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#finally I can paint somethin for me
delhe-dalim · 2 years
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Leia p l e a s e . . .
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backwzzds · 4 months
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ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren
eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.
thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.
your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.
eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”
you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”
eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”
don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.
but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you
“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.
eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night—i make that shit in two hours!”
it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.
you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.
after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”
with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.
in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?
when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.
with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.
eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”
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thexsilentxwordsmith · 2 months
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader
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Fandom: Call of Duty
Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader
Summary: While on deployment far away, Simon takes a little time one night to video call you and talk you through you touching yourself to the sound of his voice.
***I'm giving something new a go. This is strictly through Simon's point of view as if he is directly talking to you; he is the only one speaking***
Word Count: 5.6 k
Warnings:
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The jingle plays repeatedly until the video call connects and the image of you pops up the screen, laying on your side propped on your elbow as you seem to be just waking up for the day. A few stray rays of sunshine creep in from the side of the picture and shimmer through the strands of your hair so that even in your sleepy, disheveled state you still look like a painting. Simon keeps his camera off for the moment, but his voice comes through clear as day over the speakers; the connection is actually decent this time around. 
“Well ‘ello there gorgeous. Surprised to hear from me? It’s been a fuckin’ minute, hasn’t it? I know it’s pretty early there, but I finally have a bit of time now that everyone’s asleep and I wanted to see ya.”
Simon keeps his voice low and hushed, trying not to draw attention to himself as he lays in his cot in the dark, the only light coming from the screen of his phone. His earbuds are plugged in so that he can hear everything with keen precision while keeping the others in his team from listening, just in case. 
“You been doin’ alright there, luv? Keepin’ it all togetha for me till I get back? I know this time it’s been a bit longer, but it ain’t gonna be forever. I’ll be back before ya know it and then you’ll have me all to yourself.”
There’s a look on your face, something he immediately notices. A glint in your eye, a twitch of the corner of your mouth, a shift of your body as you adjust yourself under the sheets. Your texts to him over the past week, wondering when he would have time to actually call, were getting more and more desperate sounding and now reading your body language through the camera he is able to put it all together.
“Somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart? Care ta tell me what it is? Or should I guess? Cause I think I ‘ave a pretty good idea ‘a what’s goin’ on.”
He watches you bite your lip as you look away, a heat blossoming in your cheeks that flushes throughout your face. There it is, the sign he’s looking for. There’s only two reasons why your cheeks flush like that and you aren’t known to be drinking this early in the morning.
“Are ya missin’ me real fuckin’ bad, is that it?”
You look back up into the camera and give a distinct nod. He understands it well, as he has been pining for you since the day he left. That’s the other reason he has been trying to find time to make this call: he’s been missing his girl real fucking bad and needs some special time with you and only you, even if it’s just for a short video chat now that he is on the tail end of his assignment and he doesn’t have to put as much focus into his work.
“Trust me, you ain’t the only one, sweetheart. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been able to fuckin’ see ya and there’s things I’ve been missin’ too: that pretty face a yours, wakin’ up next to ya layin’ in bed, the sound of your hummin’ comin’ from the kitchen as ya make breakfast…”
He trails off a moment with his thoughts as he lowers his voice until it’s barely above a whisper, leaning his lips into the microphone built into his headphones just in case any stray ears are listening in. Simon thought he’d be able to get through a bit of small talk before starting in on this stuff, but it seems like your need for each other cannot be contained once you’re in proximity. 
You get him riled up without even trying. He clears his throat and continues the thought. 
“...and if I’m real honest, I’ve been missin’ other things too. The more intimate things like you naked underneath me, the sensation of your legs wrapped ‘round my waist, makin’ those sweet little sounds whenever I hit the right spot. It’s been fuckin’ eatin’ me alive out here, not been able to take care of it. I swear every goddamn time I’m away from ya it’s like I can’t help thinkin’ about ya nonstop. Can ya blame me? I mean, look at ya, luv. You’re a goddamn dream. Christ, I’ve been gettin’ hard just thinkin’ ‘bout what I’m gonna do to all those gorgeous curves the fuckin’ minute I get back.” 
He can hear your already staggered breathing hitch and it makes him smile; it’s cute the way you are always so down bad for him. Just bringing up a few stray thoughts and a mention of his cock and you are already burning. But maybe you were burning a little before that too.
“That’s what you’re missin’ too, yeah? Havin’ me there with ya, doin’ what we do best? Ya don’t have to tell me, I know my sweet girl gets fuckin’ needy when I’m not ‘round to keep her satisfied. From the way you keep messaging me, trust me I know. Bet it’s been fuckin’ lonely there all by yourself; betcha been achin’ for somethin’ to help ya get some relief. I know ya don’t like usin’ your toy all the time…Is that why ya wanted me to call?”
You stutter out some objections, hoping not to sound too desperate as you don’t want him to think that’s the only reason to answer his call. Simon isn’t bothered by it one bit; he can tell you need something to take the edge off. He can always tell… and he wants to help.  
“Ya don’t have to hide it from me, luv. It’s clear as fuckin’ day; I’m already makin’ ya flustered, I can hear it as ya talk. Don’t think I forgot whatcha told me a while back. How ya like the sound ‘a my voice. Ya said it makes ya wet. Is that what ya need now, baby? Need me to talk ya through it and help ya get off?”
You squirm again under the covers, clearly trying not to make it obvious that you are rubbing your thighs together. Simon has barely started the dirty talk and already your body is responding to him in that most primal way. Who is he to deny his sweet thing of what she needs? 
“Yeah, that’s what ya want, isn’t it? To listen to my voice while ya touch yourself? Cause I really fuckin’ wanna give my pretty girl some extra attention right now. Make sure she doesn’t go without me even when I’m away. And if this is the only way I can do it, I wanna make sure ya come. I need to hear it again ‘fore I forget what it sounds like when ya orgasm ‘cause of me.”
Goddammit, Simon’s getting worked up just from talking about helping you get off, so much so that his cock begins to twitch in his pants and he has to adjust himself in the bed with a deep, muted grunt, pulling at the fabric at his crotch to give him more room to grow. He watches you get more excited at the prospect of having his attention, even if it’s only for as long as it takes for you to climax. Any bit of his attention makes you feel like the most gorgeous thing in the entire fucking world and that’s why he gives it all to you.
“But I need ya to do somethin’ for me in return. Somethin’ to help me help you. Can ya do that for me, baby?”
He watches as you nod your head up and down into the camera with enthusiasm, not even waiting to hear what it is he is going to ask you to do. Clearly, you would do anything for him, all he has to do is name it. God, he loves you needy for him, let’s him know that he is treating you right.
“I need ya ta sit up, push your computer to the edge of the bed, and angle the camera down for me. Lower. A little more, that’s it. Good girl. Now, take off the blanket and let me see whatcha got hidin’ under there.”
The computer is pushed further away so that your body is in full view and the camera is now pointed directly into your lap as you remove the blanket hiding your lower half, complying without a single word. Once free, your tank top catches his eyes as it hugs tightly to your breasts while your tiny, cotton sleep shorts leave almost all of your thighs exposed; Simon is eating up every last pixel that he can see. 
Those thick, juicy lower limbs of yours are his absolute favorite and if he could be there now he would already be between them. This is definitely a good idea.
“Wanna be able to see that you’re enjoyin’ listenin’ to me. Ya want me to see it, yeah? Wanna show me how much ya miss me, don’t ya? Course ya do, sweetheart. You’re too fuckin’ good to me. Always makin’ sure I get my fuckin’ fill of such ya; my pretty girl.” 
Simon puts a little extra breathiness into his voice, accentuating his gravelly tone to make you blush like crazy as that wetness gathers at your core. He’s gonna pull out all the stops tonight to make sure that you will be content… at least for the next few days. 
“I think we need a bit more, yeah. Get a real good view. Take off your pants and spread your legs nice and wide for me. Let me see that beautiful little pussy that I’ve been dreamin’ of. Just like that. Little wider; there ya fuckin’ go. O-oh fuck, looks like you’re already drippin’ for me.”
The light catches a faint glistening from the slit between your satiny petals and he can hardly find the air to fill his lungs as his mouth begins to salivate. Acting off of pure instinct, your hand travels down between your legs and almost reaches your cunt before he comes to his senses and scolds the action by snapping his fingers into the mic. 
“Ah, ah, I know you’re achin’ bad, but no touchin’, not till I fuckin’ say. Does my voice turn ya on that much ya can’t even wait for me to really get it goin’? I’ve barely even started and you’re already unable to stop yourself. I wanna make this good for the both of us, but I can’t do that if ya get ahead of yourself. Just breathe a minute.”
An idea pops into his head, fueled by the intense throbbing in the crotch of his pants. He hadn’t thought that he would be getting involved like this, it is risky given his current situation, but his body is saying otherwise. There’s no stopping him when you are giving him such a feast for his eyes to devour.
“Maybe ya just need an incentive to take it slow. Somethin’ to keep your ass in line. I got somethin’ for that, baby.”
The metallic sound of a zipper being undone and a sharp hiss of air between his teeth is heard over the call before the camera is turned on. Simon points the phone at his face for a moment and pulls up his mask slightly to give you a quick smirk before bringing it down to rest on his thighs as he points it straight at his lap. Through the dimness that surrounds him, the focus adjusts and through the opening created at the top of his pants that big fucking dick comes into full view on screen. 
A rush of adrenaline floods his limbs as he hears you inhale sharply, a stray ‘fuck’ escaping your lips at the sight of it throbbing into the palm of his hand. It is swollen at the tip and jumps with his pulse.
“This is all for ya, darlin’; no one else gets to have this fat fuckin’ cock all to themselves, ‘cept you. Have ya missed it? Missed seein’ how fuckin’ big I am? Yeah ya have; I bet your droolin’ over yourself, aren’t ya? Mmm… my horny little princess, always so hungry for me. Are your lips itchin’ to wrap themselves ‘round it now that ya see it after all this time? You remember how well ya gag on it, yeah? My hand on the back of your head, pushin’ ya down as far as ya can go, your spit dribblin’ from the corners of your mouth, can hardly catch a breath as ya choke...”
Simon has to stop and reel himself back in or risk getting too worked up and he can’t take care of you if he’s out of his goddamn mind. That imagery has you quaking and he can see your body vibrating as you are itching to touch yourself and that’s when he knows exactly what he is going to do to get you off. Taking a deep breath he clears his throat, putting the control over himself to the forefront of his thoughts and starts again.  
“Well, if ya wanna keep seein’ it, I need ya to behave for me and follow my direction. You and I are gonna play pretend for a bit.”
Now more settled he gives his length a stiff stroke up and down slowly, making sure that the camera is glued to his movements. You can’t look away; those big doe-eyes are locked on as if you are wishing you could reach through the screen and touch him with any part of you that you could get to it first. It takes you a couple of minutes to notice anything other than the object of your desire, but as you look up Simon’s dark gaze meets yours through the shadow. 
“Ya like this, yeah? Me strokin’ my cock like this for you to watch? Ya know what’s gonna be even better? How fuckin’ good it’ll feel havin’ it buried deep inside ya again, fillin’ ya to the brim. Ya wanna be full of me again, don’tcha sweetheart? Come on, show me, use your fingers and let me see how much ya miss this fat fuckin’ cock stretchin’ ya out.”
You insert a finger through the lips of your pussy, thrust it inside your entrance, and begin rhythmically stroking against that sensitive bundle as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen to watch Simon stroking it right along with you. He gives you a minute to get started before he speaks again.
“That’s not enough if ya wanna pretend it’s me, pretty girl, I think ya need another two fingers in there at least.”
Simon is trying to stay calm, but it is taking every ounce of his willpower to watch you touch yourself and not immediately blow his load while grunting loudly at the feeling of coming so fast; still, he tries to keep his voice down so no one near can hear him. Slowly you insert another digit and then another so that your first three fingers are now resting just inside your hole, but again that isn’t enough for him. He wants to make this as real as he can. 
“Ya need to go deeper, all the way to the knuckles. Ya know I like to fuckin’ have it down to the base until ya can’t take another inch. Need this to be accurate, like I’m really there with ya.”
You comply, pushing up inside you until the entirety of your fingers are gone and you cannot get anymore in. Simon moans deep in his chest, pleased at how well you are following his orders. It takes some force, but the stroking of his hand sticks to a steady rhythm as he sets the speed for what’s to come. 
“Good girl, that’s it. Now slow it down, keep it steady, and listen to my voice, ya got it? We are gonna do this together. I want ya ta picture me crawling into bed and movin’ right up against ya. My hand turns your head towards me so I can start kissin’ those fuckin’ sweet lips of yours. So warm, so soft, the longer I kiss ya the more I need until I run my fingers through your hair so that I’m holdin’ the back of your head in my grip as I shove my tongue nearly down your throat. I’ve been starvin’ baby and soon I have our mouths pressed so tight together ya can hardly breathe. Just eyes closed, tongues tasting each other, gettin’ absorbed in the way they feel until our mouth’s are fuckin’ raw and burnin’. Only then do I start goin’ down your jawline and neck, so much deliciously smooth skin for me to taste.”    
The sound of tiny, breathy moans hits his ears and his heart thumps heavily in his chest. He hadn’t lied when he spoke about how he misses your music and the sound of it now has him in a goddamn stranglehold. Mix that with the live feed of you thrusting your fingers in and out of your tight hole as the natural lubrication starts to drip down your fingers with each stroke and he has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself sane.
“Gotta make sure you’re whinin’ and beggin’ me to give ya more before I move on. I’ll pull your top over your head so I can get at those gorgeous tits of yours. Fuck… gonna smother my face between them as I give them the care they need, kissin’ and bitin’ all that soft flesh to leave marks where I’ve been. Each one is gonna be in my mouth so I can use my tongue to flick ‘round your nipple as ya run your fingers through my hair to egg me on until ya can feel it in your clit.”
As he speaks he watches you fall back against the pillows and lift up your t-shirt to expose half of your chest. From this angle he catches a glimpse of the underside of one of your breasts, the edge of your nipple just within view before you cup it in your hand to massage the tissue against your palm and pinch the nipples as if you are trying to make his words come to life. 
“Can ya feel it baby? Can ya feel my hot fuckin’ mouth all over your tits? Christ, I swear I can taste them now; I want ‘em in my goddamn mouth so fuckin’ bad. Got my mouth waterin’.”
He has to swallow hard to stop himself from choking on his own saliva as his lips tingle, recalling the sensation of them against your skin as his hips begin to snap his cock up into his palm harder. 
“Ya know I’m gonna be so worked up that your not even gonna know what’s happening as I shove ya onto your back so that I can move down the bed and rip ya outta your fuckin’ pants. I need ya completely fuckin’ naked so that I can spread your thighs wide open. Gotta make sure I can get between them; wanna have plenty of space to play.”
Again you mimic his words, opening your already spread legs even wider the same way you’d have to do if he were to get in between them. If Simon’s heart thumps any faster it’s going to burst out of his chest; watching you act out this made up scenario is more erotic than he could have dreamed it would be.
“Imagine the feelin’ of my lips kissin’ up the length of those gorgeous thighs. With how much ya been missin’ me they’d already be so fuckin’ sensative that you’d be squirmin’ as soon as I make contact with my mouth. Maybe I’ll even give them a nibble, just for good measure. Ya always do look best wearin’ all my marks everywhere.”
His grip around his cock tightens as he listens close and catches your hummed reply before it sounds like your mouth falls open so that you moan a bit louder as your movements on screen begin to quicken and your hand switches positions to your other breast. Your fingers are starting to furiously pound into you, the pace picking up with each passing second as your desperation spills over at the sound of his voice describing all that fucking pleasure. But Simon is there to reel it all back in.
“Ah, ah, look up at me princess. Slow it back down there. That’s it, nice and steady for me. Don’t want this to be over too soon. Keep your eyes on my hand and follow my pace. We’re gonna get there together, alright?”
Picking your head up so that you can see the screen, your eyes focus on his hand and your strokes settle back to match his, though it does not go unnoticed how you do that little whimper of protest. It’s not easy being the bad guy in this situation, but Simon knows the more denial now, the harder you’ll come and the longer you’ll stay satisfied. And if there is one thing he will never stop doing is making sure his baby is satisfied. 
“You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, sweet thing. I promise we are almost there, just a bit more. Now, where was I? Oh yes, teasin’ those gorgeous thighs of yours. See I can’t move on until I’m happy with my work and I want those little red and purple blotches to be coverin’ all that pretty skin. Ya like when I claim ya like that? Makin’ it obvious that you’re mine? Anyone who sees that is gonna know that you’re bein’ taken care of.”
An open-mouthed moan and a nod of your head is all he’s getting now as you are too out of your mind to form words anymore at this point. Your half-lidded eyes gaze back at him as if you are trying to will him to come through the screen and pound you into the mattress; goddamn he’s going to fuck you so good when he gets back.
