#fuck i just had an idea to paint my curtains
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Sometimes the library that I work at will get rid of old art books so I like to take them home and use the pictures for things, mostly to decorate my walls or make collages, so today I made a collage out of them on my dresser drawers
#it was a pretty wide variety of art books so#fuck i just had an idea to paint my curtains#ive been in a crafty mood lately#but theres some of rubens oil paintings theres some Frieda khalo some western watercolors and some Chinese style paintings#theres other stuff in there twobut those are the main ones i think#my room is really dark right now though so i couldn't get great photos so i didn't bother taking that many#oh yeah and i had a picture of inuyasha that i put up there#i guess i thought it would be kinda funny to put him up there with all that art#but how ironically can you glue a picture of an anime character to your dresser?#anyway im just thinking out loud in the tags#collage#art#classical art#diy#diycrafts#crafts#fuck what do i even tag this#nah it was fun i dont care who sees the post
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Between Dreams and Sugar
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
Synopsis: Your screams will haunt his dreams until the day he dies.
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Torture, gore, angst, violence & death, suggestive joke, fluff, happy ending, rescue fic but who rescues who...>:)
A/N: Guys, I have a confession - I don't think I can write Ghost properly lmfao. This is horrifically mid.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
There was so much blood coating your body that you had forgotten where the wounds were and weren’t. It flowed from you like viscus water—a homogeneous mixture of congealed shades of red like rubies except for the simple fact that this was not beautiful; it was not desired or sought after.
On the ground, soaking in indistinguishable pools of crimson, ripples are sent out when your limp foot twitches mutely in its clutch. That was all you could do now. Twitch. Writhe. They didn’t even bother tying you to the chair anymore—just let you slouch half out of it like a school kid who had gotten too drunk the night before.
Hell, you wished you were drunk.
“Sergeant.”
You wished you could feel your fingers. You wished you could move your neck up from its bend position as if it was a wilting flower; hair stuck to your skin. Blood dribbles out of your mouth. Drip…drop…drip…drop.
You’d bitten your tongue open in a vain attempt to stop yourself from screaming, hadn’t you? You…you can’t quite remember.
“Sergeant!” Groaning long and low, the violent chills that wrack your form only serve to make yourself bleed out faster, tension forcing precious life fluid out from burst veins and slashed ankles.
Cuts far span your legs and shoulders. Your back is nothing more than a painting of burns coated with sweat and infection; puss sticking you to the backrest of the chair like yellow-colored adhesive. Your clothes are the opposite idea of modesty. Tattered, torn by blades to create harm. Fuck, could you even breathe properly anymore?
Lungs only create a wheeze—you’re not getting enough oxygen to function.
A dark growl bounces off the walls.
Ghost struggles against his binds, uniform also in a state of disarray with very obviously broken ribs and bruised chest. Splotches of yellow-white mounds signal blunt trauma over the pale skin that’s already laced with old scars.
They’d all but anchored him to his chair—and even then the red marks that blister are a signal of the brutality of the large man as he peels back his skin to try and struggle himself out.
You whine, the loftiness stuck in your brain addictive; to pull back that curtain was as much of a struggle as staying awake. That harsh Manchester accent was something to draw closer to, though, professionalism a key to the lock on your failing consciousness. The reminder of companionship.
“G…” Your vocal cords fizzle, “Ghost…”
“Open your eyes.” Every word was enunciated, deep and guttural.
Parting your lips, more blood drowns your lap in thick globs, and soon your battered throat vibrates with coughs that make you see stars, mild panic the moment you realize that you can’t breathe.
Jerking forward, you gasp, eyes snapping open as your neck bends ahead in desperation. Mucus and other bodily fluids spray over your lap, tinged scarlet, but the blockage in your throat is dispelled as your broken ribs quiver in agony.
Whimpering like a kicked dog, you wonder how long it’ll take for Ghost to realize getting you to focus on him was pointless. If this all continued, you’d be dead within the day.
But you entertain him.
Head slowly balking back as your jaw hangs loose, you rest it on the wooden frame behind you as softly as you’re able with a most likely concussed brain and a fractured skull. Only one eye opens, and even then it’s half-glued to your cheek with dried blood.
Ghost’s balaclava had been ripped off. It felt wrong to see him in the open like this. Exposed. It was quite obvious he disliked it just as much as you did.
Blue eyes blazed at you; blonde hair going this way and that as crimson fell down the swell of his Adam’s Apple from a very broken nose. That gaze was unrelenting, and even with your blurry vision, you knew it would be unwise to look away.
His stubbled jaw sets as a heart can be seen skipping beats in his breast. You were totally out of it, enough so that you missed the way his lungs slightly released when you had pulled yourself back to the present.
The gulping sigh.
“That’s it, Sergeant.” You cough once more, wet and haggard, and your head falls back to your chest before you have to force it back up on shaking muscles. It was getting harder. “Easy does it, then…Thought I lost you.”
“C–can’t,” the useless feet flicker over the ground, sloshing through fluid in unstable jumps as you slur out, “Hurts, Ghost.”
A slow and dark inhalation meets your ears before a sudden grunt of a struggling body; jerking arms as the chair squeals with old nails being torn out.
“I know, Birdie, I know.” His tone is lesser now as he bites back a curse as the blisters on his arms pop, the rope burns turning a vile color as his muscles strain, “But you keep those pretty little eyes on me, yeah?”
It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
Black Operations were dangerous, yeah, but never had the Lieutenant been so down in the gutter as he was right now. Mainly because of you, no, entirely because of you. He could withstand months of torture—mental and physical—with no problem. He’d done it countless times before.
But never had he been forced to watch someone hurt you instead of him.
They would come in every day, these pitiful excuses for German drug runners, and would make him watch as they ripped open your skin with blunt knives and other tools coated in rust. Questions would be asked—questions that Ghost knew he could not answer even if it was you who would get punished.
Every time you would flinch when the door to this concrete basement opened, it was harder to keep his tongue from wagging. He was watching you die; letting it happen.
Fuck, it made him sick.
Ghost violently reems a shoulder up and down, not caring about the long stripes of now oozing blood on his forearms or the pain that the action brings bone-deep. There was so much scarlet flowing from you. Too much.
What he knows for certain is that he can’t let you die here. He’d never forgive himself for that.
How is she still conscious? The question was utterly genuine as Ghost’s dead eyes narrowed dangerously, sparking with urgency at the uneven risings and fallings from your chest.
“Fucking hell,” the Lieutenant growls, each word punctuated by a desperate attempt to free himself. He had to get you out of this. You were his responsibility; his team.
His…Ghost pants, sweat dripping down his arms.
You didn’t abandon him, how could he do the same to you? When questioned you hadn't given up his true name, hadn’t blabbered to save your own skin so you could avoid a horrible amount of pain. Pain that Ghost knew well.
Pain that was never supposed to be known to you.
Your screams would haunt his nightmares until the day he died.
“Ghost,” blue eyes freeze, snapping away from the sight of the bone around his wrists becoming visible through a thin coverage of remaining flesh. He pauses like a guard dog. Your optic was glinting, flicking with failing consciousness. The movement of your chest sputtered as the man clenched his teeth together. “You’re hurtin’ yourself.”
“‘Bout to do even more damage, yeah?” he gets back to it, working enough blood into the rope to make it slick; dripping. “If it’ll get me out of these bastard things.”
The weak smirk on your face gives his brows a deep furrow, sweat glistening on his forehead.
A part of him hated you. Hated you for the way you had this effect on him. He shouldn’t care if you lived or died—that wasn’t his cross to carry.
But you’d made him soft these last few months. Soft, and weak, and disgustingly concerned for your safety. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Ghost.
“Gonna b…bleed out, y’know.” Your tongue slips, mind so loose that anything that comes to the front slips out like water from a slip-and-slide. Fingers twitching, your limp body grows so cold that you shiver.
“Negative.” Ghost barks, slipping one hand partially under the restraint and his flesh, acting as a zipper, starts to go with it. He hisses under his breath, body hot and spilling. Mutilating himself. “Shut your damn gob.” Blood splatters to the floor, “I’m gettin’ us out of ‘ere.”
“Tell me a joke.” Blue eyes flicker, blonde lashes slipping over pale cheeks.
You feel another wave of pain shutter through you—one that makes you whimper as quietly as a soft breeze on a summer day.
“Joke?” Ghost hisses, glaring over at you without heat. “The fuck are you on about?” A wobbling eyebrow raise is all he gets.
He grunts feral-like, evocative of a bear that hadn’t gotten his supper. Your lid droops and panic spikes.
“How long can a fish breakdance for?” Ghost slips a hand free, snarling in the back of his mouth as the entirety of his left hand is left ripped open, the fissures itchy and welling. Wasting no time, the limb goes to assist the other, pulling with ripped-off fingernails at the tight knot. A side-eye is sent your way.
Only you weren't moving. Lips snap in a moment of obvious concern, not only by the tone but by the way the man jerks forward in the chair—no matter if one arm and both of his legs were still restrained.
“Love!” The door handle rattles with screeching chains, but Ghost is occupied with raging at you. Ordering you to stay awake with terrifying eyes. It was as though for the first time in a long time there was true fear in his throat. True hatred.
Chucking voices heat veins that he had long since thought were cold, and the Lieutenant composes himself with a sharp pause. He leans back slowly into the chair; jaw so tight his molars almost crack in the back of his mouth like candy. Your face is tilted downward, and Ghost memorizes the make of it, trails his gaze slowly over every slash and cut that mars you. Feet slap off the concrete as multiple people enter the room, but it was like a switch had flipped internally, walls going up.
The mask was still there, even if all that physically remained of it was the black paint in his sockets.
He’d return every mark, from a bruise to an open wound, tenfold. But you needed to wake up first. You…you needed to.
You had to be okay.
Three men encircle the two of you, faces hidden and obviously enjoying a bit of their own product.
“Look at this, Lutz, the man got a hand out of the binding.” Blue eyes travel to stare dead-on into a pair of blown pupils; mind gone.
The second man goes to grip your hair, forcing your head up in inspection. Ghost’s vision immediately travels over, biceps going tense like a dog with its hackles raised and vision going red.
“Don’t worry about that. It’s one hand, what can the Bastard do?”
“Oh,” another laughs, though his body is wound tight, “careful with the woman, Alric—the beast looks like he’s about to snap at you.”
The three share sly looks. Alric, the one with your hair in his grip, shakes your head back and forth, blood flying around in the air as your limp body jerks. Ghost lunges, but he only makes it as far as the chair allows him before he’s shoved back by a hand on his chest.
Moving quicker than an animal, bone snaps, and an agony-laced scream echoes off the walls not a millisecond later.
Ghost had gripped that hand and twisted, making the wrist joint completely flip on itself. Blank blue eyes watch with glints of sadistic glee as the man wails, grabbing onto himself and falling back onto his ass.
The one holding you instantly releases your hair and rushes to his friend.
“Holy fuck!” Everyone divulges into frantic German curses, Ghost making out a command to leave and go see a doctor.
“Cheers. Good luck with that, ya’ Bastard.” Grumbling under his breath, the Lieutenant realized he was probably enjoying this more than he should, but always his attention shifts back to you. How you hang limb, battered face covered by your hair, and loss of blood steadily leaving your hands curling into the palms—
Ghost’s eyes widen slightly as the two still try and calm down their companion. Your hand. It wasn’t curled because of onset rigor mortis. You were holding a blade.
The Brit’s large chest swells with pride; jaw going somewhat slackened as he stares at you. So you were faking it….Fucking hell, Sweetheart.
Slowly, his vision peels to the empty sheath on Lutz’s belt. It wasn’t a big knife—nothing more than a three-inch blade on the end. But you were still conscious enough to hear these goons show up before he had; had used sleight of hand that anyone else in your situation would have just given up on.
It was hard to hold back a low chuckle, but he managed. Fuck, you were something else.
The two unmaimed men shove the third out the door, shouting down the hallway as his sobs and sniffling nose reverberate even as he’s out of sight.
Grunting, the Brit shifts his hips, lips pulling in a snarl at the bouncing electrical wire that goes up his ribs. Many were broken; along with his nose and a dislocated shoulder, but he knows he can deal with it. Getting you out and to the Evac point was his top priority—his wounds weren’t over-the-top life-threatening unless they went too long without treatment.
You on the other hand.
Lids narrow on the way the knife-holding hand shakes with exertion when simply applying pressure. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now.
“That was a nice little show,” Alric growls, standing in the middle of the two in the chairs and keeping a considerable distance farther from Ghost than you. Blue eyes blink blankly, emotions swiftly wiped away. “One-handed? I’m impressed.”
Ghost raises a single blonde eyebrow, “More where that came from.”
Alric smiles.
“Emil—get the gun.” Legs slowly tense, but other than that there’s no outward display of nervousness.
Seconds later a barrel is level with Ghost’s forehead, the chilled metal pressing deep into his blood-coated skin. He doesn’t balk back, he doesn’t even flinch, just watches with a dim flicker in his optics that remains even after he blinks. Like a cat’s slitted pupils.
It would be no use shoving the gun out of this man’s hands—he would fire before the Lieutenant was able to steal the weapon for himself.
“I’m getting sick of this game, Soldier. We’ve been through this day after day.” Alric swipes at his nose, white powder stuck under his nostrils. Ghost can’t stop the small tick of his mouth. “Tell me who you are,” the gun swivels, and the Brit’s heart seizes up. It points at your abdomen. “Or the girl gets a nice new stomach.”
Lips thin into a small line as hidden fury swells.
“Alric…” Emil seems nervous, his feet shifting and hands twitching. The aura Ghost was emitting was like a dark cloud around the room; sheer size and indistinguishable emotions rose to drown out all else when a threat to the beast’s bird was brought into the picture. There had been multiple times throughout the days when the men had been scared to touch you at all for fear of the look that had been leveled their way. Those eyes…fuck it was like a demon was stuck in flesh. In blue so close to gray the color was more like the concrete of a prison cell. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Tell me.” Alric growls as Emil gets closer to you. Ghost stays silent, unblinking as his fingers curl into fists. His knuckles crack from the force. “Tell me!”
Emil bushes your shoulder and you lunge. Bringing the blade into his chest, your form brings the both of you to the floor in a splash of scarlet and twin screams of pain.
The Blonde’s heart seizes at the sound in an aggressive bounce.
Alric whips around, eyes widened and gun loose in his grip. Ghost wastes no time, trusting your judgment, and shoves himself forward. A shot goes off as the Lieutenant rams his shoulder into the man, but the bullet bites into the far wall instead of your back as you dig your knife into Emil’s throat; wrestling for life.
The chair still attached to Ghost was a problem, but his body weight was used to his advantage. Sinew bunched as a growl exits his lips, Alric and him slamming to the floor in a flurry of rabid intentions and the likeness of wolves caught in a trap. Ghost’s eyesight goes red, remembering every cut and beating you went through for him in the reflection of Alric’s eyes. That pathetic drug runner had made you bleed.
His bird doesn’t bleed.
Teeth and nails are tools kept for animals, and now that the gun was too far from grip and you were limp beside the gargling body of Emil, Ghost decided that being a bit insane might do him well at the moment.
He had to get you out of here. And in no world was this man going to get away to live one day more.
“Please, don’t,” Alric begs, clawing at his behemoth build, “I’m not—I wasn’t—!”
Blood-stained teeth snap into the thin flesh of a visible neck as dead blue eyes keep you in sight like a dog does the moon.
—
You don’t recall anything after slashing one man’s neck and even that is a blur of flashing colors; instances of one waxing expression waning into another. Trapped between bouts of failing consciousness and pain that could rival someone getting their bones snapped one by one.
But you know the feeling of moss on your cheek. The shadow that sits above you and the fingers that prod at your back, pressing cooling salves of Silverweed into the burns and cuts. Your eyes weakly flicker, a low moan stuck in your throat.
Every limb is a cinder block.
“Stop your moving.” The command was stiff but quiet, and the pressure on your spine increased. Flinching, the sensation of tight bindings all along your body became apparent to you, slowly but surely.
“That…hell?” You cough, throat bare and dry. Sweat drips down your temple.
Blinking rapidly, you try to focus on the cold wind whipping past your bare skin, the trees in the distance of what appeared to be a glade. The sound of a running stream makes your ears perk.
A canteen was suddenly shoved to your lips and you grunt in surprise, water slicking your closed lips.
“Drink.” You don’t argue, peeling back your lips and letting the liquid drip into your mouth, most falling to the moss under you and getting re-adsorbed into the earth. “...There’s a girl.”
The metal container disappears just as quickly as it showed up, and you lick at the corner of your lips, cheeks burning at the comment.
Ghost kneels above you, bar a shirt, and you narrow your lids to focus on the black and blue splotches completely covering him. He still doesn’t have a mask, and you glance over the blonde stubble; the scars, and the aggressive set of his eyebrows. The blood had been washed away, and you wondered if the stream in the background of this place was still stained with crimson and the telltale black of eye paint.
“Simon,” whispering seemed appropriate, though you don’t know why. Your voice was better now but still, your body refused to listen to your instructions. Every plea to move your arms or legs was denied, sharp needles poking into your flesh that made you shake. “What…?”
Blue eyes blink down at you, something hidden in the depths. A finger curls to flick a stray hair from your face slowly. Skin brushes skin.
“Snagged what I could before I ran off. Wasn’t much.” That harsh voice, the gravel in it. You frown weakly, your lids heavy. “Bandages. Extra shirt. Blanket I used to stop the bleeding.”
He won’t tell you he was begging you to wake up when he’d been stuffing old fabric into your open wounds.
Coughs wrack your frame, whole body jerks that overtake what little peace there was to be found. A hand tilts your head back to the ground, patient as the other grabs your hair, peeling the strands away as a flood of vomit escapes your mouth.
Eyes burning and face hot, you sputter as a thumb runs deep circles over your scalp.
“Easy…” Ghost whispers, tattoos like obsidian in the darkness of the world around the two. Late afternoon and this was the first time you’d woken up since he’d been carrying you. A nail was taken out of his heart.
Seeing your eyes flicker, even filled with the tears as they were, was a blessing he’d thank whatever God that was out there for. “Easy, Sweetheart. Breathe for me.”
“Fuck,” you gasp, shaking more than a leaf. “Fuck it hurts, Simon.”
He shifts you slightly away from the bile, the familiar words burning his lungs.
“Evac point is four miles.” It felt like a death sentence to you, your eyes going buggy at the thought. “I’m carrying you there.”
“Bullshit,” you pant, wheezing. “Your arms are destroyed.”
Ghost blinks before scowling, sending a glance to his limbs. They’re both raw and skinned, just like his fingers; red with burst blisters the size of rocks. One hurts far more than the other.
“They’re nothing.”
“Nothing pretty to look at,” blue eyes narrow on you in annoyance, but the dry-humored Brit doesn't miss a beat.
“Seems you’re in good spirits, Sergeant. Fancy walking on your own?” Your lips flick, delirious and high off of whatever pain meds that Ghost had found when he had been carrying you out of the basement of that house.
Try as he might, the feeling of your dead weight was worse than he ever could have imagined. So, outwardly, he stayed numb but knew that every little look from you was as beautiful as a sunrise.
“Want me to try?” Palms begin to shift, a hand pressing deep into the moss that bends and yields to your form.
Ghost snaps forward.
“Fucking Bastard!” He puts weight on the back of your shoulder as you hiccup dull chuckles, “Quit it! Else I’ll leave you here to annoy the damn plants.”
The threat was empty, and your eyes softened as they spread their fatigued gaze over the span of the Brit’s visible skin, glee leaking out. Ghost sighs, shaking his head sharply at you, agitation stuck in his skull as it always was.
So beastly, this man, but his hold on you was about as gentle as you could imagine.
Your attraction to him was anything but one-sided. You knew his emotions as well as your own; it was quite obvious to everyone but him. The long looks, the concerned glances. His touch freely given.
He had given you his name and, to you, that was about as close to a proposal as a ring was. You’d kissed; you’d shared beds and shared skin. You knew when he was being horrible to himself deep in the confines of his head.
“Simon,” you whisper, and a blue gaze stays stubbornly away, glaring at your burns with venom. A tired smile peels your lips. “Simon.”
A huff is all you get, a bush of skin as breath wafts over your bare back. Your hand goes to touch his knee, brushing softly over the torn fabric. The flinch would not be noticeable to anyone but you. Brows pull slightly tighter.
“I had a dream about you, y’know.” Speaking hurt, but the attention that is finally brought your way was worth it. Birds chirp in the distance.
“What’s that?”
“Hm,” you lightly nod, cheek ruffling moss as you take down slow inhalations. Staring into each other’s eyes you for a moment forget the agony under your skin. “You were trapped by a giant fish underwater.”
A Blonde eyebrow raises, slow smirk unable to be hidden. It was impossible not to be entirely taken by you. How you speak, how you breathe. Even like this, you had placed a spell of black magic over him, binding the darkness that made up Simon Riley—Ghost—to your every action and whim.
“That right, Sweetheart? What happened, then?”
Chuckling, Ghost’s hold goes to your neck, massaging the skin so delicately that you lose your train of thought for a moment as shivers erupt, “I had to save you.”
Lips press to your scalp, a bent nose digging despite the shifting cartilage as lion limbs shake with a want to drag you to him. Such a rabid beast that devotes himself to your life.
“You tend to do a lot of the savin’, Love.” It’s muttered into your hair, softly, lowly. Compliments are rare—Ghost prefers actions above all else—but they’re treasured.
You know what he means.
“Yeah, I love you, too, you brute.” Deep chuckles dance in your ear, and you both stay there for a while, simply breathing in each other as the sky bleeds into the earth. So content, your heart had slowed, the salve in your wounds and the bandages compressing the areas with the most problems and forcing them to be numb.
When you had nearly fallen asleep, Ghost had peeled back to look down at you; eyes malleable as they slipped over your battered body.
