#i need like three thousand more words to cover the rest
Text
Private Viewing
Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader
Word Count: 6.8k
What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?
Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.
Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.
Masterlist
Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy.
You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight.
Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception.
You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out.
“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself.
“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum?
It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”
You want to cry.
“Four.”
The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.
“Three.”
You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.
“Two.”
The tears are flowing now.
“One.”
You let out a strangled scream.
“Cum baby. Do it, now.”
Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well.
With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum.
When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.”
And then the live is over.
Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed.
…
Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class.
You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.
The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you.
You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang.
He apologizes before making his introduction. He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.
It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you.
His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence.
It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention.
Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O.
“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen.
Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand.
It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone.
Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes.
When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.
That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.
…
Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself.
‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”
‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’
‘No…’
‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’
You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad.
Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.
He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans.
You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat.
Princess23: hi Ed
His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"
There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.
Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.
The reply to his question is truer than he realizes.
"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.
Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth.
It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.
"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"
Princess23: yes please
"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans.
You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one.
Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.
He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.
"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off.
As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs.
Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.
"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length.
"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?"
"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound.
You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth.
"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect."
You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit.
The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.
The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.
There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level.
It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast.
So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.
You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy.
"Oh fuck," you cry. Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions.
He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized.
He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.
The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core.
Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.
He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end.
“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”
“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.”
The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated.
Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight.
With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure.
…
It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week.
Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you.
You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?
There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you.
“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”
You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space.
“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?”
“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.”
He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it.
“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”
You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”
"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students.
You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?
…
You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job.
It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay.
Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition.
You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”
“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together.
You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster.
Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised.
“What was that?” He asks.
“What was what?” You answer.
“Why did you slam your phone down?”
“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”
“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”
A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen.
“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.
Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."
…
After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean.
It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not.
You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand.
You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."
He turns to you. "Hum?"
You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."
"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered.
"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."
He doesn't look all too surprised.
"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."
Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."
"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans.
You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.
Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.
Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.
When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly.
He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin.
"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out."
The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved.
"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself."
You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped.
He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.
Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long.
You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to.
'He knows." You argue with yourself.
'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'
The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it.
So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen.
Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.
He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head.
You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more.
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut.
You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him.
Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls.
Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.
He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more.
It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does.
"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.”
Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises.
In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark.
…
Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see.
Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf.
You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear.
“Hi, Sweetheart.”
“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.
“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face.
You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret.
“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?”
Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer.
Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.
Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking.
“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.
He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”
He forces you to look at him and you nod your head.
You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful.
As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down.
“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.”
“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.”
He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”
“Yes, but-”
He cuts you off with a finger over your lips.
“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours.
They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does.
To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.
His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.
With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank.
When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine.
"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."
You pout. "But Eddie…"
"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."
You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work.
It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it.
"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."
He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."
You moan loudly at his praise.
"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."
His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.
"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster.
"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.
"Kiss me again," you beg.
He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you.
The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt, uncomfortably, between your legs.
"So good for me." He praises.
You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.
"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.
"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin.
You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."
Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs.
You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds.
You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.
"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.
The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.
"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.
"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."
Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"
It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are.
Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.
You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you.
"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him.
Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster.
He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.
The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight.
He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.”
You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.”
Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions.
The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room.
In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half.
“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part.
You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again.
Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans.
“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow.
Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.”
You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits. He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either.
“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight.
He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.”
Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice.
Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit.
“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!”
“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.”
“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed.
“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out.
Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.
You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time.
You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy.
Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.
“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah?” You whisper.
“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin.
Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened.
It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you.
“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.”
He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again.
“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.”
That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on.
He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground.
Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn smut#stranger things x reader#stranger things smut#stranger things fic#female reader#camboy!eddie#camboy!eddie munson#soft!dom eddie
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🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - III - Charms
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5K
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader
ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Danger is imminent, as is Feyd-Rautha's birthday celebration in the arena. Passion and fear abound as parties try to nagivate through new realities. Your desire for Feyd-Rautha is growing, along with the trust between you. Secrets are revealed and sexual appetites explored.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of a sex dungeon, masturbation, aftercare, choking, inexperienced reader, heavy petting.
Part I 🖤 Part II 🖤 Masterlist
ᴘᴀʀᴛ - ɪɪɪ - ᴄʜᴀʀᴍꜱ
Trembling with anger Feyd-Rautha watches as the water runs crimson at the bottom of the cleansing chamber. The self cleaning mechanisms are turned to full capacity in attempt to free him of the sticky blood and debris of the nights terrors. A thousand cuts could never be enough. Your tears were more than that to Feyd. He’d broken his promise to protect you always. He had to send a message, cruelty had never truly come easy to him. After his father’s passing he learned quickly that brutality was the best means of survival. The worse his behaviour the more celebrated he became, soon the fear and respect in peoples eyes became his preferred drug. Pushing out the sadness and replacing it with a simmering rage did wonders for him. It opened the world to him. He’d earned the fear his name illicited. It had been a decade since he felt fear like the fear that nearly paralyzed him last night. The words in his headset had to be repeated several times. He found his chest heaving violently, there was not enough air in his lungs. He’d killed three men while still in the ship from lashing out, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. It was all taking too long. The journey back needed to happen at light speed. His chest felt tight as his head spun. How could he lose you so soon? How could anyone be so bold? So disrespectful, so careless with their life? The thought of losing you before he could ever truly be a husband to you tortured him more than he could bear. He’d found no relief in the fear of your eyes , how you clung to him, your trembling, your racing heart. Typically he revelled in it, but not then not with you. It was harrowing. He’d only found reprieve in the slowing of your heart rate, the slow relaxation of your muscles, the way you melted into him for safety. Then, he was able to take in your scent and how perfectly you fit in his arms. The softness of your flesh, the trust in your eyes, the feel of your lips on his. He hadn’t expected a kiss, nor did he feel he deserved one after failing you.
Drying himself off Feyd dresses before heading to his armoury, too angry to rest before meeting the Baron. Hesitating he stops in front of your door as he had every day the past week. He’d decided against trying to enter then, but now things have changed. He needs to lay eyes on you before starting his day, physically - a screen won’t suffice. Sliding his hand into the reader it opens. He finds you brushing your hair into place. Your usual apprehension replaced with a surprised smile at the sight of him. He watches you as you put down the brush and walk into him. It takes him a moment to return the warm gesture taking in your scent and the feel of your body against his. Relief at your well being and resilience washes over him. It feels like it’s been minutes when you pull away and Feyd can’t remember the last time he engaged in something as pure and intimate as a long hug.
“Have you slept?” You ask looking into his weary eyes.
“I have to meet the Baron” Feyd responds feeling the need for you more. He stands behind you breathing you in and his hands hovers over the covered bruises on your skin.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore, I was able to brew a tea” you explain and he takes your hands looking at your bruised knuckles once again. It he could revive the men who’d harmed you to give them another million cuts he would. Bringing your hands to his lips he places kisses onto them hoping last night is the first of many kisses.
“I can postpone my fight if you need me to” Feyd says considerate of your mood and mental state. There’d been no time to watch you sleep last night while he had been administering your retribution but he had quickly scanned through the footage from your bedroom finding you tossing and turning all night. He’d never missed a night, not even while with his pets, his pleasure slaves had only been a slight distraction from his need for you.
“No, you must uphold your traditions” you advise.
“New traditions can be made” Feyd interjects.
“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen has a reputation to protect. The people want to see you in the arena” you remind him.
“The people are not my concern” Feyd says looking into your eyes. His affection for you is clearer now. His level of attention, his concentration, his agony. Feyd is incapable of false moments. Pure passion personified, that’s the danger of him. His strength and weakness.
“Then they must be mine, Feyd there mustn’t be any perceived changes. As heir the peoples adoration of you is important.” You explain.
“Not more than yours” he confesses. He thought he lost you.
“Feyd, please” you whisper holding his hands. Your eyes look up at his and it’s only seconds before you see him cave. “Go to the Baron, prepare for your fight and I will be here with the guards or in the infirmary with Leia” you tell him just as a buzz sounds at the door. His hands go to his knives as he steps in front of you. After a moment he moves aside and you see Leia. She’s in a wheelchair.
“I can wait outside” she says holding up her hand. Feyd watches the girl with appreciation. Had Leia been killed or brutalized more seriously it would have completely ruined his chances with you.
“Leia please come in, we can have breakfast” you smile. For the first time Leia looks to Feyd-Rautha without averting her eyes, she points a respectfully slow nod in his direction in spite of her injuries. He returns the gesture watching as you make a space for your friend at your table. Content with the state of affairs he gives you a final look before heading out.
“na-Baron!” You call out stopping him in his tracks. He raises a brow and you motion for him to follow you into your private chambers. Tracking your steps he enters the room he already knows intimately from hours or surveillance. “You must try to withhold any affinity you have for me or it will be exploited. You have no other weaknesses and I would prefer to be a strength” you whisper. “Honesty” you whisper as his eyes search yours in confusion. He hadn’t known many women outside of handmaidens and pleasure slaves but what he had heard and learned in his years was that women were proud, they enjoyed affectionate displays and declarations, they were in constant competition with others to show and prove their mate to be the best.
“Would you prefer I stayed away as well?” He asks feeling slighted.
“No” you respond in earnest.
“May I return for dinner after training?” He asks.
“Yes” you respond and he recognizes a blush on your cheeks. He gets a head-rush and smiles pleased with your reception to him. If it was up to him the Baron could wait. The scent of your room is intoxicating. Almost as much as the sight out you without fear for him. Pressing his lips to your forehead he breathes you in, restraining his urges for more. He’d never known fear once his parents had passed only rage. The agony of his father’s loss was a suffering he didn’t want to bear again. He would heed your warning. Stepping back he sets the tone, the chemistry between you two is kinetic. He takes your hand placing a soft kiss over your bruises.
Letting go he leaves through the main room casting Leia an acknowledging glance. The main doors whoosh open and you hear him barking orders before they close. Turning to Leia you place a hand on her shoulder before sitting. She sees the change in you, the fall of your shoulders, the ease of your steps. She’d been worried since the abduction remembering vividly how long it took you to be somewhat alright after fleeing your home world. She had been there for the night terrors and the panic attacks, she had been there through your darkest days. In spite of your sometimes tenacious personality she had never seen you fight. You had taken hits on several occasions. It was against the Bene Gesserit way, each sister was to have a strong predisposition to survival for the breeding program - however with you it was never the case. The other sisters stopped picking on you when you were slow to react and a few of the others intervened. Leia knew more than most it didn’t bother you as they thought it did. But she saw you fight. Saw you fight with precision and intention as you reigned your head back to break the bastards nose. You’d waited for her instead of peeling off for the safety of self-preservation. You’d done that for her, for the both of you. Now you were sitting before her with an ease to you she hadn’t seen in years. Smiling she withholds her need to comment.
“What?” You ask looking up at her.
“Careful with that one or we both may be in these chairs” Leia winks and you shake your head at her vulgarity. “You can feel his affection for you from far away, he’s managing his desire quite well. Keep kissing him like you did last night and that restraint may snap” she warns. Sitting in front of her you feed her breakfast so she can nurse her injuries a little while longer.
“He’s in danger” you remind telepathically.
“It’ll be alright” she responds in the same way. Looking into Leia’s eyes gives you hope calming the nerves that have been on edge since the attack. She takes the fork from your hand holding it inspire of her injuries. You squeeze tight thankful she’s at your side. Leia had finished more of the sisterhoods training then you, she had been a successful component of the breeding program, she had been permitted into rooms and special councils. She was being prepared for espionage. It was during her training when she had used her telepathic power of persuasion that you picked it up. It had worked on the entire room with the exception of you.
Your silence speaks volumes.
The sisterhood was supposed to protect you from the brutality your fathers fall caused not inflict more torture. Had Feyd-Rautha’s intention been to brutalize you, had he been everything everyone said he was you would have suffered thrice. Once with the fleeing of your home world, then for the weeks with Feyd-Rautha and finally at the hands of ‘The Beasts’ men. It was the kind of cruelty reserved for enemies and not allies.
“I’m finished with them” you speak plainly. Leia swallows seeing the seriousness in your eyes. She gives a slow nod feeling less victimized by the politics of it. She believed in the objective of achieving greater goods. As things stood now Feyd marrying the Princess would be ideal.
“As am I” she nods in solidarity.
________
Looking at your reflection in the shiny black stone table its hard to recognize yourself. Life with the Bene Gesserit, is a life of subtlety and intrigue, veils, headdresses and masks, there’s no room for displays of beauty, style or power outside of specific confines. All behaviour would be governed by the objectives of the order - only now you would be done with that. The curl of your lashes is striking, as well as the black lines on your lids. It’s not the Harkonnen way, but your mothers. Leia had been an advisor of sort as you tried your best to fashion an undo from memory to match the one your mother wore on special occasions. You had called in the seamstresses to adjust the fit on one of the robes provided in your closer. A floor length crimson piece with a hood. Cutting bout the high neckline and taking in the sides to fit your figure is a bold choice but it’s Feyd-Rautha’s birthday tomorrow and you intend to try to make it special for him. The replica sword of the one in your home world lays across the table sheathed in an intricate scabbard Leia helped you create over the last week. There would be little time to present it to him tomorrow, so tonight would have to do.
Looking at the clock you see its far past the time dinner is usually served. You hear movement and sit upright in anticipation. It fades and you slouch at the sight of the Mentat. His expression is regretful.
“na-Baroness, please eat something - I do believe something has kept the na-Baron” he says. Nodding you stand slightly ashamed by Feyd’s rejection - another broken promise.
“I will eat in my quarters” you force a smile. He speaks into his earpiece taking the blade in his hands.
“The na-baron will love it” he says to be encouraging. Nodding you smile sure he will appreciate the craftsman ship that went into creating an accurate depiction of one of the galaxy’s most recognizable blades.
“Do you know if he is with his Harpies?” You ask.
“He isn’t” the Mentat responds without hesitation.
“The Baron?” You ask and he swallows regretfully.
“Among others, but you should not worry” the Mentat assures. Swallowing hard you pause for a moment before turning to Feyd-Rautha’s personal quarters. You cross the dining room and head to the unfamiliar black doors.
“Don’t!” The Mentat snaps as you stick your hand in the reader. To his surprise the doors open without alerting the safety measures reserved for intruders.
“I’ll only be a moment” you turn to him stepping into the dark room. The doors close behind you, lights illuminating slowly with each of your steps until the place is fully lit. The interior takes your breath away when you view all the knives, blades and swords hanging on the walls. A number of large portraits of Feyd-Rautha hang all around the large open space. Stepping back you look for his bedroom and stop an open door. Your steps take you there a large statement bed rests in the centre. It’s high with two marble steps to get up surrounding three quarters of it. Chains hang from the ceiling, with straps of all sorts attached to them. There’s what looks like a cage too, and a large X in the corner near it. Swallowing you try to make sense of it until a screen catches your eye. Stepping in you see a screen showing what looks to be your room, you see your bathroom and bedroom. Before you can confirm a red light flashes into your retinas, before you can blink the screen goes black. Stepping backwards with a shudder you place the blade onto the table with the attached note and exit.
The Mentat watches you closely shocked by your ability to enter the na-Baron’s quarters. Feyd-Rautha’s security had been noticeably ironclad. He’d seen many try to break in or sneak in with no success and somehow you entered so effortlessly. Your heart races as you try to make sense of what you seen, all of it.
“Can you have Leia, brought to my quarters?” You ask the Mentat. He speaks into his earpiece to have it done immediately.
Dinner is served and Leia consoles you listing dozens of reasons for Feyd’s absence you tell her about his bedroom, the chains, the empty cage the large X, but you omit the screen not completely sure what to make if it. Leia’s eyes light up her penchant for mischief proving useful as she explains in excruciating detail all of the possibilities. Just as your fear had begun to retreat Feyd’s tastes gave you more reasons. He was into administering pain, and having total control. He’d asked for your absolute submission but you had never considered it would lead to being suspended in the air for his pleasure, tied to wooden blocks, spanked, collared, degraded and hurt.
After dinner you head into your bedroom casting a quick glance into the area the vantage point of a camera would be. You see a sconce in its place, a black ornamental sconce, there’s one in every corner of the room. Swallowing your about to to begin undressing when you hear the door open. Tensing you stay put afraid of another attack, stepping out of room you peer around to the living area and see Feyd. You sigh relieved.
“Apologies, the Baron kept me” he says before stopping in his tracks. His eyes drink you in, it’s like he’s been placed under a trance. You look him over a little confused until you remember he’s never seen you like this before. All done up for him. Feeling a little nervous under his intense gaze you nod.
“I had dinner already, I’m sorry I waited” you whisper as his mouth closes, his Adams apple bobs as he nods his bald head.
“You waited?” He asks his voice grittier and lower than ever before.
“For hours” you respond a little unnerved by the darkness of his eyes.
“I ought to drown the Baron in his tub” he snaps just over a whisper to himself radiating frustration. He couldn’t dream up a more beautiful woman, and you’d put in effort for him after he’d asked you to dinner.
“I wanted to give you a gift before tomorrow’s celebrations” you confess.
Feyd blinks nodding, grappling with the gravity of your words. Days ago you were running from him. Now you were within reach and other peoples actions were jeopardizing his happiness.
“It’s in your room, I left it on the table I hope it’s no problem” you tell him but he hasn’t moved. His stillness is unnerving, like a snake before it strikes. His muscles contract before his hands unclench.
“You were in my rooms?” Feyd asks with suspicion.
“I hope that’s alright, I placed your gift on the table and left” you explains but he’s suspicious.
“Follow me” he says holding out his hand. You take it heading to the other side of tour living quarters. “Only you can open this door” he says putting your hand in the reader. The doors open and you’re in his quarters. You step into it extremely surprised. Your thoughts head back to the strange contraptions in his room as Feyd moves quickly having the screens put away before heading to the table. His hands hover over the box and he looks at you taking the scroll.
“Dearest na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,
It is custom to give handmade gifts on birthdays. Please do not take offence, this took me ten days to craft with help from Leia and the Mentat. It’s the only thing I could think of that you may enjoy.
Wishing you the happiest of birthdays and many more!
Y/N”
He pauses smiling at the strange kindness of the scroll, remembering several before. He’d often thought your gifts were juvenile and silly but he’d kept them anyhow. Bracing himself to put on a show of support he opens the box. His eyes deceive him. Narrowing his eyes he takes the blade from the box. He runs his hands over its sheath having seen it before. Looking back at you he turns to the blade knowing it well. Drawing it out he looks at the shiny metal and blood red centre. As legend would have it, the blade could never be turned against the bloodlines of your home planet. It could cut through anything but would dull against the flesh of its own. It had been made with blood from all of the families and brought to a religious order where it was forged in secrecy. There were none like it in the galaxy.