“Since I’ve decorated those beauties, I think they’ll need to be displayed and I can’t think of a fuckin’ better place than perched right on my shoulders. Besides, ya know what’s comin’ dontcha? That goddamn sweet little pussy has been callin’ to me since I got down there and now it’s finally time to give it the attention it deserves. Such a pretty thing, those soft petals of yours. You know I’m gonna have to give them a few kisses for good measure.”
Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad now the tastebuds along his tongue prickle as tries to capture that specific sweet, tangy taste in his memory. Why in the hell do you have to be so goddamn perfect?
“You will be pleadin’ with me, callin’ my name over and over until ya feel it. My warm tongue pushin’ itself against your lips and spreading them apart to move in between them. God, that first fuckin’ taste of ya is always my favorite, sweetheart…like goddamn honey. Gonna drag my tongue up the entire length of your cunt to make sure I get as much of ya in my mouth that I can. Then I reach your clit and that’s where I stay. I’ll be suckin’ and lickin’ to my hearts content while you buck against my face all you want; I like it when ya get rough with me. Nothin’ is gonna get me off of ya though, I got ya fuckin’ secured to my face with a tight grip that isn’t gonna let up no matter how ya move.”
The sound of you whimpering fills his ears and it makes his head feel like he’s floating. Your hips are bucking against your hand desperately and he knows you want to go a bit faster, but you are sticking to his set speed like a champ. He takes a couple of minutes to just watch you, wanting to etch this moment permanently in his brain, before he continues.
“I’m waitin’ for it, that moment ya go silent. That’s when I know it’s about to happen and I brace myself to feel your thighs crush against my head and block in my ears like a vice as ya come on my tongue. Do ya know how much I fuckin’ love when ya do that? Bein’ locked to your pussy like that, I would fuckin’ suffocate on ya and not even think twice. Keep me strapped to ya as long as ya want, baby, I’m gonna sit through it all until ya have nothin’ more to give to me. My tongue don’t tire easily, as ya already know.”
Your head falls back, but Simon can still hear you clearly repeating mindlessly your enjoyment of everything that he is talking about with moaned ‘yes’s and whined pleas to Jesus. 
“Can ya picture it? Me sittin’ back up, your cum all across my face? I will probably look like a wild beast with my mouth shimmerin’ and sticky, but I don’t fuckin’ care. Ya make me feral, so deranged that nothin’ else matters ‘cept you. Everything will go faster then: me gettin’ to my knees, pullin’ your hips onto my thighs as your legs still sit on my shoulders, my tip pressin’ against those damp petals covered in my spit and your cum. Eatin’ ya out gets me hard enough there’s no need to wait. Imagine the way it’ll feel when I’m pushing my tip through the threshold and stretching ya out completely. You’ll be cryin’ out as I help ya fit me all in…right down, all the way, fillin’ that cunt.” 
He’s panting now, the vision created in his mind so vivid that as he stimulates himself it feels too real. Of course his hand would never compare to your pussy, but with everything happening it is as if his brain is being tricked into believing that he is fucking you.
“Ya know I ain’t gonna waste anytime, not when I get ya wrapped ‘round me. It’ll be so wet and tight that I just begin poundin’ and poundin’ so hard that it has our bed squeakin’ underneath us from the fuckin’ force, slammin’ into the wall, makin’ your tits bouncing up and down as I go all in, your eyes waterin’ as get so fuckin’ deep it’s almost painful. Goddammit, baby, I want to see your eyes roll back in your head as it overwhelms ya.” 
His abs are clenching, simulating the act in real time as his limbs begin to feel heavy and the coil inside his stomach tightens. Heat is now rushing through his veins like hot water, making him warm from the inside out and it only fuels his imagination more.
“Or maybe I flip ya over and help ya up onto your knees, pullin’ outta only long enough to get ya situated holding onto the wall. Visualize me tuggin’ your hair in my fist to make your back arch so I can thrust right back in. Ya better make sure ya got a steady brace cause I’m gonna reach ‘cross your body and down the front of ya to that swollen clit, strokin’ it with my fingers as I thrust into ya from behind and I need ya to push back onto me. I wanna be able to whisper in your ear all them filthy things like how no one else can make my cock feel this good and how this pussy belongs to only me.”
It’s too much, too much buildup that he is not going to be able to hold off for very much longer. This is going to have to end one way or another and soon it is not going to be a choice anymore. His hand picks up the pace. 
“Go a little faster. That’s it, faster, baby, faster. I’m about to fuckin’ blow and your gonna come with me. Come on, come on… f-fuck… you’re so beautiful like this. No one looks better a fuckin’ mess than you do. And I wanna make ya so goddamn filthy baby. Where ya gonna want me to come, hmm? On your face, on your tits, your stomach… or maybe I won’t pull out at all. Stuff ya full until it’s drippin’ outta ya and I can watch once I’m done. You just imagine it where ya want it most, sweetheart.”
His hand is furiously stroking around his cock with an iron tight grip, running from tip to base, coating his hand in precum so that the next stroke is even smoother than the last. Faint whines escape his closed lips as he tries to stifle the sound by clamping his mouth shut. The entirety of his chest feels like it’s on fire and setting the phone down a second he rips the damned t-shirt he still has on up off his torso and over his head, only releasing his cock for the split second it takes to throw it off that arm and onto the floor. Quickly he grabs the phone and sets it back up. 
“You’re close, yeah? Ya got this, just keep lookin’ at me with those pretty eyes and stay with it. All ya gotta do now is just let go. Good girl, that’s it, let go for me. Come for me, baby, let me hear it.”
Simon watches your thighs shaking and toes curling into the mattress as you call out his name in a pitiful cry and your entire body vibrates, nearly shooting off the bed as you come and come hard. The welling of pressure deep inside him reaches its peak and with the sound of your cry it causes his body to clench, sending him rocketing over the edge violently as a muted grunt echoes in his chest. He angles is cock upward towards his stomach as the warm ejaculate pumps out of his tip, coating the muscles and hair along his abdomen as he milks himself through it until he has no more cum left to release.   
Vision hazy, legs vibrating, cock still twitching as his grip loosens, Simon takes a few minutes to simply breathe. The phone gets ignored for a moment as it lays resting on his thigh. Once he is able to calm enough to function, he picks back up the device and stares into the screen. You are laying flat on the mattress now, chest heaving up and down. Your legs are still splayed open and he can see the glorious product that he helped create catching the light as it coats the outside of your lips.  
“Fuck, ya did so well for me, sweetheart. God, that was fuckin’ fantastic.”
You roll to your side and look into the camera with a crooked, sleepy smile and he mimics it with one of his own. That should be all, everything that he had wanted to happen had in the best way, but there’s one thing he has left to do, one thing he wants to see before he lets you go. One last thing to replay in his mind to give him something to daydream about along with the rest.
“Bring the camera up closer, wanna see your beautiful face all flushed. There’s my sweet girl. Looks like I’ve made a mess of things for ya, but I don’t think ya mind much. I do want ya to do one more thing for me, though. I need ya ta clean up since I ain’t there to do it myself. Nothin’ too strenuous, just take your fingers and stick ‘em in your mouth; get all those juices off with your tongue. There ya go, lick ‘em clean, don’t ya waste any of that fuckin’ goodness.”
You do exactly as he says, using your tongue to pull your fingers between your lips where you suck and lick with gusto until they come back out completely clean and you show them to him with a smile. In that moment you are a goddess, the most gorgeous being he has ever laid his eyes upon, and Simon can only stare on at you in awe that he is so fucking lucky to have such a creature all to himself. 
“Fuck, I’m one lucky bastard,”  he says, barely audible.
There’s a bit of rustling that he can hear now coming from somewhere close and he knows his time is up. At least he got to finish what he started giving you everything that he can, though he does desperately wish he could stay on the call with you a bit longer, but he knows if he doesn’t end it now he might never do it and he doesn’t want to risk anyone seeing you like this. Gotta pull the bandaid off quick or else. 
“Hate to end this here, but it seems like our time is up. Wish I could stay, but ya know how it is. If I don’t go now I ain’t ever gonna do it. We’ll talk again soon, promise. You have a good day, pretty girl, alright? Dream of me later tonight, yeah? Cause I’m fixin’ to be dreamin’ of you.”
You blow him a kiss and with that the call ends; he is left back alone in the silence of the night in his bunk- alone. He grins to himself as he puts his phone away and cleans himself up, thinking about you laying back in bed exhausted, but content, all because of him and his efforts. And he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’ll get the chance to get you off like this again before his deployment ends. 
God he fucking hopes so.
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carolmunson · 2 months
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i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.
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up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader (is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.) aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song. but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it. this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.
in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore. eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.
"and i'm fading, thinkin': 'do something, babe. say somethin'. lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe. i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"
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The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut. 
No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen. Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out. 
And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years. Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating. 
The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it. 
You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!” 
The two  bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?” 
“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”
You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.
“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–” 
“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar. 
“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’
“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”  
“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.” 
“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.” 
“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips. 
“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go. 
“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner. 
The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles. 
“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host. 
“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks. 
“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.” The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant  hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen. 
“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout. 
“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.
“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.” 
“It’s wild,” Gare laughs. 
“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.” 
The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.
You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.  
“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.
Oh.
Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.
You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you. 
The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car. 
You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away. 
“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it’s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.” 
You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.
“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.” 
You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.” 
“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.” 
“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.” 
“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.” 
“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.” 
“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?” 
You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.” 
Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 
“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back. 
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Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill. 
“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.” 
“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.” 
“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat. 
“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold. 
“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.” 
“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling. 
“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.” “Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits. 
“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y’know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.” 
“Great.” 
“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table. 
“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?” 
“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”   
“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“ 
“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh. 
“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.” 
He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–” 
“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work  because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?” 
“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.” 
“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.” 
“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!” 
“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?” He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.
“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans. 
“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.” 
“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.
“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.” 
“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?” 
“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck. 
“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!” 
“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” 
You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before. 
His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite. 
“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.” 
Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.” 
“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.” 
“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.” 
“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.” 
“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.” 
“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…” 
When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.
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A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted. 
Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.
You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.
In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers. 
“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep. 
“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand. 
“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–” 
“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 
“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger. 
“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?” 
Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.” 
“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.” 
“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.” 
You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.” 
His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him. 
“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.
“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside. 
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You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder. 
You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest. 
‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night. 
‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’ 
Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door. 
‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers. 
The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead. 
“How much?” you ask over the music. 
“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear. 
“HOW MUCH?” you yell back. 
“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar. 
The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part. 
A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar. 
“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool. 
“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face. 
“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!” 
She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony. 
“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle. 
“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.” 
“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?” 
“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.” 
“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease. 
“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”
“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.” 
Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.” 
“I love that he’s in love,” you gush. 
“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.” 
There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd. 
Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.
He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny. 
Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it. 
‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’ 
‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again. 
‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’
You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that. 
You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do. 
Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be. 
Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies. 
People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather. 
‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’ 
You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you. 
With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.
The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin. 
“You come here often?” 
Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s. 
“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.” 
Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.” 
You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.
He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you. 
“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?” 
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moonlightsolo · 11 months
Note
Can you do one of neteyam and avatar reader you love art so he lets you paint on him and he’s really cute and interested in your passion <3
omg yes THANK U FOR THIS. i love to paint irl so i had so much fun writing this!
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your legs straddle neteyams hips, sitting atop of him as he lays down on his back against a bed of moss. it’s normal to sit on him like this when you’re simply having a conversation, especially when he comes back after a long day of hunting; he usually swoops you off of your feet and takes you somewhere private in the forest. mostly to catch up…
…and to do some other things you can’t usually do around camp. he knows you miss him when he’s away, so we wants to soak up as much of you during his free time.
your hands are currently busy illustrating your day as you talk, “so kiri and i made paints today, we went out and foraged for plants to create these super bright pigments!” you exclaim excitedly, “i have pinks, blues, reds, oranges, even whites!” you count on your fingers, “they’re all so beautiful. i just can’t wait to try them out.”
neteyam watches you in awe from his position, a permanent grin on his lips. he adores you so much, and hearing you passionately ramble about one of your hobbies fills his heart with joy.
“my love, you are sooooo beautiful.” he blurts out, his eyes sparkle under the sunlight that streaks through the trees towering above your bodies. he can’t help but let his hand knead at your thigh.
you can’t help but giggle at his compliment as you stare down at him, “did you hear anything i just said?”
the boy underneath you hums in response, the sound vibrates your body, “yeah… you made paints with kiri… blah, blah, blah, aaand now i wanna see you make somethin’ with them.”
your face brightens at his words, “wait really?!” you shriek softly from the pure excitement that fills you.
neteyam cackles and digs his head back into the ground, “yes, of course, ma syulang.” the little nickname makes your heart flutter in satisfaction. his flower.
“where? i can go back to camp real quick to grab some paper— or try to find something around here…” your eyes look around the expanse of the jungle around you, but the tightening grip on your hips makes you spin your head back to look down at him.
“no, i don’t want you to leave me.” he whines as his touchy hands slide up your sides. his fingers press into the flesh of your lower back to push you towards him, lowering your torso so your chests are flush again each other.
his lips ghost over yours teasingly, making you giggle into the very little space between your faces. “how about you just use me?” he mumbles.
“use you? what do you mean?” your face crinkles in confusion, slightly lifting up from his face by pushing your hands on his chest.
“to paint— ya know, on me.” his eyes flutter over your face with a sheepish grin.
“you want me to paint on you?” you almost gasp in shock, mouth falling open as you grin.
“i just said that.” neteyam rolls his eyes playfully with a cheeky smirk, which makes you swat at his chest. you finally fill the space between your faces by kissing him, giving him a long peck before sitting up.
neteyams lips chase after yours, following you up and leaning back on his elbows. you busy yourself looking through the bag that crosses over your chest and sits on your hip. you grab the containers of your paint, and push down on his shoulder to have him lay back down.
“fine..” he grumbles, giving up his advances to try and kiss you some more. you lay out the containers over the long expanse of his torso, using him as your easel.
you pluck a few brushes from the pocket inside your bag, smiling as your finger brushes over the soft bristles. “what do you want painted on you?” your voice is soft, almost nervous.
what if it turns out to be ugly and he has to walk around with an ugly painting on his body from his girlfriend?
“anything.” he lays back with his arms behind his head, slightly wiggling his hips under you to get comfortable. the subtle movement makes you blush from the heat that settles in your lower belly.
you pop open the bright fuschia color, dipping your brush inside of the container to soak the brush. your eyes dart over his smug face as you lean closer to his chest to focus.
the brush moves smoothly across the expanse of his upper body, swirling the paint over his collarbone and down his pectoral muscle, “ooh that tickles.” he jerks under the paintbrush, making you giggle and sit up to look at him with a joking scowl.
“sit still, you’re gonna mess up my art.” you slightly dip into the orange color to highlight the pink, flicking the paint to make little spikes around the swirl.
neteyam admires your face as you focus, almost cooing at you from your little tongue sticking out between your lips. he tilts his head to the side watch your tail sway in the air behind you. all he wants is to grab you and kiss all over your cute little face.
one of his hands unravel from behind his head to rest on top of your head, his thumb swipes across your forehead to smooth out the crinkle between your eyebrows.
you smile up at him bashfully while your hand continues to paint different colors across his striped blue skin. the pigments you picked out contrast greatly to the color of his skin, his chest slowly becoming a piece of art.
the brush pokes at his chest as you create random dots around the swirls, smiling when you sit back to admire your work. “i love it.” you mumble before hunching back down to continue with a different color.
neteyams eyes dart from between you and the blue sky that barely peeks through the canopy of the trees. he can look at all the beauty around him but all he can focus on is you. the girl who is straddling his chest and painting ever so softly across his skin.
he wouldn’t dare to tell you this though. he’s too scared to share his true feelings that he's falling for you faster than he thinks you're falling for him.
after about a few more minutes, and swipes of different colors you sit up to examine the painting that cascades down his chest. you add a few more dots with a triumphant smile, “i really outdid myself.” you laugh proudly as you pack away your painting supplies.
“oh did you?” neteyam chuckles, bringing his chin down to look over his colorful chest. his mouth drops dramatically once he sees it, “it’s amazing. seriously, you’re going to paint only me from now on. never will anybody else touch me with paint unless it’s from your hands.”
your hands cover your grin that seemingly seems like it will never falter, “stop it…” you breathe out, shaking your head from his silly words.
“no, you’re like magic. i’ve seen your other work, but i cannot grasp how your brilliant little mind works like this.” he sits up from his spot, now face-to-face with you; he’s careful to not crease the wet paint. one of his hands grip your wrists to pull them away from your face.
“‘teyam…” you sheepishly mumble, staring down at your lap with a shy smile. the feeling of heat travels from your lower belly to your upper extremities. it settles on your cheeks, and the tips of your ears with as a pink glow. he could praise you a million times, and you still wouldn’t be used to it.