“Hm,” he hums, reaching to his side and grabbing for the shirt he had stolen. After a few minutes of quiet curses and apologetic kisses, the large piece of fabric was over your top. The Lieutenant had begrudgingly admitted that the scraps of pants you had on now would have to do until you got proper attention.
“Giving the squirrels a show, then, Simon?” The man rolls his eyes deeply at the sarcastic comment, rubbing up and down your legs to keep circulation going as he readies to move you.
“They better keep quiet ‘bout it,” Ghost grumbles, running a hand through his hair, “Else I’ll have to rip a few tails.”
“So violent,” You wince when your shoulder is gripped, neck limp as your upper half was rotated. Gnashing your teeth, the Lieutenant shushes you comfortably, raising your body to rest in the crook of his large arm. Muscles tense and loosen, your cheek now resting on your Lover’s pec. You hear him hiss silently at the pressure on his broken ribs as guilt hits you. “Not the squirrels’ fault.”
“It is if they keep looking at ya. Only I get to see you like that.” Your pain-laced laugh is cut off when you’re lifted, large hands under your knees helping equalize your body.
A strained whine exits your lips, straining to get air as you pant and clench your eyes shut. Ghost wasn’t doing much better—gritting his teeth and tilting his head back.
Feet stumble before righting themselves, lids opening as lashes flutter over bloodless cheeks to stare down at you.
The word seems to stop.
“...Tell me you’re alright.” You heard that for what it was—Tell me to keep going, because if you don’t then I won’t be able to.
Blinking up at him, your nose slots under his chin as you feel him shake with exertion, lips pressing deep into his raging pulse. You swallow down saliva as his grip on you tightens, pressing you closer; giving you his body heat.
“I’m okay, Simon. Not…not lost yet.”
“Good.” He lets his eyes close for a moment, taking you in as he lets his nose be coated in your scent, the flesh under his fingertips. Ghost knows some of your wounds reopen, and, thus, his bare feet start off into the woods. His men would still be at the Evac point waiting for them. Price would have given the order. “...I’ll be needing you ‘round. Might lose my head otherwise, eh?”
“You do seem to have a few loose screws when I’m not near.”
“That was an exaggeration,” Simon grumbles.
You scoff, trying not to puke at his limping steps. The word swirls, but the man carrying you stays ever clear. “No,” you whisper, “No, it wasn’t.”
Scared lips pull up, but the birds respond for him.
Less than ten percent out from the Evac point is when you drop a tidbit of a thought to the man.
“Y’know what I want, Ghost?” The large Brit side-steps a downed tree, sweat dripping down his chin to splatter to your skin.
“What is it?” He pants, sparing you a glance as his eyebrows are constantly furrowed in concentration. Your talking made it easier to push on.
“A fucking cake. A big one.” Blue eyes blink and his feet nearly stumble to a stop before he forces on. A gasp of a chuckle makes your heart skip a beat as voices start up from the next tree line.
“Keep talking to me, Love, and I’ll buy you the whole bloody bakery.” Soldiers burst from the bushes, and Ghost calls out identification as everyone gapes. Guns immediately lower.
Medics rush forward, but still on high alert, the Lieutenant snaps at them, bringing you closer into his hold as he pushes onward.
“Where’s the fucking heli?!” Everyone stops and points. Huffing, Ghost shoves forward.
“The whole bakery?” You slur, giggling and feeling the kiss on your head.
“Every bastard pastry’ll be yours. Count on it.”
—
“Simon, you promised.” Your wheel-chair bound form pouts as the man in question deadpans from behind you, leaning on the handles. His balaclava can only hide so much.
The air is sweet with the scent of desserts and bread.
“Birdie, you can’t eat all ‘O that, you’ll explode like you took a .308 round to the head.” The woman behind the counter pales, pulling at the collar of her shirt with her smile becoming strained.
“Is that a challenge?” You glance over your shoulder, smirking wide.
“No,” Simon blanky states, the skin over his nose bridge and under-eye completely black and blue.
“I think that was a challenge.”
“It wasn’t.”
The customers grind their palms into their eye sockets, some tuning around in line and leaving entirely.
“Simon,” you intertwine your hands and lean to show him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please.” Drawing out the word, you smile with everything you can.
The both of you connect in a battle of wills—you with that infectious innocent and sly nature, and Simon with a tight glare and tired eyes. A blatant will to please you in every aspect and a need to see you happy at all times. This goes on for a full minute before a loud sigh echoes off the walls, shoulders deflating. A hidden kiss is pressed firmly to your head.
You giggle loudly at the authoritative order.
“One of everything.”
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#simon ghost riley#cod#cod x you#cod x reader#cod mw22#mw2#mw2 2022#call of duty#call of duty mw2#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you#mw2 x reader#modern warfare#mw2 fanfic#x female reader#cod fandom#cod fanfic#female reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#ghost cod#cod mw2#modern warfare 2#cod mw fanfiction#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty
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“The Lieutenant wants to see you in his office immediately,” Soap said. And when you asked why, he shrugged and said he didn’t sound very pleased.
“I don’t understand, Sergeant,” you whisper as he escorts you to Ghost, “I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t know, soldier,” he shrugs once more as you reach the door, “just stay strong.”
Strong? Why? And what does he mean by “stay”? You have no idea what happened, so there was no time for you to prepare a case against it. You weren’t “strong”. On the contrary, you were as vulnerable as a house of cards.
Soap knocks on the door, and Ghost calls you in.
You push the door open to find an angry Lieutenant Riley sitting on the edge of his desk. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, tapping his fingers on one of his biceps. His leg hits rhythmically on the desk, and his breathing is audible from across the room.
“Sit down,” he orders sternly and points at the chair right before him, “and close the door, Soap.”
Soap does as he’s told, and so do you.
“So tell me, soldier,” Ghost begins, “what did you want to be as a kid?” He asks and looks at his watch.
“What does th-”
“Answer the fucking question, soldier!” He snaps.
“A t-teacher, sir.”
“A teacher, huh?” He contemplates, “so you liked to lecture others?”
“I don’t under-”
“Answer. The. Fucking. Question.”
“Yes, sir.” You reply and look at the floor.
Ghost unfolds his arms and hands you a piece of paper he has been holding. You look up at the note and then back at him. He brings his index finger to his mouth and eagerly shakes the message in his other hand. You nod, take the paper and unfold it:
“It’s April Fools. Soap has framed you. He’s eavesdropping as we speak. Play along.”
The statement “has framed you” was Ghost’s way to say that Soap was pulling a prank on you.
“So,” he proceeds, “as an aspiring teacher, I suspect you also liked to write on whiteboards?” He asks and checks his watch again, “you know, mark things and put stickers on stuff?”
“Yes, sir!” You reply enthusiastically, and he gestures to take it down a notch. He’s right; you’re supposed to be in trouble.
“And,” he stands up and looks at his watch again, “you decided to relive your childhood and do this?” He says and turns around to reveal Soap’s prank: A giant stamp on the back of his cargo pants with the words “BABY GIRL”, written in white paint and clearly visible from space.
You cover your mouth with your hand, and he gestures for you to stop. You nod and take small inhales, then a long exhale.
“Don’t you have a spare uniform, sir?” You ask, trying not to laugh.
“Good question, soldier,” he shouts so Soap can hear him from behind the door, “see, my spare uniform has a bedazzled JUICY COUTURE written on the back.”
You both hear a thud on the door and someone running away.
“What happened?” You whisper, but Ghost puts his hand up to stop you. He’s focusing on the sounds behind the door. He looks at his watch one more time.
“Well, why don’t you look at that,” He cheers, “it worked!”
“What worked, sir?”
“Senna leaves,” he explains, “I steeped a bunch into Soap’s tea in the morning as revenge.”
“Senna, what, sir?”
“Laxatives, soldier,” he replies, “they take about eight hours to work.”
“And you waited eight hours to get back to him?” You ask, shocked. You thought he had a short fuse. But, no. This man was calculated.
He shrugs. “I saw him last night sneaking into my room,” he explains, “I figured if he wants to mess with my ass, I might as well mess with his.”
He walks towards the window and picks through the curtain. “Come,” he says, “come look at him as he runs to the other side of the base since the toilets here are,” he brings his hands up and makes air quotes with his fingers, “out of order.”
#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley fic#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon riley x y/n#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod ghost#ghost cod
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PLAN B.
🔞 this post contains mature themes. mature audiences only, minors do not interact. ageless/anonymous accounts that interact with my account will be blocked.
pairings: pre-outbreak!joel miller, afab!reader
😇 warnings: daddy kink, breeding kink if you squint, creampie, masturbation, slight voyeurism, overstimulation, p in v sex, joel has a big dick, pure filth.
summary: being neighbors with the miller's gives you the privilege of going over to their house frequently. as usual, you spend time with sarah and flick through magazines, but what you don't expect to see is joel jerking off in his bedroom.
As the familiar neighbor of the Miller's, you frequently visited the small family. More specifically, just to comply with Sarah's constant requests of listening to Destiny's Child and gossiping about Christina Aguilera and Eminem.
Stacking the countless Teen Vogue magazines in a neat pile on Sarah's desk, you realized that the young girl had fallen asleep on her bed. Her golden-brown curls laid messily on her pillow, her eyes closed and she breathed softly.
The house was quiet as the night air swept throughout the hallways and rooms. Moonlight seeped through the curtains of her bedroom, illuminating parts of her bed and nightstand.
Taking in your surroundings, you silently admired the decorations Sarah had in her room. The pink-painted walls, posters of music bands, numerous polaroids pictures and first-place ribbons pinned on the cork board above her desk. Your eyes glanced towards the clock on Sarah's nightstand.
After seeing the late time, you draped a blanket over Sarah and quietly tip-toed out of her bedroom, attempting to leave silently, despite the floorboards creaking underneath your every step. Making it out into the dim hallway, you slowly passed Joel's bedroom that was left ajar. About to take the first step down the stairs, you abruptly stopped after hearing a noise from Joel's bedroom.
A groan.
Maybe he's working out?
He might be watching a movie?
Your curiosity got the better of you. Before you knew it, you were standing right outside his bedroom door, hearing his quiet groans and grunts. Your eyes focused, looking into the slight crack between the ajar door and doorway. Waves of shock ran through your body as your eyes widened.
Joel sat on his bed, shirtless and leaning against the headboard. His pillows were scattered everywhere, his sheets and blankets messy. The real gem was in between his legs. Joel sat there, chest heaving and jaw slack, stroking his cock.
His hand was wrapped in a fist, gripping his cock, his hand running up and down in fast strokes. Watching him, an arousal pooled in between your thighs. His messy curls, veiny arms, and his fucking happy trail. You bit your bottom lip slightly, not able to force your eyes away from Joel's actions.
"Fuck, I... I can't cum." Joel mumbled to himself, eyebrows knitted together and eyes clenched closed. He sounded irritated and frustrated. He let go of his cock, letting it stand rock-hard and glistening with pre-cum between his thighs.
Too focused on looking at his girthy cock and body as a whole, you completely dismissed the idea of his bedroom door being slightly open. Leaning against the door a little too much, you stumbled into his bedroom and stood there dumbfounded.
Joel's eyes flickered to yours. He didn't bother covering a single thing of his. The words came out of his mouth before he could even process it. "Help me, cupcake. Will ya' do that for me? Help me get rid of this, baby." His voice was hoarse and quiet, his deep, brown eyes big and full of desperation.
After staring at him blankly for a moment, you took a deep, quiet breath and closed the bedroom door behind you, taking a few hesitant steps towards his bed. Just seeing you comply, Joel groaned quietly and began stroking his cock lazily.
Swiftly stripping off your pants and shirt, you heard Joel's grunts. "Oh, fuck, so beautiful, baby. Gonna come and look pretty, sittin' on my cock." More pre-cum leaked out from the slit on the thick tip of his cock, the more he stroked. Joel groaned, smearing more of the white liquid with his thumb, watching you intently.
You were completely naked, crawling on his bed. Joel immediately reached over, his large, calloused hands grabbing your waist and placing you on your knees, right above his cock. Joel's eyes practically rolled back at the sight of your juices leaking out of your pussy.
His fingers dipped down, gently rubbing and feeling your soaked slit. You let out a small whine as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in small circles. Your breasts were in his face, with the position that you were in. Joel took the opportunity to lick and toy with your breasts, before sucking hungrily on one of your nipples, letting his teeth gently graze against the sensitive nub.
You moaned, still on your knees, with his leaking cock pressed against your outer labia. Joel seemed utterly distracted with your breasts. He pulled his fingers away from your clit and put both of his large hands on your breasts, gently pinching both of your nipples in between his thumbs and index fingers. He left kisses on your sternum area, between your breasts. "So fuckin' gorgeous, cupcake."
Reaching down, you grabbed his girthy cock and rubbed the thick tip of it up and down your slit. His pre-cum smeared all over your labia and vulva, mixing with your own juices. "C'mon, ride me, baby. You're fuckin' soaked. Show me how much of a good girl you can be, yeah?" Joel spoke in a hoarse voice, leaving soft kisses on your collarbone and neck.
Moving from kneeling to a squatting position over his cock, you pressed the tip at your entrance and slid down with ease, putting your hands on Joel's broad shoulders to help balance yourself. "Oh, fuck, cupcake... so fuckin' good." Joel groaned, feeling the way your wet cunt engulfed his cock.
He was so fucking thick.
You whimpered loudly, working your way down his cock slowly. Joel placed his large hands on either side of your waist. "Doin' so good for me, princess." He kissed your temple, running a hand up and down your back. You inhaled deeply, holding your breath. You exhaled, knowing you reached the bottom of his thick shaft, feeling the thin layer of his pubic hair against your slit.
Joel allowed you to adjust for a moment, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck. He was impatient and all he wanted to do was start fucking you relentlessly, but he didn't rush you. You bit your bottom lip slightly, in concentration, beginning to go up his cock, clenching around him tightly as you moved. It felt euphoric to you.
"Fuck, yeah, just like that, baby. Keep ridin' daddy's cock like that." Joel groaned, feeling the way you clenched around him. Going up and down on his girthy length at a normal pace, Joel's hands tightened on either side of your waist. He grunted and buried his face in your neck.
He didn't care anymore.
Joel held your hips down as he bucked and thrusted his hips upward frantically, hearing your pussy squelch everytime his cock went in and back out again. Your eyes rolled back and all you could possibly utter were pornographic moans, feeling the tip of his cock continuously hit your sensitive g-spot.
Quietly panting in your ear, Joel's libido was up to the ceiling. "Fuck, fuck, I can't stop, baby." His thrusts were deep and fast. His large hands clenched in the sheets, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, hips bucking wildly into yours. "Ungh, ungh, Joel!" You were seeing stars. Skin softly clapped against each other and his balls smacked against your slit continuously.
A big coil was building, deep inside of your stomach. You were gonna cum soon. Too fucking quick. "C'mon, princess, nearly there. You can do it." Joel groaned into your neck. "I'm gonna cum... daddy, I'm gonna cum..." You sobbed, your pussy clenching tightly around his cock, almost as if it was trying to keep him inside forever.
"Oh, fuck─if you keep clenchin' around me like that, I'm gonna fuck around and knock you up." Joel mumbled, not stopping his animalistic thrusts for nothing. You practically mewled at his words, eyes rolling back and drool slightly dribbling down your chin. "Need... need your cum... want it inside." You whined, barely able to form sentences.
Joel had the slightest smirk on his face. "Yeah? Fuck, you want it that bad, princess?" You nodded frantically, trying to bounce your hips up and down to meet his thrusts. Joel's grip on your waist tightened, seeing your response.
That was all he needed.
Burying his face into your neck, Joel groaned and his thrusts went back to the same, furious pace. He was fucking you like there was no tomorrow. "Gonna fuckin' fill you up. Gonna go home with your sweet pussy filled with my cum... bet you'd want that, huh, princess?" Joel grunted, pushing his cock deeper into your sopping cunt, with each thrust.
"Yes, yes, yes, please... please, cum..." You whimpered, throwing your head back as he bottomed out continuously, followed by the sounds of your wet pussy. Feeling the tip of his cock prod your sensitive spot one last time, your back arched and your eyes rolled back. "Oh─oh, fuck, Joel!" You sobbed.
Your sweet, white consistency squirted and leaked out onto Joel's cock. Down your thighs, down his balls, and staining his bedsheets. Joel's thrusts didn't conclude. He wasn't done. "Fuck, yes, c'mon... c'mon." Joel growled into your neck, his strokes turning sloppy, but the desperation was still evident. At this point, you were seeing more than stars. You were overstimulating and your mouth stayed agape as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own.
Within seconds, Joel groaned loudly, pulling out and swiftly pushing his cock deep inside of your pussy, once more, to the brim. He stayed still, not moving an inch, as thick, white ropes of his semen squirted inside of your cunt. You felt the sudden hotness inside of you, but all you could do was go limp and relax on his lap, with his cock still bured inside of you.
Joel brought his hands up to your head and ran his fingers through your hair, kissing your flushed cheek as he chuckled, slightly out of breath.
"'m gonna need to get ya' a plan B, aren't I?"
🚀 authors note: ffs, this took way longer than anticipated, but this is js another one of my horny thots, so i hope this was somewhat satisfying.
(i need joel miller asap) 🫠
#🚀. cripcross#joel miller smut#pre-outbreak!joel miller#pedro pascal smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#the last of us hbo#the last of us smut#joel tlou#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x afab!reader#my writing
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15 with Eddie? :)
i woke up this morning, rolled over, and immediately wrote this all on my phone. wasn't even 8 am and i was already all mushy and horny for this man. enjoy whatever this is (morning sex. it's morning sex and being in love) <3
15. "I had a very nice dream that started like this."
warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), afab reader but no pronouns used, a lot of religious imagery idk why it just... worked?, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact
pairings: eddie munson x afab!reader
wc: 2.9k+
join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character
The sun hadn’t even rose yet. The sky simply lighter, a gentle omniscient light peaking through the curtains, holding little to no warmth yet when you first awoke. The room is shades of grey with hints of violet, soft pinks just on the horizon but not quite painting the scene.
It’s nice — it’s serene.
You can feel him breathing behind you. Still there, still warm, still holding you with one strong arm around your waist as his nose brushes at the nape of your neck, his snore rustling your hair ever so carefully. It’s almost enough to soothe you back to sleep; counting his deep intakes of air, exhaling in time with him, sinking deeper into bed sheets that are stained with the smell of his cologne and shampoo. Almost.
But when you first awake, you have a different idea in mind.
It starts off innocent enough. Small movements as you press yourself further back into Eddie, minuscule wiggles to just be close to him. You’re still half asleep and yet, every atom in your body is desperate to melt into him. You need every inch of his skin pressed tightly into yours. Your vision still blurry, but the instinct to burrow more tightly into your boy impossible to miss.
“I know you’re awake,” he suddenly murmurs into your neck, voice muffled and rough with his rest.
You hadn’t even noticed the change in his breathing. More focused on the ache between your thighs that you had woken up with.
“Sh,” you jokingly whisper, smiling as you force your eyes back closed. He can’t even see your face, but it feels right to put on an act, “You’re gonna ruin it, Munson.”
“‘M not ruining anything, baby,” he nearly slurs. His arm tightens around you, encouraging all your squirming, pulling your hips back to be flush with his a little more urgently.
He’s hard against your lower back. His flimsy boxers do nothing to hide his excitement. It isn’t particularly surprising — most mornings he wakes up hard as it is — but it does cause a soft stirring within you. Encourages your hips to swivel once more, action a bit more pointed, just enough pressure to cause a low groan to slip almost inaudible from between his lips.
“Careful,” he warns, voice a bit louder now. His tone is still gravely, scratching an itch of the farthest reaches of your mind. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and the sound of tires on dirt roads when your favorite person is returning home. Comforting. Serene.
You press into him further, shamelessly grinding now, eyes still shut, “What? ‘M not doing anything.”
He doesn’t need to see your voice to hear that sleepy grin.
It doesn’t happen quickly — there’s no rush as he slowly tugs at your body, encouraging you to rotate so that he’s no longer spooning you. Your back digs into the mattress holding the warmth of his body from the entire night, wrapping you up in a bliss that’s impossible to replicate. His smell, his warmth, his presence. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of mornings like this, especially not when you finally open your eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a half-smile that accentuates his left dimple.
He’s fucking beautiful. It takes your breath away.
“What’s got you so excited this morning, hm?”
The light has grown ever so slightly brighter, just enough as though it whispers, look at him. The room is still grey, but your boy is a vision of colors. Dark russet eyes with streaks of gold that the sun couldn’t compare to, chestnut hair that sticks up in all the wrong places from his slumber, skin that washes out in the pale winter morning and only makes the contrast of the soft fuchsias and violets blooming along his neck from the evening before more apparent. He’s softer than any sunrise, more relaxing than any bath he’s ever drawn for you, more calming than hearing your favorite song strummed out on muted guitar strings.
You love him. And that only really fuels your flames.
“I had a very nice dream,” you mumble, squinting up at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. Your touch is delicate as you trace over his stubble, painting mindless patterns briefly before cupping the full side of his face and threading your fingertips into the edges of his hairline, “A very nice dream that started just like this.”
He rolls his hips against your side, peering down at you as he does so, letting you guide him closer until his lips barely brush yours.
You can hear birds chirping outside. There’s the rumble of a truck engine. The creak of a nearby front door opening and shutting.
The world is beginning to wake up, but you’re not quite yet ready to share the day with anyone but him.
“You did, did you?” he’s awake enough now to tease you, body slowly inching its way over yours, arms on either side of your head to hold his weight. The plush comforter slips down, exposing his bare shoulders as his torso serves as your new blanket, “Tell me ‘bout it, baby.”
Your legs fall open instinctively, making a home for him and only him. A space between your thighs perfectly carved out for the shape and weight of him as he slips into place, hips digging into yours, a homely and familiar position you’ve found yourself in a hundred times before.
It never gets old. It never elicits any less of a reaction from you, always pulling the softest of gasps from your throat as he leans his head down to trail his lips down your exposed neck.