“It’s a replica” you speak as he admires the craftsmanship of your work. You’d been making this for him while he’d taken space, you’d been preparing this for him while others had been plotting on your life. You’d been making this for him in spite of your fear of him and reservations upon arriving. Putting the blade down he turns to you with dark eyes. It wasn’t the gift of a captive, it was a gift from a betrothed. Fighting for control Feyd kisses you once chastely before coming in for another, and another parting your lips. Your breathing changes as Feyd’s kiss becomes more dominant, the fingers on your chin slide down your throat and his strong hand secures around your neck kissing you with force, marking you, claiming you. His tongue sending sensations of pleasure and lust all throughout your body. Foreign sensations that exhilarate you, you feel your skin tingle as the heat rises between the two of you, your nipples hardening as the sensation in your stomach grows. Your knees grow weak and Feyd moves to his couch sitting with you across his lap without ever breaking the kiss. Your heart is racing, a strange want taking you over. You can feel him beneath you, growing harder and harder with every moment. Your senses and emotions come to a head all at once. You feel it happen, you see Feyd laying beside you, shirtless, with a hand around his manhood. His eyes stare at you while you look at him stroking himself lazily. Another flashes and he’s in the area you’re watching him when he’s sliced across the back after sending a smile up at you., while in the arena. Then there’s another you're standing in a brown palace facing a woman with blue eyes.
Feyd’s hold tightens around your neck and you pull back gasping for air. His eyes are black and his breath rugged. Your eyes hold his as he returns to the moment. Closing your eyes you wrap your arms around him terrified on the second vision. Your lips still tingle with the memory and taste of him.
“Did I hurt you?” He asks with concern. You can still feel the ghost of his touch on your neck.
“No” you whisper fighting for breath as Feyd places his face against yours, your noses and lashes touch against each other. Feyd allows himself to be intoxicated by you. The feeling was singular, he’d never been one for kissing but it was all he could do without causing you dishonour before the wedding ceremony. You wrap your arms around his neck and his muscular arms hold you close.
“Tomorrow during your fight, don’t look up to me - just focus” you whisper.
“I will do as I please, no one will best me. In the arena I’m king” he speaks confidently. You. Go to withdraw but Feyd’s hands secure at your hips. His eyes challenge you.
“Do you trust me Feyd?” You ask and he takes a breath never breaking the eye contact.
“I don’t know … should I trust someone as perfect as you?” He asks reaching down to the hem of your dress and tearing the fabric up to your thighs. Your heart races with anticipation.
“Yes” you nod breathlessly in anticipation for his next move.
“May I request another present?”
“If you promise to heed my warning” you nod as he palms the flesh of your thigh. Your eyes close.
“May I taste you on my fingers and with my tongue?” Feyd asks.
“Taste me?” You ask, your uncertainty only thrills him more.
“It would make you feel good, I’d use my fingers to give you pleasure and kiss your centre” his words are illicit. Thinking back to his bedroom you hesitate thinking for the both of you.
“I don’t think we should Feyd, I don’t think it would stop there and you need to be focused tomorrow” you respond causing a guttural groan. Your heart aches for denying him.
“Goodnight” he says standing and putting you back on the ground. He storms to his bedroom. Confused and conflicted you head to the cleansing chambers feeling the sting of rejection. The automatic system does as it should, you cover your body conscious of the sconces and walk into the living room feeling restless. Seeing the separation of his skin as it was sliced is haunting. Such a gash would take a long recovery and impair his ability yo protect you physically, it would make him vulnerable. Dressed in a night set you pad over to the joining doors and place your hand in. It opens and you walk to Feyd’s bedroom. Knocking at the door his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of you.
“Could we lay beside each other instead?” You ask trying to bridge the distance.
“We can” he says leading you back to your bedroom. You watch as he knowingly heads to the side of the bed you don’t sleep on. Your suspicions are confirmed, he has been watching you. It’s a strange thrill. He pulls back the covers and you do the same before lying down and Feyd-Rautha draws you into him. He’s all muscle and all man. His shirtless upper half is impressive and warm. You run your fingers over his sides enjoying the feel of his smooth skin.
“Thank you for my gift” he says placing one hand over your breasts and cupping it as you lay with your back to him.
“You’re welcome” you respond and he places a kiss on your cheek.
“Will you give yourself to me after the wedding?” He asks and you smile at his one track mind.
“Yes but you intimidate me Feyd” you confess. “I’ve never been with a man and I’m not sure life has prepared me for a man with your tastes” you confess amusing him. Moving quickly he positions himself over you and between your legs on his knees. He places his hand over your lady parts he presses a thumb against your entrance over your clothes and the sensation is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Leaning down he kisses your lips pressing slow circles against you.
“There” he says withdrawing his full lips from yours. “It would feel better than that” he explains going back onto his knees. “I would use your breasts to bring you over the edge too” he says touching your chest, Feyd never breaks eye contact as he kneads your breast over the fabric. Your nipples appear and he pinches one before kissing you gently. You miss the feel of his had at your centre and squirm under him as he deepens the kiss. You want him to show you everything he knows. “I’ll do my best not to hurt you” he whispers breaking the kiss and laying on his back. The dim light over the bed allows the two of you to see each other well. He slides his pants down and removes his cock. A large appendage that looks far more alive than those in the library books. It fills his hand and has a weight to it. Its tip is shaped reminiscent of a cherry and beautiful. It leaks clear liquid and he strokes it slowly without any reservations.
You feel swelling at your centre, and a heat there, the pull to Feyd is almost magnetic, it’s strong and undeniable. His eyes look to yours as he strokes himself lazily, more vivid than in your vision.
“Not before a fight” you whisper knowing the custom but he’s too far gone. With his free hand he pulls you into a kiss imagining its your wetness riding his cock with a vice grip. Your body completely naked under his your soft lips on his like they are now. His mouth all over you claiming you as he fucks you hard. He wanted to make you scream and moan for him and only him. He needed to hear those sounds play like a chorus over and over. He needed you feral for him, he needed you on your knees with your mouth open whenever he entered a room. He needed you waiting naked in his bed with your legs open. He needed your obedience, trust and devotion. You to be open to his toys and predilections. He needs all yeses, for all of his desires. He needs you to take control too, make your demands known and be unrelenting until he satisfies them. He needs to see his pleasure all over you and wearing it proudly.
Seizing the image of you covered in his cum sends him over the edge. You watch as his eyes shut and Feyd biceps flex, his body goes rigid and thick streams of cum sprout from him. His chest heaves his strong pectoral muscles fully flexed as is his neck. He looks vulnerable as he fights for air. He’s beautiful, something primal tells you that this is all your doing. That this is the effect you have on him. Wanting to honour it and him you step out of the bed with shaky legs you take a washcloth and run it under a warm tap. You feel his eyes on you as you return stepping into the bed you pull the drapes obscuring the view of the sconces. Sitting beside him you place the cloth over the mess he’s made and begin to clean him off. He watches you without words still hard as you clean his manhood, stomach and hands. When you're finished you toss the cloth in the incinerator and wash your hands before returning to Feyd.
His eyes drink you in, his chest burning with love for you and the way you just took care of him. Nobody had ever been so gentle with him. Tucking himself away he reaches for you prepared to give you the world. There was no better gift, there never would be the you in his bed in his arms, no better gift then the wonder in your eyes as he pleasured himself. Exhausted and overwhelmed Feyd slips into sleep with his head on your bosom. Running your hands down his muscular back you begin a few Bene Gesserit mantras of protection over him, needing now more than ever before for him to be protected as your heart races because one of your visions had come to pass.
PART IV
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Thanks for reading 🩶 Don't forget to let me know what you think of this chapter, with a like comment and reblog.
I don't think Margot Fenring survives survived her attempted seduction of Feyd. Can they manage waiting until marriage? Are there more assignation attempts? Does the vision come to pass?
hmm....
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just desserts | jjk
jeon jungkook x reader (f)
genre: one night stand; neighbors; set in the summer cause i miss it dearly.
rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)
summary: jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. however one hot summer day theres a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door w brownies. . and other delights.
warnings: crush culture; mentions of lack of confidence; masturbation (f.); foul language; naughty thoughts; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (wrap it up); dry humping; oral (m. receiving); praise; sub-ish jk!; jk has a huge dick;?brief mention of seokjin and joon; oc is very hørny for jk basically; those fucking gifs of jk w his long hair and glasses inspired this so thank you jeon jungkook; edited but excuse any mistakes please.
word count: 6,3 thousand words
posted: monday - january 30, 2023
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A sixth floor walk up in the middle of the scorching month of July was certainly not fitting on your basis of an ideal home. But after your extensive apartment search always ended with high-priced, rodent infested corners New Yorkers often mistook for apartments, you were happy to shake on the deal for this studio apartment with Seokjin without having to break your piggy bank or burn a staggering hole in your pocket.
“When is the elevator going to be fixed, Seokjin,” you fanned yourself as beads of sweat adorned your white tank top.
“That’ll have to be when I finally win the lotto,” he guffawed from behind the plexiglass square standing between you and his office.
“Very funny,” you mumbled, beginning your journey up the stairs. He didn’t hear you though, instead his focus remained on whichever drama he played on the television.
Kim Seokjin, was the name of a superstar—or so he says. He claims to have attended the Juilliard School for about two years, with dreams of becoming the newest face of Hollywood and all of their high-priced productions. When Seokjin’s dad fell ill, he couldn’t keep up with the demands of keeping so many residence buildings open, he had to close more than half his buildings and just like that, financial strains created a hurdle the size of Mt. Everest in the life of Seokjin. He was left without his dreams, without his father and taking care of a building where the rent was too cheap to gain a profit, making just enough to cover the mortgage.
Normally, you weren’t so exposed to details of your landlord’s lives, but Seokjin was different. He was also your friend.
“I put water bottles around the halfway mark. The last thing I need is a lawsuit over a dead body,” he yelled up as you barely made it to floor two.
“How considerate. I’ll try not to die while you’re on the clock,” it was too hot to continue your journey up. . too hot to form coherent sentences. You just wanted to make it to your apartment and sit in front of the fan for the rest of the day.
“That’s all I’m saying,” you heard.
Once your foot met the landing on the third floor, your eyes desperately scanned for the promise of beverages Seokjin had informed you of, but the small table set-up on the other end of the hallway was completely empty. Leaving behind only the particles of dust and pure oxygen to inhale. Fuck—you actually felt like you were going to pass out. Just three more floors.
You wanted to yell down a snarky remark towards Seokjin but you figured that required too much energy you simply did not have.
Moving to New York was a decision you had made impulsively after feeling like you had overstayed your time in your parents house post-high school. You averted college at all costs because it just wasn’t for you. Lectures seemed like a bore and professors were individuals being paid to legally torture their students so you joyfully averted that nightmare all together. Your immediate option was to get a job, but after many places began getting closed down back home, you found yourself job hopping as a means for survival.
It was not convenient, so you boarded a train to the city that never sleeps in hopes of never looking back. . And you haven’t since setting foot here eleven months ago.
“Just one more floor,” you uttered to no one in particular but the patchy silver handrail and the chipped white walls.
Your apartment was now in your line of vision and the only thing standing between you and the black steel door were just ten sets of stairs. Walking into the building your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat but now you were drenched, your top was sticking to your skin and the thick beads of dampness rolled down your body like the condensation on soft drinks from fast food places.
Heaving with exhaustion you took a seat on the very last step of the sixth floor, finally you made it but you just needed a minute, just a single minute to catch your breath. The fucking heat was unbearable; intolerable; irregular, you could have sworn the sun inched closer and closer to planet earth as the day progressed.
Initially, you hadn’t heard as much as the squeaky hinges on the door frame, you were too divulged in your suffering from the days heat. Not to mention, your eyes were closed and you were too focused in a state of cooling down before hiding behind the thin walls of your apartment.
“Are you ok?” His voice became trapped in the muggy air surrounding the two of you. The bass in his tone never ceased to make your knees turn to jello, to make your toes curl and to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.
Was the heat not enough suffering for one day?
“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”
“Yeah, it definitely feels like we were shipped straight to hell today.”
“I don’t know, I think hell might be cooler than this,” he chuckled lightly—you’re foolish stammer and poor excuse of words enlightened him. The sun was still beaming brightly but you swore you saw stars after he had serenaded you so sweetly with the sound of his infectious laugh.
“I think you might be right,” he locked his door and walked past you on the stairs, “have a good day neighbor.”
“You too, Jungkook,” you called after him as he began his way down the unfortunate set of stairs.
Sometimes, you felt as if you’d been blessed as the main lead in the plot of a cheesy rom com, but after today the idea was really cemented in your head. Ok, look. . Jungkook was your hot neighbor, like very hot, unearthly hot, like he was handcrafted by God himself, kind of hot. Furthermore, only you and him resided on the sixth floor, living in a pair of tiny apartments right beside one another. Although that was all you had gathered so far, besides his name, it was enough to fill your head with delusions and daydreams of the man your eyes loved to gawk at every chance you got.
You read him very well, like the everlasting pages of your favorite novel. His silky hair was long and inched over the nape of his neck, he wore specs that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose accentuating his big doe eyes. Though his features seemed soft his aura was borderline the complete opposite—a silver hooped piercing sat in the right side of his rosette lips while tattoos peeked right out of the sleeves of the white button up he usually wore.
You closed the door to your apartment, removed your shoes and hung your keys on the flathead thumbtack pierced into the wall by the front door.
The apartment felt even more scorching than the bustling sidewalks. After opening all three of the windows you were bestowed to have between your room and the living room, you turned on your fan and walked into the bathroom to draw a much needed cool bath. Stripping off your sweaty clothes, you stepped into the tub. For a minute, you were immersed in the utter silence floating around you—all your ears detected was the distanced whirring fan all the way from your room.
Behind the back of your eyelids, the world was dark and your thoughts brought you back to your encounters with Jungkook on the stairs just moments ago. Your interactions with the boy were usually extended to a whispered, ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’ never as prolonged as it played out today.
In your thoughts, Jungkook strolled by day and night, as you embraced every look, every utterance, every single time he brushed his hair back using his slender fingers. He was the cultivation of your desires and the reason why your heart strummed against your chest a bit harder the days you saw him leaving around 12PM every afternoon.
It baffled you how he always managed to look fucking good every single day—even during the hottest days of the summer, while you looked like vile beast he managed to look so perfect.
. . So fucking perfect.
The faint tingles traveling through your body, caused your skin to form goosebumps. The pulsation of your clit is what really began driving you to clouded thoughts to imagine his hands against you. You imagined the pads of his fingers to be soft mimicking a delicate velvet fabric and while you crumbled under his touch, he would murmur the filthiest of words against your ear.
Those ministrations could be enough to have you coming hard—he wouldn’t even have to fuck you. Shit, even looking at him was enough.
Being away from all of the toys you safely stored in your nightstand, you grabbed the detachable shower head and adjusted the water pressure, prepped your feet up on the rim of the tub aiming it in between your legs in an inevitable attack against your clit.
Your head lulled back in sure bliss as you fed your carnal desires, the only thing missing was him.
“Fuck—” How you longed for him to have you in this position, so sensitive to his sinful doings; so aroused for him. It was like a hunger your fingers, toys and this stupid shower head could not satisfy.
The vibration of his name dripped from your lips like a chant and you felt that bubbling fervor form in the pit of your stomach. Spurts of pleasure rushed out of you so intensely you were overwhelmed by the explosions of fireworks as soon as your orgasm erupted.
When your breath had settled and you finally felt like you could stand, you opted for a quick shower, rushing to get into your pajamas and plopped down on your bed right in-front of the fan for a nap, having your dreams quickly invaded by him.
Work sucked on Monday afternoons.
All you ever did was stare out of the ticket booth at the movie theater as the few customers who despised the weekend rush came in. Besides, there was rarely anything to occupy your mind with on slow nights like this. You had already sweeped and your co-worker, Namjoon was surveying the screening rooms for any shenanigans the younger crowds could possibly be rattling up.
You always left that up to him—he was the more intimidating one between the two of you anyway.
“Room 5 is a wreck,” Namjoon announced his entrance into the lobby, “I’m gonna go clean up.”
“Walkie me if you need help,” you tapped the walkie clipped onto your belt buckle and he nodded, grabbing the broom and a few rags.
Your stomach grew irritated as you continued golfing down copious amounts of candies but the truth was you were starving and had no time to eat breakfast this morning; let alone make something to bring to work to eat for lunch.
Namjoon was a film major. He was the spitting image of a cliche by the way—his parents wanted him to become a doctor but that wasn’t his passion so he ran away to the city and began trotting up the golden stairs to his dream. You wished you had even an ounce of his determination, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there while you still stood at the base of the mountain of your life. . unbeknownst on how to tackle it or which way it was to begin your way up to the summit.
There was nothing you had a passion for and quite frankly sometimes you were utterly clueless as to what your purpose was in life.
Had no dreams and no goals to strive towards; nothing extraordinary you expected to blossom in your future. There was nothing, nothing and more nothingness occupying the hours of your days.
“My child,” Seokjin walked in through the glass door, he looked like he'd been chilling in an oven.
“Seokjin,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “what are you doing here? I thought you never left the air conditioner in your office plus don’t you hate the movie theater?”
“You’re absolutely correct. The dimmed lighting here is horrid and I deserve better than that. .”
“Of course, you do.”
“But,” he leaned over the counter, “I saw your little neighbor boyfriend leaving the building today and I was fucking gagged.”
“Trust me, Seokjin. I know how good he fucking looks in that white button up. I’ve lived it.”
“No,” he squealed, “He had a black short sleeve shirt today and—”
“Spit it out, bitch.”
“He has a full fucking sleeve,” he squealed.
“No. Fucking. Way.” The pauses in between your words were not placed for dramatic effect—you were in fact attempting to paint a detailed mental image of that sinful man.
How unfair is it that he gets to walk around us mortals with our average looks while he exudes such grand flawlessness.
“Looks like someone owes me fifty bucks.”
The bet. . you had completely forgotten about that.
“I'll pass it over on Friday once I get paid.”
“I told you,” he began, “once a man gets one tattoo they’re usually covered in them.”
“Yea, but he has this soft look to him, you know?” you shrugged, “I thought he might have had a few. But a whole sleeve?”
“Jungkook is a walking juxtaposition.”
“I suppose he is.”
Seokjin sat on the counter emptying a handful of sweets into his palm, “what are you doing eating all of this candy anyway?”
“Uh,” your thoughts were still filtered towards Jungkook. You wanted to see him so bad, “I’m starving and just waiting on Namjoon to finish cleaning room five so I can go on my lunch break.”
“Namjoon as in the buff hottie with the deep voice?”
“I guess.”
“Room five?” You nodded.