“hhhmm? am i making you blush?” he teases you as his hand slides down from your cheek to your chin to angle your face up. his big round eyes look over your face, his smile mirroring yours.
“you aaarrrre.” you whine, leaning forward to press your forehead against his.
he continues to stare at you though his eyelashes, “good. i like making you blush.” he pecks your nose, “especially if it’s when i compliment my very talented girl.”
your hands swat at his chest playfully, “oh hush.” you grumble.
neteyam places his large hands onto your hips, his long fingers thrum against your lower back, “i think it’s time we go show off the beautiful art my gorgeous girl made. you'll make everyone in the clan jealous.” his knees angle up to press against your back, you're now sitting in the valley of his body.
neteyam stands to his full height, holding onto your hips as he rises from the ground. you let out a delighted cackle from the sudden movement, throwing your head back as you laugh.
neteyam's eyes dance over your face, unable to hold himself back from chuckling along with you; your laugh is contagious.
"i am so lucky to have you..." his voice trails off, his eyes try to take in every detail of you-- how your braids flow down your back, and the paint that is smeared across your forehead and slightly on your cheekbone...
your hands rest on the sides of his neck, your face brightening from his words. "neteyam... i love you." you whisper into the space between your lips.
the biggest grin spreads across his face from hearing her say those words; the first time you've ever said it to each other. her response only make his heart beat faster, and his breathing more intense. "i love you." he whispers back as he leans forward to give you another soft kiss.
it feels as if he's falling into an abyss surrounded by you, unable to crawl out. it's not like he would want to anyway, his senses are clouded by your lips, and your scent, and how your legs are wrapped tightly around his hips right now. he smiles into the passionate kiss, now knowing that his only purpose in life is to be alongside you.
-
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this is what i used as inspo for the painting on him :p i found it on pinterest
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wintrwinchestr · 5 months
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lather (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+
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moodboard by @iamasaddie
summary: you decide to try shaving your pussy for the first time on your first night settling into jackson with joel. he accidentally nicks you while helping you shave, but he makes sure to kiss it all better <3
warnings: 18+, smut, early jackson joel, established d/s relationship, porn with some plot (probably too much), oral (f receiving), innocence kink/roleplay, daddy kink (bordering on ddlg), shaving, a bit of insecure reader, blood (tried to keep it short & not very graphic), sprinkle of humiliation, pet names (darlin’, baby, babygirl, lil’ girl, honey, sweet girl, etc), joel refers to reader’s pussy as she/her, spitting, reader can be lifted by joel and has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, implied *legal* age gap (reader went to school in the qz)
word count: 2.9k
a/n: this fic is based on an nsfw audio by u/organ_donor86 on reddit!! i went to reddit and found it again so i could properly credit them for the inspiration, but i haven’t heard the full audio in probably 2 years so this fic is only based on what i could remember of the premise <3 this is my first time writing smut, nice comments and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoyed!!
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You were sat on the end of the first clean, comfortable bed you had encountered in twenty years, taking in the surroundings of the charming bedroom you now found yourself in: The deer antler lamp emanating a warm glow from the bedside table, the framed paintings of various Wyoming-native wildlife hung up on the walls, the earth-toned woven rug beneath your bare feet. You took a deep breath, savoring the smell of a house that had never known decay. For the first time since outbreak day, you felt safe. Truly safe. Of course, Joel did his best to protect you as you traveled together over the last year or so since you met him, but you were never really without a looming threat of danger nearby.
His familiar, comforting voice startled you out of your daze.
“Y’ alright, babygirl? Settlin’ in okay?”
You looked over to where Joel was standing in the doorway, freshly showered and changed into a clean flannel and jeans.
You smiled with a relaxed sigh, flitting your eyes around the room again. “Yeah, I like it here, it’s cozy… Can’t wait to finally get a good night’s sleep in this bed tonight.”
“I’m with ya, baby, Maria ‘n Tommy gave us a real nice place, huh? Speakin’ of which, it’s about dinnertime, I think they just started servin’ it up down at the dinin’ hall. Why don’t we all go get somethin’ to eat together, hm? I know you must be hungry, sweet girl.”
Your eyes widened and your smile dropped a bit at the prospect of socializing with strangers, especially after the exhausting day you’d had getting to Jackson. Joel clocked your expression immediately, approaching where you were sat on the bed with slow strides. He gently pinched your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.
“I know, my babygirl’s a shy one, huh? There’ll be a lotta people down there, I know…” He stroked a lock of hair behind your ear with his other hand. “Why don’t I go down there myself and see about bringin’ back some plates for us to eat together, just you and me? We’ll save the introductions for tomorrow, alright, darlin’?”
You nodded, your shoulders relaxing as your anxiety was soothed by his reassurances. He smiled down at you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, sit tight, honey, Daddy’ll be right back… We’ll have a nice lil’ night together.” Another soft kiss, to your lips this time, and he was gone from the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
You got up from the bed and padded over to the window. Peering out to the main road, you could see a crowd of people lined up outside the dining hall to get their evening meal. You figured you had at least fifteen minutes or so until Joel returned, deciding to take the opportunity to explore more of the house while you waited.
You wandered out of the bedroom and down the hallway, peeking your head around the doorframe of the first room you came upon. You reached out your arm and blindly felt around for the lightswitch, flicking it on once you found it. You were still standing in the doorway, knowing by now to wait a beat for the roaches to scatter before stepping fully inside. But to your surprise, there were none. The fluorescent ceiling light revealed the room to be a bathroom, a clean one at that. 
You stepped over the threshold, immediately taking notice of the charming basket of homemade-looking toiletries perched on the sink’s granite countertop. It might as well have been Christmas morning, the overwhelming joy you felt at the idea of getting to take a bath in a clean tub with soap after all these years. 
You picked up a white bar of soap from the basket and brought it to your nose, your eyelids fluttering closed as you inhaled its sweet vanilla scent. When you opened your eyes again, you noticed something even more enticing in the basket: a razor. The QZ school you attended had allowed the boys to have them in order to keep their facial hair under control, but deemed them a non-essential for the girls. Which, you supposed, was true, but you had still always fantasized about having a smooth, hairless body like the girls you had seen in wrinkled magazines and faded movie posters.
Your newly acquired shaving supplies planted an idea in your head: you were going to surprise Joel by shaving your pubic area for the first time. You imagined what it would be like to make a move on him after dinner, getting him hot and bothered, letting him carry you back up to the bedroom to have his way with you, and the wanton look on his face when he pulled down your cotton panties to find your pussy glistening and bare for him for the first time.
You practically tripped over your own feet in your rush to close the bathroom door. You quickly stripped off your worn jeans and underwear, tossing them into the corner of the bathroom to be dealt with later. You plugged up the sink and began to fill it with warm water, hoisting yourself up onto the countertop.
You swished the bar of soap around in the water, then rubbed it on a small patch of hair to create some suds. You placed the razor onto your soapy mound, then dragged it upward along your skin toward your belly button. Removing the hair proved to be more difficult than expected, and you were surprised to find that it hurt. It felt like you had just ripped out the hair instead of shaving it clean off. Just as you had touched the razor to the same thatch of hair to try again, you heard Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching, returning with your dinner much sooner than you had expected. 
He was slowly turning the knob before you had a chance to get up and lock the door. “You in here, darlin? I was callin’ your name but you weren’t respondin’, and you weren't in the bedroom…”
“Sorry, Daddy… I’m just, um… doing something…” you responded, not very convincing in your flustered state.
“Can I come in, baby?”
You hummed your permission and he pushed the door open. The concerned look on his face dissolved when he saw you, worried at first that you might have been crying. His eyebrows raised and his lips parted in realization as he took in the sight of you before him.
“What’re you doin’ in here, darlin’, hm?”
“I… I wanted it to be a surprise. Wanted to shave it for you…” you admitted with a defeated pout.
“Oh babygirl… you know I’ve never cared about what you look like down there, don’t you?” You suddenly felt shy under his gaze, beginning to regret giving in to your girlish idea.
“I know, but… just wanted to look pretty for you, that’s all… like the girls in the magazines…”
“Oh, baby… you’re already the prettiest lil’ angel I ever laid eyes on… But if you really wanna shave her, Daddy’ll help you, sweet girl, don’t gotta keep struggling…”
He pulled up the worn little wooden stool from the corner of the bathroom and took a seat between your spread legs, gesturing for you to hand him the razor and bar of soap. You gave them up reluctantly, placing them delicately into his calloused hand. Your lips were still formed into a little pout, upset that your surprise had been ruined.
He dipped the vanilla-scented bar into the sink again, then rubbed it back and forth along the same vertical strip of skin above the hood of your clit that you had tried to start shaving first. He took note of the shoddily clipped hairs and how the skin beneath them was already looking a bit irritated from your misguided attempt.
“Gotta shave in the direction of the hair first, honey… like this…” He swished the razor in the water, then demonstrated the technique. The fingers of his left hand were splayed out across your lower tummy, his thumb pointed down, tugging the skin up towards your belly button as he shaved downward with his right. “See, baby? Just like this…” He did a few passes over the area, rinsing the razor in between each one. 
You were mesmerized by his movements, watching his expert fingers work to remove coarse hair, revealing velvet smooth skin underneath. His hands looked so strong and competent as they moved from one patch of hair to the next, his brows furrowed and his tongue peeking out from between his plush lips in concentration.
You felt your core becoming wet as he exposed more bare skin to the bathroom’s cool air, his warm breath ghosting over your clit with each careful stroke of the razor. As he pulled away to admire how his work was coming along, the focused tension between his eyebrows released, noticing your hole beginning to drip.
“Oh…” he breathed, gathering some of your wetness on his thumb and bringing it closer to his face, inspecting it. “What’s all this honey, hm? This just from Daddy helpin’ you shave your lil’ pussy?” He sucked his thumb into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering as he savored the flavor. “Taste so sweet, babygirl… always so fuckin’ sweet f’ me…”
You nodded and whimpered at his words, heat rising to your cheeks at his slight mocking tone. “Can’t help it, Daddy…” Your hips started twitching of their own volition, rocking upward toward where his lips were now curled into a faux-sympathetic pout. You knew this was part of a little game he liked to play with you, the one where he made you feel a little embarrassed for being so easily turned on by him.
“I know, honey, I know… Lil’ girl can’t ever help herself, always gets wet f’ me so easily, doesn’t she? But you gotta hold still f’ me, let Daddy finish helpin’ you shave, okay?”
You gave another quick little nod and a hum of agreement that came out sounding more like a pathetic whine, and tried your best to control the movements of your pelvis as he got back to work.
But his big, warm hand was spread out over the delicate skin of your tummy again, and his lips were so close to being right where you wanted them, and what little self control you had been able to muster was quickly beginning to slip away. You were nearly able to contain yourself for the rest of his shaving, but your eager hips betrayed you on what would have been the final pass of the razor, giving a swift little buck toward Joel’s face despite your best efforts to keep still.
He wasn’t prepared for your sudden movement, and the sharp blades nicked the skin of one of your outer lips. You let out a startled cry as a little crimson pearl began to bloom on your sensitive skin. Joel gasped and was quick to apologize, even though your injury was really due to your own desperation. “Oh, Christ… I’m sorry, babygirl, I’m so sorry… here, gimme a tissue, baby.” 
With a shaky hand, you reached over to the box of tissues sitting on the back of the toilet, plucking one out to hand to him. He dropped the razor in favor of the tissue, balling it up and gently pressing it to the little cut. His free hand quickly came up to the side of your face, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone. “You okay, babygirl? I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean t’ hurt ya… told ya to keep still for me, baby…”
He wiped away a tear that had slipped from your lashes as you sniffled. “I’m okay, Daddy, jus’ scared me… stings a lil’ bit…”
“Yeah, I’ll bet it does… my poor girl. Daddy shoulda been more careful, knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself, needy lil’ thing… But you know what, babygirl? Daddy knows somethin’ that’ll help, that’ll make it stop hurtin’...”
“What is it?” you asked, soft voice still wavering slightly.
“Well, I read somewhere a long time ago… that spit can help a lot with lil’ cuts and things…”
You could tell this was part of one of the other little games you liked to play together. The one where you pretended to be innocent and inexperienced, when in reality, Joel had made sure you were anything but. But you liked this game, it put butterflies in your tummy and made your weeping hole quiver when you played the part for him.
“It… it can?” you wondered with a naive-sounding lilt.
“Oh yeah, babygirl, you never heard o’ that before? Spit can help a whole lot, ‘specially Daddy’s spit, can make it feel all better, darlin’...” The stained tissue now discarded, his thumbs gently stroked the slick pink skin of your outer lips as he spoke, careful to avoid your little injury. “And your lil’ baby pussy is a real uncomfortable place to have a cut like this, too… Don’t want my girl hurtin’...”
Your eyebrows were knit together with need as you released a pathetic whimper, your breath hitching and heat rising from your fluttering tummy all the way up to your cheeks. He barely concealed a smirk as he noticed the change in your demeanor, knowing how this particular game had always affected you.
“Whaddya say, sweet girl, hm? You wanna give it a try? You want Daddy to kiss it all better?”
You nodded frantically, your mouth slightly agape as you began to pant out of desperation.
He was quick to deliver a small swat to your inner thigh at your unspoken answer.
“Words, baby, you know better…”
“Y-yes, Daddy, please, want you to kiss it better, make it stop hurting…”
“There you go, good girl. Spread your legs a lil’ more for me, honey, let me see her…”
You wiggled your thighs further apart on top of the counter, giving him full access to your now soaking cunt. 
“There she is, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, ain’t she? Needs her Daddy to make her feel all better…”
He placed a few wet kisses to the afflicted area before looking up at you with apologetic eyes. “How’s that feel, babygirl? She still hurtin’?”
You nodded your head with a pathetic little cry, mindlessly chasing after his mouth with your hips. “Still hurts, Daddy…” you vocalized your answer this time. 
“Yeah? Poor lil’ pussy… She need some more lovin’ from her Daddy? More of his spit to help make her feel good again?”
Another frantic nod, another eager mewl. “M-more… please, Daddy…” 
“Alright, babygirl, don’t you worry, Daddy’ll give her some more…”
He latched his lips onto your swollen clit, alternating between sucking it into his mouth and giving it soft kitten licks. His large hands were firmly planted on the inside of each of your thighs, keeping you spread wide as he devoured you. You were already so sensitive from his teasing, it wasn’t going to take much more to push you over the edge. You were practically riding his face, your hips canting feverishly into his mouth with each expert drag of his tongue across your folds. 
When he started fucking his tongue into your bitty hole, swirling it around and then licking back up to your clit to circle it, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.
“Please, Daddy, please… feels so good, ‘s too much, gonna cum, Daddy…”
“Yeah? I dunno, babygirl, I don’t think she’s healed all the way just yet… might still need some more takin’ care of,” he murmured into your pussy before pulling his head away to spit directly onto your cunt. The lewd action was enough to launch you into your orgasm right then, his head still between your legs, slurping up the divine combination of his saliva and your sweet juices. As you rode it out, his tongue maintained a gentle, steady strum on your clit, eliciting breathy whines of please and yes and Daddy…
When you finally came down from your high, your breath catching up to you and your hips stilling, your pussy twitched one last time at the sight of Joel’s wrecked face. He was smirking up at you, his face soaked with your slick, thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs. 
“Well, I reckon it worked, whaddya think, darlin’? She feelin’ better now?”
“Much better… thank you Daddy…” you sighed, still catching your breath.
“You’re welcome, babygirl, such pretty manners… Now, why don’t we get ourselves cleaned up and have some dinner, hm? I even brought back a slice o’ huckleberry pie for ya if you eat all your vegetables like a good girl…”
You lit up immediately at the promise, prompting Joel to reach into the basket and pull out a soft, cream-colored washcloth. He dunked it in the water, squeezing out the excess, and carefully cleaned up your now freshly bare pussy. When he was done, you took the washcloth from him, rinsing it in the sink before repeating his cleansing process on his own face. He helped you up off the counter before leaving the bathroom, returning promptly with a fresh set of clothes for you to change into. He helped you into a clean pair of panties, which you noted felt nice against your naked skin, then into a warm sweatshirt and comfortable leggings.
He carried you into the kitchen and sat you down at the little table set for two. You ate your dinners together by soft candlelight, relishing the feeling of having a sturdy roof over your heads and warm food in your stomachs.
You supposed tonight, and this little house in Jackson, represented a new beginning in more ways than one.
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tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held
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mvybanks · 9 months
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the one where your brother comes over - w/jj
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a/n: i guess i’m back👀 i dont like this but i wanted to start posting smth so i hope you enjoy!!
warnings: suggestive
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add yourself to my taglist <3
add yourself to my rafe taglist <3
If there’s one thing that your boyfriend is committed to it’s always keeping a promise to you. Whether it’s about a date or whatever you’ve asked him to help you with, he’d do anything in his power to be true to his words.