The sound has him pulling you into him a bit more urgently, but his pace never quickens. He’s taking his time. You two have all the time.
A car alarm, distant as could be, sounds off. A voice of a neighbor echos across the trailer park.
Maybe it’s an adoring husband wishing goodbye to his wife for the day. Or a mother, rushing her children for school. There’s a million and one scenarios, thousands of strangers beginning their dreary week, but you only care about the warm welcome of the day that he offers you.
Anything but dreary, even in tired morning light.
“You were kissing my neck,” you say, careful to be as silent as can be, even if it were just the two of you in the room. The world doesn’t need to know you’re awake yet; it doesn’t deserve your attention like he does yet.
His teeth graze unintentionally against the soft spot below your ear, “Like this?”
“Just like that.”
For emphasis, you lift your hips, seeking out his with ease. You can feel him, pronounced as he presses against the thin fabric of your underwear. There’s too many layers between the two of you, too much cotton and linen in the shapes of his t-shirt you’d worn to bed and his damn boxers, but they’ll come off eventually.
Eventually. There’s no rush.
Your head tilts back in a sigh, and he pauses all his kisses to ask, “What next?”
“Keep going,” you squirm, hips continuing to roll, flames of desire lighting in your gut, dancing as soft as the morning light, “Keep going, please.”
The night before, he would have teased your desperation.
But right now, with just you and him and the ghost of sleep, he’s not in the business of taunting.
He listens, a hand coming down to your hip. Not holding it down to the mattress, but simply holding. He lets his thumb slip beneath the t-shirt, lets a rough callous built up from years of guitar and working on his van brush roughly over your skin with the most sensitive of intentions.
Slowly. If the morning wasn’t so heavy still on the two of you, weighing down every movement, slowing every reaction and pacing every adoring kiss, this is the part where the two of you might have grown a bit impatient. More nipping, more bruising gripping, more complaints of going further, further, further.
But today? In this moment? The two of you have time.
A dream sequence of his wandering hands slipping that old faded tee up until it’s finally bunched at your chest, until he’s finally peeling himself away from your body and he’s lifting it over your head. Every move is brimming with a love you never thought possible. A love to swim in, a love to sink into. One with the capability to drown the two of you, but it only breathes a new life into both of your lungs.
When his lips wrap around a nipple and your back arches, that love thrums a bit deeper, coiling up your insides and urging your fingers to tangle up into his curls.
You need him closer.
“So beautiful,” he whispers against your skin as he mouths at it, “So, so fucking beautiful.”
The back of your skull digs deeper into a pillow engrained with the shape of your head from years of rest, a soft laugh slipping in between your blissful breaths, “Don’t lie. I’m a mess right now.”
You were. And so was he. In a barely awake, subtle and tired way. Messy hair, messy marks of sleep across cheeks, messy breaths not yet minty from a morning routine the two of you followed like a religion.
His head lifts, eyes glowing in the limited light, “I like your mess. As a matter of fact, I love your mess.”
His hand on your hip squeezes for emphasis.
You look down, wordless as you drink him in. A vision between the pinks dancing through the curtains, a godly presence as the dawn breaks. He’s a salvation, a new beginning and a new ending. He’s everything fairytales had tried to convince you existed in your youth. Prettier than any angel, warmer than any sun.
And he’s yours. In this moment, and in all the next ones.
“I think I can make an even bigger mess of you, though, if you’ll let me,” a devilish smile finally overtakes his features and both of those dimples you’ve become so unintentionally fond of make an appearance.
He dips his head, lowers his voice, lets his lips explore. You nearly pray to the Heavens above as you feel his hand slip from its gentle cupping of your hip, moving to slip nimble fingers beneath the band of your panties — but you don’t. Not a single God would care about what’s happening right now.
Just two people, two souls, twisting up in their bed sheets. Finding each other, finding divinity, before the sun even has a chance to stretch its arms fully over the horizon.
When he sinks lower and his face disappears beneath the cloak of the comforter, you hold your breath. When his mouth finds your cunt over fabric, you release it with a moan.
“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, both hands pulling off your underwear, pressing a hard kiss one final time over the cotton before he slips them off, “Keep making those pretty noises for me.”
Your thighs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he begins his morning worship. All lips and tongue and finding the right places as fast as possible. Not out of a rush, but out of practice. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and he proves it.
He knows exactly how hard to suck on your clit once he’s captured it between his lips. He knows exactly where to trace his tongue, circling your hole in lazy circles, not quite teasing but not quite succumbing as he lets you buck your hips in reckless abandon. When to speed up, when to slow down, when to add a finger and when to let the gravel of his voice vibrate against your core — he knows you. Through every little whimper, through every soft chanting of his name, through every tug of his hair.
And he knows you well enough to know when to stop his ministrations, pulling back only to crawl his way back up your body, his boxers slipping off somewhere in the process.
You’re still all over his lips as he kisses you fervently, slick and sticky and a little tart as his tongue dives into your mouth.
And just as he knows you, you know him.
You’d lied, of course. You hadn’t really had a dream just like this. You can’t even remember how you’d awoken with such want, but all that mattered is you had. You’d woken up to an all-consuming need, even if your half-conscious state, and you’d woken up to him.
Your hand reaches down between the two of you, wrapping around him carefully. Your skin is still cooler than his, it’s always cooler than his in the dead of night, and he hisses at the content.
“I love you, you know?” you quietly confess to your lover, as though it might be a sin, as though it might be the greatest secret to ever be held on a patient tongue.
His skin is nearly velvet under your touch, pliant in your palm as you stroke him. Each movement and twist of your wrist begins to unravel him, his head dropping to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Every pant of his breath brushes skin just as his snores had.
Gold litters the shade of sunrise entering the room, but the only warm colors you care to entertain are the ones in his eyes as he finally looks at you and tugs your hand away.
“I love you more.”
You could argue. You could fight him on it, start to rattle off your list of all the things you adore about him, prove that no one has ever loved another person in this lifetime the way that you’ve loved him. The freckle below his right eye, the chip in on of his canines from an accident in his youth, the scar on his left knuckles from the first time he’d tried to do a trick with a butterfly knife at nine years old. The jokes he interrupts your day so kindly with, breaking up the mundane with laughter that seemingly fuels you to carry on with your time until you’ve returned home to just him. The passion that flows inside of him until it pours out over everything sacred to him — his music, his interests, his friends, you. A passionate and devoted man, yours to have and yours to hold.
But you don’t argue the point. You just smile as he kisses you, deep and searching, as he lines himself up with your entrance.
He loves you more, you love him most. He’ll figure it out — eventually.
The stretch of him is pleasurable, just like it always is. Filling you, warming you, making that closer you crave so ardently nearly tangible. Every roll of his hips has him reaching spots inside of you to elicit stars to cloud your vision. The morning light, the white hot pleasure — you don’t care what makes your vision blue. You only care that it does, all your mews and all his groans entangling up in the air.
Your palms slide over the back of his shoulders, your fingers dig into soft skin that you’ll spend the rest of your days memorizing.
Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
No prayer has ever been repeated with such need or belief as his name from your lips.
And he returns the favor. Gasping out your name, somehow finding himself just enough in his right mind to continue to whisper sweet nothings against your ear, timing them with his leisurely thrusts.
“So fucking tight and so fucking good to me,” he manages to gasp, digging his hips in a little harsher, “Could stay here forever. Kind of want to stay here forever.”
You don’t know how he’s coherent; you can’t form a single response, eyes rolling, hands clinging to him tighter.
“Look at me when you cum.”
He knows you. He knows you very well. You hadn’t even noticed that coiling in your stomach or the fluttering of your walls when he calls you out, forehead pressing to yours as your eyes open to find his.
It’s not world-shattering when the waves come — it doesn’t have to be. It’s something to wrap around your entire essence, something to soothe and something to coax you into oblivion. Something to get lost in as his movements stutter and his own eyes grow heavy.
He doesn’t close his eyes, and neither do you. Lost in that pleasure, and lost in each other.
You’re still rhythmically clenching around him when he comes, filling you up with warmth, burying deep in you and holding there as his mouth falls open and you're quick to pepper his outstretched neck with kisses. The smallest reminders of all the love you have for him. The gentlest of devotions, sprinkled across the skin of a man who will always know an affection like no other. Not everyone in the world will be so lucky as to know the fondness you offer him, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s how it should be.
Curses spill as his movements slow, before finally stilling. He drops his weight onto you, exhaustion finding its way back into his bones.
There’s things to do, a day to begin. Work and people waiting on you two, responsibilities to worry about and daily mundane accomplishments to achieve. But for now, it’s just the two of you. Awake with the rest of the world, but completely separate as you cradle him and he holds you.
“That was one Hell of a way to wake up, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, and you only throw your head back in a laugh.
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#ghost's stories#smutty party#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#i just really like the idea of waking up to eddie#especially like this#i wrote this half asleep so it might not be the best my brain wasn't really working#i just needed to write it out before work and before i got out of bed#the run on sentences in this one are strong
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love.
Synopsis: in which Hyunjin comforts you on a hard day
Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, heavily self indulgent because I can, hurt/comfort, reader cries, mention of food
A/N: yay I did this finally it's out of my notes Woohoo! Idk when this idea came into my brain but it did and I couldn't stop thinking about it so now it's here. For my loves @chlorinecake and @astraystayyh they are my Hyunjins
Song rec: love by Wave to Earth
The weight of the world on your shoulders.
You had often heard that phrase as a child. It was ridiculous, initially.
The world can't possibly weigh that much.
You were the smartest in your class, you knew the multiplication tables by the time you were five, the capitals of the world by eight, and by fifteen, the weight of nothing but your own shoulders dragged you behind everyone.
University was an easy affair, that's what you told everyone. Someone's got to keep up the smart girl, book child status up right?
Studies were easy, just understand it, write it down better. Yet, fuck, you could feel the words fading by, was it a stalactite or a stalagmite?
Graduation was easy, you were peaking and nothing was in your way!
Then you realised something.
The world did weigh too much.
Everyone weighed too much.
Your mind weighed greater than your heart, something you fought off for eons now.
And diamonds are formed under pressure, but hadn't you learnt that diamonds turn into graphite every now and then too?
You were so smart as a child, what happened?, You wished ever so fervently that you could tell them that you weren't a child anymore.
No longer the child that thought the only thing that she needed to do to be loved was to get a good grade off her papers.
Or was that love starved part of you still inside?
"Rough day, love?"
Love. It was the nickname you most adored. Lucky for you nicknames were Hyunjin's personal favourite job.
"Fuck..." You swore softly, immediately collapsing onto your couch, and wrapping yourself into the warm cocoon that was your boyfriend's arms. You swore you would become a butterfly from your current catterpillar state one day.
The gruesome world always seemed to calm down on its axis of rotation as soon as you reached Hyunjin's touch. As if he was the petals of honeydew calming down the speed of a hummingbird. Would you have been the overactive bird rushing around to cater to the needs of everyone around her?
You could hear your own heartbeat in the moments of silence, when the dust seemed to still and the winds seemed to wait, eavesdropping on conversations old and new. The hauntedness of the thumping sound made you shiver.
The tightness around your throat felt tighter by the moment, like an invisible rope hanging round it. Your heart felt too heavy too for some reason. It's a heart, you tried to convince yourself, you need it to live. But you knew that you could rip it out of your chest at this moment, and you would still keep living on. But did you really have to-
"Want to talk about it, love?"
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
A loud sob ripped through the thick air, coating the curtains of the atmosphere in a blueish paint that seemed to have rotted inside it's bucket far too long. Hyunjin was quick to bury your head further into his chest.
You know you smell really comforting?, that went on in his mind, the thing you said on your first cuddle session, in which, he remembered fondly, you described his scent a bit further than most people usually did.
Broken strings of words escaped your lips, I'm sorry—im so sorry! Guilt always flowed through your veins whenever anything like this happened.
But Hyunjin understood, he always understood. And fuck, you both hated and loved that he understood.
One hand lay on the back of your head, while his other caressed your back, rubbing circles on it. As if a magical void would appear and take all your problems away.
Hyunjin was your magical void.
"Can you talk to me?" Hyunjin asked quietly. He felt you shake your head against his shoulder, causing him to tighten his hold on you.
"It's going to be okay love. I promise you."
Another wave of tears surged through you, nearly making you double over at the rush of fresh emotions popping off in your brain, your jaw tensing as you tried to stifle the illegible babbling falling from your lips.
Hyunjin's words in your ear and his hand rubbing ribbons of comfort onto your back made you catch your breath, and slow down. Silence rose once you had stopped crying, you felt even more tired now and you had to admit, Hyunjin was a nice pillow.
The occasional sniffle and tired breath from you, broke Hyunjin's heart even more. He hated seeing you cry, so much so, he'd always distract you if he ever sensed you were in a depressed mood. Even if there were times that you poured your entire heart out of him in tears, he'd always shed his own tears in private, sometime later.
"Love?"
"Hmm?"
"Want me to run you a bath?"
"With the candles and everything?" You managed to say in a quiet, exhausted voice. Your throat was tired from all the crying.
"With the candles and everything." Hyunjin smiled down at you, pushing back stray strands of your hair behind your ear, "Can we go up to the bedroom, love? Can we do that?"
He was speaking so softly to you, and it was making you want to sob rivers again.
Silently nodding, you felt yourself droop down all over again as soon as Hyunjin got you up, strong arm wrapped around your waist, hugging you to his side.
Pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your head, Hyunjin started with shuffling moments upto the bedroom, which you followed, not even being able to lift your head up from the pure exhaustion.
Sitting on the bed felt like you were hung down by iron nails, while Hyunjin prepared the bath for you. Even a moment without him felt down, and even if it was a bit dramatic , you were willing to admit it.
"Hands up?" Hyunjin looked at you softly, taking off your shirt for you and discarding it in the empty laundry basket, "You did the laundry yesterday? Wow, I'm proud of you baby."
You let out a breathy giggle at his words. Hyunjin somehow always knew every word in the instruction manual of how to make you laugh.
"Is the temp alright?"
You couldn't get yourself to say yes so you hummed what seemed to have been a 'yes'. Your throat was raw, and your face was congested as well as your chest. You sounded like you swallowed a frog, and the frog was also now sick and subsequently congested.
The water truly didn't have any texture or temperature to it when you got into it. The world felt numb again as you relaxed into the tub, which, evident from the scent, Hyunjin had filled with your favourite bath salts.
What seemed like a year's worth of time, passed in silence, as Hyunjin quietly stroked your skin with soap, was it the lavender one or the tea tree one? You couldn't tell, remembering how you often joked that both of them gave off the same perfuminous vapours and that Hyunjin should just buy one of them. The water seemed more mellow now.
"Love, look at me?" Hyunjin's voice broke you out of your seemingly never-ending stupor. Like it always did.
You turned your head and rested your eyes on Hyunjin's softened ones, and you felt that familiar tightening of your throat again.
"Hyun I-"
"Don't you dare apologise." Hyunjin said before you could even get a word out, "You never have to apologise to me. Not for this."
His hands were sickeningly sweet as they ran over your back, washing lathers of soap off of your back, his voice even more so.
“You deserve to relax, you know that right?" Hyunjin said, as he wrapped you up in your purple coloured towel, "“You did so well today and you do so well everyday and you deserve to rest for a while."
Hugging you into his arms again, Hyunjin provided you with a little den, a cave where you could settle into whenever you felt that you were too tired for a lion's hunt. And you were forever grateful to him for him.
"Now-" Hyunjin looked down at you with a cheeky smile, "You are not allowed to leave the bed until you finish every single cupcake I got you."
"You got me cupcakes?" Your lips broke into a smile, a genuine one this time, "What flavour?"
"Beef." Hyunjin joked, sending both of you into a frenzy of laughter, as you pressed a kiss against his nose, making it turn the touched skin like a tomato.
The one thing that you'd have never admitted to anyone when you were younger was the fact that you wanted to be loved. That was a silly notion to you.
But maybe now, under the watchful gaze of Hyunjin as he saw you devour the cupcakes, you'd admit it.
You'd want to be loved, even if it was another weight on your shoulder.
Maybe that'd be a weight you'd like to ephermally lift.
#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#hyunjin smut#hyunjin fanfic#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin × reader#Hyunjin fluff imagines#skz#stray kids#skz fluff#stray kids fic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fluff#skz fluff imagines#skz soft thoughts#skz soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#stray kids soft hours#hyunjin soft thoughts#hyunjin soft hours#hyunjin hard hours#hyunjin hard thoughts#skz × reader#stray kids × reader#stray kids hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids smut#bye bye now
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☆ let's go to bed | miguel o'hara
✮ wc. 763
⚠︎ warning(s): fem!reader
soft!miguel truther 4 life
⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!
Sliding one of his shirts he'd left behind over your pillow because you miss him. You hadn't seen him in a good few days, on account of a particularly difficult anomaly, and the best idea you can muster right now is to just fall asleep to the linger of his cologne clinging to the fabric.
You're curled up in your warm bed, tucked under the covers with the side of your face smooshed into your pillow, wallowing in the faint woody scent as you snore quietly. You don't hear the squeak of your unlatched window sliding open, but you stir when the pane closes with a sounding thud, a hushed expletive following as you slowly awaken. Your eyes wrench open to squint around the dark room, panicking for a moment when your gaze falls on the hulking figure beside your bed, clad in dark shadows, before you realize what's happening. Your face heats up a bit when you remember what your current state looks like, how pathetic it has to be.
"I didn't know you were gonna swing by tonight. A little heads-up woulda' been nice. You scared the shit out of me."
You sluggishly sit up from your mass of blankets, eyes still adjusting to the darkness as you look up at him.
"You shouldn't leave your window unlocked. That's incredibly dangerous."
"I live on the sixth floor. I doubt much could happen."
He scoffs quietly, but he has a gentle smirk on his lips. "I didn't mean to wake you up." He stalls for a second, eyes dancing across your sleepy figure. "Y'know, you're cute when you're sleeping."
"Creep."
He chortles quietly, stepping closer to the bed, but he stops, and your skin flares again when you see his gaze slide to the pillow beside you.
"Is that my shirt?"
You sputter a bit, utterly embarrassed he caught you stooping as low as that. "I know, it's weird. I just–" You trip over your words as you dig for an explanation that doesn't sound insanely desperate.
"Oye, cálmate. It's not weird. Es lindo."
He moves to sit on the mattress, reaching out a big hand to wrap around your own, thumbing over your knuckles. You sit there for a moment in comfortable silence, grinning stupidly when he raises your arm to drop a kiss to the back of your hand.
"Eres tan bonita, muñeca. C'mere, mamí."
You scoot closer to him to nestle into his side as he leans back against the headboard of the bed, slinking his arm around your waist as he looks down at you. City lights bleed into the room from your drawn curtains, painting him in soft purples and whites that wash over him perfectly, the light delicately clashing with the harsh shadows of his angular features.
"How did the mission go?" You drape a leg over his lap to get impossibly closer, letting your hand settle over his chest.
"Awry, at first, but we got him and sent him back to his universe. He was a lot bigger of a threat than any of us had thought."
You can tell just the thought of what had happened irked him, if the way he clenched his jaw was any telltale.
"Well, I'm glad you're okay. And now you can relax for a little bit. Just me and you."
That soft smile finds its way back onto his lips, and he sinks further into the bed, rolling onto his side to wrap around you like a constrictor. He's kissing you now, tender and sweet, one of his hands sliding up your spine to hold the back of your head. It's cool in your room, but he's insanely warm against you, big hands moving to clutch at your hips as your arm curls around his waist, slipping your hand under his shirt to let your fingertips run along his bare skin. He drops a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your jaw bone, one more to your throat before he nuzzles his nose into your neck, taking in a long breath and letting out a tired sigh, big shoulders relaxing as he closes his eyes, lashes tickling your skin.
"Let me sleep in tomorrow morning. I'm fucking exhausted."
One of your hands comes up to comb your fingers through his soft curls, pressing a short kiss to the top of his head. "I can tell."
His arms tighten around you to keep you from slipping out of his grasp, and his breath quiets.
"I'm gonna need that shirt back, by the way. It's one of my favorites."
#m.ohara#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman#spiderman into the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#into the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#into the spider verse#across the spider verse
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could u do 2008 tom getting in an argument with the reader and after arguing a lot, the reader just tries to go to bed. after a couple mins, tom realizes he was wrong and tries to climb in bed with the reader and is like super clingy and tries to touch the reader but gets ignored. and he’s all like “yk how i get when i can’t touch you” AUGHH😩😩 and then it’s js smut that ends with fluff/aftercare
btw ur my fav writer ever i absolutely adore ur writing 🖤
LET ME SHOW YOU - T. KAULITZ
synopsis: you are tired of arguing, deciding to go to bed before things get too out of hand. tom realises that he has messed up, but you are being stubborn, still not over what he has done. he doesn’t give up so easily, begging to get what he wants.
content: angst to smut, little bit of fluff throughout.
a/n: thank u so much that really means a lot!! love this idea, i hope u enjoy!💞
“you know what? i’m done. i’m tired of explaining this to you when you clearly don’t get it.” i huff, shaking my head and running my hands through my hair.
“you’re right. i don’t get it. you’re mad at me for doing my job!” he shoots back, eyes cold and dark, jaw clenched as he stands across from me on the other side of the kitchen.
“you can’t be fucking serious! don’t paint me as some clingy selfish girlfriend when all i’m asking is that you don’t come home at midnight every night, and go straight to bed! it’s like we aren’t even together anymore. we live in the same house but we never talk, never communicate. you only show me affection if it’s a quick kiss or hug, or you want sex.” i rant, fuming at his lack of mindfulness, failing to believe how he is so oblivious.
“what so we’re just lying now, is that what this is?” he scoffs, taking a breath before continuing. “cause you know that’s not true. i always hug you, kiss you, tell you i love you, don’t i? and you know that i value you way beyond sex, so don’t even go there.”
“you’re completely missing the point!”