“I’ll take one ticket for whatever the fuck you guys are showing right now.”
“Didn’t you say you hated it here?” You printed a ticket to. . you looked down, to the latest minion movie and ripped off the top half, “you complained about the lights or something.”
“Can you just give me a ticket? I need it to execute my master plan,” he rushed your actions in cutting the ticket you had printed, “besides you owe me for coming all the way down here with vital intel about your secret crush.”
“I owe you nothing. I’ll be paying half a hundred for that by the end of the week, remember?”
“Consider this,” he snatched the ticket from your grasp, holding it beside his toothy grin, “your down payment.”
Before you could form a further argument, Seokjin vanished from in front of you and sprinted down the main hallway to screening room five.
The best thing about your job were the designated days off you had throughout the week. Tuesdays and Fridays were yours to enjoy and while today was Tuesday your schedule was still jam packed with an abundance of errands to complete come the early morning.
You had paid your utility bills, finished your laundry, cleaned your apartment and even set out poultry to defrost by the time you made it back home. It had been a very productive day.
Your last stop was the grocery store.
Oftentimes, you’d wander aimlessly, losing yourself in each aisle wondering about how the better half lives, how much better life would be if you didn’t have to keep incessant reminders of your weekly budgets stamped to the back of your head.
How much easier life would be if money wasn’t such a big determinant in the choices we were forced to make in our day to day lives.
Oh, how much easier life would be.
You only grabbed the essentials for the next couple of weeks including—rice, greens, fruits, water, milk, meat, and a variation of breakfast options.
Temptation roamed in the air as you headed out of the cereal aisle you were face to face with a bakery section where an unhealthy amount of baked goods were sprawled out—practically blaring out your name. All of the delicious delights made your mouth water and you couldn’t help but gravitate deeper and deeper, guided by the aroma of the sweet desserts.
“Neighbor?” It was his earthy voice, the same one you’d only heard vibrate among the walls of the tiny hallway of the sixth floor the two of you shared.
“Jungkook?” You looked up from the brownies and your eyes met his figure, in the same clothes you usually saw him leave his apartment. It was his work uniform, “You work here?”
“Is that judgment in your tone I hear?”
“N-no,” You stammered. Was he fucking with you? He had to be fucking with you. “Of course not. I would never judge—”
“I was just playing, neighbor.” Phew.
“I always come here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”
“I’m usually baking in the back. I was just coming out to set these down,” he held up the dozen cupcakes sitting inside the boxed packaging.
“You bake?” Hopefully, you sounded more stunned than judgemental because you were i. fact stunned.
“I’m an aspiring pastry chef. I go to culinary school,” Jungkook, your beautiful, doe eyed, tattooed, pierced neighbor was also a baker. Ok.
For some reason that made him so much more attractive.
“I would not have been able to guess that even if I tried,” You mentally kicked yourself at the lack of filter in your words. You weren’t trying to offend him and hopefully he does not take it as such.
He chuckled—that’s a good sign, “People tend to simulate that very reaction but you can certainly knock on my door if you’re ever craving something sweet. I promise they are amazing.”
Craving something sweet?
Your thoughts traveled back to the enticing thoughts you possessed a few days ago while you took a bath, the vivid image of the water pressure against your cunt and the pure desire to have him near made you dizzy. And now he was near, just a couple of feet away.
A wave of warmth traveled through your extremities, the pulse on your clit turned to an overbearing throb, you wanted to rub your thighs and alleviate the feeling. But you remembered where you were, in the middle of the grocery store and Jungkook still stood right before you. Nevertheless, you tried to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs; dampening your panties.
“I practically poured out all of the basic details of my boring life. I think you owe me at least something about you.”
“There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged, “but I work at the movie theater down the street if that piques your interest at all.”
“It does. I love movies.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.”
“Well, if I’m honest I haven’t gone in a long time but that’s only because work and school keep me pretty busy.”
The lust streaming through your body doubled to make your heart beat with fondness and you grew endeared in the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he talked about his aspirations to become a baker.
“You’ll have a free ticket waiting for you whenever your schedule clears up.”
“Promise you’ll join me when I decide to go.” His words carved themselves into your brain like a permanent tattoo, just as those decorating his arm. The fluttering feeling in your abdomen heightened as a result of the dithers, without being aware of it, that is the effect Jungkook had on you.
“As long as it’s on a Tuesday or Friday.”
“Deal.”
“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”
“See you, neighbor.”
Thursday was the worst day of the week so far.
Technically you were supposed to be at work, it was already 4:00PM, but instead you were still home. Even just sitting down in the muggy atmosphere of your in the miniscule space, you were doused, staining your clothes with sweat.
You were not willingly suffering at the lack of mercy the scorching weather subjected the city and everyone in it to, unfortunately the power had gone out. And while usually you had the luxury of a fan to cool down, today you had nothing.
Your windows and front door were left wide open in an attempt to cool down the place and still you felt as if you were sitting inside a fucking oven set to hightest temperature. There was no use.
“Neighbor.” Jungkook called out lightly knocking on the opened door.
Jungkook? Not Jungkook again when you looked like an absolute wreck.
“Hey Jungkook,” he stood at the door frame, a wide grin painted on his lips—he held a to-go box in his hands, “you can come in.”
“Do you want me to shut the door?”
“Sure,” you gave in, it’s not like it was actually doing anything. Besides, the last thing you needed was one of the crazy residents from the lower floors coming to bug you.
Jungkook took a seat next to you on the couch, he wore a sleeveless top exposing all of the ink embellishing his skin, every line, every curve, every word was so intricate and seemed so unique to him.
“I didn’t know you had these many tattoos,” a small fib was a price to pay to not seem like a weirdo, “did any of them hurt?”
“Some did,” he pointed at his tricep, “mainly these and a few others but I have a high pain tolerance.”
“Well, they’re beautiful,” you scanned his arm some more. It was truly like a mural embodying the beauty of art, “were you a singer?” you signaled at the microphone sitting on his forearm.
“I guess you could say that,” he adjusted himself on the couch, his nylon shorts rode up his thighs and you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes glanced down constantly. Jungkook didn’t notice though, he was too busy averting eye contact and scratching the back of his head, “My highschool friends and I used to make music. We recorded a mixtape.”
“I need a link to this mixtape. . like now,” You laughed hysterically.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
“Ok, ok,” Again, another surprise from the man you thought you had all figured out—every single day he surprised you more and more, “were you like a vocalist or a rapper?”
“Vocals mostly. I did try rapping once though but I sucked so badly they scratched it off the track.”
“At least they were honest and didn't let you crash and burn in public.”
“You should’ve seen me though. I thought I was the shit.”
Jungkooks giggles were everlasting as he recounted the many times their parents grew exhausted of kicking them out of their garages for their disturbances in the making of their great musical legacy.. He filled the room with vibrance. The longer you sat in the presence of Jungkook the more you were exposed to the colors that made Jungkook, Jungkook. Of course, you were intrigued by the phosphorescent hues allowing them to inch you closer in his direction. Wanting him to spare no details in the adventure of his life.
“What’s that?” you pointed at the packaging box beside him on the arm rest.
“Brownies,” he handed you the box, “I saw you eyeing them when you were at the bakery but you didn’t buy any. So, I figured I would bring you some.”
In your mind, this was his way of saying he was thinking about you—that’s what you chose to believe anyway.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. Besides, I wanna see what you think of my baking.” Jungkook’s eyes were bigger than usual behind his specs, he fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.
If only he knew, the actual taste of the brownies would hold no significance in your criticism. You would love them anyway simply because they came from him.
“How about we have one together?”
“Yeah?”
You nodded, “let’s go to my room. There’s two windows in there and I’m literally about to pass out from heat stroke out here.”
The two of you sat by each one of the windows, the box of his remaining six hand crafted sweet delicacies sat between the two of you on the nightstand.
“You ready?”
“Yes.”
“1, 2,” the two of you held the chocolaty dessert up to your mouth, “3.”
Even after just one bite your taste buds were enamored.
“What do you think?”
“They’re amazing, Jungkook. You’re an amazing baker.”
“You can call me Kookie, you know.”
You nearly choked after taking another bite, hurdling into a coughing spiral, “that’s so fitting. Kookie the pastry chef.”
“Forget I said it,” he shook his head, laughing.
“Wait, no,” you loved the soft tint of pink dusting his cheeks, “that could be the name of your future shop.”
“Kookie’s Cookies.”
“Kookie’s Cookies,” you confirmed, “and I wanna be credited for the idea too.”
“Better yet, you’ll be my business partner.”
“That’s not a good idea. I’ll eat everything and you’ll just end up bankrupt,” your eyes were set on the congested sidewalks outside your window—everyone was out likely catching a break from their scorching apartments but here you were melting away all at the expense of being in Jungkook’s company just for a bit longer.
“I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re with me.”
Those eight words sent your mind into a spiral, head first into the rabbit hole of your fantasies. You couldn’t really make out if he truly meant what you thought he meant.
“Jungkook. .”
“I mean it.”
“Please don’t make me believe there could actually be something here,” Your voice was low and your thoughts were a scribbled mess. There was not a single coherency in your being at that point in time.
“I’m not lying,” your name tasted saccharine on his tinted lips—much like the brownie he had baked for you, “I like you.”
“Jungkook. .” was all you could muster.
“I’ve liked you from the moment you moved into the building.”
A single strike of thunder traveled down your spinal cord, you felt paralyzed in that moment and his sweet sweet words just continued looping inside the walls of your skull.
You were malfunctioning; shocked.
It’s astonishing how oblivious and just plain stupid human nature can make a person. For the past months, you had concealed the schoolgirl crush you developed on Jungkook and convinced yourself that there was absolutely no way in hell he could like you back.
Your insecurities had deceived you and now you sit here after so long with a thumping beat in your heart, giddy with excitement and lowkey wanting to slap yourself for not having noticed earlier.
“You like me?”
Obviously, he just fucking said that. He nodded.
“I like you, too.” You finally said out loud.
The temperature continued to rise in the small bedroom and between the two of you the heat became unbearable. With each passing second, you could feel the streamline trickles of your sweat cascading down your temples; your entire body matter of fact.
If eyes were the windows to the soul then Jungkook’s chocolate gaze was compelling.
And they were calling out for you so loudly.
“What happens now?” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“Can I kiss you, Jungkook?”
You caught on to Jungkook’s mannerisms and body language rather quickly within the past hour. For example, he was pretty straight forward with his words yet whenever he spoke his fingers fidgeted with a random object as a distraction, this time it was the black beaded bracelet sitting on his wrist.
He nodded yet again.
Your heaven resided in the comfort of Jungkook’s thighs. You realized it the moment you straddled him. The rich smell of sandalwood was a scent unique to him, so earthy and rich. It was the only thing you ever wanted to smell for the remainder of your time on earth.
After raking your hands through his soft hair you tugged at it a bit, guiding his face up towards you.
“If you want anything from me. You’re gonna have to use your words, Jungkook.”
“You know what I want,” his eyes traced the corners of your lips down to the intricate details, “just kiss me, please.”
There are an abundance of perfect scenarios in life. For one there was the idyllic scene of snowfall on Christmas day; the legendary creamy combination of cookies and cream; then, there was the way your lips danced against Jungkooks, composing a choreography so intricate and beautiful only the two of you could execute it.
You were in a haze, entirely stupefied and addicted to his soft and warm lips. Then, his hands snaked around your waist as he guided you back and forth on his lap. His covered erection rubbed against your clothed slit in a pace so slow, it was agonizing yet delectable. Jungkook pulled away, continuing to lead your movements against him. Your mouth remained agape and you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your lips.
You wanted to pinch yourself, you’d only ever dreamt of this. Was this all a fabrication of your dreams? You hope it wasn’t, it felt so good.
“God, I’ve always wanted to have you like this.” His voice was husk and he spoke in between grunts.
If today was dictated as your last day on earth, you’d die being the happiest woman.
His warm breath fanned your sweaty neck. A tickle ran down your back but you focused on the knot forming at your abdomen.
“I’m so close.”
“Let go for me.”
His commands were sweet like candy and the utters of his guidance to have you crumble on his lap were all you needed to send you over the edge.
“You were so good for me, darling.”
“Call me that forever.” Your knees were sore, your voice was hoarse and you were sweltered from head to toe but you craved more, you grew wetter just imagining what else could arise from this encounter.
“Darling?” You nodded. “Jungkook?” He hummed lightly, opening his eyes and lifting his head from where it rested on the wall.
“Are you tired?”
“I just had a long day yesterday.”
“Can I help you unwind?” your lower lip now tucked under your teeth, “can I touch you?”
“Please.”
Your hands tucked under the hemline of his shorts and underwear. The way you illustrated Jungkook in your dreams was close to what you would imagine a modern Greek God to look like and you quickly realized that was the case when his shirt lifted revealing that he should be the one on display in museums instead of those silly little statues.
Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hand moved up and down the length of his cock. You couldn’t see it, not yet. But he felt so big in your palm.
The hushed moans and curses leaving him fueled you to maintain at the same pace. Your lips found themselves leaving wet kisses on his already dampened neck.
“Please—please don’t stop,” He was a stuttering mess, his hand was gripping the window still so tightly his knuckles turned white. Hypnotized by arousal Jungkook began meeting your movements, enraptured by his desire for release.
“You’re not being a very good boy, Jungkook,” you whispered in his ear, “besides I thought you were tired.”
“I’ll—I’ll be so good I promise,” he continued fucking himself into your hand.
Jungkook whined as soon as you released his cock from your grip. Instead you tucked off the pesky fabrics covering his lower half, with his help of course, your theories were proven to be correct. Jungkook, your hot neighbor with piercings and tattoos also had a pussy destroyer in between his legs because of course he did.
“There’s only two rules baby.”
“What are the rules?”
“You have to keep your hands to yourself and no coming until I say so. You got it?”
“Yes, darling.”
Opening the last drawer on your night stand you pulled out one of your vibrators and held it up for him to see, “is it ok if we use this?”
“Mhm.”
You shoved it in your pocket for later.
Taking him into your mouth, you began swirling your tongue in circular motions around the head of his cock. His labored pants were hushed and almost inaudible, you would’ve missed them if the two of you weren’t in complete silence.
Licking up and down his shaft you focused on pressing your tongue on the tip, as your hands began working, pumping him where your mouth couldn’t reach. You bobbed your head up and down occasionally, allowing the head of his cock pop in and out of your mouth. Slurp noises began invading the atmosphere around the two of you along with his whimpers. Your pace was fast and there were traces of your saliva coating his length entirely.
“Fuck darling,” his hands were reaching to grasp anything in his path but instead he ended up knocking everything off your night stand. “Y-Your lips were made to be around my cock. You know that?”
Jungkook’s praises were treats for your ego and you made sure to devour them in their entirety. He was a pleasant mess; his hair stuck out in all directions while his lips were swollen and vibrant with a scarlet hue as he kept biting down on them harshly. His glasses were slightly fogged and there were traces of saliva sitting on the corner of his mouth. All you wanted was to continue seeing him lose himself at your mercy.
You reached into your pocket and turned on the palm sized stimulator—you placed it against his balls before hitting the on button, setting off its vibrations. His head fell back and his hips buckled forward, causing you to gag around the majority of cock.
“I’m gonna come,” he cried out.
If anyone would’ve told you having Jungkook’s dick in your mouth would be this heavenly, you would live on your knees in front of him forever. Pleasuring him at every hour of every day but today you had different plans and once again he let out frustrated whimpers as you removed your mouth from around him.
“No—no, darling you’re fucking killing me. I need to come now,” he sounded desperate, “It hurts so bad. I need to come.”
“Don’t worry baby. We’re getting right to that,” you placed a kiss on his forehead.
“Did you bring any condoms?”
He shook his head, “I wasn’t exactly expecting things to go down this route.”
“Are you. .?”
“I’m clean. Are you?”
“I am.”
There was a timid breeze coming in through the opened window, it was enough to cool you down just a bit, well as cool as you could be without a fan.
Bouncing on Jungkook’s dick was even better than having him in your mouth. Sure, you loved the way he became a stuttering mess with the teasing of your tongue but having him deep inside of you, you felt like you were in your own heaven. On a deserted island somewhere with nothing but the swift breeze coming from the palm trees and his touch on your skin.
“You take me so well,” he whispered in your ear but you were too busy consumed by your own pleasure. Hyper focused on the way his hands dug into your waist; the way he swiftly pushed his cock in and out of you.
The sounds of your skin slapping against his blared through the room, as well as your profanities and his words of praise just as before.
Your nails dug into his shoulder as you felt a build up of tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, causing you to arch your back. Seemingly, the way you clenched around Jungkook he seemed to have noticed you were extremely close.
“Come for me darling,” with each word he buried his dick deeper into you.
It was a blissful paradise painted on the back of your eyelids as Jungkook continued to mold your insides with his dick, he was careful but rammed into you with such force, your voice was strained and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You finally came as sights of the beeming sun behind your closed eyes blinded you entirely.
“Come inside of me,” you managed; even more sweaty than how you began, absolutely tired and completely out of breath.
He chanted strings of your name as finally filled you up.
“Please come over more often and bring all of your brownies with you,” you were pressed up against him as he hugged your waist, placing a soft kiss on your head.
“How about we begin by going to that movie tomorrow?” It was so funny to you how Jungkook had practically just split you in two and now he was back to being soft spoken.
“It’s a date.”
It was now Friday, the power was finally back on around the city and Jungkook followed through on his plans to take you to the movies. The only problem was when you approached the theater you spotted your nosey landlord standing in line right beside Namjoon. “Before you say anything, Seokjin. Please just shut the fuck up.”
“You always think the worse of me,” he placed his hand on his chest, “all I was going to say is my Cupid’s bow is to thank for the two of you finally getting together.”
“In that case, thank you Seokjin,” Jungkook said.
“Don’t thank him.”
“Actually, please do. But the next time yall fuck in my building please keep it down. Just like the walls, the floors are also thin and the fifth floor did not appreciate your day of passion.”
“Seokjin, please go back to your own date,” you hissed, hoping no one else in line heard his little rant, “pretend we’re not here.”
Jungkook’s shame sat in his now red tinted cheeks, you peppered kisses on them to ease him.
“See, they can’t even keep their hands to themselves in public,” you heard Seokjin whisper.
This is going to be an interesting date.
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a/n: this was pretty fun to write but supposed to be out on my birthday a couple days ago but i couldn’t meet the deadline sadly but please enjoy and disregard the smut scene if it’s bad. I tried lol my brain just wasn’t working 100%.
thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)
#bts#bts smut#bts imagines#bts reactions#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook drabble#very brief mention of seokjin x namjoon#bangtan sonyeondan#jungkook x you#bts jungkook smut
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ok so how about cullen poly during the fight scene in the fourth movie orrrr cullen poly with how spending a day with them would be like
Tomorrow Poly Cullens x reader
Summary: Basically what the lovely anon asked for but I didn’t listen what so ever so I might make a part two if you guys want.