Well, this time wasn’t different. JJ hadn’t had a day off in weeks and you had missed being cared for and have him all to yourself for hours, instead of the usual quickies and stolen kisses you had barely been able to share lately. He’s been working himself thin, trying to make ends meet, but he deserved a break and you wanted your sweet boy back, which is why he promised to you that once he had been granted a day off, he would have made it up to the both of you. 
Forever a man of his word he is.
You don’t know when it was the last time you left the bedroom, but you can feel his touch and scent all over you, your limbs are deliciously sore and your chest feels lighter as you can finally breathe in his arms. He kisses your naked shoulder and then your arm as he whispers sweet nothings to you, his naked chest pressing against your bare back.
“’m gonna get somethin’ to eat,” he says softly with his lips still attached to the skin of your shoulder, unable of leaving you.
You hum, acknowledging his words but nuzzling further into him at the same time. He kisses the side of your head and reluctantly leaves the warmth radiating from your body and of the cozy bed.
Once he gets inside the kitchen of your shared apartment, he begins his search for snacks and whatever the cupboard and fridge have to offer to him. However, he gets startled by the sound of keys unlocking the front door and a frown paints his features as he reaches for the first drawer he can find, looking for something sharp in case of danger. Then it hits him: who the hell would have the keys to your apartment?
“You scared the fuck out of me, John B!” he whisper-yells at his friend standing in the entrance of the house.
John B raises one eyebrow in confusion, “Did you think a robber would have used the keys to come in? It’s called ‘breaking and entering’ for a reason.”
JJ rolls his eyes in annoyance and when he realizes that the only form of clothing on his body right now is his underwear, he runs a hand through his hair as a nervous habit. “Did you need something?”
“Always a pleasure talking to you,” he says sarcastically, “Is my sister home?”
“Uhh, yeah...”
Although it’s been a long time since you and JJ have made your relationship official with all of your friends and, more importantly, your brother, JJ is still scared of him and who would blame him? Sure, they’re best friends, but when it comes to you, John B goes back to his role of the overprotective older brother who terrifies his little sister’s partners, doesn’t matter who they might be.
“Where-“
John B doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence when your voice fills his ears and the hallway you’re standing in now; due to the wall, you can’t even see him, only your almost naked boyfriend is visible and the sight alone of his back muscles makes you want to jump his bones…again. That’s the reason why you cluelessly lean against the wall and play with the bottom of his shirt hanging from your body, “Baby,” you fake whine to JJ, “Come back to bed.”
The look on his face is priceless, but not what you were expecting; your boyfriend is not jumping at the chance of taking you to bed? Is he sick?
“What’s wrong?” you finally ask him, walking to him and revealing yourself to a disgusted John B. “Oh.”
“If I knew coming here would’ve traumatized me, I would’ve never come,” your brother says as he covers his eyes and you try to stretch your shirt down.
JJ wraps an arm around you, noticing the embarrassment on your face, and helps you hide yourself against his chest. “Could’ve given me a heads up,” you mutter to him.
“How was I supposed to know you were gonna do that?” and you know he’s holding back his signature smirk.
“I’ll leave you guys alone,” John B exclaims, never taking his hand off his eyes as he walks back to the door, “Talk to you later.”
“Bye, JB.”
The second you hear the sound of the front door closing, you look up at your boyfriend who is now laughing at the situation.
“Hey babe, remember the day you decided to give your brother a key to our apartment?” he asks when his laughter dies down.
“…Yeah.”
“When was I included in this conversation?”
You throw your arms around his neck and then slowly run your hands down his chest, “I’m sorry, baby,” you fake-pout, knowing full well that he’s not actually mad, “How can I make it up to you?”
That smirk of his you love finally appears on his lips before he bends his head down to meet your ear, “Let’s start with getting that perfect ass of yours back to bed.”
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taglist:
@jjmaybankisbae @notslay-norcleor @poppet05 @solargazes @cindersnightmare @fairlymax @chaostudee @goldenroutledge @drewsgarfieid @taintedxkisses @uhcallmemommy @babypoguelife @screan @voguesir @vigilanteshitposting @kliness @gemofthenight @magnificantmermaid @f4ll-for-you @marzipaanz @sweetestdesire @guililove @freyawhitexxx1 @mistalli @shady-the-simp @fangirl-madz @one-sweet-gubler @camelliaflow3r @emery-333 @hallecarey1 @illicitfixations @dreamingwithrafe @maybankslover @jjgaybanklover @wildflwrdarlin @futurecorps3 @bxrbie1 @maybanksbabe @softcoremaybank @jjsbank444 @vivian-555 @jjfordays @highpope @livsters @starkeylover @peachpitlover @instabull
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hiraya-rawr · 1 year
Text
looking for your favorites 3 (sagau)
synopsis !! they can't possibly be your favorite character. . . right?
characters !! wanderer, scaramouche, chongyun, abyss prince aether, razor
note !! EVERYTHING WAS WRITTEN IN MY FREETIME bit by bit, hence why it sometimes sounds a little off i guess? i tried to fix it as much as i could ++ I'm honestly not sure if I can continue writing for the og sagau concept, I keep twisting it into something else eeh- heheheh
contains !! gn reader, mild religious themes, honestly the sagau concept is a little everywhere in this one, i couldnt seem to settle on one type, spoilers on sumeru's archon quest, scaramouche/wanderer spoilers
• • •
A Genshin Player typically has a variety of characters to choose from. Such options can range from free-to-play characters to limited five stars. Regardless of how much one invested in the game, they're bound to have at least a handful of options.
This is what all characters are aware of— that they are options among hundreds to thousands of vision holders across Teyvat, with every character being special and enticing in their own way.
There's no way they could be the favorite.
Right?
[x] WANDERER
He doesn't quite know who he is.
He doesn't understand what his purpose is either.
He just wanders, lost, nation to nation in hopes of maybe discovering a sense of fulfillment.
And with all the wandering he's done, he -of course- has heard about you. A special entity to this world. A small part of him wonders if you'd know the answers to his questions (or perhaps, you could make use of him? If he could be useful to someone like you, then surely he would feel fulfilled?).
Despite his quiet hopes, he wasn't in any rush to find you. Nor did he hope for you to actually make use of him. He just continued wandering, from the mountains of Liyue to the forests of Sumeru— all the way to where he is now. The barren desert, with nothing but sand for miles and miles to see (and perhaps that rather intimidating, flipped pyramid at a distance).
Needless to say, he wasn't expecting you of all people to follow his tracks out into the desert.
At first you were just a spech amongst the sands, then you became clearer with your approach, showing more and more the familiar features he once saw in passing amongst statues or paintings.
When you were finally within hearing distance, you raised a hand as if to call out his name, hesitating for a moment before deciding what to say—
"Wanderer!"
He tilts his head, pausing to face you as you walk closer. The sand around you stills, as if no longer fighting against every footstep you take, and instead assisting you to come closer.
"You are. . . the one this world was created for, right?" He asks unsure as soon as you were close enough
"I suppose I am?" You reply with a laugh, and he finds that he quite likes your laugh. "I tried looking for you, I'm glad I caught up before you got too deep into the desert."
"You tried looking for me. . ? Why?"
"Because how could I visit Teyvat without meeting you?" You smile softly. He looks away, it doesn't make sense.
"Meeting me, huh. . . then may I ask for a favor?"
"Anything you want."
His eyes catches yours -sunlight hitting them just right- and without missing a beat, "Can I be of use to you? Can you give me purpose?"
You freeze, hands to your side as you stare back at him. In truth, you were expecting something like this, but now? So soon on your first meeting? He looks back seriously.
"Sca– Wanderer," You begin, "You're doing this. . . to find out who you are, right?"
He nods. You sigh.
"Well. . . I know a friend back in the city who can help you. They're a traveler as well. In fact, you can say they're a friend of yours!"
"A friend of mine. . ?"
"Trust me. You'll love them. And shall we go back?"
Go back? He wonders. There's miles and miles of sand around you.
"It would be nightfall soon. I don't think we'd be able to make it back today. I'm sorry."
You turn to him, lips in a wide smile. There's something wrapped between your fingers as you hold it out for him to catch. He opens his palm, it settles down slowly— it's. . . an anemo vision. Glowing brightly.
"Why walk when we can fly?" You grin.
bonus :
"Don't you feel hot at all?" You whine, shielding your eyes from the glare of sunlight.
"I have a hat."
"I see. . . "
[x] SCARAMOUCHE
* It's conflicting, really. Scaramouche despises gods— their invisible influence taunting him like he was a defective product, like he should be ashamed to ever think he could stand on their level.
* You were... an oddity in his feelings towards such powerful beings. The world was made for you, catered to you, and people naturally adored you (just like how they adored the traveler you've shown your favor to).
* So when you, the being which his very world was created for your entertainment, landed in Teyvat, as human as any human could be— he didn't know what to expect.
* He didn't care. There are hundreds for you to meet, and he's not about to wait in line, dilly-dallying for your attention like a common peasant.
* But in the open halls of the Tsaritsa's palace, you approach with the quick pattering of your heels.
* The crowd of Fatui workers naturally part as soon as they noticed your approach. It's odd enough to hear that the player begged to go to Snezhnaya -land of nothing but barren snow- but to rush to Scaramouche's main headquarters? Unheard of!
* Yet there you were, face to face with a single option out of hundreds (the single option you chose).
"What in Teyvat are you. . ." He trails off, his face scrunched between irritation and shock. He doesn't know what to say, really. Would insulting you incur some sort of divine fury?
"I came looking for you!" You reply.
He thinks you're an idiot. He shouldn't call you that, right? Would it damn him to the abyss or something?
"Why. . ." He tries to form the words, "Why in Teyvat would you–" He pauses, looking around at the small crowd.
With a glare, the Fatui agents scatter away from the hall. It doesn't take much to scare them away like little rats. As he turns back to you, you look back unafraid, if not a little excited.
"Why are you here? Do you pity me, is that it?" He asks with a bite to his voice.
"Yes."
"I– what? So you admit it?" He scoffs, is there a limit to your shamelessness? Is this a trait natural to the gods? "Unbelievable."
"I pity you, everything you went through, but that's not the reason why I'm here! Isn't it obvious?" You say, a wide grin beginning to form, "You're my absolute favorite!"
He freezes. What? Absolutely. . . favorite?
As if understanding his speechlessness, you continue on, "I've been wanting to meet you since the very first event– ahem, first time I saw you!"
"You truly are an odd one." He mumbles under his breath because why him? Why the one who was abandoned and used numerous times? He's merely a puppet without a heart.
An empty vessel.
"And why should I believe you?" He says unconvincingly, arms folded. He notices the little chatter behind the walls, those darn recruits are listening in.
"Why would I be here if you're not my favorite?" You quip back.
He scoffs, "I don't know, but there's certainly something wrong with you in the head. You're not exactly what I expected."
"If you were expecting a certain level of power, then I could still do that. I can give you gifts."
". . . gifts?" He tilts his head.
"Artifacts, weapons, talents— they're all for you since the very beginning anyway!"
Artifacts, weapons. . . power? He thinks. Truly, if you were such an ultimate being, you could provide him anything? As if pondering over it, he suddenly pauses.
Yes, indeed you could give him these things.
But why him?
Because of favorites?
How could he be favored when he was once thrown away.
". . . Can you give me a gnosis?" He says, voice uncharacteristically soft.
"Um. . . we'll work on that. Maybe on the later arcs."
[x] CHONGYUN
* Despite modern Liyue's sovereignty from gods, it's still a nation that values traditions and piety. It's natural that with your arrival, you only deserve the best!
* That included invites from some of the highest ranking nobles and guilds. It's no surprise that Xingqiu, the second son of the largest Commerce Guild, makes an appearance to greet you in the Jade Palace, his brother and parents already done with their turns.
* Xingqiu expected a lot from you, maybe discussions of the arts (or perhaps you're even interested in novels?). What he didn't expect was for you to ask such a random question.
"Oh Xingqiu! You're here! Ah– but where's Chongyun?"
He only pauses for a second. Chongyun may be the son of a longstanding exorcist clan, but they're not much to boast about in terms of influence or wealth. Chongyun is... well, Chongyun. His dear best friend.
"I apologize, I wasn't aware that you'd like to meet him as well. Chongyun should be. . . hmm around the harbor by now, perhaps." He stands straight from his bow, "We were planning on meeting after this, your Holiness, to look for haunted h— I mean, to stroll Wuwang Hill."
You already know what they're up to as you clasp your hands together.
"Excellent! I'll go with you!"
"Wait- what?"
* Oh poor Chongyun, he would be a frantic mess in disbelief. It was hard enough to believe that you suddenly went to Liyue, but to approach him of all people? Did you mistake him for someone else? Are you going to ask for directions? Did he do something wrong?
* The thoughts swirling around his head is enough to destabilize his yang energy as you helplessly reassure him that you're there because you want to meet him as soon as you could.
"Chongyun!" You rush up to him, arms wide in an embrace— the cryo allogene freezes in place, stares with his cat-like eyes in wonder because wait, wait, wait– is the one and only controller of this world approaching him for a hug?
"I- Wait, me?" He stutters, tumbling over his words as you smile. His arms are awkwardly raised, unsure if he should hug you back.
"Yes! I met Xingqiu a while back and was wondering why you weren't with him."
"You- you were looking for me?"
"Of course I have! I've always wanted to meet you in person like this!"
As you squeeze him in your arms, you feel him go limp as his face turns red in heat.
"Oh no! His yang energy!"
[x] ABYSS AETHER
Aether knew he was damned. The minute he resolved to see through everything till the end, despite everyone thinking otherwise, he knew no one would understand why he decided to do this.
Alone, is how he decided to do this. So he sits lonely on a throne in the nave of what seems to be a dark cathedral. The walls depicting menacing murals of an era where everything went wrong. The abyss mages that normally float in worship are no where to be seen, just the way he wanted it.
Until you appeared, the little soft patter of footsteps echoing down his aisle, the heavy doors moving back to reveal your underwhelming entrance. He sees you and he wonders if he expected you to come, to blame him or get angry because how could he stray so far from his oh-so-favored sister, Lumine.
Yet, you walk up to him with a look of what seems to be sorrow.
"Are you here to blame me?" He asks and his voice echoes against cavernous walls.
"Blame you? No. . ." You reply.
"Then do you pity me?"
"Aether, I just want to understand." You confidently say, finally by the foot of his throne. He doesn't feel comfortable looking down on you like this, not you, so he stands to approach your eye level.
"Shouldn't you already understand?" He questions, curious.
"I— don't. . . I don't know everything there is to this world."
Aether frowns. Maybe because he was hoping that you of all people -mortal or god- would understand why he's doing this.
"That isn't my problem. There are bigger things for me to think about." He turns away and just before he could take the first step;
"I don't know everything about this world but if it's you– then I want to understand. I'm sure you have your reasons. I trust you more than anything."
He pauses, face in wonder, because how could you trust someone so blindly?
With an exhale and a decision made, he turns to you, "Then follow me. If you want to understand why, then stay with me."
"Okay."
[x] RAZOR
It was a classic welcome— arriving in Mondstadt, touring around the city, greeting the characters you've always wanted to meet. Despite their initial formalities and decorum, you've managed to tone down the professionalism and started to treat each other as friends.
That didn't mean they weren't very open to the idea of you meeting the less. . . civil of the bunch.
"I'd like to visit Wolvendom." You tell the small group. It's another day in the city, enjoying drinks by the taverns under the sun. Lucky for you, the Cavalry Captain and the Outrider have their time off to enjoy with you.
"Oh? Is there a reason why?" Kaeya leans back, head tilted.
"To be honest. . . I wanted to visit Razor. I'm sure you know him!"
Truth be told, you just wanted to meet a certain good wolf cub hidden in the woods. While everyone has went out of their way to meet you, Razor kept to himself in Wolvendom. Perhaps he was too intimidated by the crowds pouring into Mondstadt, or maybe he just wasn't familiar about you, but Razor was nowhere to be seen since your arrival.
". . . Razor?" Kaeya says hesitantly, "Hmm while I have no problem with you going to Wolvendom to meet him, there is another issue. . ."
"What issue?"
"The knights decided not to let you meet Razor," Amber quips in, "I mean– It's not that there's anything bad about him, it's just that he hasn't learned his manners yet. We thought it might be disrespectful if he met you so soon."
"Disrespectful?" You voice out in shock.
"Of course we know that you're not strict about that now! But I guess we never clarified the situation with Razor. . "
You huff, standing up tall with new resolve, "That's it! We're going out to find Razor and give him the biggest hug ever!"
"We are?" They echo back in unison.
"Yes we are!" You hook both your arms around theirs, dragging them out the gates of Mondstadt.
ko-fi support || general m.list
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stxrmylxve · 8 months
Text
Can I have a ride?