“then what is the fucking point?”
his voice raises far higher than mine, louder than it ever has before. he would never raise his voice at me, not like this. my mouth opens, tears clouding my vision as i am taken aback at his sudden outburst, but he doesn’t seem to care, my silence only seen as an invitation to keep going.
“hm, what is the point? you’ve always known that my job demands a lot of me, and i told you that it would be difficult, but i’m trying my best. if i could be with you more, i would. you know that we’re pushing to get this album perfect, so can you give me a fucking break and stop acting like i’m some awful boyfriend?” he shouts, anger laced within every word, each one stabbing me right in the heart, making me feel stupid for even bringing this whole conversation up. i just missed him, but he couldn’t seem to understand why.
i nod my head, pursing my lips together as the tears cascade down my cheeks.
“okay. i’m going to bed.” i whisper, not waiting for him to respond, turning away from him and leaving the kitchen, trudging up the stairs towards our bedroom. he doesn’t follow me, instead i hear a loud bang come from the kitchen, his fist colliding with the counter as he curses in frustration.
the room is strangely cold as i walk into it, completely dark with little natural light coming through the window despite the curtains still being wide open, reminding me of how late it is - and how long i had been waiting for tom to come home. my feet walk along the carpet, the floorboards creaking a little until i arrive at my bed, climbing into it and letting the covers embrace me, instead of tom. i feel numb, not enough energy in me to cry, yet too upset to just sleep it off. instead, i stare out of the window, the cityscape invading my eye line as i try to distract myself from what had just happened, watching the world around me as it moves on and on, wishing that i could do the same.
the door slowly creaks open, my head turning in its direction as tom walks through it, his expression one of pure regret. he is silent, not saying a word as he goes over to the mirror, taking his cap off and placing it gently on the dresser, taking his dreads out of their ponytail, his eyes suddenly meeting mine through the mirror as i stare into them.
“baby can we talk?” he says, still looking at me through the mirror as he removes his shirt, folding it neatly and leaving it on top of the dresser, his bare back facing me from across the room.
“about what?” i scoff, finally breaking the eye contact and laying down, staring motionlessly at the ceiling. “you were pretty sure of what you said, there’s nothing else to speak about.”
my gaze still fixed on the ceiling, i hear him step away from the mirror, walking cautiously towards the bed. i feel it dip beside me, before two arms snake around my waist.
i roughly pull away from his grip, taking his hands and shoving them back in his direction, not falling for his attempts to iron out the tension, especially ones that involve him putting his hands on me.
“baby…you know i didn’t mean any of that.” he calmly speaks, trying again to touch me, this time taking my hand in his. once again, i refuse, shuffling even further away from him.
“can you not touch me? i’m not in the mood for your shitty apologies just- go to sleep.” my voice is harsh, hurt taking over his expression as i speak, but i don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for him. instead, seeing him experience even a fraction of the sadness that he had just put me through satisfies me.
“leibe…please listen to me. i’m so sorry.” he begins, turning onto his side so that he is now facing me. “i’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, you don’t deserve that. i’ve just been so caught up with the album and it brought me away from you, but i shouldn’t have let it. please baby, please forgive me. i’ll never let this happen again.”
as he comes to the end of his speech, his hand tentatively reaches for my cheek, his thumb trying to stroke the skin, but i move backwards, becoming irritated at his ignorance.
“are you deaf? stop touching me tom!” i ignore his apology, because right now, it means nothing to me, his initial words still a fresh wound. no apology, no matter how sincere, would be enough to make me forget them just yet.
“schatz, please, you know how i get when i can’t touch you. don’t accept my apology, don’t talk to me, i get it, i deserve it. but please my love, just let me hold you, that’s all i want.” he begs, his voice reducing to a whisper as it cracks a little.
his love language had always been physical touch, and, even when we were fighting, he would always hold me whilst we slept, no matter how mad i was. i knew that me refusing his touch was getting to him and, despite me being completely infuriated, it was impossible to ignore the slight pang of guilt that settled in my heart as i listened to his pleas.
i say nothing, moving a little closer to him, leaving enough space so that he would have to reach out to be able to touch me. he takes my silence as a yes, inching his body closer to mine, his arms pulling me tightly into him, his head resting in the crook of my neck. i feel him relax a little, his shoulders dropping as he pulls me further into his embrace, holding me so tightly that i can feel his heartbeat from within his chest. his breathing tickles my neck, his head snuggling into it as he takes in my scent, clearly having missed being this close to me. but still, i say nothing, giving him this small sense of comfort though anger still courses through my veins, in no position to forgive him just yet. however, it is impossible to deny the security i gain from his embrace, the way his hands run comfortingly up and down my back giving me a sense of contentment that only he can bring.
“i love you. i love you so much.” he whispers into my neck, planting a short and soft kiss there. “you’ll never understand how much i love you baby, you’re everything to me, my whole world.”
his hands begin to caress my lower back, travelling downwards and giving my ass a soft squeeze as his lips plant slow kisses on my neck and collarbone, all whilst he continues to whisper sweet nothings into my ear, pouring his heart out whilst his movements begin to increase - making his intentions crystal clear.
“tom please, not now. i’m still mad at you.” i say, trying to keep my voice stern, but an elongated sigh pours from my parted lips once his find the spot below my ear that makes me go crazy.
“you won’t be once i’m finished, i promise baby. just let me show you what you mean to me, mhm?” he asks, pulling his head from my neck to look into my eyes, a glint of desperation present within them.
i study his features, starting at his brown eyes - warm and enticing, looking into mine with so much admiration, so much love. his skin, smooth and flawless, unable to count how many times i have felt it against mine. his lips, soft and inviting, decorated with a small metal ring, loving how it would always feel against me, the harshness of it always contrasting with the warmth of his lips as they would move against mine.
and it is that small glance that makes me give in, my hands reaching for his head as i pull it downwards, quickly joining his lips with mine. he is taken aback, but it only takes him a few seconds to kiss me back, cupping my face with his hands and bringing me in even closer, our bodies merging as one.
he pulls away, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he begins to gently remove my clothing, starting with my shorts, kissing upwards until he reaches my hoodie, that soon following, leaving me in only my lingerie.
“so perfect.” he mutters, pecking my lips. “you’re so beautiful meine liebe, you know that?”
my cheeks heat up at his words as they spill like liquid gold from his pink lips, our fight feeling further and further away. it becomes harder to imagine that it ever happened, the way he touches me with such care making it seem almost impossible.
his clothes already off as he always sleeps in just his boxers, he reaches to remove his underwear, turning his attention to my own panties, letting them join the existing pile of clothes scattered around the room.
he moves to the top of the bed, sitting with his back resting against the headboard, gently picking me up and placing me into his lap as i straddle his waist, hands resting his shoulders as i stare into his eyes, a little nervous as i am never usually the one on top.
“tom i-”
“shhh, you’re okay, just ride.” he comforts, moving loose strands of hair from my face, placing a reassuring kiss on my lips.
i nod hesitantly, lifting my hips up and sliding down onto him, moaning as i take him in, my walls stretching as they become accustomed to his size. tom’s head has fallen backwards, fingers digging into my hips a little as his lips are parted, no noise escaping from them.
once i am used to his size, i begin to bounce slowly, picking up a steady rhythm as tom continues to hold on to my hips, helping me move.
“doing so well baby. just like that.” he sighs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut.
it doesn’t take long for my legs to ache, no longer able to continue moving up and down, already tired. my movements are slow and lethargic, almost half-hearted as i try my best to keep going, chasing my release as i crave it more than anything, tom clearly feeling the same as his hold on my waist only tightens, his grip strong enough to leave faint marks on the skin.
“i can’t.” i whine, frustrated that i can’t keep going, completely spent. i fall forwards, collapsing onto tom’s chest, still inside him as he slowly thrusts upwards into me, his arms wrapping around my back as he kisses my forehead.
“you did so good baby, don’t worry.”
those are the only words he says before swiftly flipping us over, my back flush against the mattress as he begins to thrust into me at a relentless pace from above, my mouth falling open as loud moans pour from it, his name a mantra as it effortlessly falls from my lips. he hits places within me that have never been touched before, so deep inside me that i can feel him in my stomach, a small bulge visible as he moves in and out of me.
“love you so much, fuck-” tom groans, his hands on my thighs as he kneads the flesh, prying them further apart as the pleasure prompts them to try close around his waist.
“getting close baby, you close?” he mutters, moving his head so that his forehead is against mine, eyes studying my face as he awaits my response.
all i can do is let out an almost inaudible ‘mhm’, so close to my release that i can almost feel it, the knot in my stomach ready to burst any second. the way his dick twitches inside of me tells me that he is there too, his thrusts irregular.
“let go schatz, cum for me.” he says, watching as my face twists in pleasure, my release washing over me, the pressure of his coming at the same time too much as i squeeze my eyes shut, hands clutching onto his upper arms. my entire body shakes, the feeling overwhelming, mouth open in a silent scream as tom moans into my ear, still rocking in and out of me slowly, riding out our highs.
i am completely spent, laying motionless beneath him, my throat raw from the sounds that had emitted from it, breathing heavy and reckless. tom pulls out, wiping a few tears from my eyes that i hadn’t even realised had fallen, kissing the skin afterwards.
“you okay baby? you did so good, did i go too hard?” he says, my mind not fully registering what he is saying as i am completely exhausted, eyes starting to flutter shut. “you can’t sleep yet, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
i manage a weak nod, feeling tom lift me up bridal style, carrying me into the bathroom and carefully placing me on the counter. he walks over to the bath, turning the taps on and letting the water run, before rushing back over to me, taking a damp cloth and wiping me with it as a jolt when he is a little too rough, the area sensitive.
“sorry baby.” he mutters, kissing my forehead, separating my legs and moving to stand between them, embracing me in a hug and resting his head on top of mine whilst the bath fills up, small ‘i love you’s’ escaping his lips as he rubs my back, trying to soothe me in any way he can.
after a couple of minutes, he picks me up, gently placing me in the bath as the water submerges me, the warmth of it already easing the aching pain that runs through my body. he climbs in behind me as i sit between his legs, my back against his chest.
he washes my hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp as my head falls backwards onto his shoulder, the feeling relaxing me even more, completely at peace in his arms. he moves to my body, carefully washing the delicate skin, planting occasional kisses on my shoulders and back as my breathing slows, on the verge of falling asleep.
he sees that i am too tired to stand up myself, picking me up and carrying me out as i wrap my arms and legs around him. he finds a towel, setting me back on the counter and drying my body, leaving the bathroom for a second and returning with some fresh ‘pyjamas’ - which consisted of a random t-shirt of his and some clean panties.
“come on baby, put these on then we can go to bed, mhm?” he says as i lift my arms up, allowing him to place the t-shirt onto my small frame, the material hanging off my figure as it reaches my knees. he takes my panties, moving them up my legs slowly, my hips bucking upwards so he can fully put them on me, finally putting his own underwear on.
he takes me to the bedroom, tucking me into bed and placing the covers over me, climbing in beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist as i cuddle into him.
“i’m so sorry for everything. i love you.” he whispers, kissing my hair softly.
i mutter a small ‘love you’ against his chest, falling asleep within minutes, completely exhausted.
requests are open! keep sending them in!!
#tom kaulitz#tokiohotel#tom kaulitz angst#kaulitz#tom kaulitz fluff#kaulitz twins#tom kaulitz smut#tomkaulitz#tom kaulitz x reader#bill kaulitz
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Matt’s Teammate 💙
You get selected by Laura to be Matt’s teammate at The Versus Tour. As you compete together, Matt seems a bit off his game, because he has instantly started crushing on you. Matt knows that there’s a chance he may never even see you again… but that changes after he talks with Nick and Chris backstage after the show.
matt sturniolo x fem! reader
warnings: slight cursing
themes: tons of fluff
author’s note: haven’t been to a show yet so idk what order the challenges are in so I might have gotten them mixed up but you get the idea :)
You stood watching the show live from the television backstage waiting for the triplets to introduce their teammates for the challenges. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest— you couldn’t even believe this was genuinely happening to you.
“Okay Y/N, the boys should be ready for you three in about two minutes. I told the other girls to line up by the curtain if you could join them over there for me.” Laura, their manager, said to you gesturing to where the other teammates were standing.
“Sure!… I don’t know if I have ever been this nervous before, honestly.” You say letting out a deep sigh all while a big smile was plastered across your face.
“Awe don’t worry hun they are sweet kids and I’m sure Matt will make you feel comfortable once you’ve sat with him for a bit. Good luck, and remember to have fun!” Laura’s words of encouragement made you feel a bit better. The two of you walked over to the curtain just behind the stage. You could just barely see the stage through the opening of the curtain where you saw the canvases, aprons, and paints already set up for your first challenge.
“Alright you guys so as you already know we have a few challenges set up for us tonight that we will be doing with a fan from tonight’s show. Let’s welcome our teammates for the night!” Nick says through the microphone as the audience erupts in cheers. Oh man, here we go! You think to yourself as you follow the others out past the curtain into the bright stage lights.
Matt’s POV:
I watch as our teammates come on stage, and keep my eye out for a girl in blue. I see as she turns the corner, and I am stunned. She’s dressed in a cute sporty blue top and joggers, but it was her smile that immediately caught my attention. I’ve met tons of fans before, and many of them are very pretty, but she is beautiful. I felt like everything was in slow motion for a moment until she drew me out of my daydream.
“Hi Matt I’m Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you!” Ugh, even her voice was cute! She wraps her arms around my shoulders as mine wrap around her body as we hug. “I am such a big fan of yours!” She says as she gives me a soft squeeze before releasing the hug.
“Awesome!” I replied. Awesome? That was the best I could come up with?
***
We had already begun our “Work of Art” challenge, but I had to stand behind the canvas until the timer was finished. I watched Y/N’s face as she concentrated on painting all while laughing out of nervousness as she switched from color to color sporadically. Luckily, she was too concentrated on the challenge to notice me staring at her, admiring her beauty.
“Dude, Matt literally said the same thing.” Chris’s voice echoes through the microphone. “Right?” He says looking at me for approval. I was so zoned out looking an Y/N that I had no idea what he had even just said.
“Oh.. what? Ohh yeah yeah I did say that.” I stuttered, trying to bring myself back to reality and focus on the performance. Did I say what Chris said I said? No fucking clue. Nick turns and gives me a slightly confused look. “Matt, wake the fuck up we have a show to do bro!” Chris shouts and the audience erupts in laughter and cheers. I smile and let out a small laugh to hide my embarrassment. I turn back to Y/N to see she is already looking up at me with a small grin on her face. Great, now I’m really embarrassed. I’m hoping these colored stage lights can mask the fact that I feel my cheeks burning red at the moment.
Y/N POV:
The score was currently 5:7:8 with Chris in the lead, Nick in second, and Matt and I in last. We were off to a strong start from Matt winning popular vote, and us winning the painting challenge, then Matt scoring most of the baskets in the free throw challenge. We were down to the last challenge, the jenga showdown, which was by far the most tense. Though we were in last, I was still having such an amazing time.
I cheer Matt on as he gently pushes a block from out of the stack and places it on top the tower. He did it so easily and confidently that the audience roared in unison, screaming for Matt.
“Okay, maybe I can redeem myself in jenga, but Chris is still probably going to win… I’m sorry.” Matt turned and said as Nick took his turn. Matt looked at the ground, and had a defeated look on his face.
“Hey, don’t worry about it! We did are best, and we had fun which is far more important than winning in the end anyway.” I say, and he looks up and gives me a smile before putting his arm around me for a side hug. Our hug was interrupted by the audience screaming loudly, and we look to see the jenga blocks on the floor as Nick covers his face with his hands and stomps in anger at his team’s loss.
I cheer for Chris during his “crowning ceremony,” and he gave each of the teammates a hug as we congratulated them. I saw Nick, and gave him a big hug telling him I love him as I totally fangirl. Lastly, I turn to Matt who looks bummed from our loss.
“I had such an amazing time tonight! I hope you three have so much fun on the rest of the tour, and good luck! I’ll be rooting for you.” I say to Matt as I give him one last hug. I was surprised to find that he wasn’t pulling away from the hug right away as to finish the show, but he remained with his arms wrapped around me in a sentimental embrace. “It was great to meet you, Y/N. You’re an amazing teammate.” Matt says as he pulls away from the hug halfway, smiling down at me.
“K dude… let’s go.” Chris nudges Matt, and I realize I am the only teammate left on stage. I pull away fully and wave bye to the triplets as I exit the stage. What a night.
Matt’s POV:
My brothers and I were backstage packing the last of our things after finishing the post-show meet and greet and VIP backstage fan experience.
“Matt, are you okay? You seemed off tonight bro.” Chris says.
“Yeah I was gonna say the same thing but I haven’t had a chance to bring it up since the show ended. Is something going on?” Nick says concerned.
“Yeah… no. I don’t know. It’s stupid.” I said as I continued to pack and try to ignore the conversation.
“Come on Matt, you can tell us!” Says Nick.
“Was your teammate being freaking weird or something? Making you uncomfortable?” Chris exclaims as he comes to my side grabbing the things from my hands and putting them on the couch to stop me in my tracks.
“No she wasn’t weird at all. Her name is Y/N, and she was amazing. She is amazing. I wish you guys could’ve seen more of her because she was just so damn nice and sweet and—”
“Hot?” Chris cuts me off as he laughs.
“Well, yeah. I mean, she was beautiful. Not only that but in between challenges we were talking about how she appreciates my mental health content, and what videos of ours she likes. The whole show too she just had such a positive attitude and it made me feel really… happy. You know?” I said passionately, and I could feel the heat rising in my face once more.
“Aweeee Matty B you have a crush on a fan! That is too cute!” Nick says adoringly. “But seriously, she sounds wonderful. Did you get her social media or anything?” Nick asks, and by this point the three of us are all sitting together on the couch talking about it. I shook my head no.
“Okay, well, you got her name and she was on stage tonight so I’m sure something of her will pop up on social media somewhere.” Chris says.
“Why does it matter if she posts? Sure, I can follow her, but it’s not like I’m ever going to see her again or anything.” I snap at the two as I get off the couch and continue packing my bag.
“But why not though? Yeah she’s a fan, but she looked like she was around our age and she lives in the states as far as we know.” Chris says. “Mmm but she could have a boyfriend.” Chris says hesitantly.
“Or girlfriend!” Nick chimes in.
“Alright whatever, can we let this go and get to the bus?” I said, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
***
We walk out of the venue and hear the cheers of those fans who stayed behind after the show to watch us get back on the tour bus. I walked behind Chris and Nick, walking a bit slower, trying to scan the fans for Y/N, but no luck.
On the bus, I reposted the group instagram post of Chris’s win to my story. I took a picture from inside the bus, and captioned it “Even though I lost tonight I had fun, and that’s what matters 💙🩹”. I hit post, and immediately was getting tons of replies and tags. I was casually scrolling through my DM requests, when a username with “Y/N” catches my eye. I click on the request to view the message.
“You’re the best Matt! I hope to see you perform again in the future 🥰” the message read. I click on her profile. No way. It was Y/N! My heart started beating a little faster as I skimmed through her instagram feed. She was insanely attractive, and looked like a great person to be around, which I had gathered from our interaction tonight. I go back to the message and stare at it for a few minutes, my mind and heart racing. Do I reply to her message? Do I ask her out somehow? What if she does have a boyfriend, or girlfriend like Nick said? What if I make a complete ass of myself, or worse, she posts my reply all over the internet? I was playing a million different scenarios in my head. I’ve always been so shy, having trouble talking to girls I like, but my brothers and the fans have really boosted my confidence over this last year. I want to roll with that confidence…
“I had fun tonight, Y/N. You seem like a really great girl, and I would love to see you again if I can.” I typed out. I immediately hit send as to not give myself too much time to rethink my decision. Now, the waiting game. I throw my phone down on the table because staring at the screen waiting for her to reply made me too anxious. Chris and Nick came and sat down with me soon after, and I didn’t dare tell them what I just did in fear they’d yell at me, or tell me I made a huge mistake. Time goes by, and we watch tv as we travel to our next show. My phone dings, and I grab it as quick as I can to open the notification.
“Woah you’re smiling big, who’s that?” Nick asks.
I’m silent for a moment. In disbelief. Smiling from ear to ear.
“It’s Y/N!’
****************************
Thanks for reading my first Sturniolo short! Let me know if you’d want a part two! <3
UPDATE: Part 2 linked here !
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#let’s trip tour#versus tour#youtube
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Omg I’m ovulating and I need Jean right now 🥸could you pls write something about country boy Jean and a shy reader 🙈 I just know he is so charming, low key kinda cocky, and drives a pickup truck 😿😋
Your wish is my command
Save a horse Ride a...
WC: 5.5K (i promise its worth it)
Summary: city girl reader comes home to her family far and sees Cowboy Jean
CW: finger-sucking, cunnilingus, creampie, slut, good girl, princess, sweetheart, Jean has a huge cock, slight dumbification, slight degradation, doggy, spanking. NSFW MDNI 18+!!!
It’s been a few months since you’ve been home but you’ve really been missing the small back-roads town you grew up in. Growing up, generally, no one really left your home town so it was rather unusual for you to take a job in a big city a few hours out. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you knew in your soul you longed for the sound of the crickets at night under the full moon, the one diner in town with the absolute best burgers and shakes, the smell of your family’s farm wafting through your open window at night, and how much brighter the stars shined under the wide country sky.
You missed it more than you cared to admit, so coming back home to work on the farm for two months this summer didn’t sound too bad. Your mom posed the idea one night when you were ranting to her about the stress of your “big city job” over the phone and she suggested you were just homesick and needed to take some time off, get back to your roots, and she was right. So here you were driving down the interstate through miles of nothing on either side in your fancy new car that dramatically contrasted with the dusty environment around you. You knew you’d hear a bunch of grief from your friends and family about how you dressed now and the loss of your sweet southern accent but you were prepared. Pulling into the long gravel driveway of your family's farm just on the outside of what was actually considered “town” you saw your dog run down from the front door to excitedly greet you. You walked out slamming your car door and slinging your bag over your shoulder before smothering your best friend with pets and kisses “Wish you’d do that to me sweetheart” came from a low raspy voice behind you in that signature cocky southern tone, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Of course, it was him, your father's favorite farm hand, Jean. How could you forget that he’d be here?