Etc: And if you loves want a part two let me know and drop some ideas for what they could do in their two hours aloneee. Also thank you my loves for all of the notes it encourages me to write more things for you guys and not just myself lol <3
Word count: 1694
Time it took: 1 hour and 40 minutes
“How could you be like a thousand years old and still so stupid!” You huffed holding your head in your hand. You and the Cullens had been fighting lately. You don’t know why.. Well maybe you have something to do with it.
“How am I stupid? I really can’t hangout with you today my darling. We need to hunt. Especially Jasper, with you being around a lot more his hunger levels tend to double.” Carlisle said. You could just picture him looking at you in sympathy.
You had called him because apparently all of your lovers are just too busy to hang out with you. You thought Carlisle would be free seeing as he was off today but I guess that wasn’t the case. He was off to go hunting with the rest of the family. Jasper had to leave earlier than the rest. So Alice, Emmett and Esme went with him. You thought Edward would be free since he didn’t go with him but he was in one of his petty moods ever since you went to hang out with Seth and Jacob with Bella. You told him he had nothing to worry about but he insisted that he did. Him and his stupid stupid mind reading. Which led to a fight with him so he was on the bottom of the roster right now.
Then there was Rosalie which was just a hard no for you. You didn’t want to hang out with her right now. Why you may ask? She threw away your pasta three days ago because she said it stunk. Who is she to throw away your pasta? You don’t walk around here popping her blood bags because you don’t like the way it looks to you. Maybe you should. I thought about it for a while and eventually said it out loud, Which was another fight with her that you could just add to the list.
So that left Carlisle who was perfect. Just perfect. He had picked you up from school just earlier today because you told him that you needed a ride. Since everyone else was busy he came and got you. Which he usually doesn’t do because it draws attention. But by now everyone was used to you being with and around the Cullens. Though they don’t know that you date them all. They only know that you date Jasper and Edward which they already thought was weird as hell. But you never cared. You're in love with two vampires that are the downfall to all of the human race. And you think that the world can know that. Know just enough without blowing the cover of it all.
“My love, I know that you are disappointed and upset with us but sadly there is nothing that I can offer for a solution.” Carlisle said after hearing your long aspirated sigh.
“It’s like you guys are avoiding me. I don’t feel loved at all. I want some love without an argument following through not even two minutes in.” You said, Stripping yourself of your clothes preparing to take a shower since you had nothing better to do.
“We are not avoiding you-” Carlisle paused and you could hear voices in the background. Listening closely you could hear that it was Esme.
“Is that-”
“I’m sorry but I have to go, the hospital is calling.” He rushed out and before you could even say a word the line was clear.
Pulling your phone away from your ear you could do nothing but stare at it in disbelief. He hung up on you. And not only that but you were completely sure that that was Esme's voice in the background. No one else around her sounds like her. And you know damn well the hospital did not call him. He was lying. Esme was lying. They’re all lying.
You couldn’t feel anything but disbelief.
You knew they lied to just about everyone but that was to protect their family. Not everyone in the town could know that they drink animal blood and sparkle in the sun like a fucking case of glitter. But you knew those things already. You’ve seen those things already. So there would be no reason to hide anything from you. At all.
Finding a new sense of adventure sparling through your veins you put your clothes back on now determined to find some answers.
Running down the stairs with your bookbag you almost bumped into Charlie. “Woah there kiddo, What's the rush?!” He yelled out to you as you ran past him.
“I’ll be back later, don't worry I just need to see something really quick!” You yelled back getting into your car Carlisle got you for your last birthday. You had told him that was a big mistake. Even though He bought you a car you always felt guilty using it because you didn’t want it to look like you were using him. So you’d always catch a ride with one of them or go with bella. But right now you didn’t care about any of that.
Pulling up to the Cullens residents It looked deserted. But then again when did it not? Parking your car you walked up to the door which was already being opened by Alice. Once you saw her you immediately frowned. She was supposed to be with Jasper just like Esme was.
“What are you-”
“You need to go home.” Alice said firmly with her head held high light always.
“What? I don’t understand, why are you here?” You grow your eyebrows in confusion.
“Cleaning. Now go.” She said pointing back to your car.
“Do you see me walking away from this house anytime soon Alice?” You said standing your ground. She wasn’t just about to go and rush you away when you had only just gotten here. Seeing her face you knew the answer.
You pushed her out of the way gently but made it known that you were going to back down and bow like a little puppy.
As you walked closer to the heart of the house you heard mumbling and hushed whispers. Finally reaching your destination your eyes widened a little with what you saw. And your heart skipped a couple of beats.
Standing in front of you there was a sign on the wall that read. "We're so sorry’ And the loves of your life were each holding a sign that read ‘I love you because…’
“I know we lied to you but we had too. It was the only way for us to be able to put something together to try and show you the love that we have for you. You came sooner than expected.” Jasper said, looking a little ashamed. Him and his southern accent would always make you smile. Sometimes you wondered if it was just him. Or him using his powers on you. But either way you didn’t care it made you happy.
“Once Alice saw you coming we had to throw something together really fast. We were still brainstorming ideas Roslise didn’t like anything we suggested.” Edward said, shooting Rose a pointed look making you let out a small laugh. That was more like a sigh of relief.
“It wasn’t enough, all their Ideas sucked. You deserve nothing but the best and I think I'm the only one in this room that understands that.” Rose said in her know it all tone that you loved so much.
“When you said over the phone early that you didn’t feel loved anymore that broke a piece of my heart. I- We never want you to feel that way. We want you to feel like the most loved person in this world. Because you are my love. We would die for you.” Carlisle said taking a step closer to you.
“I’d live for you.” Edward said, taking a step closer to you.
“Fight for you.” Jasper and Emmett said at the same time. Also taking a step closer to you.
“Smile for you.” Rose said, taking her step.
“Care for you.” Esme said taking a step as well.
“We couldn’t imagine a life without you and we're going to prove it to you. Starting today.” Esme said.
“Well more like tomorrow.” Rose said Shrugging her shoulders when everyone looked at her with a look as if to tell her to shut up.
“Rose is right, the full day starts tomorrow but doesn’t mean we can’t start tonight. You’ll have at least 2 hours with each of us until it’s time for us all to gather together. Since tomorrow is saturday.” Carlisle said kissing the top of your forehead, making you smile. Realizing you hadn’t said a word in a while you decided to throw something out there.
“Really?” You whispered but you know they heard you. Perks of being a vampire.
“Yes.” They all said collectively.
This made you so over filled with joy squealing you kissed all of your lovers with a big wide smile on your face. They of course kissed you back like they always do. Biting your bottom lip in anticipation you looked up at all of them in expectation. Making them all break out with a soft smile. In admiration.
“So what’s first?” You said basically bouncing up and down in excitement.
“I mean we could take you up to the bedroom right now and start the fun immediately.” Emmett smirked looking you up and down with suggestive eyes.
“Emmett!” You all said collectively.
“What? What did I say wrong? Don’t tell me you all haven't been thinking the same thing.”
Tomorrow just couldn’t get here fast enough.
#cullen poly#poly#twilight#cullen romance#carlisle cullen#edward cullen#rosalie cullen#jasper cullen#esme cullen#xreader#x reader#rosalie cullen xreader#jasper hale x y/n#edward cullen x reader#esme cullen x reader#poly cullen x reader#cullen x reader#carlisle x reader#twilight x reader
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hot & heavy
chapter fourteen: stuck forever by the glue
neighbor!joel x f!reader
series masterlist
series rating: E (18+ MDNI)
series summary:
over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?
word count: 7.4k
warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, soft joel, very minimal like sweetie possessive joel, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, this is honestly just an ooey gooey syrupy sweet chapter y'all
a/n: this is so wild. it's done! (basically....epilogue to come) i seriously can't express how much it means to me that y'all read and kept up with and cared about my little story. i have fallen in love with writing and i just really thank you all for everything you've given me! i feel so lucky to have so many incredible, talented, all-star humans reading something silly i've made. THANK YOU.
and an extra special thanks to el @northernbluess who has been such a big support throughout my process of writing this story. she's beta-read nearly every single chapter and has helped me so much in developing the characters and the story and just everything. can't write without you, el. love you!
alright, enough from me - enjoy joel & mariposa's ending! and please drop any thoughts or scenarios or milestones you want to see for them in the epilogue into my inbox!!!
“Fuck, oh shit, Joel!”
You’re whisper-yelling as you scramble to throw his comforter off of you, kicking it away from your feet and jumping out of bed. One arm moves up to cover your chest as you whirl around the room looking for your clothes. As you slip your panties up your legs and let them snap against your hips, Joel stirs awake enough to pick his head up, glancing around in a daze.
“What is happening? What’s wrong?” he groggily asks, turning over from lying on his tummy to his back, arm bending to rest against his forehead and shielding his eyes from the early summer morning light peeking through the curtains.
Puffing out a breath to blow the hair from your face, hands occupied with attempting to clasp your bra behind your back, you shoot him a look.
“Check the time,” you order flatly, nodding your chin to his alarm clock at the bedside.
After a delayed beat, Joel’s head turns, studying the display before his bed shoots back to look at you, arm dropped from his head. With his eyebrows raised and mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape, he chuckles quietly at your distress.
Amid your activities from the night before, much like the last week of nights spent with Joel, the alarm on his side had forgotten to be set. Normally, you would brush it off, so long as the two of you were up in time for work, which Sarah usually made sure of thanks to her promptness, even as a ten-year-old.
But today, no, today was a weekend and also the day of the neighborhood’s annual block party and summer barbecue. And you had promised — assured — your mother that you would be up and at ‘em early to help her prep all the food she promised to make and to help decorate the street and all the tables.
Joel had promised — assured — that he set the alarm last night before the two of you started fooling around, distraction imminent for the man with his wandering hands and blood pumping. Turns out, you were apparently too tempting, and too exhausting, of a time to focus on anything else.
“Darlin’, it’ll be fine. Doubt your mom has even noticed your absence, she’s probably so busy already she’s just fluttering around your house.” Joel’s face returns to a drowsy expression, one eyebrow quirking up for a moment as you angrily groan at your t-shirt when struggling to find the head hole with it pulled over your head all lopsided.
He rises from the bed, padding over to you and reaching up to pause your frantic hands. Slow moving, he rights the material and gently tugs it down, revealing your frustrating and pouty look.
Joel coaxes your arms out of their stubborn crossed position over your chest, aiding them into the holes and fully pulling the t-shirt down. Fingers graze the top of your panties from underneath your cotton shirt, satisfied smirk when he feels goosebumps rise.
“She may not notice, but my Dad, who’s probably doing nothing, will notice and tell my mom. And she’ll tell him to go downstairs and check on me.” You swat his hands away gently, stepping backward and turning your head this way and that way to find your shorts. “And if he goes downstairs, and I’m not there, but then magically appear minutes later from my studio, well, I think they’ll clock that something’s up.”
Thick arms wrap around your waist, freezing you in place. One hand gently grips the tip of your chin between his index and thumb, tilting your head to look into his eyes.
“It’ll be fine, Mari baby. You’ll get home and you’ll go upstairs and they won’t even know you were gone for a second.” Joel punctuates his reassurances with a kiss, rubbing slow circles in your lower back.
“You are extremely calm in this situation. Why aren’t you more stressed out than me?” you interrogate, raising one brow and pursing your lips. He chuckles and shrugs, incredibly nonchalant, before pecking your lips once more.
“S’cause I woke up with you next to me.” The grin is evident in his next kiss, pulling one from you no matter how much you fight it. “Plus, had some pretty great sex last night.”
“Oh my god, okay, I’m leaving. Such an idiot—” you smack his arm playfully and untangle from his arms, “ruining a perfectly sweet, wholesome moment.”
“Didn’t ruin anything. Y’know you were thinkin’ the same thing,” he counters as he throws on boxers, following you out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
You glance over your shoulder, shooting him an eye roll while biting back a smile. Padding quickly into the kitchen, you slip your shoes on from where they sit next to the back door, turning toward Joel in a rush as he strides over to you. Still sleepy eyes take you in, grabby hands finding your waist and pulling you in tight to his chest while you groan.
“J, baby, I gotta go.” He buries his head in your neck, shaking it enough for his messy curls to brush against your skin in a tickle. “I’ll see you later, okay? We jus’ have to make it through the party, and then I’m all yours. Deal?”
Lifting his head with an elongated sigh, he nods subtly and sneaks a quick kiss, “Deal. But I kind of don’t want to share you with the whole neighborhood tonight. Wish it was jus’ you and me.”
“Me too, baby, but we’ll survive. We’ve made it this long, haven’t we?” Fingers glide through his hair, pushing it up off his forehead. Before you step back and reach for the door, he pulls you in again, one hand finding your jaw to hold you there as he gives you a slow, syrupy, toe-curling kiss. The linger of it tickles your lips when he pulls away, a drowsy, beaming smile filling his face.
“Love you, Mari baby. See you later.”
“Love you more, J. See y’all later.” One last effort breaks you free of him, slipping out the door with him still on your tail, large palm making contact with your ass in a smack. A look back at him gives you a wink and smirk in return, Joel’s wide frame filling the threshold as you descend his deck stairs and scurry across your lawn to make it home in time.
God, you’re too old to be sneaking around with your boyfriend.
But damn, if he doesn’t make it fun.
Late afternoon, when the sticky, humid air has cooled down only fractions from the peak of the day, the whole onslaught of the neighborhood gathers on your cul-de-sac. Lawn games litter front yards of everyone around, the food tables set up between your driveway and Joel’s. Two grills are lit and manned on the asphalt in front of your garage, barely enough space to cook all the food that could feed an entire army, plus all of your neighbors.
The skirt of your baby blue sundress swishes against your thighs as you flutter around the folding tables set out to frame the street. Borrowed, mismatched tablecloths have been blanketed over the surfaces, and it’s been your latest task to arrange simple centerpieces of wildflowers from your garden beds built by Joel, and vases pulled from the backs of cabinets in your house. With every inch of your movement, your eyes flicker to track Joel’s, licking your lips as you watch the fabric of his muted blue t-shirt pull and strain across his shoulder blades. The hair at the back of his neck curled more from the perspiration that he was building while carrying coolers full of ice, beer, sodas, and water all about the street.
While putting the finishing touches on the last centerpiece, it seems that when you look up again, the whole neighborhood has shown up all at once. Joel’s gone from your line of sight, and you resign to finding the nearest cold beer and being pulled into a conversation with Mrs. Clarke and some of her book club ladies from the street over that you don’t know as well. They fuss over you, admiring your dress and your hair, and commenting repeatedly about ‘how gorgeous and youthful’ you are. As you open your mouth to accept the compliments again with a polite ‘thank you’, a familiar voice cuts in from over your shoulder.
“Excuse me, ladies, I hate to interrupt y’all but I was hoping to steal her away for a bit. Kind of need a partner for some cornhole and we’ve got a winning streak to maintain.” Joel shoots all of the older women a charming grin when you turn to your side to see him, his eyes finding yours for a split second.
“Oh, god, another one of you youngin’ neighbors! I have been loving to see so many new folks move in and all you kids that have returned. It is so lovely,” Mrs. Clarke shares, nodding her head with a mischievous grin toward Joel, “Y’know, y’all are pretty handsome together. Maybe it’s just 'cause y’all are young and beautiful still!”
Mrs. Clarke and the other women laugh, a wide smile on your face as you shake your head, “C’mon, Mrs. Clarke, you’re beautiful — Joel’s actually been tellin’ me he’s got a crush on a neighbor, my bets are on you.”
She laughs again, waving off the compliments, “Well I wouldn’t go gambling if that’s how you bet, sugar. I think you’d be at the top of all the lists if you ask everyone here; you’ve been the talk of the neighborhood since you came back from that big ol’ city you were in. Everybody’s been saying how you are still such a sweet girl, but I can tell something’s different. In a good way.”
She shoots you a wink and you soak in the sentiments, looking over to Joel when he cuts in again.
“I think I’d agree with ya, ma’am. Definitely different in a good way. Like whiskey in a teacup.” The look in his eyes is filled with the silent affection that his words coil around, saying all that he can’t say at the moment. Instead, he wraps up the conversation for you, thanking the four women before letting you step ahead of him, his hand barely ghosting over your back in what would look to be an innocent gesture.
“Now did you really want to play bags or was that just an excuse?” you tease, taking a sip of your drink while you two wander over to the game set up in the grass.
Joel shrugs, smile toying at his lips, “Had to be able to find a way to sweet talk my crush now, didn’t I?”
A roll of your eyes and growing smirk encourages him, nudging your side with his elbow, “Y’think Mrs. Clarke is gonna go around gossipin’ about us when the whole neighborhood finds out I’ve got a crush on you and not her?”
“Oh definitely. Lived here my whole life, that woman knows everybody’s business before they know it themselves. Don’t be surprised if she’s told everybody you’re in love with me by the time this evening’s wrappin’ up.” Squatting down, Joel gathers up the bean bags from the surface of the handbuilt gameboards, handing you the green while he takes the yellow.
As he deposits them one by one in your open palm, he shoots you a genuine, shy smile. “Well, wouldn’t be a lie so I guess it would jus’ help me out. Maybe we should tell Mrs. Clarke and then everybody will know tonight.”
“Haha. Very funny, Miller,” you reply dryly, shooting him a playfully annoyed look before starting the game between the two of you.
The back-and-forth flows easily for the two of you, both in gameplay and banter. At the game-point throw, you sink it in the hole, cheering for yourself when you nail the score of exactly twenty-one. Joel tosses his own, flicking his wrist only slightly at the last moment to scratch the throw, leaving you victorious. He smiles to himself as he watches you eagerly clap for yourself, turning to him and nodding toward the spread of food that was finally laid out.
You’re so beautiful.
The look you’re giving him sends a jolt into his spine, fuzzing his brain while the butterfly in his chest rapidly pumps its wings.
“C’mon, let's eat. All that losin’ probably worked up an appetite for you.” Without clasping around his, your hand brushes your fingers against the back of his palm. The softness leaves an itch on his skin, his nerves simply jumping for the chance to touch you. You lead confidently while he trails behind in your wake, observing as everyone sends you a smile or a greeting that you return right back with a glow.
He’d follow you anywhere.
And he knows how damn lucky he is that you’re willing to let him.
It’s what he can’t help but continue to think about as the night rolls on, watching you from his place at a table with a handful of the guys from the neighborhood, including your dad and brother, and Tommy, who stopped over after his own plans for the evening went belly up. While he nurses the beer from the glass bottle in his hand, you are bouncing with a baby on your hip to the beat of the song playing over the speakers. It’s the kid you nanny, having taken her from her parents to let them eat and enjoy a moment of calmness with everyone while you keep the young one entertained.