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Synopsis: Mikey thinks you’re asking to ride on his bike, but that’s not really what you ment. A/N: @shelly-ya i figured this would serve better than doing multiple boys as hcs 😌
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WARNING: riding 💁‍♀️, begging, choking, nicknames (good boy, slut), no protection, a few cuss words, a bit of overstimulation
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“Mikey, we’re heading out for a lunch break. Want us to bring you anything?” Inupi calls out, huffing as mikey shakes his head.
“I’ll grab somethin’ later, thanks.”
You wave the boys goodbye as you walk into the shop, the soft tap of your shoes ringing in Mikey’s ears as he turns around.
“Y/N! What do you think of the bike? Ken-chin helped me repair it, but I did most of the body work.” Mikey asks, wiping a speck of dust off of it as he turns to you with a beaming smile.
“It’s gorgeous, Mikey! You both did a great job. I like the paint job you did, too.” you reply, eyeing the glossy shine to the paint that covered the bright flames across the body of the bike.
“I was going to take it for a spin today, but of course it has to rain.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh.
“Well then, can I have a ride?” you ask, rubbing his shoulders as he looks over his shoulder with a confused gaze.
“But it’s raining-“
“Not that kind of ride, ‘jiro…” you say, running your hands down his chest, your hands lingering a bit too long as they glided down his torso.
It took him a while to catch on, but you could tell when he finally did as his ears turned red.
“R-right now? They will be back from their lunch break before you know it.” he says, taking your hands into his as he presses small kisses along each of your fingers.
“If we’re quiet enough, they won’t know.” you coo, walking off to one of the vacant rooms in the back.
Mikey sighs, contemplating just leaving a note for the guys to find when they got back saying he went home. But the thought of the pure rush of adrenaline he would get being right on the brink of getting caught won him over, his feet moving faster than his thoughts as he wandered after you.
By the time he caught up to you, you had already wiggled off your clothes, sitting there with nothing but a bra and panties on as you waited eagerly for his arrival. His brows quirked at the sight, wondering what you would have done if he had simply ignored you and left you there.
“Y’know how to get your way, don’t you?” he chuckles as he sits down in one of the plush seats, unzipping the fly to his pants to pull his cock out. The tip was already a fiery red, showing that he was just as eager for this as you were.
You slipped off your panties, discarding them in the pile of clothes as you clicked the lock on the door, walking back over to him to start prepping. Your hands wrapped around his lengths, pumping a few times before spitting right on the slit, pulling a small groan out of the man as you snickered.
“Doesn’t look like I will have to do very much today, will I?” you giggle as you pump him a few more times, deciding it wad enough as a bit of pre leaked out of his tip.
“J’st get on with it.” he begs, pulling you onto his lap by your waist as you straddle him with a grin.
“Eager, huh? What would you have done without me, jerked off?” you tease, lining up his tip to your cunt. With a small hiss, you slip his tip in, your walls fluttering already as they fight to take his thick girth. You bounce a few times, reaching down to flick your clit as you try to egg yourself on.
With no warning, Mikey’s hands fly to your hips, pushing you down on his complete length as a guttural moan leaves his lips, his hand having to slap over your mouth by the high-pitched moan you let out.
“S’too much, ‘jiro! Fuck!” you whine, your arms wrapping around his neck as your walls clamp down, his leaky tip easily kissing your cervix.
“You gonna’ talk all of that big talk and can barely take me? S’ch a slut.” he says as his hands kneed the fat of your ass. You grit your teeth, taking the nickname as a challenge as you push him back into the chair, sitting up straight to where you were looking down on him.
“Weren’t you the one begging me to hurry up?” you reply, rolling your hips with a quivering smile as you fight his dominance, trying to hold back all of the moans that held true to the nickname of a ‘slut’.
He let out a small whimper, his hands trying to hold you steady the best he could, but even you knew that for him, nothing would beat the feeling of you riding him to your heart’s content.
“Such a good boy for me, letting me use you like I want.” you coo, your nails wracking through his hair as you grind down on his length.
“Y’er just gonna’ settle for this? No true riding?” he croaks out, small whimpers leaving his lips again as you pull on his hair a little bit.
“What, do you want me to ride you?” you ask, rolling your eyes.
“Y-yes! Please!” he begs, his hands coming up to tug on your bra as his hips rutt up absentmindedly, his head leaning back from the blissful feeling he was lost in.
Though you loved to tease him, you yourself were also getting bored of this agonizingly slow pace you had created. You huffed as you gave in to his desire, slowly rocking your hips as your hands slid down to his shoulders, your pace quickening as you gained more stabilization.
Small tears formed in the corners of his eyes as his mouth made a small ‘o’, his hand slipping around your neck as he forced you into a quicker pace, pulling you down for a short kiss before parting with small pants.
You tried to form another teasing sentence, but your mind evaded the thought as your eyes rolled back, his cock hitting just the right spots with each roll of your hips. You knew you were close, your walls tightening around his length, but they only edged him on towards his own high as you felt his dick starting to twitch inside of you.
“M’close!” he pleads, his hands falling to your hips as you slumped over slightly, your hips stuttering as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your high hit you suddenly, a sharp moan leaving your mouth as you clamped down on him, “W-wait! T’much!” he cried out, pushing him over the edge as he painted your insides white.
The room went silent as nothing more than soft pants were heard. Mikey pressed a small kiss on your temble, littering the rest of your face with soft pecks as you giggled.
“You think they heard?”
“…Probably.”
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v3nusstardust · 3 months
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🤍”Somethin’ stupid”🤍
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Pairing : BF!Niki Nishimura x DEPRESSEDreader! (Real) 🎀
Genre : fluff <3 sad af tho idfk what the genre is
WARNINGS : mentions of self harm, depression, anxiety
A/N : SRRY I usually post like once a week and I forgot to this week I think… Idrk I literally have a fucking concussion rn💀 happened bcs lowkey thought I was in a music video and did cartwheels in my room at 3 am and smacked the shit out of my head and then hit my head on the floor and woke up seeing Gojo Satoru shakin ass 💀😜 anyway enjoy yawl😳
In the car with your boyfriend Niki, heading to the movie theater, the atmosphere was perfect –soft music, and a feeling that made life worthwhile. It had been a month since you’d seen him. These small moments you had with Niki made your life worth living. Most of the time he was busy or away for his idol duties and you’d miss him so badly. You would wonder if him being away for so long would end up with you both breaking up or you both falling out of love. The thought always made you feel nauseous and overwhelmed. Your overthinking would get the best of you sometimes, and you would result to self harm. Niki had no idea though and you never planned on telling him.
"Y/n, you might want to ditch the hoodie; it's getting pretty warm in here. You're sweating," your boyfriend chuckled, casting a glance your way. "No kidding, it's hot as hell." You sighed wiping your forehead with your sleeve. As you started to pull down the zipper your hoodie, the memories of your scars made you hesitate. “Actually I’m fine. I can handle it.” You reassured Niki. “Huh? Don’t risk a heat stroke, take it off,” he insisted, concern etching his face. “No I’m literally gonna be fine trust me.” You countered, zipping your hoodie back up quickly. “Y/n. It’s the middle of summer and you’re wearing a hoodie darling. You might wanna take it off.” Niki suggested, a puzzled look was painted on his face. “I’m gonna be alright trust me.” You gave Niki a sweet smile, trying to look unsuspicious. “Whatever you say Y/n.” Your boyfriend sighed.
You and Niki finally arrived at the movie theater. You checked in, got tickets, got snacks and headed to your movie. The air-conditioned theater promised relief from the summer heat, but your hoodie remained a steadfast companion.
Inside the cool, dimly lit theater, you found your seats, the contrast between the chilly air and your hoodie creating a cozy bubble. The movie previews flickered on the screen, and the scent of buttered popcorn filled the air.
Niki leaned over and whispered, "Are you sure you won't overheat in there?..”
“It’s cool in here Niki! I’m fine.” You softly giggled. The movie began, and you got so into it that the hoodie wasn't on your mind anymore. The plot grabbed your attention, and the cozy warmth just blended into the background.
Midway through the movie, Niki gently reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your initial reaction was surprise; you were aware of Niki's habit for tracing his fingers along your palms and wrists. Softly pushing his hand away, you met his gaze. He looked absolutely ethereal in the dim theater lighting.
"Do you not want to hold hands?" Niki whispered, pouting with a hint of sadness.
"I do, just... not right now," you replied. Niki's worried expression prompted him to ask, "Is there something wrong?"
You hesitated before responding, "No, no, I just... don't worry about it."
Your words, though intended to reassure, unintentionally stabbed at Niki's heart. His love for you was profound, and while he knew he could be clingy, he never imagined it could "annoy you." The worry in his eyes lingered as the movie played on.
You both went back to the apartment after the movie. The car ride was quiet because you pretended to be asleep, avoiding a talk about why you didn't hold hands. Niki spent the entire ride overthinking what he might have done wrong.
“Niki. I’m gonna go take a shower.” You said, walking off to your room to get your clothes. “Oh okay. I’ll make you some tea for when you get out.” He replied.
When you stepped in the shower, the warm water stung your fresh cuts. You held your wrists and winced in pain, small tears ran down your cheeks. Staring at your wrists, you wondered how you could be so stupid. You regret doing it , because now Niki might see them. The thought made you softly cry. Thank God the shower water was loud enough to cover up your soft muttering and sighs.
After your shower, you returned to the kitchen. Niki was busy cooking dinner and brewing tea for both of you, a delightful surprise that warmed your heart. Soft music played from his speaker next to the stove.
Curious, you asked, "What are you making?" Sitting at the table, he chuckled and replied, "Pasta, I’m trying out new things." The song changed to your favorite, "Somethin’ Stupid” by Frank Sinatra. Excitedly, you exclaimed, "Niki, you added my favorite song to your playlist!"
With a smile, he admitted, "I really like this song. Isn't it your favorite?" You giggled, "Duh! I play it all the time in your car." Niki turned off the stove and approached you. "Is the food ready?" you inquired. "Not yet, but how about we dance?" he suggested, extending his hand with a gentle smile, eyes filled with admiration.
In the soft glow of the dim kitchen light, you and Niki began to slow dance. The soothing melody of the song filled the air as he held you close. The ambiance was warm, and the subtle scent of dinner in the making lingered.
Niki led with gentle grace, swaying to the music with you in a tranquil dance. The rhythmic steps mirrored the easy connection between you two, the worries of the day fading away in the embrace of the moment. His hand rested on the small of your back, fingers delicately entwined with yours. As you swayed together, his other hand found its place on your waist, the closeness allowing you to feel the comforting warmth of his touch. The subtle aroma of the cooking dinner heightened the sensory experience.
Niki's gaze, brimming with stars and admiration, locked onto yours as he gently took your hand in his. However, reality snapped you back, and a sudden fear of him discovering your self infliction made you pull away. You pulled your hand away from his gently. Niki stopped dancing with you, his eyes locked onto yours with concern. "I'm sorry for asking, but why don't you want me to hold your hand?" he inquired.
A tremor ran through you, fear intensifying. Taking a deep breath, you hesitated before admitting, "I... I just," struggling to find the right words. The fear of Niki discovering your scars weighed heavy on your mind.
After a moment, you decided to face it. "Actually, you know what? Hold hands with me," you said, mustering a smile and intertwining your fingers with his. It was a fleeting decision, hoping that the dance would end before he’d notice. He brought a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Your hair smells good.” He nestled his nose into your hair. The song made the moment vulnerable. You found yourself forgetting about all your worries once again. He brought his lips to your wrist, you didn’t even catch it either. You were too busy humming the melody of the song into his chest. Niki pressed his lips to your wrist. He quickly pulled back and examined if, squinting his eyes. You suddenly realized what he was doing. You pulled away from his arms and held your wrist. His face looked indescribable. Worried, sad, confused all at the same time. The song had stopped already, and the room fell silent. "Y/n," Niki uttered softly, his voice carrying a mixture of concern and care. Before he could say more, your lips began to quiver, and tears welled up in your lashes. A gentle cascade of tears spilled from your eyes.
Niki, swift in his response, hurried over and enveloped you in a warm embrace. His chin rested on your head, and his hand traced soothing circles on your back. Anxiety gripped you like a constricting fog, the weight on your chest almost suffocating. Tears stained Niki's once-white shirt, but he paid it no mind.
"It's okay. I'm not upset," he reassured, planting a tender kiss on the top of your head. "My poor, beautiful girl. When did you do that?" he asked, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. Your hyperventilating made it challenging to speak, rendering you silent in the vulnerability of the moment.
Your hyperventilation began to subside, allowing you to regain some composure. "I..was just.. overthinking," you finally managed to admit, your voice still shaky.
Niki's expression softened, a mixture of empathy and a determination to be there for you. “Was it because of me?” he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear that lingered on your cheek.
You hesitated, the weight of your emotions pressing against your chest. "Yes?... no," you stumbled over your words, struggling to articulate the whirlwind within. "I just miss you so much when you're gone for so long. I feel so lonely again. You're... you're my only light, and the only one in my life who actually makes me happy. I can't stand it when you're away."
Niki's gaze held a depth of understanding as he gently cradled your face. "Y/n, I didn't realize. I'm here for you, always. I’ll bring you with me next time, and the next one after that. I promise my love,” he reassured. His words soothed the ache within your heart. “I’ll be back,” Niki gently pulled his body away from yours. “I’m gonna go get bandages from the bathroom. Sit down,” he kissed your cheek before leaving the room.
When Niki returned, you couldn't help but chuckle at the state of his shirt, soaked with tear and snot stains – undeniably gross. Standing in front of you, he gently took hold of both your injured wrists, his eyes carrying a mix of hurt and pain. Soft elastic bandages in hand, he began to wrap your wrists with a delicate touch.
As he worked, you noticed a subtle glisten in his eyes. His fingers traced along the palms of your wrists, a silent acknowledgment of shared pain. You looked up at him with teary eyes and saw the vulnerability in his gaze.
"Promise me you'll never do this again," he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. Small tears escaped his eyes, tracing down his cheeks. Overwhelmed, you apologized, "I... I'm sorry. I promise. I'm so sorry."You rose from your chair, embracing Niki tightly, the shared pain and promise binding you together in that moment. “I love you so much darling you have no idea. To know that you’ve been hurting yourself like this.. it kills me.” He whispered softly. “I love you too, Niki.” You placed a soft kiss to his chin.
"Do you wanna finish making dinner, and then we can cuddle after?" you proposed.
As Niki's sniffles gradually subsided, a tender smile graced his face, the corners of his eyes still dampened. Niki's smile widened as he looked down at you. "Of course," he agreed, his head tilting slightly. In that gentle tilt, he closed the distance, leaning in for a long, reassuring kiss.
Together, you continued with the meal, the kitchen filled with the comforting aroma of food and music. You showed Niki more songs you liked and he added them to y’all’s new slow dancing playlist.
As you placed the finishing touches on the meal, Niki slid his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "Smells amazing in here, thank you for helping me darling.”
The conversation during dinner went smoothly. You both talked about stories of the past and dreams for the future. Niki's eyes, still holding a glimmer of tenderness, locked onto yours, reinforcing the unspoken understanding that this moment, amidst shared laughter and a table filled with love, was truly special.
Cuddling on the couch, the outside world faded away, leaving room for the intimacy of shared comfort. “You’re so pretty y/n” Niki admired your facial features. The smell of his fresh Basil and mandarin cologne brought you comfort. You threw your leg over his and snuggled closer onto him. He could feel your soft breaths on his neck. Niki peppered kisses on your temples. He was humming a gentle tune to one of your favorite songs. The moment made you realize how lucky you were to be with someone like him.
A/n : erm I literally fell asleep writing this w my hard ass fit on and makeup bruh my skin is breaking out hella someone come kill me. Srry for the amount of mistakes btw I did not read over it 🤓🤓 I raw dogged this it might be shitty Also I hope y’all liek:3 i put my whole venussy into this. Xoxo💋💋
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suuuupernovaaa · 9 months
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Requested by anon. Hobie Brown x f!Reader. 'Open Arms' by SZA, Travis Scott.
I know this is all bad, but please, put a leash on me. Who needs self-esteem anyway?
Rated M. 18+. Mostly fluff.
Samantha's elbow, unbelievably sharp and bony, grinds into my side. I let out a yelp, and yank myself away from my best friend. "What the fuck, Sam?"
She's grinning at me, and then her gaze slips away, following something over my shoulder. I follow her eyeline and see him - Hobie Brown, walking towards us across the grassy lawn of the park. His guitar is strapped over his back and his hands are in the pocket of his studded leather vest. He's walking towards us and as his gaze meets mine, the corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit - which is a beaming smile for Hobie.
