas a game is just a game at the end of the day.
The true ending of the game was Kim Dokja finally leaving the train after so so long. He was crying and smiling.
When Yoo Joonghyuk arrived at the ending cutscene he heard a voice, sweet and mellow. Usually, the game doesn’t include a voice it would only be a cute ping and a very cute BGM.
“Thank you so much! I couldn’t be where I am without you. If by chance fate would be so kind, I would like to meet you again in different circumstances. I wish you well, Let’s find each other.”
And the screen went dark. Then the credits began to roll.
When he finally finished the end of the game. He felt… lost.
For days, his life became too listless. He doesn’t know what to feel. He finally finished the game and yet a strange feeling bubbles inside his heart.
—
“Mia, I’ll be going. There’s food on the table. It is first before going out.”
“Will do, oppa. Where are you going again, oppa?”
“Eden invited some of the game developers and streamers to talk about the evolution of online games. I will be late so don’t wait for me.”
——
When Yoo Joonghyuk arrived there were a lot of famous streamers and some well-known game developers. He wondered if Guwon is here but he shooked his head, oldest dream isn’t a famous game so it can’t be.
When Yoo Joonghyuk looked at the room, he noticed a flashing white trench coat similar to the character Kim Dokja. He shrugged it off, maybe he was thinking too much about it.
“Let me welcome the heir of Stat Stream and our sponsor, Guwon! Let’s give him a round of applause.”
A series of applause and hoots could be heard vibrating in the room. Then a figure, wearing a white trench coat, black dress shirt, and fitting pants walked towards the podium.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes widen, his hands shaking. His heart beating so fast. Kim Dokja. He is real? No way he can’t b—
“Hahaha please don’t call me by my game developer name, Uriel-ssi” the man laughed awkwardly. He cleared his throat the proceeded.
“My name is Kim Dokja, also known as Guwon. My oldest work is called the game the oldest dream though it’s not much but is something I proudly made.—“
Yoo Joonghyuk couldn't remember what he said after that. He knew everyone was shouting and cheering then applause then Kim Dokja walked down the podium.
His labored breath was the one that woke him up. He stared at Kim Dokja’s figure and walk towards him.
If by chance fate would be so kind,
Yoo Joonghyuk tapped Kim Dokja’s shoulder and cleared his throat. When Kim Dokja turned around he could see the stars and constellations inside his eyes.
I would like to meet you again in a different circumstance.
“My name is Yoo Joonghyuk. It’s finally nice to meet you, Kim Dokja.”
#kim dokja#omniscient reader's viewpoint#orv#orv kdj#joongdok#kdj#orv yoo joonghyuk#yjh#yu junghyeok#yoo joonghyuk
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