You and Jean had a long history, and by history you mean the ongoing phenomenon of you secretly pining after him for years as he worked for your dad and him constantly flirting with every woman he laid his eyes on. He was very popular around town, especially among the girls. When you were home you’d always see Jean dragging back a different girl to his cabin next to the horse stables and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, deep down feeling just a twinge of hurt that it wasn’t you.
You just rolled your eyes and stood up, walking towards the front door of the big white house you grew up in “C’mon darling, I don’t even get a proper greeting?” He said smirking while leaning his right arm against your car “I’ll see you later when I go to help out with the stables Jean..” you replied in a mildly annoyed tone promptly reaching the door of your house and slamming it shut behind you. You were already stressed out about your job the last thing you needed to be stressed about was Jean fucking Kirstein.
You walked up the rickety old stairs stained with splotches of paint, dirt, and who knows what else before reaching your room, the first one on the right, unfortunately with a perfect view of Jean’s cabin through your big, open window. You quickly shut your curtains and turned away from the view. You were not doing that. Not again. You didn’t need to know who Jean was gonna bring home tonight and cry into your pillow like you were 16 again.
So you unloaded your things onto your bed and walked back downstairs to your mom who had already prepared a huge lunch for you. She insisted working in the city with such a stressful job had made you far too skinny and you needed to “put some meat back on those bones” so she sat you down at the round dining table in the corner of the kitchen and placed a cornucopia of your favorite foods from when you were little, her famous southern mac n cheese, a few tenders of fried chicken, some green beans for vitamins, and of course a slice of apple pie complete with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream and a coke. “I’m never gonna eat all of this mama” you giggled looking down at the absolute feast laid in front of you, god you’d been here for maybe 15 minutes and your slight accent had already made a comeback. “Well baby whatever you don’t finish we’ll have for dinner how ‘bout that hm?” She said sweetly stroking your arm “Saw you talking to Jean out there. Such a sweet boy, that one. I know your father likes him a whole lot.” You laughed softly to yourself at your mother’s comment of Jean being a “sweet boy” not wanting to get into an unnecessary argument, all you asked in response was where your father was, considering it was strange he hadn’t greeted you in one of his famous bear hugs yet. You were informed he went into a town a few towns over to pick up some more cows for the farm and wouldn’t be back for about three days. Three whole days you will have to work on the farm with just Jean, without the presence of your father as a buffer. Great.
You scarfed down the delicious meal your sweet mother so graciously prepared for you, maybe she was right, you hadn’t been eating enough. You put what was left over in your oversized fridge and thanked her once again for welcoming you back with such open arms. You did the dishes and took your dog for a run, trying to put off your farm responsibilities until tomorrow mainly for one reason in particular. Unluckily for you the path you took on the run winded through Jean’s smoking spot when he was in-between tasks, how could you forget that?
“Hey, princess why don’t you take a break and sit with me, hm? Got an extra cigarette just for those pretty lips.” He exhaled, smoke ghosting over his lips as he patted the spot next to him with his large hand. As much as your heart longed to find some semblance of affection in Jean’s flirtation you knew you weren’t special, he flirted with every breathing female who crossed his path, and playing into that would only hurt your feelings more in the long run. So no you would not smoke with him, you had things to do, none of them being Jean Kirstein.
“Don’t smoke anymore, ‘ts bad for you, you know.” You remarked annoyingly trying to come off completely disinterested in his advances. “Oh, I see, the big city’s turned you into a good girl huh?” he teased taking another long drag, god he looked so good like this. All sweaty from working outside all day, tan with a slight sunburn across his nose dotting just a few freckles, his hair pushed back. “I’m not about to take advice from someone with a mullet” you scoffed and continued your walk as he protested behind you, it was hard to walk away from the opportunity to sit with him but you had to do it. You couldn’t run the risk of being any more captivated by him than you already were.
After you returned from your walk and had been sulking in your childhood room a few hours later the time had come, like a doomsday countdown your mom stalked your door and asked why you hadn’t been out to see the horses yet. “They miss you a whole lot honey, don't know why you’re leaving 'em all high and dry like this.” She said with a slight tone of disappointment. She was right, it had been forever since you’d been in the stables and you couldn’t let Jean keep you from the horses forever, besides that wasn't fair to them. You’d just have to tough it out. Who knows maybe he’ll be somewhere else when you decided to go check up on them and perform your chores.
You agreed with your mom and sighed as you pulled your body away from the soft comfort of your warm bed. It was boiling hot out so you needed to change it if you were going to be doing any actual work. You threw on a tank top and pair of old cut-offs you’d cut from jeans when you were 17. You looked pretty good you weren’t gonna lie to yourself. You headed downstairs out the front door and into the stables. Luckily it appeared the only living thing inside was the horses. You breathed a sigh of relief as you greeted each of them, pressing soft kisses to their noses and scratching the special spot they like behind their ears. You noticed at least two of them needed a bath, god does Jean even do anything around here besides antagonize you?
You set your hat on a fence post and led one of the horses out into an open area where she could be bathed. You grabbed the hose and went to work scrubbing her silky mane and making sure to get her hooves as well. While you were diligently working on the task before you, Jean returned from wherever he was previously causing trouble. You caught him out of the corner of your eye just outside the big open doors of the stables talking to a tall blonde girl. “Yeah baby ‘ll see you later tonight all right,” he said in that sly seductive tone as he pushed some of her fried blonde hair behind her ear, and even worse you could see his large calloused hand resting on her ass. God you wanted to disappear right then and there, why did you have to be subjected to Jean’s promiscuous affairs? You pretended not to notice and continued working a brush through the black main of the horse in front of you “Can you believe him” you whispered to her “You probably can I guess, you must see it all the time” you said as you began to work little braids in the freshly brushed out mane. “Hey Princess picking up my slack huh” his voice came from the open doors as he stomped his way towards the other horse that needed to be bathed. “Not really, I’m just doing what needs to be done around here. Someone has to.” You scoffed in response to his obnoxious comment, how could you be so into him when he’s so aggravating?
You couldn’t stop thinking about his hand on that girl’s ass and his promise of seeing her later tonight, the look of lust behind his pretty amber eyes. Why couldn’t that be you? It’s not like his standards were high and you weren't ugly… why had he never chosen you. “What you thinking about over there pretty girl?” he said “Nothing just trying to get my work done so I can go back home” you replied nonchalantly not wanting him to see behind your facade. So you finally got your work done and succeeded in avoiding Jean for the rest of the night. You kept your promise to your sweet mom and ate your leftovers with her at the dining table before heading up to your bathroom for a hot shower. As you soaped up your body you thought of his hands, how they would feel against your soft skin, what his lips would feel like against yours, then you thought of her. About how he’s probably bottoming out in her as you were showering and the thought made you shiver. You could always check… He left his curtains open all the time, you could see what he was doing right now. No that’s pathetic. You're not 16 anymore. You quickly finished your body and wrapped yourself in a warm towel before walking back down the hall to your room to get dressed for the night. You finished up your nighttime routine, brushed out the long locks of your thick hair, and threw on a big comfy shirt you kept from one of your past boyfriends.
Walking to your bed to scroll through your phone for a little bit the curtains blew open from the movement of the air and you could briefly see into Jean’s window. You didn’t turn around, for about 5 minutes that is. You couldn’t stand not knowing what he was doing. You had to know if he kept his promise of meeting that girl, so you slowly walked over to your window and took the thin fabric of the curtain between your fingers, carefully moving it to the side.
Your fears were confirmed when you looked straight into his bedroom and saw his slender fingers digging into the hips of some girl with a terrible fake tan. Her face was contorted in pleasure and you could even hear them as Jean was making her scream around him due to their proximity. You saw his face too, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and little strands of his brown hair making their way into his eyes, a red tint across his cheeks from exertion and a slight glimmer of sweat against his skin. You shouldn’t be watching this, this is a private moment between Jean and whoever his girl of the night was, but you couldn’t help yourself. The way his hips snapped up into her with delicious fervor just had your mind wandering about how that would feel if it was you instead. His abs contracting with each thrust had your hands wandering down the hem of your cotton panties as you sat back on the edge of your bed. Your eyes were glued to him the entire time as you slowly played with the wetness pooling between your legs, dipping your fingers inside yourself imagining they were his. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to orgasm as your breathing grew deeper and more labored. His grunts and groans were music to your ears as you felt yourself slipping over the edge. You called out his name as you let go, your body shaking with pleasure.
Your eyebrows now too were furrowed in pleasure as you watched him please the girl bouncing on top of him, You briefly shut your eyes as you got closer to your approaching high, imagining he was thrusting into you, whispering nasty things about how good you were for him. You wanted him- no you needed him so badly. As you came on your delicate fingers you opened your eyes to the pornographic scene displayed through your window, and whether you imagined it or not you could've sworn for just a second that Jean’s eyes were on you, watching your body heave up and down at the pleasure you gave yourself. But just as soon as it happened it was gone, he was whispering dirty inaudible things to the girl below him, you weren’t sure if he spotted you watching him at all.
No, he didn’t, it was just your imagination, you decided. Jean’s never been in your room, he doesn’t know you have a view of his house from your window so why would he look in your direction at all? It just doesn't make sense.
Having found comfort in your conclusion that Jean had not caught you touching yourself for him while he fucked another girl, you quickly washed your hands and tucked yourself in for the night, dreading having to see him tomorrow. You lay in the dark and thought about the situation. You wondered if you should confront him or just pretend it never happened. Your heart raced as you tried to decide what to do.
Unfortunately, the sun rose the next morning, bringing about a new challenge of having to face Jean after the last night. You slept in for as long as you could, hoping to burn the daylight and not face him any sooner than was absolutely necessary. Your mom, however, knocked on your door around 10:30 to make sure you were feeling okay, as it was unusual for you to sleep in on the farm, thus beginning what would be a painstakingly long day. You ate a quick breakfast of microwaved oatmeal, you figured if you had to face him, it would be better to get it over with, kindly declining your mother's invitation for a home-cooked breakfast. You made your way back upstairs and threw on your uniform of a tank top, hat, and jean shorts before slowly walking towards the barn to begin your tasks for the day. Surprisingly Jean wasn’t in the barn when you arrived and instead were two new farmhands your dad recently hired from town. Teenage boys, looking for a little extra money on the side. This happened occasionally when the farm was under a little more stress than usual. You just tipped your hat to them and went on with your work as they did theirs.
You were lugging bales of hay into a pile in the corner when you finally heard him arrive. The sound of his old pickup truck sputtering to a stop could be spotted from a million miles away. He stepped out and into the barn and surprisingly, he barely spoke to you all day. No sarcastic comments, no flirting, just a “Scuse me” every now and then when he’d accidentally bump into you.
It was nearing the end of the day which had gone at a surprisingly fast rate without being taunted by Jean. You were wrapping up your chores and started to say your goodbyes to the farm hands when he walked up to you. “Hey princess wanna come back and have a drink with me on my porch, we gotta lotta catching up to do. Wanna talk to you before you run off again.” He said in a more sincere, but slightly arrogant manner, a tone of mystery to his voice. You decided you’d have to talk to him at some point and after last night you’d have to get over your stupid little schoolgirl crush on him. You figured actually having a conversation would be good exposure therapy to get a head start on getting over him.
So you followed in his large footsteps back to his rusty old truck he’s used to pick up countless girls and sat down in the front. He pulled out of the driveway of the stables and it was a quick 3-minute drive back to his house. The drive was quiet and the expression on Jean’s face was one you hadn’t seen in all your years of knowing him. It looked like there was a marble rolling around in his head. What was he thinking about? God, what you would do to find out. He stepped out of his old truck and swung open your door for you, what seemed like a sincerely nice action, very out of character for the Jean Kirstein you knew. You quietly followed him up the wooden stairs to a set of old dilapidated rocking chairs on his front porch. He motioned for you to take a seat, and he sat in the chair next to you. You both sat in silence as if he was waiting for you to say something. You braced yourself for whatever it was he wanted to talk about.
As you sat he flung open the screen door to his house and returned a minute later with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He poured two drinks and handed you one. He held his glass up and said, "Cheers." You clinked glasses and sipped your drink, still anxious about not knowing what was on his mind. He leaned back, drink in one hand and the other behind his head as he rocked back in his chair. Suddenly the realization of what was happening hit you, what do you even say to him Do you know I’ve liked you for 5 years? Why were you banging that trashy blonde girl last night? Did you see me touching myself for you? Your thoughts wandered everywhere except acceptable conversation topics. You opened your mouth to try to say something, but nothing came out. You simply stared at him, unable to process the situation and all the emotions running through you, eyes focused on his piercing amber gaze.
"Missed having you 'round here princess," he said nonchalantly as he rocked back in his chair, seemingly lightening the mood. He felt the tension too and wanted to make you more comfortable. You swallowed the lump in your throat and found your voice again. You managed a small smile and replied, "Missed being here I guess." You shrugged and looked up at the ceiling before swallowing a large sip of the whiskey, hoping it would give you a little liquid courage. "Big city girl now huh? Not used to being back on the farm." He chuckled and you could feel the tension dissipate slightly, yet still uncomfortable. The question had been stirring in your brain all day. Had he seen you? Is that what he wanted to talk about? He handed you the bottle and you both sat in a brief silence, watching the fire flicker in the lanterns lighting up the doorway. "I'm still me Jean, just been gone a while that's all…” you trailed off awkwardly “Still know my way around the farm." He smiled and you felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you. You smiled back, grateful for the reminder that you were still the same person underneath it all. "Seems like you forgot your manners, sweetheart." He chuckled as he stretched his arms over his head, revealing the little trail of hair hiding just above the hem of his jeans as you tried not to stare for too long.
Taken aback, you tried to understand what he meant had you said something? “Well I don’t think I’m the one who’s been rude lately Jean, you barely looked at me all day. Might’ve said all of three words.” You said with furrowed brows, your voice trailed off sounding a little angrier than intended, accidentally letting your frustration out. “Oh yeah? And why do you think that is princess?” he said a small smirk forming on his face as he sipped his whiskey. “I dunno” you whispered under your breath as you looked down at the floor to avoid his intense glare, feeling your heart speed up. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you it’s rude to look in people’s windows” and with that your heart stopped, your hands grew clammy and you couldn’t swallow the lump in your throat.
He knew. Fuck. Of course, he knew. That’s what this is all about. “Jean I-” you started to say before he cut you off. “Don’t apologize, princess, you think I haven't seen you staring at me, hm? Watching me workin’ out in the sun probably getting all nice and wet for me.” “I’ve been watching you too sweetheart, walking around in those tight little shorts basically beggin’ me to fuck you right there.” He said nonchalantly as if he was just asking how your day was, sipping his drink.
Were you dreaming or did Jean Kirstein, your father's favorite employee, just say he wants to fuck you. You didn’t know how to respond so you simply stuttered out what came to your mind first “B-but that girl th- the blonde one-” you said shakily, not having looked up at Jean once since the conversation took this turn.
He stood up from his creaky chair until all you could see were his muddy boots next to yours. He grabbed your face gently with his tough, calloused fingers to make you look up at him “Wanted to put on a good show for ya. ‘Was thinking about your pretty little body under me the whole time. You know how cruel you are wearing those tiny ass tank tops, showing your tits off to all the farmhands? Know how many times I’ve thought about you wiggling under me, hm? I don't give a fuck about any girl I bring back, how could I when I'm thinking of you the whole time?"
With that, as you were about to respond Jean yanked you up to stand beneath him, smoothly catching your lips in a sloppy wet kiss. The taste of whiskey on his tongue made it all the more intoxicating, the way his hands roamed your body. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss as his tongue explored your mouth, teeth lightly grabbing your bottom lip between them.
Without saying anything Jean lead you into his house straight to his bedroom and sat you down on his creaky bed, towering over you. He removed your clothing painstakingly slowly as his lips ghosted your neck before taking in the view below him “Even more fuckin’ sexy than I imagined” You could see him growing hard against his jeans as you tugged at his waistband “N-need you Jean, need you so bad” was all you managed to whine out. As he removed his dirty work clothes before you your eyes wandered over his toned muscles, your mind roaming a million different places from his fingers inside you to his huge cock.
You reached for his thick cock, pretty pink tip absolutely dripping with precum but he tsked “Uh uh baby, I’m here for you, alright? Now why don't you show me how you play with yourself for me, hm?” He whispered in your ear, chill bumps racing down your spine as a vibrant red blush crossed your face. The thought of touching yourself for Jean made you both extremely embarrassed and extremely turned on
“C’mon princess you weren’t too shy last night now were you?” He said as his teeth lightly scraped the sweet spot on your neck making you let out a soft moan. You simply shook your head and leaned back against his pillows. You took your bottom lip in between your teeth and slowly lowered your dainty fingers down to your core, you could feel your pussy already dripping down your soft inner thighs as Jean’s gaze stayed locked on you. You began rubbing slow circles on your needy clit as you looked up at him “This what you do when you make yourself cum for me?” Jean asked, his signature cocky tone returning. You nodded and started to dip one of your small fingers into your aching pussy softly whining out “Jean..” “Yeah what do you think about baby, hm?” he said inquisitively, watching every movement of your hand on your messy pussy, making him harder than he thought possible. “Think about y-your hands and how they’d feel, s-so big and strong-” you whimpered out as you added a second finger to your sopping cunt. “Yeah just my fingers, princess?” He asked cockily, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it. “N-no, think about your cock too a-and your mouth…” you trailed off, voice getting quieter as you felt a familiar knot begin to build in your stomach.
“Mhm and what about my mouth?” The thought of you getting yourself off to him turned Jean on so much and he needed more, needed to know exactly what you thought about. “Y-your tongue, all over my pussy a-and sucking on my clit-” you were cut off as your orgasm ripped through you, overcoming you like waves crashing on a beach, eyes squinted shut. you were accustomed to making yourself cum fast due to your very little free time.
Jean saw you unravel beneath him, mouth slightly agape as your juices pooled around your small fingers. As you pulled them out Jean replaced them with his rough thumb, rubbing lazy circles on your over-sensitive clit. You wined out and dug your fingers into his muscular back as he touched you “If you can’t take this baby, how are you gonna take my cock?” He chuckled as he squeezed one of his long slender fingers into your tight cunt. “So fucking wet for me…” he said pulling his fingers out and spreading them in front of you to showcase your wetness before sliding them into your mouth “Be a good girl and taste yourself for me m’kay?” He said eyes filled with lust as you sucked his long fingers deeper into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them as you tasted the tangy stickiness of your cum.
“Such a good fuckin’ slut for me aren’t you?” He said as he removed his fingers, shoving them back into your pussy harshly making you gasp “Probably thought about this a million times huh, me having my fucking way with you. ‘M gonna fuck you like the slut you are, always teasin’ me when I’m at work” your pussy clenched at his words and he chuckled “yeah you like that don’t you? Like me calling you a fuckin’ slut” You nodded as he removed his fingers and moved your hands to your knees “Hold these pretty legs open for me while I eat this pussy okay baby?” He said in a commanding tone before using his ring and middle fingers to spread your pussy open for him “So fuckin pink and wet for me god, this is the prettiest fuckin pussy I’ve ever seen” he said before lowering his mouth onto your swollen clit, tongue doing figure eights all over your dripping pussy. You could feel his scruff against your skin as his hair tickled your soft thighs “Taste so sweet for me baby, said you want me to suck on your clit right?” He asked making direct eye contact with you as you nodded, he removed his mouth from your desperate pussy before saying “Good girls use their words, sweetheart" with a deviant smile “Y-yes Jean I w-want your tongue on my clit” you said, embarrassed at how he had you sprawled out in front of him, already willing to do whatever he wanted. “That’s a good girl” he smiled before attaching his mouth back on your sensitive pussy, sucking and lapping at you like he was never going to eat again. It felt so good you couldn’t control yourself as his skilled tongue ran over you, tears forming in your eyes, knees shaking as his name rolled off your tongue like a mantra.
Before you knew it you were cumming all over his face “Yeah there you go princess, give me all of it, want all of your fuckin’ cum” he said as his tongue continued to assault your swollen clit, riding out your orgasm until he was completely satisfied. You looked so fucked out beneath him and he hadn’t even given you his cock yet, but you needed it, you craved it. Needed the way you knew it would stretch out your tight walls. “Turn over for me baby,” he said placing a soft kiss on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that has fallen on your flushed face as a result of your earth-shattering orgasm. You turned your body over onto your elbows, chest flat against the bed and round ass in the air as you heard Jean stroke his cock a few times. “Been thinking about fuckin’ this tight little pussy for so long baby” he said as he caressed the soft skin of your ass before pressing a harsh slap into the skin, seeing it turn red for him. “You want my cock, huh?” he asked cockily as he spanked you again. “P-please Jean I need your cock” you managed to whine out “I can tell baby, your pussy is just fucking dripping down your thighs onto my sheets, making such a fucking mess.” He chuckled as you moaned at his words, dragging his aching pink tip up and down your wet slit just to tease you. "P-please Jean, I need it-" you begged before he slapped his fat tip against your clit making you whimper. "You need it huh? Beg me, baby, beg for my cock." He smirked as you bucked your hips backward hoping to feel him enter you "Please Jean, please, fuck I need your cock so bad, wanna feel it stretch me out, please please please." You whined pathetically under him before he harshly thrust his painfully hard thick cock into your aching pussy, molding you around him. You screamed as he bottomed out in you immediately, making you take every inch “C’mon baby, weren't you just beggin' for this? Take it like the good little slut you are.” he said as his hips picked up their rhythm, snapping his long cock into your tight cunt, tight balls hitting your clit with every thrust making you go absolutely brain dead for him. You loved the way he stretched you out, his thick cock bullying his way into your tight pussy had you screaming for him so loud you were sure the neighbors could hear.