The happy baby babbles in your arms as you dance with her subtly, standing in a small group of other neighbors. It’s so natural for you, the way you’re nurturing and easily adapting to having a little human attached to your side. He can’t shake the way his body is begging him to get up and go over to you, wanting to help you, to play pretend for a moment that it’s an addition to your little family in your arms.
He nearly stumbles over himself to get out of his seat when Sarah pulls you away from the group, thanking his daughter inside his head for giving him the perfect excuse to be close to you in the moment. Tommy chuckles to himself when he follows where Joel’s gaze is aimed, shaking his head subtly at his older brother’s obvious stare.
Joel doesn’t pay him any mind as he walks over toward you and Sarah, brushing against your side as he folds forward at his waist to press a kiss to the top of his daughter’s curly hair. The baby is babbling again in your arms, wiggling and mouthing on her hand while she stares at Joel. He shoots her a smile, opening and closing his fingers in a loose fist to wave.
“Hey there, little one. Now who’s this?” he asks, eyes finding your face while you grin at the happy baby girl in your arms.
“This is Amelia. She’s Brian and Steph’s daughter, the one I’ve been nannying this summer since Steph’s gone back to work,” you adjust her again and Joel nods, reaching out absentmindedly to lay a hand on Sarah’s head.
“Isn’t she so cute, Daddy?” Sarah laughs quietly when Amelia squeals excitedly. Her hand tugs on Joel’s shirt to grab his attention back from staring at you, eyebrows raised, and the same look on her face that she gets when she desperately wants a toy from the store. “I want to get a baby!”
He nearly chokes on his breath when he rushes to respond, hearing your quiet giggle as he coughs before clearing his throat. Addressing Sarah, he gives her an understanding smile, “Babies are pretty cute, aren’t they? But you’ll need to be much, much older until you can get a baby, mija. Like you’ll need to be Posey’s age or even better, you can be Daddy’s age and get a baby for yourself, alright?”
“That’s not very fun. You’re old, I don’t wanna wait that long. It’s like an eternity,” she replies bluntly, causing you to laugh and Joel to shoot you a warning look before he returns to Sarah.
“Trust me, Bug, it’s not that long in the grand scheme of things. Before I know it, you’ll be out of my house and I’ll be even more ancient, apparently, and you’ll have your own babies. All in due time, mija. Don’t wish away your life.” He pats her curls while she stands, thought clearly turning in her head.
A lightbulb goes off and she gasps, clapping her hands together as she says only to the two of you, “I know! You can get another baby, Daddy, and then I’ll have a cute one to play with. You can get one with Posey.”
Sarah beams with what seems like a completely genius idea to her, waiting for a response or a plan of action to get this all set in motion for her. You laugh again, stepping in when Joel can’t seem to find the right words to say.
He doesn’t want to outwardly deny it. Definitely doesn’t want you to think that is something he wouldn’t want. He’s told you as much.
But he also doesn’t want to step in any hot water, doesn’t want to put his foot in his mouth if it really is something you haven’t thought about much.
“That is such a smart idea, Sare-Bear,” you grin comfortingly and reach out a free hand to brush her hair back, “Y’know who else you could ask to have a baby? Uncle Tommy. Why don’t you go ask him why he doesn’t have a girlfriend so that he can give you a cousin?”
Sarah giggles and matches your mischievous energy, scampering off to go wholesomely harass her uncle. You turn to Joel, your face twisting into curiosity when you can’t read the look on his face.
“What? Should I have explained where babies come from to her or something instead? Was it a bad idea to sick her on Tommy?”
“No, not at all. To answer both your questions,” he bites back from absolutely beaming, turning his gaze to baby Amelia’s chubby cheeks when his voice drops to a level only audible to you standing inches from him, “Would you?”
“Would I what?” Your head tilts to the side, adjusting Amelia on your hip and hiking her up. Joel opens his mouth to clarify his question when Steph sidles up next to you, thanking you profusely while she takes her daughter back into her arms. The interaction warms Joel’s blood in his veins, the wings of the butterfly pushing the rattle of nerves into his throat.
Everyone loves you so much here, and you really do have love for everyone.
A fucking solid gold heart inside of you and Joel can’t believe you’ve given even a piece, a sliver, of it to him to safeguard.
Turning your attention back to him when the two of you are left alone, you lift the corner of your lip up in an anxious comfort, “So, would I what?”
“Would you have a kid? With me. Would you have a kid with me?” It all rushes out, words blending together but you understand all the same. A quiet laugh rolls from your chest, skyrocketing his worry in the moment before you shake your head and give his bicep a quick, but reassuring squeeze.
“Course I would, J. Don’t think anything would make me happier.” Your eyes sparkle in the setting sunlight, the solid and steady beat of his heart surely heard over the music and noise by everyone around you both. Pressing his lips together to restrain himself, he nods slowly and attempts to remain casual.
“I wanna kiss you so fucking much right now, Mari.”
“I want that, too. But I think Mrs. Clarke would be jealous. Stealin’ you away from her.” The joke breaks the tension, sending him into a small fit of laughter, shaking his head at your ridiculousness.
“Guess I better go ask Mrs. Clarke the same question then, huh? Keep my options open.”
“Better go. Give her enough time to tell Mr. Clarke she’s running away with the neighbor forty years younger than her.”
“Definitely think that’d go over better than you, the beloved, sweet neighborhood girl, running away with me.”
“Oh hush, doesn’t matter how well it’d go over. Jus’ matters if we can run fast enough away from the angry mob that’s gonna come after ya.” You wink and laugh again, your head shaking back and forth before it whips in the direction of your mom calling your name. Another soft and subtle touch is fleetingly felt against his skin, turning over your shoulder to mouth a quick ‘love you’ to him as you walk away.
He returns it before searching around to fill his hands before returning back to the table and sitting down next to his brother. Joel sets the full beer bottle next to his half-full one, eyes still trained on you before Tommy grabs his attention with a hard jab to his side and snags the full beer.
“So why the hell is my niece asking me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend so I can have a baby?”
Night has overtaken the sky, with sprinklings of stars and a waxing moon as its centerpieces. Everyone along the road has turned on their porch lights, extra portable camping lights, and hanging lanterns brought out to make enough light to continue the party. The handful of neighborhood kids run around to catch fireflies while the adults either stand around in conversations or gather in the open space between all of the tables to dance. Your parents, ever the hosts that they are, have popped back into the house to gather more drinks and desserts for everyone. Wrapped up in a chat about a potential hire for a job with a guy from a few streets over, Joel hasn’t paid mind to where you’re at or if Sarah’s running along with the other kids. He shakes the man’s hand and promises to stop by when he can during the week to check out exactly what the job would entail and if his guys can get it done.
Turning away, the sight of you is perfectly framed by warm lights, a tunnel of everything else fading away while he observes you from across the street. The mop of curls he loves dearly bounces around with you, your hands holding Sarah’s and spinning her around the dancefloor. His daughter’s laughter hits his ears over the sound of the music, tugging a smile onto his face that nearly matches your beaming grin.
This whole night, he hasn’t been able to stay away from you long. And he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of how desperate he is to stay in your pull, to be able to make you smile and laugh, to make you happy.
You do so much for others, offering a hand or making them smile with your genuine care and humor. Everyone is so drawn to you, he’s not the only one who wants to have you around. And he knows about what you’re going through behind closed doors, the things you tell him about when no one else will listen or understand. The same things he heard from you when you were thousands of miles away, voice crackling over the phone. All he wants to do is to be there for you, to show you the same kindness that you show him, that you show everyone you encounter.
Ever since he met you, he’s never wanted to be apart from you. But he didn’t trust himself not to make selfish decisions, so he pushed you away that first summer, and let you go the second. Now, with no endings in sight at the end of summer, anything is possible.
One thing’s for sure though — he’s tired of hiding.
All it does is take up more energy that he could be giving to you, to Sarah, to a better future for all of you.
And fuck’s sake, if he doesn’t want everyone to know that you chose him. The best person he knows — has ever known — chose him and continues to choose him, to forgive him, to love him. He doesn’t know what the future holds, doesn’t know what everything will look like for y’all in a week, in a year, in a decade, but all he can say is that whatever it all entails, however much it scares him, he wants you there by his side. He needs you.
Without a second thought, he moves toward you as the song changes, depositing his nearly empty drink on the nearest table. Swiping his clammy hands on his jeans as he walks, he takes a deep breath before he taps you on the shoulder. He shoots Sarah a wink over your shoulder while you turn around, her giggle bringing a lopsided grin to his face.
“Oh, Joel, what’s up?” you ask casually, cocking an eyebrow up in confusion.
He addresses Sarah in the next moment, putting on a formal tone and clearing his throat, “Excuse me, Miss Sarah, but would you mind if I steal Mariposa away for a dance?”
“Of course not, Daddy!” she grins widely, showing off her missing tooth that came out a few nights ago, “Have fun, Posey!”
Sarah scurries off to find her friends from the neighborhood, and Joel holds his hand out with a soft smirk. Utterly puzzled, you glance around before focusing back on Joel at the sound of his voice.
“May I have this dance, Mari?”
You’re surprised, stumbling out a response as you tentatively place your hand in his, “Yes, I mean — yes, but — What are you doing, J?”
With your hand in his, he leads you further into the couples dancing along to the sweetly slow love song playing. In the middle, he stops and faces you, keeping your hand in his, holding them up close with a bent elbow while his other finds your waist and pulls you in closer. The two of you start to sway and Joel’s lips settle next to your ear while you dance.
“Joel, everyone’s staring…and talking amongst themselves. What are you doing?” you ask in a hushed voice, pulling away to look into his eyes. Anxiety flashes in yours and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before replying.
“M’letting go, mi amor. Let ‘em stare,” he replies, the corners of his lips rising in a tender grin. He slips his hand from yours, fingers trailing down your arm to bring it to rest on his shoulder like your other one. Both of his hands spread across your hips, pressing into the fabric of your dress and pushing around to settle at your lower back.
“But they’re gonna start spreading shit and I know you weren’t ready before to tell anyone else — my parents might be around, J. I don’t want you to do this if you aren’t ready, or if you’re just doing this for me.”
He leans closer, tilting his head down to lay his forehead against yours. Holding your eyes, he speaks quietly, voice rasping with the strain of the volume and the emotion coating his words, “El amor es ciego, pero los vecinos no. (Love is blind, but the neighbors aren’t.) There’s always going to be people to gossip, or to whisper about us. All that matters to me is what you think, and how you feel. I want to be able to tell everyone that you’re mine, and I’m yours. I’m so lucky, and I am so proud to be your partner in life, Mari baby. M’tired of trying to predict what the future’s gonna be for us, and m’tired of trying to keep the reality of life away from us. Truth is, I don’t think there’s anything that life could throw at me or you that we couldn’t get through together. I need you there, always, sweet girl. Todo va a salir bien. Everything will work out.”
“I-God, I don’t even know what to say…” Tears well at your waterline, none daring to fall over the edge while you attempt to remain composed for the crowd that is surely watching everything happening. “All I can think about is how much I love you, Joel. And I want all of the same things, and I know that with you, we can handle whatever life has planned for us.”
“I love you too, baby. Te amo siempre, mi Mariposa. (I love you always, my Mariposa).”
The song’s last few notes fade out, some of the couples filtering out of the dance floor when the music changes over. After another short peck from Joel, the bubble the two of you were in dissolves when Sarah runs up, asking Joel if she can have another cookie. He gives her the quick go-ahead, watching her rush off as quickly as she came, and suddenly you’re reminded you’re in the middle of the whole neighborhood.
No one says anything as you lead Joel away, hand-in-hand. But a few looks are exchanged and the eyes of everyone feel hot on your neck. A glance around proves your parents aren’t outside still, and your stomach flips with the real possibility that someone, particularly nosey neighbors, may have beaten you to the punch in terms of telling them about you and Joel.
Tugging him from a good few steps ahead, Joel widens his strides to catch up easily as you beeline toward your garage, the mechanical door wide open for people to come and go as needed. You stop in your tracks right in front of the door to the inside, taking a deep breath before turning around to face Joel.
“Alright, it’s now or never, J. Either we’re the ones to tell our parents, or they find out from Mrs. Clarke’s book club that we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other and—”
Joel interrupts your ramblings with a gentle chuckle, tilting his head to the side as he looks over your face before locking his eyes with yours.
“So are we the ones meant to be saying we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other?” he asks with a smirk, one eyebrow raising in question.
“Oh, c’mon, Joel.”
“M’kiddin’, Mari. It’s now or never, and I am not a man that says never. So lead the way, sweet girl.” He gestures to the door behind you, a genuine smile on his face quelling your heightened nerves.
If you could read his mind, you know he’s freaking out right now.
But no, instead he’s keeping it cool on the outside, trying to be a calming presence for your own anxious thoughts.
Can’t help but ask himself questions. What if your parents get upset or angry? What if they dismiss it, not believing that it would ever work between the two of them? What if they take it out on you? It’s not your fault that they didn’t find out earlier — would they hate him if he defends you in an argument? What if they don’t think he is good enough for you?
He has his own doubts, but hearing it from your parents would crush him.
You walk ahead of him, holding onto his hand while you walk inside and through your empty living room. He drops his hand from yours right on the threshold of your kitchen and gives you a tight smile when you look back at him. Wiping his clammy hands on his jeans, he takes a deep breath before following you into the room.
Clearing your throat to grab your parents' attention, you saddle up to the island and lean forward with your elbows on the cool countertops. Joel stands next to you, a respectable distance away but you feel the itch to bring him closer. Your dad turns around first, pausing his task of filling a cooler with ice from the freezer.
“Hey there, kiddo. Oh, and heya, Miller! Y’all havin’ a good time tonight? Need anything?”
“Or are y’all bein’ sweethearts and have come inside to help us with all this?” Your mom nods over her shoulder to the rest of the desserts plated across the counters.
She turns around next after washing her hands at the kitchen sink, patting them dry with a towel before she crosses the small walkway to settle on the other side of the island. Joel shakes his head when you’re silent for a moment, giving both of your parents a smile.
“No, don’t need anything. And I would be happy to help, ma’am—” Joel ever so politely offers before you interrupt him.
“I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to y’all about something.” Your voice wavers only slightly, a stuttering sound coming from your throat as you clear it again. One of your mom’s eyebrows raises in curiosity, much more sprawling thoughts happening in the subtle twitches of her eyes as she looks at your face, then at Joel’s, and back to you.
Your dad is a bit oblivious.
“Joel and I will leave ya to it, y’all can fill me in later,” he faces Joel, nodding toward the direction of the door and closing the top of the cooler he packed full of ice a minute ago. Joel opens his mouth to respond when you fill in again quickly, holding a hand up to stop your dad’s movements.
“No, um, actually, it’s better if you’re both here and Joel’s here ‘cause, well…” A flip of your stomach nearly sends your dinner back up, but you swallow it down and lock your eyes on your hands as you finally spill the secret you’ve kept for the last three summers.
“Joel and I are together. Like in a relationship. A serious one.” You kept adding clarifications to fill the silence that’s fallen over the room, and Joel steps closer, reaching a hand up to rest on your back between your shoulder blades. He braces for ridicule, eyes trained on you as you keep yours on your hands.
Nothing. Your parents are saying nothing.
And you cannot take the silence anymore, so you begin to recount it all from the first summer, meeting him and getting to know him — sparing the details of the two of you…getting together. The short month-long second summer, Joel holding out his hope for you to stay but eventually letting you go. The year between that time and the beginning of this summer, infrequent phone calls and life updates. And finally, this summer, when you came back with no end in sight and nothing holding the two of you back. Given the chance to finally give it a proper go, and falling even more in love with him than you thought you could love anyone.
Your eyes flick to Joel’s as you confess that, and he returns the sentiment with a warm smile and his hand rubbing slow circles against the bare skin of your back exposed by your thinly-strapped dress.
God, you really do love him.
So much so, it occurs to you that it doesn’t really matter what comes after this. You choose him, and he’s chosen you, and your family would have to accept it. You’ve spent too much time without him in your life, completely, and there isn’t going to be another summer ending in heartbreak.
At the end of your three-summer abridged summary, Joel turns toward your parents, speaking up for himself. “I just—I want to tell you both that I care very much about your daughter. I love her dearly, and my life’s gotten astronomically better since she stepped into it. Mine and Sarah’s. You’ve raised an incredible woman, someone who is kind but never lets anyone push her around. A complete force.” Joel turns back to you, a growing, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I can only hope that Sarah gets the same fierceness and is as self-willed as you. I’ve said it before, but you’ve got a golden heart. You’re magic.”
The four of you talk it through, fielding their questions and small concerns as best as you can to reassure them. They share a look before your mom speaks, taking a deep breath that lifts and drops her shoulders.
“We can’t say that it’s not going to be an adjustment. I mean, dropping this all on us after not telling us for so long is a lot to process—”
“Of course, of course. I should’ve said something earlier, I’m sorry.”
“No, no. Don’t apologize. I just…Did you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about it or something, sweetie?” There’s a thickness in your mom’s voice, one that makes your chest ache.
“Oh, mom, no. It wasn’t like that, I—”
“I was the nervous one. I asked for more time before we told you this summer. I know how extraordinary your daughter is; she is definitely too good for me, and I was real nervous that you wouldn’t approve. I mean, I definitely have a different life than probably what you pictured. But I want to promise you both that I am proving myself every day to her. I always want to be better.”
To your surprise, your dad cuts in before you or your mom can say anything.
“You’re right. Our daughter is extraordinary…” He paused, continuing, “But you’re a good man, Joel. Trustworthy, dependable, respectful. And you very clearly love our daughter. There’s nothing more I could ask of someone for her. So long as she has a good, happy life, I’m content.”
Joel exchanges a relieved smile with your dad, your focus on your mom again as one arm snakes around Joel’s back to hold you closer.
“Your dad said it. If you’re happy, honey, then we’re happy…” She studies the two of you with tender care in her eyes, holding her hands to her chest before releasing them with a content sigh. “And I mean, I knew.”
Immediately, your brow furrows with confusion and Joel laughs, holding it back when you shoot him a warning look. Returning to your mom, you raise a question in response, “I’m sorry, you knew? How did you know?”
“Well, nothing was ever confirmed. But I did mention to your father quite a few times how I caught you sneaking glances and smiles toward Joel.” She directs the next question to your dad, whose focus has been lost on the plate of desserts in front of him, “And, how often did I mention to you catching Joel looking at her like all of the sunlight was radiating from her? Like he was completely head over heels.”