We've only just started dating. It's been three... dates, if you can call them that. The second date was helping Hobie and his friends paint a mural. The third was dinner, which I burnt, on the floor of my apartment, because I'm waiting for my new kitchen table to be delivered. The first, Hobie told me on the third date, was the time we ran into each other at the grocery store and he asked me on what I thought was our first date, but then learned was apparently our second.
Though I've dated plenty before, there is something distinct about Hobie. When I first met him, I assumed he was the kind of guy who could not settle down, who could not commit, and who wouldn't be interested in sharing his feelings with anyone.
You could have nearly knocked me over with a feather when, as we sat on the floor eating burnt roast chicken over my coffee table, Hobie looked me right into my eyes and told me he was feeling nervous every time he saw me.
"Dunno," he'd told me, "I just think... that you're special, Y/N. This is somethin' special, and I don't want to mess it up."
I nearly choked on my dry chicken, and the tears that gathered in my eyes as I took a sip of water. The truth was, since the moment I'd been introduced to Hobie Brown, I'd known I was in trouble. Everything about him screamed for me. I was obsessed. I was trying to play it cool, but hearing him call me special, call the budding relationship between us special, nearly sent me into a fit.
"Jesus," Hobie said, hitting my back gently. "You alright?"
I wiped the tears from my eyes and set my water down. "Yes. Sorry. Shit. I really like you, Hobie."
We smiled at each other like two idiots who were bound to fall in love.
As he walks toward me in the park, I'm smiling like that again. I can feel Sam rolling her eyes next to me. "Oh, my god, are you going to fuck him in front of everyone here?"
I shrug, and elbow her back. "If he asks."
She shoves me. "I gotta run. See you tonight?"
"What's tonight?" Hobie asks as he reaches us, and Sam begins her departure.
"See you!" I holler. "Sam is going to help me put together my table and chairs. She's handy."
"I mean this in the most pro-feminist, anti-sexist way possible, but you've got a man now. I can put together your furniture," Hobie says with a teasing grin, and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. "Or, I can bring you a pizza after you work. Christen the new table."
I press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Perfect. Around 8? Shouldn't take us too long."
It's embarrassing, how I melt in this man's arms. When he mentions Christening the kitchen table, I don't think of eating food there. I think of myself, laid back, legs spread, Hobie between them...
But pizza with Hobie and my best friend is good, too. Jesus, I need to pull myself together, hold on to my dignity and self-respect as long as I can.
Hobie dips me backwards a little bit, and presses a firm kiss to my mouth, letting his lips linger on mine for a long time. My head is spinning when he finally sets me upright again. "Maybe once Sam leaves, we can Christen the table another way," he whispers, and a shiver runs up my spine.
I don't really need self-respect, do I?
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aanoia · 10 months
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Definitely (Dying, pt. 2)
Poly!marauders x reader, James Potter x reader, Remus Lupin x reader, Sirius Black x reader
Summary; a failed attempt and a year later, y/n is finally okay
Words; 1,800+
Warnings; srs tw, talk of drug abuse, suicide, self harm, I think that's all
Pt. 1, "Dying"
Really heavy topics, loves, please proceed with caution. I love you all!
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It had been two months. The worst two months of their lives. The Marauders watched from afar as their now ex girlfriend killed herself, and said ex girlfriend had to watch as her lovers sat in each other's arms, basking in each other's presence. It was all too much. She couldn’t take it anymore. 
Today was a rare day where Y/n wasn’t on anything. Her system was clear and a bright smile was on her face. Almost everyone felt uncomfortable about the sudden change, wondering why she was suddenly… okay. Truth is she was the farthest from that that she’s ever been.
“Oh my gosh! Y/n, I love your necklace. Where did you get it?” Lily Evans, one of Y/n’s best friends, asked as Y/n sat down at the table. She sat as far away from the Marauders as she could, which proved difficult as Lily loved sitting next to them.
Y/n smiled and reached behind her head, swiftly unclasping the necklace and dangling it in front of Lily, “Here, have it.”
Lily shook her head, “Oh no, I couldn’t take it.”
“No, I swear it’s fine. It’s not really my style anyway. It’d look much better on you than me.” Y/n insisted and Lily hesitantly took the necklace. 
The thing is, that was Y/n’s favorite necklace. One her mom had given her when she was just a little girl, before she became a disappointment. The Marauders knew that. They shared uneasy looks, confused as to why she would so easily hand over her favorite possession, 
“Awh, that was sweet, Y/n.” Marlene said, admiring the golden necklace that now lay beautifully across Lily’s chest.
“Oh, here. You can have my bracelet. I always see you eyeing it.” She removed the bracelet and handed it to Marlene.
“Oh, thank you, Y/n. How kind.” She said with her brows furrowed.
“Of course.” Y/n responded with a smile.
It had been like that all day. She had given away everything that was complimented and constantly gave people hugs and told them she loved me. It was weird, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t only people close to her that noticed the unusualness either. It was classmates and teachers as well, even the paintings that lined the walls noticed a difference. It left an uneasy pit in everyone's stomach. 
That night, Remus sat at his desk with his hand holding up his head as he was deep in thought. 
James gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, “Moony? What’s going on in that head of yours?” James asked and Sirius perked up at the question, also wanting to know the answer.
Remus shook his head, “S’nothing.”
Sirius let out a short laugh, “You're full of shit. You’ve got that face. You only get that face when you’re thinking of something.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re right. He does have a thinking face.” James agreed and Sirius nodded.
“I know right, he goes like-” Sirius made an exaggerated facial expression.
“No, that looks nothing like him, dimwit. It’s like this-”  Remus tuned them out as they fought.
He went over every interaction Y/n had had that he witnessed throughout the day. She was acting so strange. Even before all the weed and drugs she never just gave away her possessions. She loved her things and held them close to her heart. So why was she giving it all away? And why was she suddenly showing so much affection? And why now? What changed? And why does Remus feel like he’s forgetting somethin-
Remus shot from his seat, “We need to find her. Now.” He said urgently before running out of the room, the boys paused before running after him, knowing exactly who “her” was. 
Remus hastily knocked on the door of Y/n’s dorm room, hoping she would open the door. Instead he was met with the sleepy face of Lily Evans and soft snores from Marlene who was cuddled up into Dorcas’ side. No Y/n.
“Remus?” She glanced behind him. “Sirius? James? What is it?”
“Is Y/n here?” He asked, dread filling his body.
Lily shook her head, “No, she said she was going up to the astronomy tower. Why?”
“I’ll tell you later, thank you.” He said before beginning to move again, but once they got down to the empty common room Sirius grabbed tightly onto his arm, stopping any movement. 
“Remus, what is going on? Why are you so worried?” Sirius asked.
“I think Y/n’s going to kill herself. The signs add up, giving away valuable possessions, being extra affectionate, and you know how her life is. We need to find her, now.” Sirius and James looked at each other before nodding. Sirius let go of Remus and all three sped to the astronomy tower, spending little to no time to think about not getting caught. Right now it was not a priority, their priority was Y/n.
They raced up the steps, not stopping as their lungs begged for air and legs ached for rest. Remus burst through the door and halted as his eyes lay on a silhouette standing at the edge of the tower, on the other side of the rails.
“Remus?” The figure asked, her voice hoarse and broken.
“Y/n, baby, please. Come here.” He begged as his boyfriends came in behind him.
“Y/n?” James asked tentatively. “Sweetheart, don’t do it.”
“Please, go away.” She asked, tears pouring from her eyes. They weren’t supposed to be here. “Please.” She whispered.
Sirius was the only one brave enough to step closer, “No. We let you leave once already, I won’t let you again.” He took another step.
“No, get away from me!” She cried, her sweaty hands slipping against the cool metal.
“Love.” Sirius said quietly, close enough to whisper to her. “It’s going to be okay, yeah?” She began to protest but he shook his head, shushing her while taking yet another step forward. “No, I know how hard that is to believe. But it will. And I- we- we will be there every step of the way. Come on, love, grab onto my hand.” He said quietly while stretching his hand out.
“I can’t do it anymore, Siri.” She whispered, her legs shaking.
“Yes you can.” He assured her immediately. “You can, I know of it. You are the strongest girl I’ve met. I know you can stay here. With me. And Remus. And James. I know you can.”
“But the weed and-and the alcohol, even if I don’t know, I’ll kill myself!” 
“Then we’ll work together to get sober. Y/n, my love, it’s not impossible for you to be happy. I need you to realize that. You can be happy, and you are worthy of being happy. Now hold my hand, please.” He asked again, tears stinging his eyes. She hesitantly grabbed his hand and let him help her over the rails.
The moment her feet touched the ground of the astronomy tower she collapsed in tears and the three immediately engulfed her in a warm hug. She sobbed in their arms for what felt like hours, but the boys didn’t care. She needed love, and they were going to give it to her. 
Once her cries quieted to small sniffles Remus pulled away and gently placed his hand on her tear stained cheek, wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb.
“Hey, baby.” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered.
“Whatever for?” 
“Being such a bitch to you guys and pushing you.” She said, her eyes cast downward as guilt filled her body.
“It’s alright, my love. We’ve already forgiven you.” Sirius responded, the boys nodding along with him. 
“We just want you to be okay.” James said, his arms wrapped loosely around her neck as he placed a soft kiss on her temple.
Y/n nodded slowly, “I wanna be okay too.”
“You will be okay.”
A year later, Y/n smiled at Lily as she sat down at the table in the morning. 
“Good morning, Lily, how did you sleep?”
Lily snorted, “I would’ve slept better if a few girls in my dorm didn’t stop gossiping all night.”
Y/n and Marlene looked at each other with smirks.
“Oh, how rude of them.” Marlene said.
“Truly a tragedy.” Y/n agreed, grabbing a piece of toast. “Does anyone know where my boyfriends are?” She asked, looking around the table.
“Probably doing something dumb.” Dorcas said and Y/n nodded.
“I believe it.” 
The doors to Great Hall opened and in walked Sirius Black. He walked to the Gryffindor table and stood behind his girlfriend, leaning down.
“We need you outside, please, Ms. L/n.” He said, sending shivers down the girl's spine.
“Oh, really?” She asked.
He kissed her cheek, “Yes, ma’am. Shall I escort you?” He asked, standing straight and holding out his hand.
She grabbed his hand, “You shall.” She stood up and let out a small yelp as Sirius quickly tugged her along. Y/n laughed as they sped down the hallway, making Sirius smile. Her laugh truly was music to his ears.
The left the castle and Sirius brought her to a little picnic blanket which her other two boyfriends were lounging on while conversating.
“Ah, look at our girl.” James said as he noticed them approaching.
“Guys, what is this?” Y/n asked with wide eyes as Sirius pushed her down gently, urging her to sit.
“Well, I do believe it’s a picnic.” Remus answered with a grin.
Y/n rolled her eyes, “No, I mean what’s it for?”
“Ah, great question. Today marks one year of you being sober, and we wanted to show you how proud of you we are.” Sirius explained and Y/n smiled.
“Guys, thank you. I love you all so much.”
“We love you too.” James responded.
“Oh! Hagrid made a cake. We didn’t ask him too, but he handed it to us and told us to make sure it got to you.” Remus said, handing Y/n a box.
Y/n smiled as she read what was on the cake. 
‘PROWD OF YOU, Y/N!’
“Awh, Hagrid is so sweet.” Y/n said with a large smile.
“We’re proud of you too, by the way.” James said, putting his head on her lap.
Sirius grabbed Y/n’s hand, “I told you you were the strongest girl I knew.”
Pride swelled in Y/n’s chest. She had come so far in just a year. She had walked through hell and came back alive, barely, but still alive. She had cut off contact from her parents, much to their dismay as now their scapegoat had left, however they didn’t put in the effort to keep her around. During the summer before seventh year she stayed in the spare bedroom at the Potter house, going under strict rules of doors open at all times if she and James were together, or any of them if the other two came over. Y/n was more than okay, she was happy. She healed. Was it hard? Maybe. Was it worth it? 
Definitely.
Tag list;
@duruxoxo @mars-marley @siriuslydestiny @gagafatale @lestat-whore @1hornyforfictionalmen1 @megluv1 @takem3tothelakes @fictionalmensblog @ssaspencerreidswife
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Pregnant Reader - Part 3
So after the final part of Not So Single Mom I realised I still had a few more parts planned for the pregnant reader fic so while we have a little writing momentum - here we are with part 3. Hope you guys enjoy!
Part One
Part Two
You press a hand to your stomach, smiling as you feel the movement beneath.  Your little girl was a dancer, it felt like. 
“Oooh, is she on the move again?” asks Janine, dropping down to sit next to you.
“And apparently determined to get somewhere,” you chuckle as you feel the baby shift.  “You want to feel?”
She gasps.  “Really?”
You shrug.  “If you want to?”
“Yes!” she grins.  “Definitely yes.”  She holds out a hand, grinning as you take hold of it and settle it against your stomach.  Janine squeals when she feels the baby move beneath her hand. 
“You trying out to be the new fire alarm or somethin’?” asks Melissa as she enters the breakroom, a frown already on her face at the high pitched noise as she heads for the coffee machine.
“The baby’s moving,” grins Janine.
The red head’s eyes zero in on the spot where Janine’s hand rests against your stomach.  “And that gives you an excuse to get handsy, does it?”
The younger woman shrinks back at Melissa’s words, her hand quickly retracted back to her own lap.  “I should get going, I have things to get set up anyway.”
You watch the younger woman go.  “’Lissa, I offered to let her feel.  It’s not like she just decided to get hands on herself.”
“Good, or she’d find finger painting difficult soon.”
Rolling your eyes at the implied threat you can’t help but smile at her possessiveness.  It’s nice to still feel wanted and protected even though you feel the size of a school bus.  Your smile only grows as you watch her prepare not only her own coffee, but a mug for you, ensuring that yours comes from the special jar of decaffeinated she picked up for you. 
*
Janine isn’t the only one to be excited at the prospect of the baby moving, quite a few of your colleagues all too eager to have the chance to feel the life moving inside you.  To say Melissa does not share their enthusiasm is putting it lightly.  You have to hand it to her though, after her initial snap at Janine, she’s been subtle by her standards.  A curling of her fingers into a fist.  A scowl.  A glare. 
One day, however, you hear it; she growls.  You’re seeing your kids off at the end of the day and one of the mother’s hands has apparently wandered a little too far and lingered a little too long for the red head’s liking.  You turn to see her standing at the top if the steps, arms crossed, stony expression on her face.  Politely saying goodbye to your student’s mother, you make your way up the steps to stand in front of the red head.  You reach for her hands, untucking them from her arms and placing them against your stomach.
“You can’t kill them all, you know.”
She frowns. 
“I’ve seen the looks you’ve been throwing at people.”
Her eyes drop to where her hands rest against you and she shrugs.  “I just don’t like people with their hands all over you.”
“’Lissa, there is precisely one person who gets to have their hands all over me and she’s standing right in front of me.”
“But-“
You shake your head.  “They’re excited.  That’s all.  The baby is exciting for them too, especially now she’s started her gymnastics.  It’ll be old news to them soon enough but let them be excited for a while.  Let them be excited about your daughter.”
*
You sit back in your chair with a sigh.  “Seriously, little one, you gotta give the tap dancing break.”  Reaching for your phone, you quickly type out a message to Melissa, asking if she can swing by your classroom when she has a moment.  Barely sixty seconds later you hear familiar footsteps rushing along the corridor.  A few moments later the red head appears in your doorway, hands clinging to the frame to halt her momentum. 
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her worry for you and your daughter never far away.
“You didn’t have to come running,” you say as she enters your classroom, green eyes roving over your frame, head tilting questioningly to the side when she finds nothing amiss.  “I said when you had a minute.”
She shrugs.  “I always got a minute for you and the baby.”
At this, you smile.  You smile because it’s true.  It doesn’t matter how busy, how tired or what else happens in her life, she will make time.  There are times you feel guilty, but somehow, she always manages to persuade you your guilt is unwarranted.  “I need you to tell your daughter to quit throwing a tantrum on my bladder.”
When Melissa frowns you reach out your hands, taking hold of hers and slipping them under the loose jumper you wear.  “I don’t know what voodoo magic you pull but just do what you do.”
Automatically, she moves her hands against your skin and after a few moments you smile in relief. 
Tilting her head, she regards you curiously. 
“She settles when it’s you,” you tell her.
“Really?”
You nod, covering her hands with your own.  “It took me a while to figure out, but yeah.  When it’s your hands she stills.  It’s the same at night in bed too, especially when you speak to her.  She knows you.” 
Melissa tries to hide a sniffle, but the tears glistening in her eyes give her away.
“Turns out she’s just as fussy as her mama as to who has their hands on me.”
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the-kr8tor · 7 months
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Threadbare
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Word count: 5.5k
Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for their clothing), CW panic attack, injury mention, insecurity, food mention, R has nicknames, angst, fluff.