“So. Fucking. Tight.” He said punctuating each word with a thrust rougher than the last “Wish you could see this tight pussy creaming all over my cock” he said, eyes focused on the white ring forming at his base from both your cum and his. “Fuck, not gonna last long with you squeezing me like this princess,” he said, spanking your ass, making you moan into his sheets. “J-jean ‘m gonna..” “I know baby, I can feel that tight pussy squeezing ‘round me” he replied squeezing his eyes shut from the pleasure, going faster as his thrusts got sloppier. You came quickly at his increased speed, releasing your juices all over his cock. This turned him on more than he thought was possible
“Fuck ‘m gonna stuff you with my cum okay? Gonne cum deep inside this pretty pussy” You didn’t reply as you were completely fucked out, soon he released deep inside you, balls tightening as he pumped every last drop of his hot sticky cum inside you. You could feel his warm seed paint the inside of your walls white so deep inside you. He fucked his cum deep inside you, riding out his orgasm before pulling out to watch it drip down your thighs. “So pretty for me,” he said turning you back over onto your back before placing a soft, romantic kiss on your lips. “You gotta stop wearing those little shorts ‘round here okay? Makes me fuckin’ sick seeing the other guys stare at you like that.” “Oh you jealous?” you giggled, feeling a happy warm feeling at the thought of Jean being possessive “Damn right I’m jealous. From now on I’m the only one that gets to see that ass okay?” He said as he pulled you closer onto his warm chest, wrapping his strong arm around you. You could smell the strong scent of his masculine cologne and closed your eyes next to him “Mhm” you nodded as you started to drift off to sleep. Jean didn’t usually let his hookups sleepover, he knew you would be more than that.
#anime#aot#attack on titan#jean kirstein smut#jean kirstein#shingeki no kyojin#aot x reader#jean kirsten x reader#jean kirstein x you#jean snk#jean aot#aot jean#jean attack on titan#aot smut#attack on titan smut#attack on titan x reader#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirschtein smut#jean kirschstein#jean kirschtsein x you#snk jean#jean smut#jean x reader#jean x you#jean kirstein thirsts#aot jean smut
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guilty pleasure ㅡ c.sb
pairing: dom!soobin x gn!reader
genre: smut
wc: 1.0k
warnings: kitchen s*x, unprotected (wrap before you tap!), dirty talk, stomach bulge, creampie, pet names (angel), pt. 2 of soobin fucking in the dorms kinda idk
the bed was empty once soobin woke up.
soft sunlight peeked out behind the curtains, capturing his body in a radiant golden glow. the sweltering heat made soobin's soft white sheets stick to his bare chest. it wrapped around his chest neatly, treating him as if he were a greek god. (if it were up to you, you'd mistake him as one for his refined build and looks, anyways.)
"___?" he calls out, his mind still dazed and sleepy. it's only when a few minutes pass with no reply that soobin decides to venture out for you. perhaps you've gone back home already. he wonders if you went home safe.
the boy stumbles out of his dorm room, footsteps pattering against the wooden floorboard while he rubs his eyes. it only takes him a minute of looking when he finally spots you in the kitchen, quietly heating up the stove. you're so cute and tiny, soobin thinks. you're only wearing one of his t-shirts, the material being so big for you you're almost drowning in the fabric.
you giggle, turning your head to press a kiss on his cheek. you can see his face is flushed, painted a muted pink. "m'sorry. just wanted to make breakfast." you whisper. he doesn't reply, just offering you a nod as he hides his head in your neck. soobin deeply inhales, taking in your scent before exhaling. the hot fanning of his breath sends tingles down your spine.
the house is quiet. the cracking of eggs barely echo across the walls. the other members are sound asleep, and soobin still clings to you like an oversized teddy bear. he nuzzles into your neck occasionally, hair tickling your jaw.
the house is quiet. the cracking of eggs barely echo across the walls. the other members are sound asleep, and soobin still clings to you like an oversized teddy bear. he nuzzles into your neck occasionally, hair tickling your jaw.
soon enough, the eggs are cooked and the plates are prepared. you've just about turned off the stove when soobin starts pressing himself against you, bringing the two of you closer. "mmh, bin, let go," you whine, bracing yourself against a counter. soobin groans in response, cupping your ass through the fabric. "no underwear?" he questions, pulling up his shirt as he ruts directly into your bare ass. “didn’t wear any,” you reply, flaunting yourself for him. he hisses at the sight, planting a kiss behind your ear. "you're a tease." he says. you whimper when soobin bends you over the kitchen counter, barely pulling down his sweatpants and boxers to release his hardening cock. "fuck, look at you," he whispers. "bent over my kitchen counter, you do realize other people live here too?" two of his digits plunge themselves into your entrance, slowly opening you up for him. you let out a strangled moan before immediately slapping a hand over your mouth. "as much as i want to hear you, you need to stay quiet." soobin says, the thrill of fucking you in a place his members can just walk in at anytime seeped into his veins. while he's never really been interested at the idea of people just walking in whenever he makes love to you, the stiffness of his cock shows just how excited he is to do this with you. he almost feels guilty for doing it.
gently, a third digit is pushed into your walls. your eyes start rolling back when the tip of one of his fingers brush against a spot that had your knees going weak. just when you feel like you're about to reach the edge, soobin pulls his fingers out of you. he cleans them with his mouth, moaning at the taste. the sudden loss of pleasure makes you whine for him again. "quiet, angel. i'll give you what you want." he soothes, pushing his wet fingers into your mouth. he pulls you up from the counter, your back now fully against his toned chest. soon enough, he was aligning the head of his cock at your freshly opened entrance. without missing a beat, he thrusts himself inside fully, your warm walls clenching around him following the intrusion. a broken moan tumbles out of your mouth, soobin’s fingers barely muffling it. soobin grinds himself into you slowly, allowing both of you to adjust at the feeling. “you really need to be quiet now angel.” he warns you, fingers gripping and holding your jaw firmly. you nod at him to move, and soobin lets go of his restraint.
he pounds his cock into you, barely pulling out an inch of his length before he slams his way back in. your hole clenches uncontrollably, squeezing his cock tightly. the pace he sets is hard and fast, overwhelming you in an instant. soobin’s hands wander all over your body, squeezing your thighs and gripping your waist. it’s not until soobin’s hands press against your stomach that his pace begins to stutter and slow.
“fuck, i’m so big for you, aren’t i?" he moans into your ear. the fingers gripping your jaw force you to look down at your stomach, a prominent bulge showing off through the skin. the sight makes you see stars. he really is that fucking big.
one of his hands cup himself through the skin, watching it slowly move in the rhythm of his thrusts.
"i'm close," you whine. your words are muffled because of soobin's fingers, but he understands anyways. "let go, angel." he says, and his words make you come almost immediately after, juices dripping down your body. "so good for me." soobin mumbles.
it doesn't take much longer for soobin to finish as well, his seed painting your walls and filling you to the brim. you felt so unbearably full of your boyfriend, his cock still plugging you full of his release.
"we should do this again." he speaks up suddenly, breaking the silence.
you might have to consider his words later.
#txt smut#soobin smut#choi soobin smut#txt hard hours#soobin hard hours#txt hard thoughts#soobin hard thoughts#dom!soobin#🍒.soobin
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Echoes|| Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids)
Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Hyunjin
Word count : 5.8K+
Warnings : Blood, death, weapons, fire.
Genre : Romance, time-travel AU, royal AU, suggestive, mentions of death
Description: One day, you’re a college student, barely making it through your finals. And the next, you wake up in a palace, married to the most beautiful man on earth. What the hell is happening?!
A/N : HELLO MY TUMBLR FAM! I know its been way toooo long. And I’ll be honest, I missed everyone and I missed writing more than anything. I’ll try to post regularly and I hope my stories reach out to you as much as they did before.
Also, in other news, if this story gets a good response then imma write a mini series of royal stories for the other members as well(the stories will not be interrelated tho)
I hope y’all like this! I put my heart and soul into it!
You're not sure if you're awake anymore or just a frozen sack of meat staring at a painting like your life depended on it.
"See? I told you, y/n! She looks like you." Your friend, Lia squeals excitedly. You wish you could share even half of her enthusiasm.
You knew this trip to the museum was a bad idea the moment you got on the bus. This entire trip has just not been clicking with you the way you'd expected it to.
You were always a history lover, though. You'd read pages and pages about kings and queens and ancient politics and everything along those lines. This trip was supposed to be equally enlightening but you'd spent the entire day trying shake off an odd, eerie feeling that seems to have latched on to your back.
"Yeah.." you mutter to Lia.
Your eyes run along every single stroke of the painter's brush. The red hues of the curtains, the golden shine of the crowns, the green frills on the Prince's overcoat and the brown contour of the Princess's face.
The face that somehow mirrored yours.
"Maybe she's a far, far ancestor of yours?" Lia suggests, "Who knows, y/n!"
There's no way a Princess from the 1800s could be your ancestor; you'd know if you had even a bit of royal blood coursing through your veins.
And in that one possibility out a million, even if you did have a royal ancestor, there's no way she'd look exactly like you. No way.
"Or it could be your past life, y/n." Lia's voice goes into a whisper, her eyes widening behind her square rimmed glasses, "Maybe you were the princess."
You only sigh in response.
You walk closer to read the placard placed near the foot of the painting.
Hwang Yeji
Painter, 1795-1856.
Portrait of His Royal Highness Prince Hwang Hyunjin and the Royal consort
1827
Oil on canvas
Her Royal Highness princess Hwang Yeji was born in 1795 to His majesty King Chung and the royal consort Her Majesty Queen Sayuu of the then kingdom of Clé. She also has a twin brother, Prince Hwang Hyunjin who is believed to be older than her by a few minutes.
“It is said that the Crown Prince and Princess have had quite a tragic story, and Princess Yeji had gathered strentgh to complete this painting a long time after her brother and sister in law were tragically killed.” Lia reads out the rest of the sentences.
"I'm taking a picture, oh God! This is so fucking awesome." Lia fishes out her phone and starts clicking pictures of the painting, muttering how the similarity between these you and the Royal Consort is giving her goosebumps, "Should I make a video too?"
Her voice drains out into the background as a throbbing pain spreads across your head and eyes and you see odd flashes like the scenes of a movie playing without any particular order; castles, ball dances, a crown colored in blood and a boy wounded in your arms.
An unexplainable force pushes you closer to the painting and the moment your fingers touch the rough wooden frame, your headache stops.
"Y/n, you're not allowed to touch the pai-"
Lia's voice gets quieter and quieter till your vision goes black and your body goes limp.
*
When your eyes flutter open after god knows how long, you find yourself in a rather unexpected place.
The room is bright. Too bright for your liking. Yet the sparkling white marble of the walls and floor look beautiful against the dark brown vintage furniture of the room.
You stir against the feather soft mattress of the bed when a concerned voice calls you from across the room.
"Oh my darling! You're awake!" The voice is gentle, "We were so worried about you, y/n."
Your vision is still hazy but you see the figure of a lady walking toward you.
"Um, where am I?" You ask, rubbing your temples.
Until a while ago, there was unbearable pain but now you feel fine.
"Oh dear," the lady sits at the foot of your bed, "You're home. Do you not remember?"
Home? Since when did home go from a 3 BHK apartment in the heart of the city to this huge, fancy room?
"There..there has been some kind of mistake, ma'am."
When you try to sit up, she pushes you back down. Gentle but insistent.
"Dear, you need to rest. The physician will be here in the evening and I am to stay here with you until Hyunjin arrives, okay?"
She smiles at you and finally, you are able to take a closer look at the woman. Her hair is graying but long, a silver crown rests on her head gracefully and she wears the most beautiful silk gown you'd ever seen. Her face is wrinkled yet when she smiles, one can tell that she must have been quite a beauty back in the day.
"W-who might you be, ma'am?" You ask, nervous, heartbeat in your throat.
You were excited when you saw the fancy room earlier but now it's getting real creepy. Why is this random woman talking to you as if she knows you?
"Oh, dear, y/n," She places a hand on your forehead, and you flinch, "I'm your mother in law. Queen Sayyu. Do you really not remember?"
Your breath gets caught in your throat.
Queen Sayyu. You'd heard that name before. That painting in that museum you were in. Lia was right beside you. What the fuck happened after that?
"I think you're mistaken, ma'am. I am a student. I cannot be married." You mutter, "Did you find my phone when I was brought here? I could call my friend. She must be around." Because there's no way Lia would leave you alone with this creepy old lady with some serious personal issues, right?
But then again, Queen Sayyu was a real person. And for all you know, her daughter in law did resemble you.
Did you perhaps travel back in time? Or was it just your brain making you see weird things?
"Phone? What's that?" She asks.
You sigh, and tap your thighs where your pant pockets once resided but now, your fingers slide across the softest silk.
"Where are my clothes?" You jump out of the bed, getting worried by the second.
Why were you dressed in a blue silk gown? You don't even remember ever buying one.
Panic seizes you when Sayyu tries to touch you, "Ma'am, would you please tell me what’s going on? I'm genuinely confused!"
"I am telling you the truth! You, y/n Princess of The Northern Kingdom was married off to my son Hwang Hyunjin a few months back. " she sucks in a deep breath, "Did you perhaps lose your memories after the accident? Did you hit your head too hard?"
You are about to open your mouth to reply when you hear a gentle knock on the door.
"Y/n, it's Hyunjin. "
Sayyu passes you a worried look before she rushes off to let her son in.
"It's worse than I thought, " you hear her whisper as the front door opens, "She has amnesia!"
You sit on the edge of the bed, running a frustrated hand through your hair.
As if the mother wasn't enough, the son is here too. Brilliant.
"Please talk to her. She is saying peculiar things like some thing called phones and some girl called Lia and she kept asking who I was!" Sayyu continues whispering to Hyunjin, with no active reaction from the latter.
You wonder if Sayyu was really stupid enough to think you couldn't hear her.
"I'll talk to her." A male voice finally replies, "You should rest, mother. You've been here all day."
For some reason, you cannot bring yourself to have a look at your supposed husband.
You have a fleeting memory of the painting you'd seen back at the museum but you weren't sure if the Prince really did look as attractive in real life.
You hear the front door open and close, and then heavy footsteps approach you.
"Is this some new plan of yours? Trying to get attention again?"
Wow. What the actual hell!
You snap your head to look at him, "Excuse me?"
But oh, boy was he beautiful. Long blonde hair, golden eyes and blue silk robes, he carried it all so elegantly.
"Y/n, please. I know you didn't actually lose your memories. So stop pretending and tell me why you are doing it."
For a second, you almost feel bad for yourself.
Well not you you but the princess you.
It must have been hard marrying someone like this. But then again, good looks hardly ever guarantee good behavior.
"I am not pretending. I genuinely do not remember anything, Hyunjin! Why do you have to be so mean?"
"If you really do not remember anything then why are fighting with me like you do always! See, I was right. You are lying."
You clench your jaw, frustrated, " I am fighting because whether I remember you or not, you're still a piece of shit!"
Hyunjin's eyes widen in shock. Of course he never expected his graceful wife to ever use such profanities. He looks betrayed.
"Now get the hell out of my room."
You climb back into the bed, cover your head with the quilt and shut your eyes.
Before you know it, you are sleeping soundly with no idea that your poor husband is spending the night on the sofa in your room
*
The next morning, you are woken up by your maids followed by the most delicious breakfast ever.
They prepare a bath for you, chose a gorgeous gown from the closet, and even style your hair. You do not even have to lift a finger to get these things done.
And all of a sudden, your odd reality doesn't feel as horrible anymore.
You remember the placard placed near that painting, and all your fears vanish. It was written that Prince Hyunjin and his wife would be killed in a few years and you are positive that when you die in this world, you will wake up in your original world.
Yes, the dying part is scary but might as well enjoy the luxury that comes with the fear.
In the afternoon, you find yourself sipping tea and breathing the fresh air of the rose garden behind your palace quarters.
"So you are...Nabi. My lady in waiting?"
Nabi is a cheerful, smiley young woman. She also seems to be closer to the princess version of yourself than most other maids.
"Yes, your Highness, " she sighs sadly, "It breaks my heart to see you like this. Do you really not remember anything?"
"Um, I remember some things. Like the king's and queen's name and princess Yeji. I also know that I am from the Northern Kingdom."
You also know that you'd die in around two years and Hyunjin's sister will make a painting to let the world know what a tragic story you had, but you decide to not say that.
Nabi pouts, "I'm sorry, your Highness. I wish I were there when you fainted. Maybe I could have helped you."
You tap your fingers against the porcelain cup in your hand, "Could you tell me exactly what had happened that day? Did I fall down? Or something else happened?"
"Oh, you didn't fall, no," she chuckles, "All the women of the Royal family were invited to this art gallery. While looking through some paintings, you suddenly fainted. We brought you back immediately."
"The physician check you and confirmed that you weren't pregnant, much to the Queen's dismay. She was looking forward to becoming a grandmother."
You almost spit the tea out, "What! Where did that even come from?"
Nabi smiles, "Well, why else would a newlywed bride faint? Anyway, I knew you weren't pregnant. You'd told me the prince and you haven't done that, you know."
Wow. The princess 'you' really told this girl way more than needed.
"And why exactly did I say we hadn't fu- I mean done that yet?" And now you were asking more than necessary.
"Because he's cold to you." She says, "But you know, even when you told me that, I knew he loved you and only you. He has never been involved with another and I saw him keep a portrait of yours in his private study room."
You are at a loss of words. How does one even react to this kind of information? Should you be happy for the princess 'you' or should you be jealous of her?
You force a smile, "How exactly did you find out about the portrait?"
"What portrait?" A male voice says from somewhere behind you.
Nabi and the other maids quickly get on their feet and greet their prince as this ethereal man walks out from behind the tall bushes.
"Hm? What are you guys talking about?" He asks, a gentle smile on his lips.
Oh so now he smiles?
"Just palace gossip." Nabi says, her gaze low.
"Is it true, my princess?" Hyunjin walks toward you and takes your hand in his, pressing his lips gently to your fingers.
You hate the way your cheeks heat up at the contact.
"Y-yeah. Obviously." You say.
He smiles widely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "Could you ladies please excuse us?"
When Nabi and the maids leave, you find yourself alone with the prince again and you're not sure how you feel about that.
Last night, he was so mean to you and now he's acting like a lovestruck man? What is the meaning of this?
You push him away, "What?"
He sighs.
Today, his blonde hair is tied half way up, and he wears a diamond crown. He looks more sophisticated from last night. More prince-like.
"What?" You demand again.
"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday, okay? I'm still not convinced that you've lost your memories but can we put this behind us for a while?" He says, "Can you come with me to the study room? I have to show you something."
You follow him without question.
The palace complex is still a maze to you and other than your living quarters, you don't know much about the rest of the palace.
He leads you through a staircase to a huge room on the top floor of one of the buildings. Or was it the main palace where the king and queen resided? You weren't sure anymore.
"Yeji was very worried to hear about your amnesia, by the way." Hyunjin mutters as he lights the candles in the room, "She'll be back by next summer."
"Where has she gone?" You say, mindlessly staring at the huge collections of books in this place. A huge chandelier hangs from the center of the room and as the Hyunjin continues to light numerous candles and lanterns around the room, your eyes finally take in the whole picture of the room. For a second, you almost felt like you were watching a Renaissance period drama.
Hyunjin stops in his tracks, "y/n, do you really not know?"
He turns around and looks at you strangely, as if expecting your eyes to give away the truth of this supposed amnesia.
And when he sighs, you know that he didn't find what he desired.
"She's training under a really famous dance academy. If she's lucky, she might be able to clear her final year dance exams this year." He says.
You want to ask him if art doesn't interest her but that might make him doubt you again. You cannot afford to do that when Hyunjin is the only person here who you trust even slightly.
Nabi is honest and Sayyu is kind but you find it hard to match their energy.
"So what did you want to sho-" You stop mid sentence when your eyes fall on a huge painting behind Hyunjin's study table.
Your painting.
"It's me", you gasp, "It's..my portrait."
"Yeah. I just finished it today, actually." He rubs the back of his neck, "I'll hang it in your room once the paint dries."
In the painting, you are sitting on a chair, dressed in the finest white dress you'd ever seen. An elegant tiara sits on the crown of your head, and your lips are stretched into a smile.
"Hyunjin..." you are at a loss of words.
Nabi was right; Hyunjin did have a portrait of you in his study. What she didn't know is that he was the one who made the painting while all this while you were under the impression that Yeji was the artist in the family.
"It's good right?" He asks, unsure.
"Yes. I love it," you reply, "When is this image from?"
Hyunjin frowns at your words, again scanning your eyes as if looking for some hint of lies in your words.
"Y-you don't remember?" He asks.
"What?"
He sighs, looking rather disappointed, "It's from our wedding, y/n."
*
Hyunjin is starting to wonder if you'd actually lost your memories.
The next few days, he tries to subtly engage you in conversations regarding your wedding day and your life before getting married and by the time the week ends, he is sure you'd lost your memories.
He hated to admit it, but he did like the fact that you couldn't remember the times when he was so horrible to you.
Now he can start anew. A clean slate.
"You've been spending suspiciously a lot of time with me, Hyunjin." You had asked him one evening, munching up a cookie, "What's up?"
He chuckles; he's come to enjoy this new side of yours. It's a completely different version of your other self- the one who grew up training to be the lady of a house.
"Nothing," he grabs a cookie for himself, "We're having a ball this evening, by the way. It's mother and father's 30th anniversary."
Your eyes widen with excitement, "Really?! We're having a ball ball. Like we wear dresses and all? And we dance under a huge chandelier?"
Hyunjin is taken aback; you used to hate balls. Or any public gathering for that matter.
"Y-eah, well. Yes." He gulps.
"Oh my god. I need to talk to Nabi. I have so much to prepare, oh my god. Why are you only just telling me," you grab another cookie and sprint towards your room, "Also will there be a fountain where wine flows instead of water? That would be so cool!"
Hyunjin gives you a soft smile; no such fountain was planned for the ball but if it meant he'd see you this excited, he could pull a few strings.