“Oh, all the time,” your dad answers nonchalantly. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, Joel’s laughter bubbling over while he tugs you into his side and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“To be honest, I thought maybe he was just in love with you and you were either oblivious or waiting for him to say something. Glad to hear that I was right!” she jests, laughing to herself and exhaling dramatically.
“So does this mean I can get my renovations done with a discount?” Your dad tilts his head up to look directly at Joel who holds a hand up in oath.
“Free labor from me always, sir. Can’t promise the discount for Tommy’s help, though.”
“Oh god, Dad, seriously?” you groan, rolling your head back while Joel looks on with a smile.
‘What? What’s wrong with asking that, kiddo?” Once again oblivious, your mom waves him off to drag the cooler of drinks outside. When he’s gone from the kitchen, she rounds the island, beaming with a grin.
“Well, I just can’t wait to already live next to my grandbabies! Don’t even need to move to be any closer, unless we move in with y’all into somewhere bigger—”
“Alright, Mom, I think the party’s probably missin’ these desserts, yeah?” You usher her by handing her a tray. She gives you a motherly eye roll before resigning her thoughts and taking the plate.
“Fine, fine, I’m going!” She shuffles in her sandals before glancing back at the edge of the threshold, “We really are happy for y’all.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Oh, Joel, c’mon. You’re part of the family now, call me Jen. And you can call her dad Mark, even if he gives you shit for it, he’s just trying to make you nervous. And then tell me, I’ll give him shit right back.”
At the click of the door shutting behind your parents, you face him and grin ecstatically, clasping your hands together. Joel’s shoulders relax with a sigh and your arms hook around his neck. He scoops you up in a hug, laughing when you shriek excitedly. Spinning the two of you around in a small circle, he settles still again, eyes locking with yours as a wide smile replaces his once apprehensive expression.
Joel nudges your nose with his, slow, warm breaths exchanged in the closeness before he kisses you. Slow, delicate, light melting into fervor — hot and heavy with all your love for each other.
Breathless, you pull away and he chases your lips for a chaste kiss, pressing his forehead against yours while you both start to laugh quietly.
“What a summer, huh?” you ask, another fit of laughter leaving your mouth.
“Definitely was a fun summer, sweetheart. And the last two, too.” Joel shakes his head, thumb brushing your cheek as he grins back at you, “Can’t wait to have all my summers with you, Mariposa.”
An ache is felt in your cheeks from smiling, but the dull pain pales in comparison to the all-over lightness; adrenaline and excitement make you feel as if you’re buzzing head to toe. Stealing another kiss from Joel, you feel him grin against your lips. Breathy chuckles fill the space between you when you pull away, tilting your head back in his hand to see more of his face.
“Wanna dance, J?”
“With you? Anytime, Mari baby. Lead the way.” He nods toward the door, taking your hand and following you closely as you head back to the party. Coming back out, all the eyes and whispers aren’t feeling like heat against your skin, instead the warmth of Joel’s palm grounds you and sends a shiver down your spine. He takes the lead in the moment, stepping ahead when you falter for a second and pulling you to the middle of the asphalt-turned-dancefloor.
The ever-so-familiar piano trills, along with the bright, smooth voice of Don McLean start to play out on the speakers, bringing wide smiles to both of your faces. As the beat picks up, Joel starts singing along, taking your hands from his shoulders and spinning you around as if you were swing dancing.
Both of you were clumsy, tripping over each other, but your laughter only brought brilliant, broad grins to your faces. The rest of the party fell away — it was only you and Joel, and all the memories that this song brought back.
The skirt of your dress kicks up as he spins you around and around, pulling you into his chest and swaying with you for the entire song, his deep and drawling voice singing along to the lyrics and sending goosebumps spreading across your skin despite the humid, sticky heat of the night. His steps slow down at the end, turning you both in one final, exaggerated circle before settling on the last note.
Joel looks down at you, adoration glinting in his eyes and his dimple showing as his mouth holds his smile. One of your hands slips away from his, reaching up to skim your fingers along his patchy beard and rest at the side of his neck. With another song turning over on the speakers, Joel leans down and catches your lips in a supple kiss. It’s slow and saccharine, savoring the taste of you on his tongue before he pulls away, waiting with bated breath.
You break the moment with a sweet, melodic laugh and a shake of your head.
“Of course, that song came on. Did you plan all this, Miller?” you interrogate playfully, the world still tunneled between the two of you.
“Absolutely not. But pretty serendipitous, yeah? Guess we should take that as a sign. Right person, right time. Finally.” His response gives you another laugh, nodding before going in for another short kiss.
“Yeah, think it’s safe to say it's the right time, finally. Was always the right person.”
“You can say that again, Mari baby.”
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Committed Extra II
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I always suggest listening to this TikTok while reading this series but I think they remind me SO much of Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros.
Warnings: 18+, smut, maybe a little more romantic-smut than smut-smut but anyways. Please ignore any continuity errors from previous parts. I couldn't find what I was looking for but it doesn't mean they don't exist. not suitable for Ramadan
~3.2k words
Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.
Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So he was going to devour her body instead.
Sarah was going to Mitch’s, which meant her place was empty.
Harry didn’t have any clothes or anything, but he didn’t care. There were leftover items between himself and Mitch so as long as they didn’t have to attend a wedding there was an outfit for him the next day.
The car ride was silent. Unless he heard her heartbeat, which was extremely plausible because it was beating so hard. He held her hand, like he had ten thousand times before, but now it was different. Because Harry loved her. Like really loved her. The way she always dreamed of him loving her. Every time she remembered he loved her she squeezed his hand. It brought a smile to his face, and she swore the needle of the speedometer crept up another increment just to get them home faster.
The logistics of the night hadn’t dawned on her until they were in her apartment living room. Silent as Harry locked the door behind him. Nerves started to swim in her bloodstream. They had incredible chemistry, their friendship was solid, she had seen Harry at his worst—sick with the stomach bug that required a complete change of clothes, and he had seen her sweaty and covered with dirt after helping her dad in the backyard.
If the sex was bad, what would it say about their relationship?
It couldn’t be bad, right? She had waited so long to have Harry in her life in this capacity. Friendship was their opener. Saying I love you was the main setlist. Sex was just the encore. It would be fine.
Right?!
“Are y’okay, kitten?” He asked.
“Hmm?”
“You’re ‘bout t’squeeze m’fingers off m’hand,” she released the death grip she had on it. “Tell me,” he ordered, but his voice was soft.
“I’m so nervous.”
“Nervous?” He repeated.
“What if the sex is bad?”
He chuckled. “I highly doubt it will be bad,” he pulled her close, trapping her against his body, cupping the side of her face and kissing her as if he had kissed her in the very spot a thousand times before. “But m’not with you for the sex.”
“Well, I don’t know what you were up to while I was gone but I haven’t had sex in a year and a half so I would like it to be good,” she murmured.
His eyes scanned her face, searching for something. “Y’think I had sex with someone else while y’were gone?” He asked.
She rolled. “That’s what you took away from that?”
“Who did you sleep with a year and a half ago?” He asked ignoring her follow-up question.
“It’s none of your business!”
“Your body s’all mine now,” he said simply. But it set her skin aflame and her heart into a frantic beat that had her worrying she would need an ambulance on standby outside the building. “S’very much m’business,” he murmured.
“Harry,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. “That guy I went out with for like a month?”
“You slept with him?”
“We went out for a month, Harry.”
“But he was awful.”
“You thought everyone I dated was awful.”
“They were,” he said petulantly. She sighed.
“When did you last have sex?” She asked.
“I don’t know, three years ago?” It should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. This was his best friend and he didn’t care.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right,” she snorted. “No really, I told you. You have to tell me.”
“M’not kidding kitten,” his voice was firm.
“You haven’t had sex in three years?” She still sounded incredulous, and Harry just stared at her waiting for it to click. Her lips parted. “How...why...?”
“When I realized I was in love with y’kitten,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want t’have sex.”
“So you were just going to...never have sex again?”
He shrugged again. “I hadn’t thought ‘bout it t’be honest.”
It was so quiet in the apartment, not even her rapid heartbeat made a sound. “What if it’s bad? What if I’m bad at it? What if it’s not—”
“Kitten,” he sighed and shook his head. “We were terrible at French, and we took three years of it together. We’ll practice. M’not in love with y’because of sex. Obviously—loved y’before sex was an option. M’in love with you because you’re m’favorite person. M’only person,” he reminded her. “I don’t care about sex.”
It should have relieved her but it didn’t. “I want it to be good,” she whispered.
“I do too, kitten. Trust me. But s’not the end all be all.”
Quiet, surrounded them again. “C’mon,” he hummed and tugged her toward the bedroom. “Jus’ say stop if y’need a minute,” he pulled her jacket off her shoulders and bent to slip her shoes off. She felt like Cinderella. He was so gentle and while she was slightly terrified it would suck and he would realize he hated her, it was normal. Harry getting ready to undress her was normal feeling. It was warm, gentle, and all things that were Harry. She felt safe and maybe finally she realized he was probably right. Sex wouldn’t be bad. “We don’t have t’do this tonight either, kitten.”
“No way, you’ve been waiting three years and I think my vibrator is dead so it’s going to have to work,” she explained.
He groaned quietly, began kissing the length of her neck and making the noise vibrate her skin and veins in a way that nearly made her knees give out. “Well, charge it, because I have t’see that,” his breath was hot on her skin making her dizzy.
They stood and kissed for at least three minutes, her hands tugging at the hair on the back of his head silently begging for him to get closer. It was so quiet in her room she was starting to feel uneasy. “Can we put on some music or something?” She whispered.
“Turn on your radio?” He suggested kissing the curve of her neck and shoulder, taking the collar of her shirt away from her neck.
She shook her head. “I downloaded your music onto a CD, and I love you, but I think fucking to the sound of you and our friends would be a little too much for me.”
He chuckled against her skin forgoing the kisses and pulled his phone from his pocket and set up a random playlist.
Harry’s mouth found hers again and he gently guided her back onto her bed. His fingers started to push her shirt up her torso. She pulled away from his mouth and stilled his hands. “What are you doing?” She asked quickly. He chuckled.
“Trying t’take your shirt off. Do y’want t’stop?”
She shook her head trying to shake the nerves away. “Sorry,” her cheeks reddened.
“S’okay,” he assured her. “S’new, s’gonna be a little weird probably,” he amended.
She swallowed. “I don’t really like my body,” she whispered. “I don’t really talk about that with you...” she reminded him.
She was wrong. She was so beautiful and in Harry’s eyes there wasn’t any reason for her to feel ashamed or insecure about her body. It was perfect, exactly as she was. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “M’gonna make y’feel beautiful or we’re never having sex again,” he chuckled.
She giggled despite herself and nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“M’sure,” he nodded firmly. “M’gonna take m’shirt off first, then.”
“No, don’t do that, that’s not fair,” she stopped his hands before he could tug it over his head. “I can’t take my shirt off after yours.”
He laughed a little louder this time and he kissed her sweetly, pecking at her lips over and over as he pulled away. “We can’t do this without being naked, kitten.”
She took a deep breath, sighed, and pulled her shirt over her head.
Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.
Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So, he was going to devour her body instead.
His gaze scanned her upper half for a few moments admiring the tiny little bow on the center of her bra right between her breasts. He kissed the swell of each one every so slightly spilling out of the cup. Her breath caught in her throat and Harry kissed upwards, bringing his lips back to hers and he pulled off his own shirt without any fanfare. Harry often walked around without a shirt, when at the pool or a beach he obviously didn’t wear a shirt. This she was used to. Her hands roamed his body and his skin felt so warm and so nice she couldn’t believe she thought this could be bad.
Harry couldn’t get her zipper down.
She giggled and Harry snorted. “Didn’t know y’were gonna wear a chastity belt, kitten.”
The clasp of her bracelet somehow managed to catch on to the fabric of his boxers a few moments later. “Jesus,” she sighed and brought her face so close to the fabric to work it free Harry turned a bright shade of red, cleared his throat and she realized her hand was resting on his dick to get it undone.
“Oops,” she whispered and pulled back. Harry chuckled softly. Every awkward moment was completed with more kisses that by the time Harry finished struggling with the clasp of her bra, (“I’ve never seen a bra with a snap like this!” “It’s comfier!”) There were only Harry’s boxers and her underwear between them.
“There’s no going back,” she reminded him.
“I don’t want t’go back,” his voice was thick with the promise.
“Me either,” she whispered.
“Kitten,” he tilted her chin up from her staring at his chest. He brought her gaze back to his. “M’so in love with you. Always.”
She nodded. “I love you too,” she smiled.
He brought his mouth to cover hers again and a new feeling took over. The air was hotter, thicker, like they were moving through a pool of water. His lips never stopped kissing her, his tongue stroking softly against her lip as he did. It made her shiver. He curled closer to her, his hand reaching between them and skimming the outside of her panties. Her breath caught at the touch of his fingers on her suddenly aching center. Harry went back to kissing down her throat, over to the space where the curve of her shoulder met her neck. “Want t’make y’feel so good, kitten,” his voice was husky.
She already thought she was going to come undone from just his fingers touching the outside of her underwear and his throaty whisper. His fingers deftly pulled the fabric to the side, and he slid his finger down through the wetness that had accumulated between her leg. She shivered again and moaned softly again. He hadn’t even done anything. But his fingers were searching. Not for what she felt was aching for him most, but for her clit and he found it so quickly it made her cry out as he skillfully circled the pad of his finger on it not too hard but not too soft. “S’good, baby,” he hummed quietly and continued to kiss her. “You’re nice and wet, kitten. Who’s that for?”
“You,” her voice hardly carried through the whisper.
“Good,” he mumbled and dropped his finger lower, teasing her, because it felt like she was clenching, begging his finger to enter her.
Maybe if she had met Harry that night and hadn’t known his personality so well, she would have been shyer and wouldn’t have had the reaction she did. But part of her felt a little competitive and if he was going to tease her, she wasn’t going to let him enjoy it too much.
She pressed her hand to the outside of his boxers, feeling how hard he was and making him gasp at the touch. His hand stilled between her legs, and she tugged his boxers lower, so his dick escaped the fabric. He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around him. “Kitten,” he grunted into her skin, and she sighed as his fingers continued to circle her clit and search for something that she wasn’t sure Harry was going to find.
“Kitten, I haven’t had sex in three years,” he groaned.
“So...you better get inside me quick?” She suggested.
He groaned again. “Yes,” he nodded against her collarbone. “Please,” he almost whined. “Condom?” She nodded and pointed to her nightstand drawer.
She couldn’t disagree. Harry had double the time on her since her last intimate moment, but she wanted him so badly in her she thought if they waited any longer, she would cry. She removed her underwear and Harry sat up to remove his boxers.
Of course, she just finished feeling how big, hard, and long he was. But it was another thing entirely to see his length literally in the flesh. “Did y’jus’ gulp?”
Her cheeks warmed. “You’re...big,” she murmured.
He snorted putting the condom in place. “Y’know how t’give a guy an ego,” but she could see the way his cheeks pinked.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just...I want it,” she caught his gaze and as awkward as everything felt, looking into the pretty green eyes of her best friend, this was not. “I want everything with you.”
Harry’s gaze softened and he dropped his hips between her legs and caught her lips again. The sound of gentle music, their tangled breath, and the skin-to-skin contact was the only noise in the room. Harry reached between them again and slid the head of his cock along the wetness that pooled between her legs again. She moaned, loudly and without abandon. Harry grunted and pushed himself inside her.
It was like sliding the final puzzle piece together. They locked into a position that felt so right, so perfect, every bit of that awkwardness went away as quickly as it appeared. Harry groaned and buried his face in her neck again. It was his new favorite spot, tucked into the curve that smelled like her perfume and her hair. It was entirely her, and so perfect. “Fuck, kitten,” he grunted letting her have a minute to stretch to accommodate his body. It had been a while since there was a dick inside her and despite how wet Harry made her it didn’t help the ache that started as he settled perfectly between her thighs.
“Oh my God,” she whispered breathlessly. “Wow,” she mumbled.
Harry focused on breathing deeply so he wouldn’t burst the second one of them shifted. “We can jus’ stay like this,” he murmured. “Nothing else, for the rest of our lives.”
She kissed the side of his head and nodded. “Yes, please.”
He pulled back slightly, his body readjusted to the feeling and his gaze was hungry as he looked her in the eye. “You are my everything,” he whispered.
Her heart fluttered, as good as Harry’s body felt inside her, it was nothing in comparison to the way his words touched her. “I love you,” she whispered because everything else she thought to say seemed inadequate.
He smiled and brought his mouth to hers, kissed her deeply and started to move.
It felt fast and slow at the same time. A juxtaposition that she didn’t know was possible. Every time Harry’s hips pushed from hers to create a heavenly friction, she followed him begging for him to come back. It felt like being apart from him, even the inch he moved to make everything feel better, was too much. She thought if it felt any better, she would cry.
“Fuck,” he groaned pumping into her at a steady rhythm. Her hands searched his body, the length of his back, digging her nails into his hips to keep him close to her. His hands held her hips in place so he was able to provide the right leverage that angled his cock, so it hit every right spot.
“Baby,” she moaned into his neck and kissed his skin. He groaned again in response. He twisted her as if he had done it about a thousand times and suddenly, she was on top of him. Pressing her hands onto his chest and moving her hips up and down so she was gliding rhythmically up and down his length.
“This was a horrible idea,” he moaned. “M’gonna finish jus’ looking at you.”
She blushed, covered her face with one hand, and laughed lightly. “It feels so good,” she whispered. “I don’t want to leave this bed.”
Harry brought her body close, one hand cupping the back of her neck and other slid down her back, gripping her butt. “We don’t have to,” his voice was hungry and he sealed his lips between hers.
“I’m going to...” she bit the inside of her lip and buried her face into his neck again. “Oh my God,” she moaned.
Harry answered her moan with his own again and met each of her thrusts with his hips. “S’good, kitten. Fuck,” he sighed. “Wanted this for so long,” he brought her mouth. “Can’t wait for you t’cum all over me and then do it all over again,” he groaned.
His voice made her ache all over. She was already aching. She wanted to stay like this for the rest of her life. Maybe longer if it was allowed.
She had a vibrator and she had sex enough times to know when she was going to have a good orgasm. But this was nothing like that.
This was so much more. The connection she felt to Harry the adoration and love she felt was more than any tingling, body shaking reaction she ever had when Harry thrusted into her just so. “Oh there, there, there,” she begged and dropped her face to his neck again with a heavy sigh.
“M’here, kitten,” he promised holding her close to him. “Right there,” he repeated thrusting as she rode through the toe-curling, body shaking orgasm. He nipped at her shoulder as he finished. Sighing heavily she dropped to him fully, her body warm, and he kissed her forehead. He brushed her hair down kissed her again. “Gotta get off, kitten,” he murmured.
“I already did,” she mumbled back.