Main Masterlist
Thread the Needle Masterlist
CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5
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Your feet hurt, toes aching inside your chucks. You should've worn something comfier. Raising your tired legs a few inches away from the concrete, thinking the elevated position might help with relieving your strained muscles. You sit dejected near the river, disappointed that you couldn't find a flat for Hobie. Your back aches from the not so comfortable metal bench. Your lashes flutter against the cold gust of wind, making you hug your coat tighter around your torso.
Hobie plops next to you, a water bottle in hand. He groaned when he finally got to sit after hours of standing and walking around.
He raises a curious brow "what are you doing? Are you about to take a dive in the river or somethin'?" Hobie points at your lifted legs.
"My feet hurt" you hold your hand out towards the bottle, he hands it to you wordlessly. "Thanks, you drank?" Shaking the half full bottle, Hobie leans against the back of the bench, head lolling off the edge, his long arms spread out over the back of the bench.
"Yeah" he sighs, eyes closed, the sun's rays hitting his face, painting him in a heavenly light.
Taking a sip of water, you glance at him, his loose tank top peeking from under his leather jacket, clavicle on full display. You almost choke on water when you see his adam's apple bop up and down. You cough harshly, Hobie perks up, patting your back as you cover your mouth with your hand, heat on your cheeks.
"The fuck happened?" He asks, half concerned, half teasing.
You happened, you wanted to say, coughing louder, Hobie sits up, still patting your back.
"Maybe you should drink some water," Hobie smirks.
"Funny" you say in between coughs, tears in your eyes. You inhale and exhale, your coughing fit stops almost immediately. You sniff, murmuring a small goddamnit.
Hobie cups your cheek, wiping at the stray tear that managed to escape your eye. "Maybe someone was thinking of you, that's why you choked" me, it was me, I was thinking of you. He almost blurted out.
You lean into his touch before he takes his warm hand back. "Why in the world would they be thinking of me?" You look at your watch, "at three pm on a sunday of all days?"
"Why wouldn't anyone think of you?" He manages to blurt this one out, his eyes widening for a second, you look at him dumbfounded, hope blossoming in your chest. "you probably owe them money" he plays his first comment off, managing to stay cool even though he was slightly panicking. Your shoulders slump in disappointment, deciding to just ignore the first sentence.
"Shit, you're right I think I still owe Ned twenty pounds. Remind me to pay him before he leaves for Richmond" you lightly push him with your shoulder.
"Sure, I'll definitely remember that" Hobie sarcastically says.
You sigh, staring into the water, you watch as a boat sails by. Hobie notices your drop in mood when you mentioned Ned, he sometimes forgets you're also friends with him, knowing him for years now.
"Gromit, he'll be fine, yeah? He's all grown up, we taught him a lot" He taps your foot with his. You look at him, a frown on your lips.
"You make it sound like he's our kid, and he's leaving the nest"
"Weird way to put it, love" A smile slowly growing on his lips.
"Shut up, you started that weird comparison first, I'm just imitating you" you chuckle, you smile slowly fading away "it's just that–" you look at him, staring and waiting. You wish you brought Terry with you, you find that speaking through him is much easier. "It's nothing"
"Nah, you can tell me." He inches closer to you, the back of his hand on his leg, palm waiting for you.
You gaze down at his hand, fingers itching to hold him, "He's been with you for a long time, Hobs. Even though you've moved from band to band, he's always been your bassist, *always"
"People will always move on. Can't do anything to stop them, sometimes you just gotta wish 'em well" he ducks his head to meet your downturned gaze. "We can always visit him, Richmond's only an hour away"
"That's not what I meant, Hobie" you finally reach for his hand, squeezing it.
"I know what you mean" He holds your hand like it's the most precious thing in the world. "We can't stop their progress just because we don't want them to leave" he squeezes your hand. "People will leave, I've accepted that a long time ago"
"And yet I'm still here" you move closer to him, leg right next to his jean covered ones.
"And yet you're still here" Hobie chuckles despite this, he's never been more afraid of the possibility of having the same conversation with you except you'll be the one leaving him.
You grin at him, lacing your fingers together with his, afraid of letting him go. He sticks to you like a web, pulling you towards his chest, a warm hand on your nape. You cling to him like a spider would, arms enveloping him completely, you both feel the same thing, Home.
Electricity passes through you when Hobie presses a featherlight kiss over the crown of your head, as fast as it comes down it fades mere seconds later when Hobie pulls away from you, hand staying a few seconds longer on your head.
You sniff, blinking away the tears gathering in your eyes. "We still haven't found you a place. Maybe I could hide you in my dorm until we find one?"
"Your RA's a bloodhound, I'm sure she can sniff me out the second I get there" He acts nonchalantly, a comforting arm over your shoulder. You lean back into his arm, his knuckles brushing over your coat. "We've got plenty of time, deadline to leave isn't until after your show, so we're still good"
"Maybe the last place we looked at isn't too bad?"
"Their bathroom had stairs leading down towards the shower, the place is a bloody deathtrap" he scoffs.
"Yeah, I guess slipping and falling on your ass isn't so punk of you" you try to use reverse psychology on Hobie.
"That's not gonna work," a small canal boat floats idly right in front of the bench, "besides they don't allow pets"
"You don't even have a pet" the boat honks loudly, you two ignore it.
"How are you gonna visit me then?" Hobie smirks playfully.
You jab him on his chest with your finger, "Dickhead"
"You got a new insult? Just call me a wanker next time" He pinches your arm, you yelp, poking him some more.
"You wanker" you jokingly glare at him, he finds it adorable, resisting the urge to peck the smirk off of your lips.
He goofily smiles at you, "There you go" his words dripping in fondness.
The boat honks longer and loudly, interrupting your banter. Hobie glares at the intrusion, a middle aged man waves at you two from the boat.
"Boat!" He yells out when he finally gets your attention, pointing enthusiastically at his boat. You look at him confused.
Hobie answers for you, "yeah mate, we can see that" he yells, "good for you!" He turns back to you but the man replies, stopping Hobie from continuing your conversation.
The unnamed man shakes his head, "No! Boat for sale!" He says in an accent you can't quite pinpoint.
Hobie's hand sits heavily on your shoulder, but you don't mind, finding it comforting especially after your emotional talk.
"It's a houseboat!" He points at you both "maybe couple interested? It's very cheap!"
"What are we gonna do with a houseboat?" You whisper to Hobie, he looks like he's contemplating. "Hobs?"
"How much?" He yells towards the man.
"Hobie!" You hold his arm, stopping him from going near the boat, "He seems shady" you whisper.
"He seems cool," Hobie shrugs. "Besides, he said it's cheap, better than having stairs in the bathroom." He moves near the water, you barely make out what they're saying, too concerned that you might get murdered on a houseboat of all places.
You stay with Hobie inside the Houseboat, it looks worn out but at least there's no holes in it. The floorboards creak with every move of your feet, and the faucet leaks, the sound annoying you with every drip drop of water on the sink. Standing close to Hobie, you hold onto the sleeve of his jacket, eyes wide awake for any danger, making sure you two don't end up on the nightly news.
The houseboat is smaller than the flats you've looked at hours ago, it has a cozy feel to it, from the narra floors to the adorable navy blue kitchenette. Despite it looking a little worn down, you know it's been well loved, with every scratch and indents on the wooden floor, the chipping paint revealing a different color behind it, they all have history, if only walls could talk. Even with all its flaws, the boat looks taken care of, no bugs eating away at its foundation, no rust on the metal finishings, and best of all no water damage in its interior. This could work.
"You can pay it off in installments" the man, you've now learned, is named Finn. He didn't miss the irony of his name, a man named Finn living in a boat, he made a joke about it earlier that you politely laughed at. Finn continues his sales talk with Hobie.
Maybe it's fate, meeting Finn. You don't think you can handle another go at flat hunting, your feet ache just from the thought of it.
He leads you two to the master's bedroom, big enough for a queen's size bed, and a simple cabinet. There's a small window on the side, the late afternoon sun filters through the opening.
"See?" He walks around the room "big enough for the two of you! Your girl will like the cabinet space" he smiles, his thick beard moving when he talks.
You don't correct him, you don't blame the man especially with how you're clinging on to Hobie. You stare at the peeling paint on the walls, there's a dust bunny on the corner of the floor.
Hobie doesn't chide in, listening intently to Finn's sales talk.
"And look! A bedroom with a view, eh?" He gestures towards the small window like he's presenting on stage. "And listen," He knocks on the walls, "Thick walls for a houseboat, perfect for privacy, eh?" He points to you both.
You look at Hobie, stifling a laugh. He stares back at you with a smirk over his lips. Oh not again.
"You sure 'bout that, mate?" He loops his arm over to your waist, rolling your eyes so far back you're sure you could see your brain. He bites back another quip, just in case it might make you uncomfortable.
"Yes! I'll go outside, and you scream as loud as you can, I'll tell you if I can hear you" he skedaddles out of the room, "be right back!" He leaves the boat completely.
"What if he's calling his friends to help murder us?" You ask actually concerned.
"Y/N," he clicks his tongue, "don't judge a book by its cover, besides you got me to protect you"
"You and those skinny arms of yours? We're both dead, Hobs"
You jump when Finn yells through the open window, "These walls are also perfect for when it rains, you can barely hear it!" He says with a huge smile, you think he's actually excited to show you how sound-proofed the place is. "Close the window then you scream, yes?"
Hobie takes a few steps to reach the window closing the glass, for added effect he also closes the curtains, blocking Finn off.
"He could lie and say he didn't hear us" you say, arms over your chest.
Without warning, Hobie yells loudly, you quickly put your hands over your ears. "You ass!" You yell back.
Hobie laughs from his stomach, taking your hands off your ears. You glare at him.
"Don't you dare yell again, I swear, Hobie you almost blew out my eardrums"
"I don't think you need ear drums in the fashion industry" he's still holding your hands, his rings cold against your palms.
"Well I need it" you hear a knocking from the other side of the window. Hobie releases your hands to open it, Finn's smiling face looks back at you. You think Hobie's right, you shouldn't have judged the man so quickly, he's genuinely a jolly person. His huge arms don't help though, the man could strangle you both without breaking a sweat.
"See? I didn't hear a thing!" He taps the shell of his ear, "no interruptions for you two" he laughs, his guffaw reminds you of Santa's laugh.
"Alright bruv, let me talk it out with her, give us a few minutes, yeah?"
"Of course, I'll be outside. I won't be able to hear anything here anyway!" He chuckles, closing the window shut.
You knit your brows, confused. Hobie saunters towards you, hands on his hip. "What do you think?"
"What do I think?" You blink, surprised.
"Yeah, sure the place needs some polishing" he looks at the bright lime green walls of the bedroom, grimacing. "And a coat of paint. It'll be home by then, not to mention this place only costs a year worth of rent. And there's no stairs inside the bathroom"
"And no carpeted floors in the kitchen." You mention one of the places you looked at earlier in the day, "why do you need my input? It's your place"
"Because there's a second bedroom here" your heart skips a beat at what he's implying, smiling bashfully at Hobie. "There's enough space for us both, you could put your sewing machine over there," he points at a corner in the small living room. "Y'know, after you graduate, if you want to" he looks anywhere else except your face.
"Do you want me to?" You say slowly, making sure what you heard from him is real and not what you've imagined in your head several times before.
" 'course, you're my best mate, why wouldn't I want to"
"O-Oh" you try to say it with less sadness in your voice. He is your best friend, why do you sound so dejected at the title?
"There's no asshole landlord that's for sure, just us" he steps closer to you, trying to convince you more, his hand reaching out towards your elbow.
"Yeah, well technically you'll be my landlord" you tease him, playing with a loose thread from the hem of his tank top.
"Fuck off, don't call me that" He scoffs, rolling his eyes at you, "we'll talk about it after you graduate, yeah?" Hobie's thumb traces circles on your elbow.
"Okay. If you really like this place, you should get it" you nod with approval.
"Do you have the card on you?"
"What for?"
"Well, who's gonna help me fix up this place?" A smile curling on his lips.
"Goddamnit, Hobs" you take out the card from your pocket, handing it to him with a huff. "You only have eight left by the way" you would've helped him anyway, if only you weren't so busy with the project you would've given this one for free.
"I know how to count" He punches out a logo, it floats down on the wooden floors that definitely need some polishing. He gives it back to you "c'mon let's not keep the big man waiting, he might start to think we're snogging in here"
"He won't hear us anyway" throwing away your comment, you walk out of the room, acting nonchalant, your hand shakes slightly when you push open the creaky door. Hobie never anticipated that you would say something like that, he stands in the middle of the barren room, dumbfounded.
Hobie follows you after he collects himself. You walk outside, finally breathing in the cool air, you felt stuffy when you were inside. You look at the water while Hobie negotiates with Finn, they've been talking for a while now, so you decided to occupy yourself. A wave hits the side of the boat, almost throwing you overboard if not for you holding onto the sides.
"You alright there, little lady?" Finn asks. Hobie looks over his shoulder, seeing you hold the side with an iron grip. He quickly makes his way over to you, hands already moving you away from the edge.
"Fuckin' hell, I leave you for one minute" he grumbles.
"I'm okay, jeez dad" Hobie walks you back to Finn, Hand securely on your waist.
"You two are adorable! You remind me of my partner and I when we were younger" Finn sighs longingly.
"Is that why you're selling the boat?" You wince at the question you blurted out, "sorry, not my business"
"It's okay, I like talking about him. We're moving back to Amsterdam so I had to sell the boat. We've lived here for fifteen happy years, hope it's the same for you both" He sounded so genuine, a happy smile on his face the entire time he was talking to you. You don't have the heart to correct him on your relationship with Hobie.
You nod, smiling shyly. "That's really sweet of you, thank you, Finn"
"Thanks, mate. Appreciate you" Hobie shakes Finn's hand, sealing the deal.
"I'll send you the papers" Finn's grin turns melancholy, "never thought I'd ever sell this place, take care of her for me, would you?"
"She's in good hands" Hobie lets go of Finn's hand.
"And you two better take good care of eachother," he winks at you both.
You sit in front of your sewing machine, it thumps loudly inside your small dorm room, your mannequin is full of different shades of plaid cloth pinned on its sides, you sigh, blinking away the stress and fatigue.
Glancing at your final design, you scowl at it, despite it looking like a carbon copy of Hobie. You can't figure out what's missing in the outfit, you've added a bit more of you in it, but it still doesn't feel like you.
Your mind is cluttered and it shows in your surroundings. Your sketchpad is full of sketches of Hobie, the corkboard in front of you is littered with punk fashion references, polaroids of you and Hobie together, patches, pins and fabric samples. The loud sound of the machine makes your ears twitch, the needle going in and out of the piece you're sewing into.
Someone knocks loudly from the other side of your paper thin walls for the third time that night, they yell at you to keep it down, but you don't stop, have to finish this, you grit your teeth, grip loosening on the fabric, on your peripheral you can see a picture of Hobie smiling at you, clack, clack, your machine whirs. Knock, knock, the knocking persists. Your ears ring, licking your chapped lips, you keep forgetting to exhale. Mrs. Williams' grating voice echoes in your head, or you won't graduate. Ned's voice overlapping with hers, sorry, y/n. On top of all the noise, you try to focus on Hobie's familiar tone, got you, don't worry. You feel the walls closing in on you.
"Shut the fuck up!" Your neighbor knocks loudly, almost toppling over your corkboard.
You almost slip your thumb over the needle, if not for your reflexes your finger would've been a part of the pants you're sewing. Your eyes are blown out, breathing heavily. You're suddenly overwhelmed by everything, your jumper scratches at your skin, toes curling in the cold despite your fluffy socks covering them. A sob escapes you, you dampen it with your hand over your mouth. Shutting your eyes tightly closed, you focus on your breathing, legs involuntarily shaking, tears rolling over your hand. Your heart drums loudly in your chest, as if it could jump out at any second.
It's getting hard to breathe, you feel sick.
Weathering it out for what feels like an eternity, You finally let it all out of your system, chest hurting from the suppressed crying, your eyes are red. You've grown more tired, heaving from the lack of air. You notice the sudden silence, it almost gets you again, tears pricking in your eyes, threatening to spill out.
Coming down from it, you sniff, using your sleeve to clean your tear stained cheeks. You exhale, clearing your throat. Taking the half finished pants from under the sewing machine, cutting off the thread and then grabbing a spare needle from your kit. Your hands are shaking trying to insert the thread inside the tiny hole. Frustrated, you fling the needle and thread over your messy table. The metal clatters on the wooden table.
The mixture of different emotions swirl inside your stomach, wanting to vomit it out, or better yet, grab it by the neck and toss it as far away as you can.
You want to give up. Shaking your head, getting rid of the horrible thought, you can't give up, you have to keep going, you've made it this far, you're almost at the finish line. Thinking of Hobie, he wouldn't give up, but you're not him, you're just you, plain old you. People often wonder how you manage to stay in your major, with your simple button ups, white chucks, and your usual light cardigans, avoiding any bright colors in your wardrobe or other styles that would gather attention. Compared to your style, your classmates' eye-catching looks match with your major, not to mention they're not afraid to flaunt their unique styles.