*
The rest of the hours leading upto the ball is a blur; you only remember running from the dressing room to the ball room to your bedroom and back to the dressing room and as for Hyunjin, the day goes slower than ever.
He only got to see flashing glimpses of you running from place to place and somewhere, deep down in his heart, he missed your attention.
It was a jarring realization; him enjoying your company and attention and even craving it at times. He couldn't quite digest this unfamiliar feeling yet, he realised, he wasn't unwelcome to it.
"Are you ready? They're waiting for the Prince and Princess, y/n. We don't want the Royal families of other kingdoms thinking we were out doing something unholy now, would we?"
Hyunjin has this mischievous smile on his, leaning against the door Frame of your dressing room.
Is he flirting? You wonder.
You sigh, "I don't think I look good enough, Hyunjin. I look..weird."
You run a hand over the lustrous material of your ball gown. You feel very foreign in your body all of a sudden.
"I don't think so, my lady," Hyunjin steps into the room, a hand gentle on your waist, "I think you look breathtaking. What would you say, Nabi?"
Nabi hides a blush while you stare at your husband; wide eyed and mouth gaping.
What has gotten into him lately? Is he trying to annoy you or are these words coming from somewhere else?
You shake the latter thought away from your mind. How could this beautiful Prince from centuries before your time find you breathtaking?
Impossible.
You swallow your nervousness and turn on your heels.
"If you say so," you shrug, "Let's go, come on, Hyunjin. "
Chuckling softly to himself, Hyunjin follows suit.
The evening is great but you don't remember much by the time it ends; you somehow end up getting drunk on wine from the wine fountain and Hyunjin has to subtly carry you away from the ball room.
"Hyunjin ~" you slur as he covers your body with a duvet, "Do you ever wonder if a parallel universe exists?"
He lies down beside you, sighing, "Maybe. Why do you ask?"
"I know it exists. I am living proof that it exists, you know," you say, passionately, "I'm not bluffing."
Hyunjin laughs, " Of course, you're not. How could you lie?"
He pushes strands of hair behind your ear.
Your heart thumps against your chest; you love that feeling.
"If there was a parallel universe, I hope I end up with you." You giggle, snuggling into his chest.
Hyunjin freezes for a moment, breath stuck in his throat and eyes not even blinking.
But when he feels you relaxing into him, he let's his shoulders slouch.
"If there was a parallel universe, I hope I end up with you too."
The only reply he gets from you is a snore.
*
The next few months are smooth as the calm sea, pleasant as the spring wind, beautiful like the blooming of roses.
You'd come to adore Hyunjin- that was for sure. You'd come to love his presence and crave it everytime you guys were apart. He had become like the anchor to your ship; and you, his.
"Yeji's coming home tomorrow, by the way. How much do you remember of her?"
"Just her face," and the fact that when you're both killed brutally one day, she'd make a painting of you two, immortalising your love.
The thought causes your stomach to stir; you didn't want to go back to the reality you knew.
All of a sudden, you find yourself wishing you had more time with this man- this man who loved nothing more than lying in your arms, your naked bodies as close as one could get, this man who had made you feel safe when you were suddenly sucked into this unknown world, this man who loved you to death and beyond.
Hyunjin snuggles in closer(as if he could get any closer) and kisses your temple oh so tenderly. Then he moves to your cheek, then nose and then mouth.
His lips are plump and warm and inviting, and before you know it, you both find yourself falling into the wonderful ocean of pleasure. Over and over again.
The next day when Yeji arrives, you are skeptical about approaching her but she was more than happy to see you. Before the day ended, she'd already invited you to a tea party in the gardens, and by the week ended, you guys had become great friends.
She was just so comfortable to talk to and so friendly. She was so curious yet sweet. How could you not be her friend, you often wondered.
It was on one such afternoon picnic that Nabi came running to you.
"His Majesty is injured! He was attacked during his hunt."
You didn't waste a second before storming off towards his room, not caring for your supposed lady etiquette anymore.
No God, please, not yet.
You reach your bedroom, out of breath and sweaty, and Hyunjin was sitting at the edge of the bed, getting his wounds cleaned.
Your heart drops into your stomach.
There is a big gash on his arm; bleeding profusely even though the physicians were trying to stop it. There are blue and purple all over his face and stomach, and a few more smaller cuts on his entire body.
And he looked terrified and pale and sad.
"Hyunjin..." you run to him.
He looks up at you, teary eyed.
"Y/n...I'm okay." Is his first instinct, "Don't cry."
You sit beside him and press a long kiss to his temple, your heart feeling lighter when the physician signals to you that the bleeding has stopped.
"Who was it?" You ask
Yeji stands in front of the two of you; tears streaming down her face.
"Whoever it was, I'll kill them with my own two hands, goddammit!"
"Calm down, guys." Hyunjin sighs, "I didn't see a face. But they were wearing a very familiar perfume. I wonder who it could have been."
You swallow nervously, "Just..just stay safe okay?"
Hyunjin smiles at you, "Of course, my love."
An odd mixture of expressions grace Yeji's face.
*
While Hyunjin recovers, you make sure he does not step out of the palace unaccompanied.
You're getting his food tested, his room sanitized, and every gift that he receives has to go through multiple rounds of security checks. You know what is to come, but some silly, silly part of you wants to prevent it.
"You're being a little too paranoid, I think." Hyunjin tells you as the servants set up the dinner table for him, "I'm gonna be fine, y/n."
"Hyunjin, just," you sigh, reminding yourself to be patient with him, "Just please let me do what I'm doing. It helps me sleep at night."
With a gentle wave of his wrist, Hyunjin dismisses the servants.
He grabs your hand and pulls you in to sit on his lap.
"Y/n, I'm literally right here. I'm stronger than you think. I'm not planning on leaving you any time soon." He presses a kiss to your temple.
A wave of realization washes over you, and you find yourself tearing up, melting into his embrace.
How did you even come to love this man that you'd only ever heard of in history books? Was this even real? If you pinch yourself hard enough, would you wake up to a world where Hyunjin is not yours anymore?
"Just shut up, goddammit, " you say to him, "Hold me, please."
You say it like a request, but really, you were begging him to hold you. To make you feel safe, even if it's for a short while. Because for all you know, the end could be closer than expected.
That night, you and Hyunjin fall asleep in each other's embrace. There was nothing more pure, raw, or beautiful than what you felt with him. In a span of a few months, you'd fallen madly in love with the prince.
It's funny, huh, how you never found love back in the modern world yet here you were, sharing your whole heart with Hyunjin?
Maybe it was always meant to be like that and maybe when this beautiful daydream ends someday, you could look back at it and relish these memories.
"Y/n, get up." You're pulled out of your sleepy thoughts when you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. Urgent.
"Nabi? What time is it?" You whisper back, gently putting Hyunjin's head of the pillow, "What's happened?"
Nabi shakes her head, "The Royal investigators have got some news. A possible group of assassins is heading to the palace as we speak. My lady, we must rush you to safety immediately. The soldiers will escort the Prince."
Your heart hammers against your chest.
"I-I can't leave him. He's not recovered yet. He cannot fight!"
"Your majesty, please. I beg you," Nabi replies, "These are the orders of The Queen. I have to escort you to where the ladies are. "
With a tight throat, you quietly follow Nabi out of the room.
She leads you down through a secret tunnel between Your Palace and The King's, that leads to a dark corridor with a single metal door at the end.
"This way, your majesty. The princess and the queen are inside. I'll bring you news from to time so there's nothing to worry about." Nabi says as she unlocks the door from the outside. She passes the lantern to you.
The moment you step into the dark room inside, you hear a loud bang. You turn around in horror only to find the door closed in your face and Nabi gone.
"N-nabi?" You murmur nervously, "Why did you close the door?"
From inside the room, you hear a faint chuckle.
"She's gone, y/n. Left us to rot in this dungeon forever. "
"Yeji?"
You jog towards the tired, lifeless voice.
And when you reach the princess, what your lantern shows you horrifies you to the core.
"Your majesty!" You fall on your knees, grabbing the lifeless body of a once beautiful Queen who you'd come to adore over the years, "W-what happened?"
You're crying now; watching the princess caress her mother's cold face.
You're sobbing; watching the bloody hands of the daughter who tried to stop her mother from bleeding to death.
"Nabi is..", Yeji swallows, "She's a part of the resistance that wants to overthrow the monarchy. They want a military ruled government. It was her doing. On the day Hyunjin was attacked, I knew it was her."
You cry harder, moaning into your hands.
How could she?
"And I too, am at fault here. I made the mistake of befriending her so so many years ago," Yeji continues, "I paved her way into the palace. I'm as much as of a criminal as her."
You clear your throat, rubbing the tears off your cheeks and neck, another sob bubbling within your chest.
"We do not have time to repent things we had no control over," you say, "The Queen Mother is gone but we can still save your father and Hyunjin. "
"They've taken father to their military fortress. " Yeji says, her tone suggesting she's given up all her hopes. "He's as good as dead. "
"Then we save my husband."
"Y/n, how will we-"
"I saw the key. When Nabi unlocked the door, I saw the key."
"What about it?" Yeji asks, shifting.
"It doesn't have a key. It only has a numerical lock code."
Yeji lifts an eyebrow, as if to ask you "So?"
"It was 0143."
*
Leaving the Queen Mother's body behind, you and Yeji rush out of the door, grabbing every knife, sword, and other sharp object you could find in the dungeon.
"I think she must have taken Hyunjin hostage," Yeji says, rubbing the sweat off her forehead. "But since he cannot fight that well because of his wounds, they're probably interrogating him in your bedroom. "
"Interrogating him for what?"
"The keys to the Royal armory and the king's safe of gold."
Sure enough, you find Hyunjin in your bedroom. Except it wasn't your Hyunjin, it was a replica of
Queen Sayyu. Blood and blood and blood everywhere on his body. His eyes barely open but his hands, they pointed at you as you rushed in.
"Hyunjin!" You cried, kneeling by the bed side floor, "Hyunjin, please, hold on."
The room was empty except for the three of you. The furniture was broken and burnt and cupboards were clearly forced open.
"Did you give them the keys?" Yeji asks him, sobbing, "Mother died to protect those keys."
He coughs and leans into you, "I've alarmed the military. They are on their way."
"The rebels will be coming back too." He coughs again, "The keys are behind the painting in my study. Save them Yeji, run, now."
Yeji steadies herself as she gets up, "Come on, y/n. He said they might come back. "
Oh, but how could you? How could you leave the love of your life to bleed to his death alone while you escaped?
Moreover, this was the tragic end of your daydream, wasn't it? Dying together while Yeji survives and continues to rule the country.
"Go, Yeji, " you tell her, over the noise of the blood coursing through your ears, you hear footsteps, "Now!"
Yeji is a smart girl, you realize. With a hand over her mouth to suppress her sobs, she runs out of the room, without turning back even once.
When she is out of sight, Hyunjin fumbles to find your hand in the darkness. He's cold and stiff.
"If I disappear today, promise me you will find me. Promise me, please y/n." He manages to say.
You kiss his hand softly as the footsteps get closer, tears streaming down your face.
"I will find you. In every universe, in every timeline. I will find you, my love. " you say as you find a metallic taste in your tears and your vision goes black.
*
After what feels like a millennia, the darkness around you is finally replaced by a bright light.
It is too bright, but when you see a familiar face, your discomfort vanishes.
"Lia!" You throw yourself onto your napping friend, "Lia! Oh, I'm so happy to see you."
Lia though surprised at your outburst, returns your embrace with equal enthusiasm.
"I missed you too, y/n." She says, "I didn't know that picture would have such an impact on you. I was so scared when you passed out!"
Picture? What picture?
And suddenly, all the memories play in your mind like an old film. It's hazy, but you know what's going on.
You see blood, a crown, burning curtains, and..a blonde prince.
Hwang Hyunjin.
"Lia..", you sigh, your heart aching terribly, "How long have I been out?"
"Like around 36 hours or so. I don't remember. "She replies.
36 hours in this world and you'd already spent a lifetime in another. How utterly tragic.
"Y/n, what's wrong? You're tearing up." Lia says, offering you a tissue, "Are you in pain?"
You sigh, "Yes. I am in extreme pain, Lia. How could life have been so, so unfair to us?"
Lia gives you a confused nod, not really sure what had exactly led you to believe that life had been unfair to you.
"Y/n, what-"
Lia is cut off by a knock on the door.
"Ah. That must be the doctor." Lia jogs towards the door, "Just a second, Dr. Seo!"
"Um, hello," the doctor greets, "Dr. Seo is in urgent surgery. He sent me in his place to check on the patient. "
When the doctor steps in closer, your breathing gets stuck in your throat.
Of course, you know this man. How could you not?
You'd died with him in another world, in another time, in another life.
You'd loved him.
"I'm Dr. Hwang, Miss Y/n." The doctor says, a familiar expression on his face. He looks rather delighted to see you.
"I feel like I've seen you somewhere before." He chuckles to himself as he sits on the chair by your hospital bed.
"Yes, me too." These are the only words you manage to say.
#skz#stray kids#skz au#skz scenarios#stray kids imagines#skz hyunjin#skz hyunjin x reader#skz hyunjin au#skz fics#skz royal au#stray kids hyunjin#skz smut#skz fluff#3racha#skz hyunjin fluff#skz imagines#kpop imagine#skz kpop#skz angst#skz romance
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joel getting off of a carpenter job all sweaty and smelling like lumber and probably a little beer and uhhhhhhhhh stealing his sweaty shirts and huffing them when he goes to shower. what who said that 🧍♂️
rl quick shoutout to my dilf friend who hosts the orgy he smells rly good and i huffed his pits last night so this one’s your fault babes mwah
anatomical terms: cunt, dick
Is this how drug dogs feel?
When some idiot’s trying to sneak weed through customs, is this how excited they get when they catch a whiff?
Well, probably not this excited, and either way, it’s not the smell that hypes them up, but the promise of a treat afterwards.
You, on the other hand, were attracted to the smell itself, or at least the idea of it. Specifically, Joel’s scent as soon as he walked into the apartment, face flushed, brow dotted with sweat, wet patches pooling under his armpits, sawdust sprinkling him from head to toe, ripped jeans with paint splatters on them. He looked gorgeous, so masculine and powerful. Jesus was a carpenter too, wasn’t he? Yeah, that tracks. No wonder he had twelve dudes following him all the time. Joel’s smell was as conspicuous as lighting a blunt in the airport, something that’d surely attract the dogs.
He wiped his Timberland boots on the mat, then knelt down to untie them. You watched, entranced, as he kicked them off and unbuckled his tool belt. You wanted nothing more than to rush him and face-plant into his armpits, but you figured you should show at least some restraint.
“I’m’onna take a shower,” Joel said matter-of-factly, dropping his tool belt on the counter. “Scream if ya need me.”
Shit, if that’s all it took, you’d scream for him to suffocate you in his pits and let you huff that glorious Man Smell™️ until you pass out, but that wasn’t what he meant. He meant “Unless you’re being murdered, don’t bother me for the next 20 minutes”.
No matter. You could easily keep yourself busy in that time.
Once the shower was on, you cloaked your footsteps under the sound of running water. Slowly, ever so slowly, you tiptoed to the bathroom and cracked the door open. Joel wouldn’t have been able to see you through the shower curtain, anyway, but you didn’t want him catching on. You slid your arm through the gap and blindly felt around for the first piece of clothing you could grab. At the first touch of cotton, you hooked your fingers into it, yanked it through the door, and inspected your prize: his t-shirt. Jackpot.
Having snagged your precious treasure, you shut the bathroom door and practically skipped off to your room. You flopped onto your bed, held the balled-up shirt to your face, and took a big whiff. Sweat, lumber, testosterone, and what you guessed to be either Modelo or Corona. Whatever it was, it was just one ingredient, one splash in this hedonistic cocktail that made it all the more intoxicating. Your cunt was already crying for attention, so you slipped your fingers in your underwear to soothe it. Rubbing along your own slit, spreading the wetness around, pinching your dick and stroking it, you tended to your needs as best you could, the musky shirt muffling your moans. You’d gotten so invested, so focused on your task, that you forgot to listen for the shower turning off. You only realized your mistake when it came barging through your bedroom door.
“Hey, have you seen my-?” Joel started, and then stopped mid-question when you answered it for him. Yes. Yes, you had seen his shirt. And now he had seen it, balled up in your desperate fist, while your other hand rubbed your even more desperate cunt.
No fucking shot of explaining your way out of this one. He knew immediately.
Joel snorted at the pathetic sight before him, “Oh my god, that’s… What is wrong with you, kid?”
You laid frozen on the bed as he approached, surely taking his sweet time to let your embarrassment fester. Once he was within range, he snatched the shirt out of your hand, and said,
“Don’t go stealin’ my shit, boy. Next time you want somethin’ from me, use your words and just fuckin’ ask.”
#anon#ask#tlou#tlou x reader#tlou smut#joel miller#joel miller headcanon#joel miller imagine#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut
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hii can you write a Caitlyn x fem reader where the reader wakes up in Caitlyn's bed, appearing that they had hooked up the night before and Caitlyn asking if they would stay for breakfast and the reader being all nervous etc.
i love your work btw <33
━ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐃
𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem!Reader
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, both reader and caitlyn are described as nude, sexual innuendos, flirting, a kiss at the end, mentions of consuming alcohol ( past ), mentions of being drunk ( past )
𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah but I'm tired/Nope
𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - so sorry this has taken this flipping long! thank you so much for the request, ily sm!! hope you enjoy <3
PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK! I WORK HARD! IT'S APPRECITATED!
The morning sun burned against your skin with delicious warmth. Sheer curtains swaying in the breeze, it made for a peaceful awakening after a not so peaceful night out.
The large window practically blinded you though when your eyes finally cracked open. Your heading turning on instinct, trying to look away from it.
Your brain felt like it pounded against your skull and a faint taste of alcohol resided on your tongue, you glanced around at the ceiling. Trying to gather your thoughts, trying to remember what chaos you'd gotten into. And if you needed to apologize to any poor soul out there that you might've accidentally tortured.
That's when it dawned on you. The ceiling. It wasn't your own, too fancy, and that fact alone made you realize it wasn't one of your friend's ceilings either.
That's when she shifted, just slightly, her hair tickling your chest when you peered down. For a moment you kind of hoped it was a wild animal. At least you wouldn't be embarrassed when it awoke.
Blue, that's the first observation you had, the strands were a dark blue. Pretty if not the circumstances.
And you weren't wearing a shirt.
That was the second observation.
Great.
At that moment, you swore your breath hitched and you looked back up a the ceiling. It was like pretending she'd go away if you didn't look at her. One, two three, and poof. But this wasn't a magic show.
And again, she moved, making it more real than you would've liked.
When the fuck did you meet her last night.
"Well aren't you a flirt.."
She had a thick accent, you remembered it. It's what caught your attention in the first place, the way things just rolled off her tongue. There are plenty of accents where you come from, but you liked hers. It felt elegant, sophisticated.
Maybe it was because she was pretty, but you replied to it.
"I try my damnedest, that's for sure. Now why are you alone?"
You don't remember what she said. Maybe she wasn't alone, maybe she was for a good reason. You racked your brain, but you couldn't remember.
For a moment, the brief idea of leaving and never looking back shook your mind. Grab whatever garments of yours you could find on the floor and make a break for it, but then you shook it away. How the fuck would you manage sneaking out of an enforcers house?
Yeah, you remembered that tiny detail.
The blue hair could only belong to one girl with that accent, Caitlyn Kiramman, and for fucks sake, you ended up in her bed.
"Hm..." She shifted again, sitting up and rubbing her face. Slowly looking around her room as you awkwardly watched her, and something inside you prayed she wouldn't turn to see your face.
But that would be too easy.
"I- uh... would've left but..." You tried to joke, sitting up when she finally pulled away. There was a faint smile on her face, her soft eyes still holding sleep as she examined your expression.
"Sorry..." She'd blushed, cheeks painted in a tint of pink while you tried to avoid staring right into her pupils. "Nah, it's fine." You replied quietly, awkwardly trying to look everywhere but at her.
Your hands were very interesting this time of day, wow you needed to take better care of your nails.
"Did we..." She began to ask, but she'd already knew the answer. Her flustered state only increasing when you nodded your head. "Huh.." Was all she then said, sitting up further while leaning her head on her palm. Her arm resting on her leg.
"I can just get my clothes and-"
"Leaving so soon?"
You looked at her with slightly wide eyes, pausing from any action you'd begun to take to get up. The blanket hovering around your waist but your chest was exposed and you didn't even try to cover up.
Mostly because you were in a state of slight shock.
"I mean- I-" You stuttered, keeping your eyes on her face as to not accidentally get a nice examination of anything else. "I don't want to bother." The sentence finally strung together.
"Who said you'd be bothering?"
Her voice made you want to reach forward and repeat every interaction from last night. But instead, you swallowed, taking in a deep breath. You still felt like you were gonna fall through the floor, there would be no continuation even if you wanted it.
Get it together, damn.
"I.." Caitlyn interrupted you though, "I mean, you can leave if you'd like. But I would like you to stay." Your mouth shut, and you debated your next words carefully whilst biting the inside of your lip.
"Why?"
It came out smaller then you would've liked, you almost sounded afraid. But the enforcer in front of you understood it was nerves, chuckling at your reaction.
"You gave me a good conversation last night, if you... remember?" You laughed slightly, earning a bit of a wider grin from her. "And, I'd like to continue it a little further, if you'd indulge me."
She'd definitely done this before.
The thought popped into the front of your head before you got the chance to stop it. Again you felt like shriveling up and falling right over. Anything would be better then how she was looking at you as you processed what she said.
Like she wanted to reach forward and actually repeat every action from the night before.
"I really liked you last night."
Your face burned, though not visible, it burned. Turning around and screaming into the fluffy pillows would be beneficial about now. It was like being a teenager whilst talking to your crush for the first time. Only it wasn't your first time, you were just sober now.