He chuckled. “Just two minutes, kitten,” he assured her. “I love you,” he whispered. She sighed deeply, rolled to the side and let Harry get out of bed quickly. When he returned from the bathroom she was sprawled across the bed facedown. “You okay, m’love?” He asked.
She nodded. “I love you too, Harry.”
He chuckled, wrapping himself around her like a koala bear. “Good.”
“Wanna do it again?” She asked.
He laughed and kissed along her back. “Already?” He asked.
“Gotta make-up for all that lost time. And three years, Harry!”
He smiled against her skin. “Give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need. We have forever now.”
--
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DEANCAS AU FIC REC MASTERPOST
Although I loved all of these fics, the ones with stars next to them are my absolute favourites! Happy reading! ♡
One million fires burning ☆
Dean Winchester teaches three classes a day, tutors after school, and chairs the English Department for Lawrence High School. He does enough.
Unfortunately, his boss doesn't feel the same and informs him that he has a new job: co-coaching the school's trivia team. His co-coach? None other than the school's golden boy, Castiel Milton. Who Dean can't stand, for various reasons, all of which are valid, thank you very much. And the fact that Dean can't stop talking about the stick up Cas's, sorry, Milton's ass?
Completely irrelevant.
Should have just asked ☆
Despite their age gap and differing social circles, Castiel has struck up a warm friendship with Mary Winchester, a wealthy widowed socialite. When Castiel needs a place to stay, Mary invites him into her house, where there’s loads of spare room. Castiel’s aware that they make an odd pair, but he doesn’t fully realize how things look to outsiders, especially to Mary’s eldest son. All Dean Winchester sees is that his mom has apparently hooked up with a hot young guy (who is totally Dean’s type) and that makes things… weird.
Living in agony ☆
Dean Winchester's life is... well, it's not great. He's a gym teacher, he's in his thirties, and he can't seem to keep any part of his life straight. When the aftermath of a one-night stand goes awry, Dean is dragged kicking and screaming out of his cozy little closet and into the harsh light of reality.
Enter: Castiel Novak, the new history teacher, who knows full well that life gets crappy when you don't allow yourself to live it in the way it needs to be lived.
The last great race
There is a race that takes place every year in Alaska called the Iditarod, a thousand mile journey across the Alaskan wilderness by dog sled team that has come to be known as "The Last Great Race on Earth”. It is a test of endurance, of the relationship between dogs and their people, traversing mountain ranges, frozen rivers, forest and tundra.
When writer Castiel Milton is forced to spend two and a half months in Alaska at Winchester Kennels to cover the race preparations and the Iditarod itself, the only person more dismayed than he is Dean Winchester, one of his hosts. Castiel views his assignment as a punishment and is less than impressed by his surly host, and Dean distrusts the sheltered city-born writer who has invaded their home and their lives. But soon, as the Winchesters prepare for their race and Castiel learns about sled dogs and what a musher’s lifestyle is all about, they forget to hate each other and their relationship evolves into something neither of them expected.
Starstruck ☆
From the outside Castiel Novak looks like a regular guy: a good job, two teenage kids, a nice house and a crappy car he’s way too attached to.
But there’s one thing no one knows about him: that, over twenty years ago, he used to live next to none other than Dean Winchester – back then a brash and loud-mouthed boy and nowadays a huge movie star and Hollywood’s sweetheart.
Castiel never bothered to tell anyone about his childhood friend because frankly, who would believe him? Probably even Dean himself already forgot about his former awkward and weird neighbor, so Castiel seriously doesn’t see any point in mentioning the whole thing ever.
But then an interview on national TV happens where Dean reveals way more about his past than ever before … and Castiel - as well as the rest of the world - suddenly realizes that he left a much bigger impact on Dean’s life than he originally thought.
Russian to the altar ☆
“I need you to marry Castiel.”
They weren’t the words Dean expected to hear from his business partner’s mouth before their bakery-slash-chocolate shop opened for the day. He’d been quite happy being single—and who the fuck was Castiel, anyway?
It turned out that Castiel was a Russian erotic novelist in need of a ticket to America, and Dean… well, Dean was a last resort.
I wanna get outside (of me) ☆
Dean is a novice in the dom/sub world asked by his employer as a desperate last resort to be a sub for his recluse of a brother, Castiel. Castiel is a diagnosed OCD suffering from PTSD and agoraphobia, mysophobia, and dystychiphobia. Needless to say—he’s a mess who hasn’t stepped out of his home in literally seven years. The only times Gabriel can see traces of the way his brother used to be is when he feels in control—specifically when he has control over a sub. However, due to his idiosyncrasies and paranoia, keeping a sub around has been impossible. Enter Dean, who’s not a very traditional submissive, to try his hand at subbing for the hermit.
Painted angels ☆
Author Castiel Novak has finally hit the big time, with a book based on his failed college relationship with a brilliant painter. He's put all his pain behind him, but at a book signing, he comes face to face with Dean Winchester for the first time in twelve years, and the reunion doesn't go like Cas hoped. Dean's a broken man, with a lot of scars and secrets, shoulders weighed down by his demons and self loathing.
Cas sees a second chance with the man he's never stopped loving, but Dean's moved on, and is about to get married. Sam launches a "brilliant" plan to reunite his brother and his best friend, but Cas is worried it will all blow up in their faces, and he'll go through the agony of losing Dean a second time.
Texas state of mind
Dean Winchester was once an award winning country music star, but fame came too early. Now, he’s fifteen years sober and owns a ranch in western Texas. He’s happy with his life. He has horses, a nice herd of cattle and so what, if he’s alone. He tells his friends that he’s happily single. Back when he was touring, men and women threw themselves at him – but he knew they only wanted him for his fame.
Cas Novak just won his fifth CMA award. He loves singing, but the touring was getting old. Living in a bus nine months out of the year was slowly destroying his creativity. He hasn’t written anything new in over a year. Then he hears an old song on the radio. He vaguely remembers the handsome singer and wondered whatever happened to him. Before he knew it, he'd written a new song. The only problem was…it was a duet. A duet that could only be sung with a voice like Winchester’s.
After locating the man’s ranch, Cas makes a surprise visit. Will he be able to talk Dean into joining him on stage after all these years? Will the two men find what they’ve been looking for all their lives – someone to share a future with?
If angels were men
Castiel Novak was raised by a hunting father, but he left that life behind for college and a flower shop. When his father is killed by a demon, Cas jumps back in the game and finds himself constantly running in the presence of the Winchester brothers, who are searching for their own father. They seem to be everywhere he turns, and at some point they become friends, then a team, then, maybe, in the case of Dean Winchester, something more.
Vagabonds ☆
Dean is a sheriff in a tiny town in Colorado, restless and unsatisfied with his life. It's not like what he's read about in the dime novels since he was little, capturing dangerous outlaws and being the last word of the law. More like tossing the town drunk in a cell to sober up when they get a little too rowdy.
But Dean's chance comes when a thief rolls through their town. He pursues the thief, which puts him right into the path of Emmanuel, a notorious outlaw. When he is captured by the outlaw and his gang to be held for ransom, Dean starts off on a journey he could have never envisioned, and learns that perhaps there's more to Emmanuel than meets the eye.
Four letter word for intercourse ☆
As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.
What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?
(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)
Any little heartbreak ☆
Dean Winchester knows everything there is to know about the human heart.
Well.
Anatomically speaking.
Get some
Very slowly, Dean turns. 'How'd you know I was here about a room?'
'Power of deduction,' says Castiel, leaning against the doorway. 'I mean, you're not after pot, and I'm pretty sure we haven't slept together.' He grins wolfishly, gaze sliding over Dean's body. 'You, I'd remember.'
Dean's been hit on by guys before, but never so blatantly, let alone by a semi-naked dude in a kimono. A hot blush warms his cheeks, and he covers his shock with cockiness, tilting his head and grinning. 'Sorry to disappoint you, Cas, but I don't swing that way.'
Castiel throws back his head and laughs. 'And you want to live here? What, did your friends put you up to this?'
'Actually, yeah.' Dean raises an eyebrow. 'Is that a problem for you?'
What i need
A joking phrase commonly heard between a surgeon and his tech is "Give me what I need, not what I ask for." Dr. Novak and his tech Dean will soon learn the impact this phrase has on life outside the operating room.
Mad at your dad? ☆
Dean wasn’t sure why he was even scrolling through Craigslist. Especially not the casual encounters section. It was four days before Thanksgiving. Not like he was gonna try and hook up with someone before that shitstorm. After, sure, but not before.
He kept scrolling, though, not clicking anything until a title caught his eye.
Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? I am a 28 year old male felon who has no degree, but has studied enough theologies of the world, behavioral psychology, and philosophy to set your whole family’s teeth on edge—no matter which way they lean, politically, religiously or in terms of neuroses. I drive a van the same age as me that’s got a mural on the side of an angel holding an orgy. I can play between the ages of 20-30 depending on whether I shave. I live off an inheritance, and sell weed on the side. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship (monogamous or polyamorous, whichever sounds most like it would freak out su familia) with you (and/or others), to torment your family, I’m game...
(dis)affection ☆
When Dean and Castiel are tricked to go on a date, neither is happy about this. To get back at their deceitful friends, they hatch the perfect plan: pretend to be dating, and gross out their friends with their over-the-top, disgustingly cute romantic relationship – and then break up in the most despicable manner imaginable. As it turns out, you can learn a lot from someone just by pretending affection.
Ninety one whiskey ☆
In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.
The breath of all things
Dean Winchester was twenty-six years old when a car accident killed his father and left him paralysed from the waist down. A year and a half later, Dean is in a wheelchair and lives in a care home in Kansas, where he spends his days waiting to die. It's only when Castiel Novak starts volunteering at the care home that Dean starts to wonder if a changed life always equals a ruined one.
If you'd have been the one
A boy sits on the front steps, his dark hair a wild mess. A gingerbread boy, Dean thinks. Dressed in pressed slacks and a sweater-vest to match his father’s. He looks about Dean’s age; maybe they’ll be in the same class. That wouldn’t be too bad, unless he’s mean. He could be mean; a lot of kids are mean to him, so he has to be mean back.
He hopes this one is nice.
...
In the year 1986, at seven years old, Dean Winchester meets Castiel Novak.
Eleven years go by, then eight, then three.
Somewhere along the way, things start to change.
Spirit of the west ☆
Dean grew up on a horse farm and can't imagine any other life. There are drawbacks to working for his father, but they're worth it if it means remaining with his beloved horses. Besides, between his broken arm and his lack of prospects, he hasn't got much else.
Something of an outsider, Dean always feels like there's something he's missing. But this tense summer brings back a figure from his past: years ago, a teenaged Cas worked for a season at the Winchester ranch. His return could change everything.
If you ever wanted a 90s horse girl book, but starring a young Dean Winchester, this is your fic.
Guns and wings
Dean Winchester is the sheriff in the small town of Sioux Falls, along with his deputy (and brother) Sam. Life there is calm and normal, easy to manage with the occasional problems. That is until the Garrison gang sends an assassin to kill one of their beloved citizens. Dean is ready to hang the man for his crimes, when the outlaw gives him a deal he can't pass up. The whole Garrison gang. Dean and the criminal, Castiel, set off to find the gang; enemies working towards a common goal. Dean is determined to hate Castiel, but the longer they journey together and the more he finds out about the outlaw the harder it becomes to deny the feelings he begins to have for the man. But he's the sheriff and he has a job to do, he can't fall in love with a criminal... Right?
Life was a willow
When Dean’s favorite author becomes a regular at his bar, Dean knows he’s done for. He never could have anticipated the intense feelings that blossomed for the talented Castiel. There’s just one thing standing in his way of being with Castiel the way he truly wants: Castiel is waiting for his soulmate.
Dean has spent his entire life hating the concept of soulmates. He just wants to live his life without the universe intervening. If the only way he can keep Castiel in his life is by swallowing his feelings, then that’s what he’ll do.
300cc ☆
300 Complementary Characters: a forum on Kansas City University’s student website. You can write whatever you want, but it has to be 300 characters or less.
Dean is crushing hard on Sam’s TA, but it feels different than it has before; it feels like he needs to do it properly, to have a grand declaration and to prove that romance isn’t dead. What better way to profess his feelings than posting a poem on 300cc?
Castiel is torn. There’s no mistaking the poem is for him, but who could be posting them? Despite being very tempted by the very attractive new light and sound engineer that will be working on the play he has written, Castiel can’t ignore the feeling that he and the anonymous Poet are meant to be together.
A comedy of errors, mutual pining, and erotic poetry.
Satin and sawdust ☆
When Castiel moves out of Jimmy's house and into his own place for the first time, he saves money on buying a home by investing in a Fixer-Upper. He knows nothing about how to fix the many problems the house has, but he figures he's smart enough to figure it out. Unfortunately it's not too long before he learns that he's way in over his head.
Thankfully his new neighbor Dean is a handyman, and agrees to help him out. He knows Dean has a bit of a crush on him, but he's not taking advantage of it, really. Dean's a great guy, and quickly becomes a good friend.
But a flash of satin under Dean's toolbelt changes everything.
Stay with me, sweetheart ☆
“Alright Cas, here comes the hard part. We’re gonna get you out of here, but we’ve gotta take the roof off and while we do that, we’re gonna have to cover you with a sheet to protect you from the glass. I’ll be right here though. I’m not going anywhere.”
As he starts to drift away, he suddenly feels the press of Dean’s forehead against his own through the rough fabric and hears that warm, sunlit voice murmer quietly in his ear, too low to be overheard by the firefighters currently working to remove the SUV’s roof, “Stay with me, Sweetheart.”
A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV.
When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship.
Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there?
And this, your living kiss
Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.
Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen.
Sometimes you'll find that i'm out of my mind ☆
Castiel returns from the Empty, and Dean worries obsessively. Dean also sleeps on the floor in Cas' room, which he admits is weird, but at least he's sleeping.
#destiel#destiel fanfic#destiel fic#deancas#deancas fanfic#deancas fic#destiel au#deancas au#destiel fic rec#deancas fic rec#castiel#dean winchester#supernatural#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fic#spn#spn fanfic#spn fic#vin.txt#deancasficrec
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worlds colliding ☆ pt.1
genre : non!idol mark lee x male reader, college au, ennemies to lovers ?
summary : what if you - kinda - had to save the world and Mark was your sidekick ? or — you need to give out fliers for a class, and Mark doesn't care about "global warming."
warnings : strong language, mark is kind of a douchebag but i swear he's sweet, not proofread yet
words : 1.6k
notes : i love this story sm, it's been in my drafts for so long and it was supposed to be about p1harmony, but i like it with mark too ! might make it in more than just 2 parts if you guys enjoy it as much as i do ! and btw, english isn't my native language, so i really do hope i actually wrote well and if i made dumb mistakes, i'm sorry :((
currently listening to :
"thank you, please look forward to it !" y/n says, bowing multiple times, a smile enlightening his face, watching the group of students walk away with fliers in his hands. "i hope to see you there tomorrow !"
it must have been around 9:40 a.m., a chilly morning for a spring day. the sun was shining, the clouds were absent. the green leaves were showing, some still falling on the grass of the campus park. the students in short sleeves were out again, and the jocks were taking advantage of the cooler weather to work out outside. y/n looked up, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. he felt cold, his bones shaking. his poor denim jacket did not cover his bare arms, and his jeans with holes in them did not provide any warmth either. he smiled to himself, seeing some birds migrating elsewhere, formed into a triangle.
he blinked a few times, returning to his emotionless face, before continuing to approach some of the students in groups to give them the rest of his fliers. but none of them seemed interested, and y/n began to lose hope. his business professor had made it clear that if he couldn't get at least 20 students to donate, his semester was over. this was his last chance, and he wasn't about to let it go. his displeasure gradually began to show, the creases in his face deepening. the more people walked around him, the more his hands tightened around his fliers. it's one thing for them not to be interested, but for them to ignore him like this is another.
for a moment there was a flutter, no one was coming out or going in. he took the opportunity to catch his breath, closing his eyes.
"one... two... three..." he whispered to himself, focusing on the soft whistle of the wind.
when he opened them again, he saw a figure facing him approaching the doors of the art building behind him. y/n thought to himself that this was fate, that this boy was almost arriving with a glittering halo of light behind him, signifying y/n's last chance. he took this opportunity and approached the guy, feeling confident.
"hey, how's it going? i'm handing out fliers about globa-..."
a brief gust of wind caressed the skin of his face. again, no response. the boy stalked his way, his headphones screwed to his ears, only giving y/n a small glance. he stood there, watching the boy's back as he walked away. he finally admitted to himself that this time, his pride had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and someone had come to trample it right after. he noted in a corner of his head that he didn't like the idea at all. but it was without realizing it that his legs responded alone, quickly approaching the young black-haired student. he patted him on the shoulder vigorously and handed him the previously crumpled paper in his hands when the latter turned around.
Mark, on his side, put on a bewildered face, one eyebrow raised. he was sure that he had deliberately ignored this boy just a few seconds ago. his day was not starting very well. his dog had chewed on his last pair of freshly bought shoes, his roommate — Donghyuck — had finished his favourite cereal and the hot water had been turned off on his floor. then finally his bus... never came, so he set out to walk to the university, realizing halfway there that his wireless headphones were out of battery. he'd wasted about ten minutes buying wired ones just to survive the rest of the day. and it was also at that very moment, coming out of the convenience store, that he promised himself he'd keep a spare pair of headphones in the bottom of his bag, just in case.
he took out one of his headphones, and uttered an extremely nonchalant "what? i'm late." he didn't mean to sound mean or disapproving, but the day was already taking its toll on him. he almost wondered what kind of people were picking on him so much, and for what reason? had he been too mean to the salesman last night, when he asked him to get out of the store because Mark was singing EXO's music at the top of his lungs? was he too dismissive of his singing teacher when she told him to stop doing 'too much'? and then, what do you mean 'too much'? Mark really didn't like that word, even less when it described his singing.
y/n, on the other hand, waved the paper in front of his nose. he was frustrated with his morning, especially with the way people responded to him. and especially the way Mark said 'what'. he wondered why people were in such a bad mood in the morning. he let out a breath to regain his composure before starting.
"before you cut me off, i think taking this won't hurt you. i'm really passionate about this cause, so i will give you this flier. and if i have to shove it down your throat, i'll do it." he pressed the piece of paper against the boy's chest in front of him. "thank you, and have a great day."
y/n bowed before rotating drastically, turning his back on Mark. he put his hand on his heart, which was now pounding in his chest. not because the black-haired boy was a living god, but because he felt he was getting carried away and tangled up in his words. how people see him matters a lot to him, even if he doesn't talk about it much. and he knew that this interaction was going to play over and over in his head tonight and keep him awake.