Sometimes you miss the old you, the young starry eyed y/n, clothes always in full and bright colors, with matching accessories to boot, shoes sparkling in the light. You don't even remember when you buried your old self.
You miss her, wishing you never listened to the opinion of others, wishing that you never cowered behind their judgemental stares. Hobie never did any of that, but you can't help but hide yourself to stop people from their snickering. You sometimes wish to borrow a smidge of Hobie's don't-give-a-shit attitude, but alas the world doesn't work that way.
You suddenly have the urge to seek Hobie's warmth, instead you settle for the next best thing. Sighing, you crawl under the covers, head hitting the pillow. You're not giving up just yet, there's no shame in resting, you won't be able to finish your work like this anyway.
You eye your old cherry earrings, dangling on the side of your mirror, the only piece you kept from your old self. Mind going back to the past. You remember who helped you pick it from the mall, the only thing you could afford with your allowance. You two would always go there after school, window shopping and hunting for the latest trends. This was before you and Hobie became close, your friendship still blossoming.
You wonder how your old friend is doing, maybe you should call him up, ask him for tips, he's always had a better eye for designing ever since you were kids, considering him a protégé, his hand always scribbling away on his sketchbook.
Bringing the covers up to your nose, you close your eyes, trying to remember your old friend's number.
You finally hear Hobie's motorbike coming towards the event's place. People stare at the loud intrusion. You snort, knowing that he likes the disturbance he's causing.
You speed walk towards him, just in case he revs up his engine to spite everyone. "Hey, Hobie" You greet him with a tight lipped smile.
He takes off his helmet with a groan "what's this place? A concert or somethin'?" Hobie squints at the spotlights near the entrance.
"You okay? I made you some coffee. You said you lot played last night" you hand him a small thermos.
"That better not be from our starbucks card"
"No, that thing's expired, I brewed this from my good stash"
He turns his engine off, clambering off the motorbike, his heavy boots thudding against the asphalt. He hesitantly grabs the thermos. "No tea?"
"Nope, ran out of them last night" You take a good look at him, he's wearing his signature leather jacket covered in various pins and patches, his jeans a patchwork of cloth and metal accessories. His piercings shine in the moonlight. "Sorry I couldn't come last night, I needed to finish the pants"
"Fuck me, that's actually good" he says after taking a sip, "it's all right, the show was business as usual"
"I didn't miss anything?"
"Nah, missed you though" Hobie loops his arm over your shoulder, walking towards the entrance "Ned missed ya" he added to hide his first comment.
"The real question is, did James miss me too?" You joke, you're not naïve with how the guy manages to stammer every time you talk to him. Only when you talk to him.
"Everyone missed you" he holds you tighter.
"I better come to the next one then" you pinch his side.
Entering the venue, Hobie stops in his tracks, arm loosening off your shoulder.
"Where the fuck did you bring me?" He stares at the pearlescent runway, the sides full of chairs. Photographers and audiences move towards their seats.
"A runway show!" You nervously grin at him.
"Nah, y'know I don't like big brands, this place reeks of capitalism. Thought you wanted to get shawarma" He glares at you.
"We're gonna eat later, hear me out before you start walking away, please" Hobie narrows his eyes at you.
"Go on"
"This is a small brand, a niche fashion house. This event is this big because it's their first major collection. I promise you their clothes are all from sustainable materials and—" Hobie impatiently taps his foot "—and half of the proceeds go to charity! You know we both share the same sentiment when it comes to clothes. My entire wardrobe came from thrift stores and I recycle the fabrics I used on old projects."
"We haven't been in a thrift store in a while" He grumbles out.
"We can go after the show if you want"
"Now you're just bribing me"
You sigh, "I'm in a designing stump right now and I really need the inspiration, but I'm not forcing you, you can go if you really don't want to watch, I'm not gonna hold it against you"
Hobie stares you down, now under better lighting, he notices the bags under your eyes, your lips dry as bones, his annoyance turns into concern. You're stretching yourself too thin, maybe asking you to accompany him in finding a flat wasn't such a good idea. He mentally notes to retract his previous favor from you.
"Alright, you better not be lying about all that shit you said" He walks towards one of the chairs, pulling you by your sleeve.
"I'm not, Danny told me all about it"
He stops mid stride, "who?"
You sit down by the end of the runway, feeling lucky finding a good seat in front. "Danny from school, you don't remember him?" You pat the chair next to you.
"I literally don't remember anyone, except you and big Terry, him because we used to beat the shit out of each other. And you because I can't seem to shake you" Hobie quips. He sits down next to you.
"You are sooo sweet" you sarcastically say, "Danny's that small kid, with the big glasses. I used to hang out with him before he changed schools"
"You have other friends?" He acts surprised.
Rolling your eyes, you excitedly grab his arm when the light changes, the spotlight follows the first model out on the runway. You watch, taking note of the details on the dress.
Hobie watches your face the entire time, he deciphers your expressions– he translates your pout to mean that you liked it, everytime you narrow your eyes it means you didn't like it. You tighten your hold on him, that means you absolutely loved it. He chuckles when you grimace, oh you did not like that pair of pants.
The show ends, he turns his head towards the stage just in time for you to look at him with a satisfied smile. He nods and claps with you.
You reach for him, "come on, I see Danny over there!" You drag Hobie out of his chair, hand clasped over his.
He lets you hold him, Hobie feels disappointed when you let go of him, flexing his hand as you run up to Danny.
"Holy shit, cherry! You actually made it!" Danny greets you with a bear hug.
You pull away, an arm's length away from him. Hobie lingers behind you, waiting for you to introduce him. "Hi, Danny! Look at you Mr. Bigshot over here!"
"I'm just an assistant," he shrugs.
"Yeah, to the main designer!" You look over your shoulder, excited to reintroduce Hobie. "Danny, you remember Hobie, right?"
"Oh my days! Hobart Brown! My replacement" he playfully puts his hands on his hips. Hobie steps up to greet him.
"And you're not as small as I remember, what happened to the glasses?" He acts as if he remembers Danny clearly. Hobie fists bumps Danny's knuckles. "Call me Hobie, yeah? Only cops call me Hobart, and her, occasionally" He points at you with his head.
"Growth spurt and I got contact lenses, it's nice to see you again, hero"
So he's that Danny, Hobie finally remembers him.
You grin widely at the interaction, feeling energized and inspired. "The show was amazing! Thank you for inviting us"
"You're very welcome, unfortunately I can't hang around that long, gotta help them pack up" Danny points towards the back stage, "we'll catch up next time, okay?"
"Aww, that's too bad, thank you again. And yeah definitely we'll catch up some other time" you give your old friend a hug.
"Oh! I almost forgot, you asked for some advice on the phone, right?" Danny asks, you nod at his question. "Do whatever the hell you want, design whatever you fucking want, as long as you're happy with it, you're golden" he gestures widely while he talks. "I mean look at me! I'm wearing a pinstripe suit, I look like a fuckin' mobster from the 20's, do i give a shit what people say? No! Of course not."
Hobie leans down to your ear, slyly whispering "I can see why he's your friend, man's bonkers"
You bump your shoulder with Hobie,"That's– thank you, I needed that" you can't believe that Danny noticed your different style, even years later he still knows you.
"See, I still know you," he says as if he can read your mind. He winks at you, "missed you, cherry. Take good care of yourself" Danny walks away, he stops walking for a second, turning back to you both. "Oh! And Hobie, be a fucking man bruv, you're not fooling anyone" He continues to walk towards his destination.
Hobie looks surprised, was he watching you two interact while he was backstage? Did you say something to him? Nevertheless in the five minutes Danny talked to him, he read him like an open book. Can this guy read minds? If so, Hobie is in trouble.
You look at Hobie confused. "What did he mean by that?"
At least one theory is debunked, "don't know, love. Told you he has a few screws loose"
You look at him suspiciously, "you didn't say anything to him right?"
"No, why? Did you say anything to him?"
"I just asked him on the phone if we can meet, and he invited me here. I mentioned you and he told me to bring you too, that's it. Oh and also for the advice" you narrow your eyes "you sure you didn't say anything?"
"Why are you looking at me like that? No, I didn't" He tugs at your sleeve, trying to pull you out of the venue.
"Okayy, well he basically called you a wanker, soo"
"You called me a wanker, wanker"
You gasp, feigning hurt, clutching your non-existent pearls. "How dare you"
"You're just fuckin' hungry, c'mon" He slips his hand over yours, pulling you out of the event's place, dodging any questions you have because of what your old friend said. You giggle as he easily pulls you towards his bike.
He places you next to his motorcycle, plopping your helmet over your head, you laugh at his antics, "oh you're hangry, huh?"
Hobie secures the helmet, "he's right, y'know"
"Hmm? About what?" You look up at him through your lashes.
"Wear whatever you want. Don't hide yourself, especially with me." he shrugs "red suits you best, cherry" he clicks his tongue at the last word, annoyed that your old friend came up with a better nickname for you. Heat rises in your cheeks, Hobie avoids your eyes for a moment. "Let's go, I want shawarma" he lightly slaps the top of your helmet.
You look down at your shoes, smiling fondly.
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A/N: I promise that Finn and Danny are the last ocs in this story (maybe lol). Thank you for reading! As always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️
*pictures above are from pinterest*
295 notes · View notes
kiss4chuu · 11 months
Note
I need tooth rotting fluff with jack hughes and reader please🙏🙏
Wet Hair | Jack Hughes
Pairing: Jack Hughes x GN!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of sickness
Notes: Tried to make it as tooth rotting as possible, hope it’s good :)
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You told Jack not to go to practice with wet hair. Your mother used to always tell you that going anywhere with your hair wet would cause you to get sick. So, you grew up believing that. But, your boyfriend Jack was never told that fact, so he didn’t listen to you. He refused to sit down and let you dry his hair. 
“Jack, don’t be a child. Just let me dry it really fast.” You insisted. He hadn’t showered the night before like he usually did, “It’s freezing in that stadium.”
Jack waved you off as he pulled on a shirt, the neckline of it getting wet from the ends of his hair. Little droplets hit the hardwood floor. “It’ll dry.” 
“And you’ll get sick while it dries.” You reminded him, crossing your arms. 
He scoffed and smiled a little. “That’s bullshit, a total myth.”
You couldn’t help but grin. If he didn’t want to believe you, you’d let him go in the cold with soaking wet hair. And he’d see later that you were completely right; as usual. 
So, that’s how you ended up here. Jack stayed laid in bed, the covers pulled up to his chin and small shivers escaping him. You lightly played with the ends of his, now-dry, hair. 
A heavy cough escaped his lips, shaking his whole body. “Mmmm, this sucks.” He muttered. His voice was raspy and deeper than normal. 
You brushed his hair back from his face. “I know, baby.” You whispered, “Are you hungry?”
A loud groan escaped him, and that was enough of a no for you. “Okay, I’m gonna go downstairs and get you some tea, it’ll help your throat.”
Jack turned his head to you and whined, grabbing onto your arm weakly. His face looked especially pale, his lips were chapped and his eyes had dark circles and looked exhausted. “Noooo, stay here.”
“I’ll be five minutes at the very most, baby.” You assured him. He reluctantly let go of you and you took that as permission to go downstairs. 
You worked as quickly as possible, turning on the kettle and dropping the peppermint teabag into a mug. You bounced your leg as you waited for the water to boil, which was the equivalent of watching paint dry. Finally, it finished and you could pour it into the mug. You watched the clear water turn to a light orange and walked back up to Jack. 
“See, baby?” You said as you walked into your shared bedroom, “Only took five minutes.” 
Jack smiled when he saw you and watched carefully as you laid the mug on his side table. He moved over slightly so you could sit on his side of the bed. 
“Can you sit up for me, sweetheart?” You asked him. He shuffled his body so that he was resting on the headboard. You slowly brought the mug to his mouth and let him drink as much as he wanted. “Careful, careful. It’s hot.” 
He stopped drinking and gave you a small smile. “It’s nice, really nice.” He said, “Thank you.”
You grinned and put down the mug, leaning in to give him a small kiss, before stopping. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back up to your eyes when you stopped. “What? My breath smell bad or somethin’?” 
You chuckled. “No, baby. I just don’t wanna get sick.”
Jack pouted, his shoulders drooping. “I go out with wet hair and I get punished by getting sick… And now I’m getting punished with no kisses?!” 
You couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was being. Jack was always very clingy when he wasn’t feeling well. He constantly wanted attention and your touch, which was adorable, but very difficult to give to him whilst he was sick.
“You’re not being punished, baby.” You explained, “I just don’t want to get sick, then I can’t take care of you.”
Jack whined and pouted again. He threw his head back. “This sucksssss!” He exclaimed, before breaking out into a fit of coughs, “I’m sick, I can’t play hockey, AND I get no kisses!” 
You sighed and held his hand, feeling how hot it was. You pressed the back of it to your lips and smiled. He grinned and attempted to pull you closer to him, which only caused your body to move slightly. 
“If I get sick, Quinn is coming over to take care of us.” You let him pull you down with him and into his arms. You kissed him as his arms went around your waist, “And if you go to practice with wet hair again, I won’t give you kisses for a week.”
He simply laughed and kissed you again, letting you feel his sick warmth against you. 
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roosterbruiser · 1 year
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idk if you’re still taking requests, but i would love somethin about hangman and his wifey getting caught by their teenage kid in the middle of sex and then getting absolutely grilled about it later because we all know they have jake’s sense of humor
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𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭
𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧
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you're both smarter than this. Really, you are. You both know better than to get busy in the kitchen on a Sunday morning.
but in your slight defense...your husband is Jake fucking Seresin. Not only that, but his beard is starting to get delicious gray hairs and he's letting it grow out just enough to make the delicate skin of your thighs clench.
plus, your son usually doesn't wake up early. he would wake up at noon if you let him.
so, against your better judgement, you let your husband bend you over the nice marble countertops you picked out a few years ago.
it's very romantic for a solid ten minutes. drenched in the early light of the morning, the scene is actually quite peaceful. the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air, your husband is whispering your name like a goddamn prayer as he brings his hips against yours fluidly, and there's an old Carole King record spinning lazily in the living room.
you're so lost in each other, gasping quietly and muttering your affection for each other as he buries himself inside you just right, that you don't hear your son's thunderous steps down the stairs or when he calls out for you guys.
no, no...it isn't until your son genuinely screeches that the two of you look up and catch those wide green eyes filled with absolutely terror.
then of course it's you and Jake scrambling to get decent, trying hard to not traumatize your son even further, both of you blushing and stuttering excuses.
and then it's you and Jake looking at your son as he goes through all five stages of grief in mere minutes.
it may be early in the morning, but he is sure as Hell wide awake now.
"family meeting. now," your son says with all the authority of a parental figure, pointing to the living room.
and for some reason, you and Jake blindly follow him in there and take a seat on the sofa. you two have never been caught by your son--you feel a little out of your element.
you and Jake sit at opposite ends of the couch like awkward teenagers caught by their parents. your son paces before the two of you, hands clasped behind his back. for a fifteen-year-old boy, he could actually come across as much older. he was broad and tall like your husband, with an identical wit.
"what am I going to do with the two of you?" your son mutters disappointedly.
"we were just--!"
your son cuts you off with one sweeping motion of his hand, holding his palm up to you and turning his cheek. your cheeks grow red.
"oh, I know what you were just doing," he says. "don't worry, I won't forget it. neither will the therapist you're gonna pay for."
you purse your lips. Jake is shaking his head softly.
your son resumes his painting.
"and, really, I hate that I even have to say this, but--were you two being...safe?"
Jake breaks out in laughter and you gasp, furrowing your brows at your son who stares back at you incredulously.
"August Seresin," you reprimand, tutting.
he throws his arms up defensively.
"what?! it's a valid question to ask! you really want another me running around here? yeah, no thanks!"
that's when you finally break down laughing, too. you can't help it. it's an unfortunate situation, one you can honestly say has been one of your most embarrassing moments. but the three of you laughing about it makes the knot in your throat lessen.
"well, that oughta teach you to knock," Jake says with a smirk.
August glares at him.
"it's the kitchen! what, am I gonna have to knock before entering every room in the house?"
"well, unless you want a repeat of this morning, then yes," Jake sighs with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest.
your son is turning green.
"is there any safe space in this house? my bedroom?" your son looks near tears at this point.
your husband is only teasing--you know this. but August sure doesn't. you're fairly certain August is about to crumble to the floor.
"is nothing sacred?!"
"just your mama's smokin' hot bod--!"
"NO!" August firmly presses his palms over his ears and shakes his head. "I CAN'T COME BACK FROM THAT!"
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here is my tag list!!
𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!
if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!
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