"I liked you too, from what I remember." She giggled, laying back down beside you. Basking in the way your eyes followed her form as she spread out on the mattress.
"You were quite drunk, huh?" Caitlyn teased, loving the way you playfully scoffed and rested your back on the headboard. "So were you." "At least I can handle my liquor, Y/n."
You sarcastically laughed, shaking your head and looking forward.
"I can.. just not when I see pretty girls that make me nervous, Caitlyn."
"Nervous?" She asked, placing her head on her palm.
"Do I make you nervous?"
Yes, you absolutely do.
"A little." You replied.
A lot.
"Well... if that's the case, maybe we can calm those nerves while eating?" She must've noticed the slight raise in your eyebrows and once again she began to laugh. Shaking her head and sitting up slightly once again.
"I mean breakfast." She clarified, your mouth unintentionally moving into the shape of an 'o', nodding your head. "Depends, will it be just us?"
Caitlyn smiled, leaned forward towards you, so close her breath fanned your face. Her lips inches from your own, catching all the confidence you had and ripping it apart.
"If you'd like. Unless you want to take my parents on the date too?"
"I'll pass on that."
She grinned, finally leaning forward and pressing a small kiss to your lips. Feeling you return almost immediatley.
"Good, then it's settled."
#caitlyn arcane#caitlyn#caitlyn kiramman x reader#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn kiramman#arcane caitlyn#arcane x y/n#arcane x reader#arcane x you#nevy writes
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hiii so i have a request! Could you do one like still in harry's 1d days. So like y/n is louis sister and she has been friends with the band since the beginning and harry has been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her and all that. But he never told her because she always had a bf but those bfs would never treat her right like always ignoring her and flirting with other girls so harry kept this like journal where he wrote how in love he is with y/n and how he would treat her right, how he know everything about her all the little things and how no one could love her as much as he does. So then one day like during prince hair harry her and harry are sharing a hotel room with seperate beds (ofc haha, but because they have always been best friends) and y/n finds this journal and like reads all the things he has written and then she goes to him and is like "well, if i didnt know any better i would say mr styles has a crush on me" and he gets all nervous and says that it isnt just a crush and he is in love and that and then he asks "will you be my girlfriend. I cant' go another day of not kissing you, hugging you, touching you I cant stand you not being mine" and y/n finds it very sweet but she is very insecure and kind of rejects him in a nice way because she feel they will critisise her because they expect harry to be w a model and gorgeous girl and harry is tells her how beautiful she is and how he feel in love the moment they met and how it didnt matter what the world thought because no one can love her like he can and he know eveything about her so he asks again "will you let me be your boyfriend" and she finally agrees and then he holds her close and protectively and then y/n starts tearing up and says sorry because she was being silly and he says "dont be. Its not silly, baby. I'll be her to wipe every tear and to comfort you. Your heart is safe here, you are safe with me, my love" and then how they spend the first night together because well they share a hotel room and then the morning after harry saying how happy he is and how he has always dreamed about it and then they meet with the boys and tell em the news and they are all very happy and are like "about time" and yeah hope you understand it thank you again so much it would be great i feel its so cute! <3
Does he know?
OMGOMG THANK YOU FOR THISS!! the detail you put in and the image it painted in my head AHHH❤️
I’m so sorry this has taken so long!! I really wanted this to be perfect!! 🌷 but thank you for your patience It means the world x
Warnings: jealousy, mentions of toxic relationships, cussing, smutty themes if you squint, pent up emotions.
— — — — — — —
— early 2013 —
Harry’s fingers held a ballpoint pen between his fingers, the lined paper sat empty on the table adjacent to him.
There new album ‘midnight memories’ was due mid November of this year, he loved his job but these deadlines took the piss.
‘Fuck’ he whispered to himself, he didn’t realise the clock had gone over midnight.
The shared tourbus was at a halt for the night the rest of the four boys remained in there bunk and no one heard a peep from them through the rest of the night.
“Y’alright H?” Y/n said Peeling the curtain that separated the bunks to the lounging area of the bus, and pulling it back behind her.
“Sorry y/n, did i wake you?” He quietly asked, dropping his pen instantly.
He would be lying if he said he didn’t have a crush on y/n, she was also the youngest of the Tomlinson family so her and Harry grew up together at the same time and age, hitting each milestone and big birthdays together.
“No, no not at all” she waved, sitting on the sofa next to his.
“What y’doing awake still?” She asked, taking a sip of her water.
“Tryna get song ideas, getting absolutely nowhere” he said, crossing his arms back and leaning back on the cushions.
“What are you doing awake? He smirked.
“Can’t sleep, excited for tomorrow” she smiles.
“Haven’t seen you all on stage for a while” she added.
They sat and spoke for awhile, what y/n was oblivious of is how many ideas he was racking up watching her.
She reached her arm out to grab her water bottle, her wrist was exposed from her hoodie sleeve for a second, what Harry didn’t expect was to see an inky drawing.
“Is that a tattoo?” He asked.
“Oh this?” She askers pulling her hoodie up her arm.
“Yeah, me and Louis got matching a few days ago, a random spontaneous idea that popped into our heads” she laughed repressing the day her and her older brother got matching ‘28’ tats.
“It’s funny because ben, hasn’t even noticed it, and it’s like our 4th month together” y/n mentioned, a slight frown forming on her face.
Harry’s heart teared a tiny bit, she was still with this ‘Ben’ it was clear none of the boys got on with him, he wasn’t the bestest of boyfriend.
“Really?” He asked, eyes widening.
“Mmhmm, don’t know what to do about this whole Situation-ship thing”
“Well, do you love him?” He asked, fiddling with the hem of his band tee.
“I can’t say I do Harry” she sighed, “but there’s a part of me that feels bad” she added.
“Don’t feel bad, if it’s not meant to be, s’not meant to be”
All y/n wanted to do was scream out her attraction to him, something clicked in, the soft and gentle words he spoke, the way he still looked good at 1am after a busy day, the way he made a band tee look like piece of designer. Y/n wasn’t sure what happened.
Y/n soon enough found herself back in her bunk, trying to push down her sudden butterflies, hoping it’s just a 1am sleepy thought, the last thing she wants is to thirst over her brothers best friend.
When y/n and Harry exchanged there goodnights, he instantly got back to his paper.
‘Does he know’ he whispered.
‘Does he know’ he repeated.
‘Your secret tattoos?” He asked himself.
He instantly jotted these phrases to himself.
Harry tried to think to himself of the little things you do.
Maybe you could be his muse this time around?
—
It was 8:45am the next day the bus was off again at 5pm so for now they could relax.
Y/n believed she was alone on the bus, she thought the boys were out doing the coffee run, she thought wrong.
“But she doesn’t know who I am, and she doesn’t give a damn about me” she sang whole continuing to organise her suitcase on her bunk.
As the beats of ‘teenage dirtbag’ continue, she moves her body to beat and sing.
“Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baaby” she sung.
“Y/n you may be a Tomlinson doesn’t mean you can sing like one though” he interrupted, almost kicking the tourbus door open and walking over to her bunk with her Starbucks in hand.
“Heeeey, I’m a lovely singer, it should be me selling out O2” she said with pride.
“She got you there tommo” Niall piped in walking in.
“See” she giggled.
“Thank you for this lou” she dragged taking a sip of her iced coffee.
“No problemo, me and and the lads are heading to the studio in a bit y’ can come if you want?” Louis offered sitting on his bunk opposite to y/n’s.
“Yeah will do” she answered.
At this point all boys were back on the bus enjoying some quality time together, but all Harry could think of was the remaining lyrics.
‘The songs that you sing when your all alone?’ He thought to himself, that’s a keeper.
——beginning of where we are 2014——
In past year y/n and Harry had become closer than ever, it’s was a night at the MSG, the boys opted on a hotel instead of the bus, to Louis’ dismay y/n and Harry were up for sharing a hotel.
“Neither of you better be doing anything” Louis called the opposite of the hotel door.
“Fuck sake lou, you can come in” she laughed, laying her head back on the hotel bed frame.
The door clicks open to see a wet head louis, who was still clad in his joggers and ‘the who’ tee.
“You nearly ready Harry!” He called, pulling his phone out and glancing the time.
“Yeah man” he said emerging from the bathroom.
“Have fun tonight guys” she called out as they both met each other at the door. “I’ll be sure to watch some shitty livestream of you all prancing about on stage” she laughed.
“Thanks love” Louis said rolling his eyes.
“See you y/n don’t get too lonely without us” Harry smirked flashing her a wink while adjusting his head scarf which kept his unruly curls at bay.
“Bye boys” she called as they slowly walked off and headed to the arena.
They had been gone about an hour and y/n knew they wouldn’t be back till maybe after midnight.
She decided to set down and get ready to stay in her bed and have a relaxed night.
When unpacking her bags and digging to find her favourite pyjamas she was sure she packed. A large ‘thump’ was heard the other side of the room.
“Shit” she jumped.
A relieved smile, when it was something falling out of Harry’s suitcase.
She turned her head and spotted a brown, leather notebook that was lying on the carpet by his bags.
Once y/n had picked out her pjs for the evening, she walked over to the bed she picked out in the hotel room.
She placed them down by her pillows and was about to reach out for her phone by the charging port until something about this note book, caught her eye, ‘one and only’ was scribed into the leather with black ink.
She knows she shouldn’t, she knows that not hers, that’s Harry’s, that’s his property not y/n’s but there was something pulling her in a feeling she couldn’t push down.
A shaky breath left her mouth as her fingers reached out towards the book in front of her.
She peeled back the smooth cover:
23rd of February 2013
Ben doesn’t know how lucky he is, such a smart, beautiful, caring woman, how could he take her for granted??.
Y/n’a heart was running a Marathon.
“No” she said louder than she anticipated.
She flicked to the next page:
28th February 2013
‘All of us were at the studio this evening I couldn’t stop staring at y/n, I feel terrible knowing it’s my best friends sister, but she is wonderful’
Her mind was now matching her palpitating heart, a million thoughts were being processed at that moment.
He really thought the same the whole time?
She quickly flicked another.
3rd of March 2013
Write a couple of songs for midnight memories is it bad to say there all inspired by one person.
If she was mine she wouldn’t be ignored or treated terribly, I hope Louis talks to her about this Ben.
Y/n did agree with this statement getting rid of Ben was the best thing she’s done.
But she didn’t know Harry was the one with a crush.
She couldn’t believe her eyes, he really felt the same? He really did like her? She was almost hyperventilating.
10th of March 2013
I’ve noticed when y/n gets anxious she plays with the ends of her hair, I wish I could just scoop her into my arms and tell her it’s going to be okay.
Ben is finally out the picture, hopefully she can be with someone who knows her self worth.
Her heart is beaming, butterflies fill each side of her tummy, her mind still feeling a little delusional and still very much in disbelief.
Maybe this was her sign to take there friendship another level up.
She slammed the cover over the paper and decided if she’d read anymore she’d become a crimson red mess.
She gently tucked it into the suitcase of where it fell and tried to go on as normal.
She decided to wait up for Harry and see what she could do about this, she couldn’t hide this any longer she wish she knew sooner about his little crush.
It was just past midnight and she heard the hotel room key click in approval.
A tired looking Harry appears.
“Y’alright” she quietly asked.
“Mmm” he hummed shutting the door behind him.
Y/n move to one side of her bed, and patted the empty space beside her, inviting him to join.
Wether it was just his sleepy mind, but he took no time and accepted her invitation.
Y/n let him adjust to the light, and get comfortable not wanting to overload him already.
“Y’okay” he asked, noticing her thinking face.
“Yeah” she smiled.
“Well if I didn’t know any better, than I think that you mr styles have a teeny crush” she said, a breathy laugh leaving her mouth.
His eyes widened, now it it was his time to go red.
“Wha-“ he nervously laughed.
“I guess y’right” he said looking straight ahead at the blank wall.
“Y/n, m’gonna be honest”
“I’m in love with you”
Y/n’s heart pounded inside her chest, this is real? This was real life, he admitted.
“Harry” she blushed.
“And I know, it’s probably weird, we’ve been friends for 4 years now and on a random night , I’m now saying this but, seeing you keep hurting yourself on these boys that don’t understand you, it hurts”
“Harry-“ her cheeks becoming a strawberry colour.
“Be my girlfriend?” Harry blurted.
Y/n’s ears almost burned at the question, Someone she actually had interest in liked her back? And wanted to be with her? She felt like. Lovesick teenager again.
She wanted this, more than ever.
But Louis.
Realistically there was nothing wrong with it, they were the same age, and both wanted it.
“I can’t stand another day, not touching you, not hugging you, not wiping your tears away” he added, which caused y/n’s thought process to halt.
“Harry, y’too good for me” she started, a glossy layer had formed over her eyes.
“Y’need someone better, your options are so big” she said head almost dropping to her lap.
“Hey” he said taking using his index finger and thumb to guide her chin up.
“What I’ve learnt is your the one I want, haven’t been able to settle because of you y/n”
“Be mine?” He asked once again leaning his forehead on hers using his free hand to wipe the tears away.
“Please” he whispered, this is all he’s wanted.
Worried that her words would fail her at that moment all she could do was frantically nod.
“Yeah?” He smiles, there noses basically touching at this point.
“Words baby, need y’words” he reminded.
“Yeah, yes harry yes” she smiled, tears still manage to cascade her cheeks.
“Thank fuck” he breathed, now hesitating to wrap his arm around the girl, oh how he’s longed to do that.
The girl crashes into his touch, not taking her time either.
“Your okay, y’safe in my arms love” he whispered into her hair, pressing his long awaited kisses.
— the following morning —
Both Harry and y/n were getting ready to meet the rest of the lads on the bus, which was round the back of the hotel.
“How are we gonna tell them?” Harry asked getting the rest of his stuff.
“They’ll understand, Louis will be unsure but he’s my brother he can’t hate me forever” she laughed.
She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and they made there way to the boys.
“Guys we have something to tell you all” y/n began.
— — — — —
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#my fic writing#harry styles au#request#Harry styles requests#harry styles x y/n#harry styles blurb#one direction#fluff#tpwkwriter#harry tpwk#my writing#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x reader#HS#on direction 2013#lhh
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Burning Down The House
Well, this turned out to be a little angstier than I anticipated but I hope you guys like it! I'm thinking there will probably be a part 2, maybe a part 3 as well. As always, please leave your thoughts in the comments and if you have any title ideas, send them my way!
~*~*~*~
Eddie was used to people hating him. He was long accustomed to the insults, points, and glares that came from being different in a small town. As sad as it was, it was a constant in Eddie’s life. No matter what, he could always count on people to despise him for being himself. It didn’t matter if he was a scared little kid moving in with his uncle to escape his father’s abuse or if he was a grown man trying to move on after a traumatizing experience, the people of Hawkins were never going to show him any respect.
Every time he left his house after the Spring Break from hell and his subsequent recovery period in the hospital, the fellow people of Hawkins made sure to show him how much they didn’t want him there. Andy and his other jockey goons would corner him to give him flurries of punches that would leave his ears ringing for days. Principal Higgins had gifted him his high school diploma through the mail on the condition that ‘he just stay away’. Even the little old ladies that were once enamored by his politeness glared at him now on the street.
But Eddie could handle it, he’d long given up on winning everyone over. Years ago, he’d built his armor into impenetrable walls of steel that hadn’t failed him yet. He’d grown his hair out into a dark curtain to use as a shroud, he’d wrestled into a battle jacket, and covered his vulnerabilities with patches for metal bands. The people of Hawkins couldn’t get to him now.
They could get to Wayne though, and they did. Eddie came home one too many times to Wayne scrubbing spray paint off the sides of the trailer, arthritic fingers cramping as he tried to spare Eddie’s feelings from the harsh words scrawled in paint. He’d see Wayne’s old friends avoiding him downtown, not wanting to associate with the guy related to a murderer. But Eddie’s breaking point was when he stumbled upon Steve helping Wayne into the trailer one day.
Steve wasn’t supposed to come over that day so Eddie had taken a nap instead. But when he heard loud voices coming from the kitchen, Eddie climbed out of bed to investigate. What he saw though was something he wished he’d never seen. Steve was holding one of Wayne’s arms, guiding him to the couch in the living room while Wayne held a bag of frozen peas against his eye. His face was bruised and he was limping as if his body was battered.
“What the fuck? What’s going on? Uncle Wayne, are you okay?” Eddie asked them frantically. Uncle Wayne just eased back onto the couch with one hand on his ribs and the other still holding the frozen peas.
“I’m alright, kid. It ain’t nothing I can’t handle,” Wayne comforted him.
“‘Nothing you can’t handle?’ What the fuck was it that you had to handle, Uncle Wayne?” Eddie desperately asked again.
“Look Eds-”
“I caught some of the old basketball team beating on him. I managed to chase them off but not before they got in a few punches. Nothing too serious though, I’m almost positive he just has a shiner and some bruised ribs. No concussion,” Steve assured him.
“You didn’t have to tell him that. Snitches get stitches, Harrington,” Wayne hissed at him.
Eddie couldn’t get over the fact that Wayne had gotten hurt at all. Hawkins was his home, Wayne had lived there his entire life and now the community that he’d grown up with was turning on him? Just because Eddie was accused of some murders that he didn’t even commit? It was such… bullshit.
“Uncle Wayne, I’m so sorry! This is all my fault. You don’t deserve this, I should- I’m just so sorry.” Eddie felt tears build up in his eyes. There was no one less deserving of a beating than Wayne. He was the saint that took Eddie in when no one else wanted him so for him to take the brunt of Eddie’s actions, it made him feel terrible.
“Boy, this ain’t yer fault. You didn’t do nothing and you don’t deserve this either. I’m fine, everything’s gonna be alright. We just gotta wait for this to blow over,” Wayne told him calmly. He could tell that Eddie was on the verge of a panic attack but he knew that words always calmed him down.
Steve just shook his head at them both and handed Wayne some more ice. “I don’t think this is going to blow over. I heard some of my neighbors are trying to get the cops to arrest Eddie again even though we already got his name cleared. And I guess some of the guys on the basketball team with Lucas are trying to scare you guys off. It might be time for you guys to move somewhere else.”
Eddie just looked at him blankly. “And go where? With what money? We can’t afford to leave.”
Wayne hummed, “Nah, I don’t want to leave here. Hawkins is home whether they like us here or not. We’re staying until we can’t no more.”
Steve and Eddie made eye contact over Wayne’s head and shared a heavy look. That day was approaching faster than anyone was comfortable with. The town had always hated Eddie but Wayne now too? Things were escalating and it would only be a matter of time before the choice was taken from them.
Later that night, Eddie was wrapped like an octopus around Steve in his bedroom when he heard glass breaking. His head shot up in tandem with Steve’s and they both hurried to get out of bed. Steve grabbed his nail studded bat that he’d taken to storing next to the bed and made his way down the hallway. They didn’t see an intruder but what they found was so much worse.
The entire kitchen was engulfed in flames. The fire was creeping along the walls of the living room and the charring was reminiscent of that of the Upside Down. Thick, black smoke threatened to suffocate anyone that tried to combat it.
“Fuck Eddie, get Wayne! Get as much shit as you can and get out!” Steve yelled at him as he dropped the bat and hurried to fill a mixing bowl with water. “Eddie, go!”
Eddie spun around and bolted to Wayne’s room. His uncle was sleeping soundly on the bed, the bruising along his face darkened further with the light of the fire illuminating it.
“Wayne! Get up, the trailer is on fire!” He shook his uncle’s shoulders until his eyes squinted open. “Uncle Wayne, the house is on fire, we have to go!”
They made it outside before any real damage could be done. Wayne and Eddie were fine, no burns or smoke inhalation. Steve, the glorious and idiotic bastard that he was, contained the fire to the kitchen until the fire department got there and refused to leave the trailer until he’d secured Wayne’s favorite Garfield coffee mug. Wayne couldn’t even yell at him when he showed him, just pulled him into a long hug and nestled the mug close to his chest.
It seemed that their prior conversation had tempted the universe because they couldn’t stay in Hawkins after that. Even with little damage occurring to the bedrooms, the fire damage to the kitchen and living room areas made the trailer uninhabitable.
After packing what they could into the cars, they made their way to the Harrington’s house to spend the night. Eddie couldn’t stop shaking during the drive and long after Steve had pulled him into his own bedroom.
“Eds, it’s okay. Everything is fine, we all got out safe and Wayne got to keep his favorite mugs and caps. Win-win, everything will be okay.”
Eddie just looked at him in shock. “Everything is not okay, Steve! Someone tried to murder us in our sleep and then ruined our trailer by setting it on fire. That’s not okay! And now we have to find a new place to live and after this, it’s definitely not going to be in Hawkins which means I’ll have to leave you and the kids. Nothing about this is okay!”
Steve pulled Eddie into his arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Eddie, we’ll find a new place for you guys and we’ll make sure you’re safe. And you don’t need to worry about me. I love you so I’m going to follow you wherever you go.”
“What about Wayne?”
“He’s probably going to throw more of a fit if I don’t go. I’ve heard him telling you to buy me a ring, I don’t think he’ll let you leave me here if you tried,” Steve chuckled.
That was true, Wayne had been threatening to propose on his behalf if he didn’t get a move on even though gay marriage wasn’t legal yet in the first place. Regardless, Steve wasn’t getting away from the Munsons anytime soon.
Steve brushed his hair off his face as he thought and whispered, “get some sleep, Eds. We’ll worry about it in the morning. You’re safe here, I got you.”
And with that, Eddie fell asleep feeling safer and more secure than he had in months, maybe ever. Nothing was alright right now but they would be eventually. Especially if he had Wayne and Steve to count on, which he would for a long time coming.
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#they all end up moving somewhere and starting life over outside of Hawkins#Steve doesn't tell the Party he's leaving too just kind of sneaks off while they're saying goodbye to Eddie and never comes back#Robin hunts him down and almost gives him another concussion#stranger things#steddie#angst#steve harrington#eddie munson#uncle wayne#wayne munson
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