"what a fucking weirdo..." Mark muttered once y/n was far enough away.
he clutched the flier in his hands before resuming his journey to his class, which was really about to start. what do you mean 'i'll shove it down your throat'? he shook his head from left to right, pushed open the door and quickly dashed down the left corridor, hitting someone in the shoulder on his way.
Mark hardly turned around, just to give a weak look to the brown man who was bending while getting lost in excuses, and he took a quick walk to room 208. once in front of it, he opened the door and quickly sneaked to his place, at the back left of the room, managing to pass out of the radar of his teacher, who hadn't even noticed his absence until then.
once seated, he took out some of his things, not forgetting his bottle of fresh orange juice, something he bought every Tuesday morning to give himself luck during that long day. Tuesdays were never really his days, always bad and gloomy. he wasn't superstitious, but if Tuesdays could disappear completely, his world would be much better.
as he took his notebook out of his backpack, the flier given to him by y/n slid silently to the ground. Mark bent down to pick it up, not failing to roll his eyes as he placed it back on the table. but his eyes were drawn to a large headline.
"THE WORLD IS SLOWLY ENDING, BUT YOU'RE THE HERO, RIGHT?"
he chuckled silently, before turning the paper over to see the back, finding that there was nothing written on it, and crumpled it up in his hand before tossing it into his backpack. saving the world was not in his plans. not today.
maybe tomorrow... who knows? and he did. he saved y/n's world, in some sort of way the day right after.
"it will serve you better than me."
y/n blinked a few times, frowning in front of his phone, which was playing a summer song, although outside, it was raining damn heavily. he wondered if the voice came from someone talking to a friend behind him, or from his headphones. but the whistle sound in his right ear brought him back to reality. he let out a faint "i'm not a fucking dog-" before looking at the umbrella someone was holding upon his head, then at a guy with brown hair. it takes some time for y/n to connect the dots — maybe because of some sort of poor eyesight — but when he does, his mouth opens up wide.
"you're the guy from yesterday that said "what" so nonchalantly it made my day way worse than it was already !"
Mark rolled his eyes. "i'm trying to save the world, being a hero, i'm landing you my umbrella." with a devilish grin, he removes the umbrella from above y/n's head. "but if you want, i can leave too."
"i'm surprised you read that flier you hated so much." he mutters.
y/n did not know if he should accept, but after all, it won't kill him and it will keep him from getting sick. even though he loved hanging out in bed instead of going to class, getting sick was one of the things he hated the most.
"thanks a lot... um... what's your name?"
"Mark."
he took the umbrella and put it over his head while nodding, repeating Mark's name quietly like he was getting used to it. their eyes met again before Mark got swept away by Donghyuck's reminder that the bus was there and it wouldn't wait for them. he let himself be swept away, and a minute later, y/n's silhouette evaporated in the distance, through the mist on the bus windows.
Mark was lost in thought. and he noticed that his name sounded pretty coming out of y/n's mouth.
#Spotify#nct#kpop#kpop x reader#kpop x male reader#mark lee x reader#mark lee x male reader#nct 127#nct dream#nct x male reader#mark lee#mark nct#mark is a bad boy#and we live for it#mark lee x y/n#haechan
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Seventeen: Baby You Ain’t As Anonymous As you Think.
Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)
Till the wheels fall off masterlist
Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?
As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️
Standing amongst the crowd I watched Jax and Tig take the makeshift stage that had been built down by the lake. I was still unsure why we needed a stage this big but Jax and Pops were adamant they wanted it, they sure as hell loved theatrics. Tearing my gaze away from Jax I turned to look at Charles, who now had Elenor sitting on his shoulders, she had a proud smirk on her face like she had just walked into a candy store and the store owner told her everything was free.
“Tu vas bien, ma chérie ? Are you all right, darling?” Charles beamed, flashing me a smile.
“I will be,” I hummed, reaching up gently squeezing his arm. After the photos were released on instagram this morning I felt myself holding back from public displays of affection and it was killing me.
“Auntie Nova, can we have a movie night tonight?” Elenor grinned, fluttering her long eyelashes at me, “and can Uncle Charles and Uncle Pierre come as well?”
“I don’t see why not baby,” I beamed back at her before turning to Charles, “you down for movie night with my crazy ass family? There is a high possibility we will be making our way through all of the Cars movies,” I giggled, knowing that Elenor would beg and plead to put all three films on.
“Sunshine, didn’t you know Cars is one of my favorite movies,” he smirked with a wink.
“Alright then, Lightning McQueen.”
“Kachow.”
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands, trying to hide the snort that escaped my lips, “you did not just Kachow me. God, you are a giant dork!”
Before Charles could respond Jax’s voice echoed around the lake, as if the boy needed a microphone he was loud enough as it was, “I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone turning up today. Before we kick off the annual scavenger hunt I have just been made aware of a few donations that have come in anonymously.”
I found myself cocking my brow at my brother who just smirked at me, throwing me a wink as he pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket, “I honestly could cry at these donations. Two people have donated 26 thousand dollars between them, with 10 thousand dollars going towards the dementia charity and 16 thousand dollars being given,'' the words were getting caught in his throat, as he covered his eyes with his hand trying to stop the tears, “to the Teller family to help with any future care that JT needs.”
There was nothing stopping the tears from spilling over my lashline, I didn’t even try to stop them. That's when it hit me, everything made perfect sense. Two donations which both happened to be the same numbers as the two dorks standing either side of me drove under. Without saying a word I turned to Pierre pulling him into a tight hug, before turning to Charles reaching my hand up resting it on his cheek with a watery smile on my face.
“Baby, you ain’t as anonymous as you think,” I whispered, feeling him copy my movements but instead of letting his hand sit still against my skin he slowly used his thumb to wipe away my tears.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sunshine.”
The rest of the day went by in one big blur, the scavenger hunt was a success, even if it was the first year where I didn’t win but I didn’t care. My focus was on Charles, I wanted to enjoy the little time we had left together so the afternoon was spent wandering around town, showing Charles the places that held fond memories for me. All whilst keeping an eye out for people that might be trying to leak pictures of the two of us, luckily for us everyone was more focused on the events of the day then me and Charles.
“I just need to finish up here then we can head back to mine,” I hummed, leaning up on my tiptoes pressing my lips against his cheek.
“Take your time Sunshine,” he smiled, picking Elenor up, sitting her on the top of the bar.
I couldn’t help but smile as I walked away from the two of them, slipping into the back I needed to find Jax. I knew where he would be, taking a deep breath I wrapped my fingers around the door handle before slowly pushing it open. I needed to clear the air between us. I hated the fact we had hardly spoken all day.
“Hey,” I said quietly, leaning against the wooden frame.
“Hey, yourself,” he said looking up from the paper that was in his hands, “about earlier,”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said softly, fiddling with the sleeves of Charles hoodie, “my head has been all over the place recently with you know,” I paused, dropping my gaze to my hands, “everything with Pops and the social media post, then you tell me we fucked up with Juice, I just kinda exploded.”
“We do need to talk about it though,” Jax sighed, dropping the paper onto the desk.
“I know,” I whispered, finally looking back up at my brother, “I need to get my head straight first, okay.”
“Okay,” Jax nodded, pushing himself up to his feet, taking a few strides across the small room before he pulled me into a tight hug, “I still love you, don’t worry about that Squirt.”
Resting my cheek against the cool leather, I took another deep breath, “enough mushy shit, Elenor wants a movie night so lock the office up and let's get outta here.”
Jax didn’t take much convincing, I knew that movie nights were his favorite, taking a step back, I started walking back into the main room. The moment I stepped out behind the bar I felt my blood starting to boil at the sight that was in front of me. My fingers twitched as I formed a fist, I was ready to punch a bitch.
She was pushing her fake ass tits up against Charles and fluttering her false eyelashes.
“If you wanna live, I would suggest you walk away whilst you have the chance,” I said through gritted teeth, pausing so I could unclench my fist covering Elenor’s ears, “you fucking skanky ass bitch.”
The smirk that Ima flashed made me want to grab the knife from behind me, the one that we used to cut up the lemon and limes, “well, let's be real, you aren’t the kind of person that Charlie goes for,” she laughed, turning back to Charles, running her fingers across his cheek. I didn’t miss the slight flinch that happened when she made contact with him.
“If you wanna be real, then I can get real,” I growled, placing my palm on the bar, shifting my weight onto my hand. I launched myself over the counter, “I might just start a bonfire out back, throwing your scrawny ass on it, watching you melt in the flames,” before she had a chance to respond, my fingers were tangled in her hair extensions, yanking her head back with so much force I was surprised I didn’t snap her neck.
“Get off me you golddigger,” she screamed, trying to claw at my hands.
“Do you even know who he is?” I asked, cocking my brow.
“Some football player,” she said with so much confidence I couldn’t help but scoff.
“Yeah, such a skilled football player,” I said with a playful tone, locking eyes with Charles, watching as he laughed slightly with a small shrug of his shoulders.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jax, leaning against the back worktop with a smug smirk on his face, “need any help Squirt?” he asked, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his jeans.
“Nah, I’ve got this,” I nodded, tugging harder on Ima’s hair causing her to scream, “the trash just needs taking out, that's all,” I growled, storming out of the bar, dragging Ima behind me.
Ignoring the sound of her cries I didn’t stop until I was standing outside of the building. I didn’t care if I was being over dramatic, this bitch needed to keep her hands off things that didn’t belong to her, like my man.
Shit, I was calling him my man now.
Fuck, I was acting like a jealous girlfriend!
I didn’t even know if I could call myself Charles’ girlfriend, just the thought made my heart skip a beat but I knew that come the end of the summer break he would be back doing what he did best. Racing around tracks at 200 miles an hour, living that playboy life, more than likely forgetting I existed.
Pushing the thoughts down I let my fist collide with Ima’s nose feeling the familiar crunching feeling under my knuckles, “you better stay away from him if you don’t want your whole face reconstructed.”
Loosening my grip on her cheap ass extensions I spun around on the balls of my feet, strolling back into the bar with a proud smirk on my face. The moment I got close enough to Charles, he wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me in between his thighs.
“You getting protective over me now, Sunshine?” he hummed, slipping his hand underneath the hoodie letting his fingers brush against the skin of my lower back, causing sparks to erupt across my skin.
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I shook my head slightly, “nah, I just don’t want you catching an STD or something,” I said calmly.
The smirk on Charles face was enough to cause my knees to wobble, if it wasn’t for his strong arms wrapped around me I was pretty sure they would have given out on me.
“You sure about that, Babygirl,” he purred, leaning closer so his nose brushed against mine.
The two of us were locked in the moment, it was like there was no one else in the room with us, like we were protected by a bubble, until Jax rang the last order bell, causing me to jump at the unexpected sound, “I do not need to see whatever this,” he scoffed, waving his hands in the air, “is gonna lead to.”
“Oh Jackson, leave your sister alone,” Pops scolded, causing me to pull away from Charles slightly, instantly being greeted by a warm smile from Pops, “she’s young and in love, leave her be.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes at my father, “who said anything about love?”
“Oh sunshine,” Charles beamed, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “you are so in love with me, it’s written all over your beautiful face.”
Instantly I could feel the heat in the room rising, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention as Charles slowly moved his fingers across my cheek and I was pretty sure my ears were the same shade of red as his hoodie I was wearing.
“I can uninvite you from family movie night, ya know,” I huffed, pouting at him, “so I’d think carefully about who’s side you take.”
“No you can’t Auntie Nova,” Elenor said loudly, “I invited him so you can’t kick him out.”
“Yeah, Auntie Nova, I’m Elenor’s guest,” he hummed. The smile on Charles' face turned into a smug smirk as he moved his hand into the air so Elenor could fist bump him, “thanks for having my back Ellie-bear,” he grinned, throwing her a wink. I couldn’t believe this, everyone was ganging up on me.
“Sempre zio Charles, sempre,” she grinned.
I couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the expression on Jax’s face as he watched his little girl speak in another language. Yes she didn’t pronounce it perfectly but for her age it was really good.
“And in English?” he asked, letting his eyes dart between me and his daughter.
“She said, always uncle Charles, always,” I beamed, leaning over and ruffling her hair. “in Italian.”
“Princess, where did you learn that?” Jax asked with a proud smile on his face, as he walked around the bar until he was now scooping her up in his arms.
“Pierre told me what uncle was in Italian and I knew what always was,” she giggled.
“I wonder where she learned that from,” Jax said with a playful tone, cocking his brow at me.
“No idea,” I shrugged, wiggling out of Charles arms.
“Yes you do auntie Nov,” Elenor grinned. Was I really about to be called out by my five year old niece? “you are always saying ‘Forza Ferrari, sempre!”
Apparently I was.
@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221
#Charles Leclerc#Charles Leclerc x oc#Charles Leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#Charles Leclerc series#sons of anarchy#jax teller#jax teller x reader#jax teller imagine#sons of anarchy imagine
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Stitches
Summary: The field medic of the 141 and Soap have been dancing around each other for a while, especially with Ghost and Red Fox already fucking.
Notes: this is a big fat fanfic of a fanfic (verse?) all credits for the character of red fox go to @charnelhouse. Reader is a medic/field doctor
Reader (*me*) is lowkey attracted red fox
Masterlist | requests are OPEN!
They think they’re inconspicuous. Red looks amazing in that emerald dress, make-up and hair so perfect you think it’s has been done by someone who works for Vogue. She lights up the room as she walks in, and you can immediately see that Ghost doesn’t fucking like it.
The rest of the 141 slip out of the room to give the two of them some space, and it doesn’t take two minutes for them to start fucking.
You can all hear it.
Gaz has the decency to look away, pretend not to notice the very obvious sound of skin on skin, or his colleagues’ moan, but Price looks straight-up pissed, annoyed that the two of them can’t keep it in their pants until after their mission.
You glance over to Soap, who’s across the door, leaning against the wall. They walk out a few minutes later, and it takes all of your willpower not to make eye contact with Soap and start laughing.
And then, they all leave for the mission, and you’re left back at the hotel, waiting for them to come back. You can fight, you have combat experience – but you’re not great. What you’re great at is fixing people up.
Someone who can kill one second and then save a life the next, that is invaluable in the army. That was what Price had told you when you got in.
But that also meant that, while the others were out saving the world, you had to stay behind, pass the time by either rearranging your supplies the fifth time, or nervously watching live news, wondering if they’d show up on it.
They never do.
That doesn’t mean that missions don’t go to shit. The second Price throws the door to the hotel room open, practically ripping it from its hinges, you know something’s wrong.
Ghost storms in after him, carrying Red Fox. You see it immediately, the puddle of blood pouring out of her stomach and staining her dress scarlet.
He hovers over her like a mother hen, and you try to work around him but you can’t.
“Ghost, I need you to move.” You tell him, pulling up her dress and pointedly ignoring the dark bruises on her inner thighs.
He doesn’t reply.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” he tells Red, who’s not even there anymore. His hands hold her face, his massive body completely blocking you from accessing her wound. “Don’tchu fucking die on me, you hear me? Fucking stay alive!”
“Move!” you tell him again, and when he doesn’t move, you grab his face with both your hands, wrenching him around to look at you. He’s ready to murder you, and you try to gulp down your fear.
One look at Red bleeding out on the cot is enough to bring your courage back.
“If you want her to live, get the fuck out of this room.” You tell him, punctuating your words by moving closer to him until you’re only centimeters apart.
He’s frozen in front of you, and the position you’re in is starting to get incredibly awkward. Finally, Soap, who appeared from god knows where, pulls Ghost away with some words you don’t understand.
You turn back to Red Fox, who’s unconscious from blood loss and get your tools. Even though you feel like you’re going to throw up, knowing exactly that Ghost might rip your head off if she dies, your hands are still.
It’s mechanical. You’ve done it a thousand times on the other team members. Bullets clink into a metal tray, and after all three are out, you stitch her back together and prepare her blood transfusion. You’re still worried she won’t make it.
The 141 are all massive, but Red is half their size. Her face is completely drained, and you know that she’ll probably be out for some more time.
By the time you’re done with pulling her back together, there’s another beginning to a mangled scar on her body, and your hands are covered in her blood.
She still looks stunning. Envy blooms in your chest, and you set your mind on labelling all the biohazards correctly.
Ghost storms in later, practically breaking the door down again, and you barely manage to stop him from ruining all your work again.
“She’s okay.” You lie, firmly pushing him down onto the only chair in the room. “Just don’t fuck her the second she wakes up.”
You hadn’t meant to say that last part. His eyes snap up at you, and you know he’s pissed.
“Finish your job.” He hisses. “And then comment on us.”
A day later, Red is back on her feet. She hangs onto Ghost, following him down to the bar where you’re all having a drink to the end of the mission. You made sure to ingrain it into his mind that she wasn’t allowed to drink today.
While the others gather at the bar, you sit on one of the plushy sofas in the lounge area, trying to compile your incoherent notes into a medical report that Price so desperately wants by the end of the night.
You can feel the beginning of a headache, Red’s blood still crusted under your fingernails, despite gloves and washing. She looks better off than you.
She was sleeping while you had to stay awake to make sure nothing would go wrong last second.
You draw your knees up to your chest, balancing the clipboard and spreading out your notes around you. After a while, the noise the rest of the 141 is making fades into the background, and you manage to start the report.
That is, until Soap interrupts you. Scotch in hand, he moves your notes out of the way, sitting down in a sea of paper.
“What’cha doin’?” he asks.
“Report for Price.”
“And he wants that ‘till tonight?” Soap asks. There’s a sarcastic tone in his voice that is pissing you off. He’s having a great time.
“Yeah.” You deadpan. You’re about to lose your mind over the formatting program you’re using, and Soap slings his arm around your shoulder, holding out his glass.
“How about,” he begins, reaching out for your laptop. “You close that.”
You want to protest, but he’s already pushed it closed, and you honestly can’t be bothered to open it again. In an attempt to look productive, you sort your papers. You can see Soap stacking others, bringing them completely out of order.
“Why so tense bonnie?” he asks, firmly taking your things out of your hands.
“I am not tense.” You snap. Soap throws his hands up in mock surrender, which only serves to piss you off more.
“C’mon little lady. Have a drink for once.”
He knows you hate that nickname. You forgive him because he’s too attractive for his own good, not that you’d ever tell him that. He’s got a massive ego anyway.
Soap is satisfied with you taking a break, and walks back to the bar to talk with the others.
At the end of that evening, Price is the first to leave, closely followed by Red Fox and Ghost. You roll your eyes, knowing that they won’t heed your medical advice. Finally, Gaz slips away too.
You pull your laptop back onto your legs, and start on the medical report again. You’ve got maybe half an hour left before it needs to be done.
Suddenly, you feel someone standing behind you. Soap.
You grumble to yourself, clicking away on the keys a little harsher than you’d intended.
“You,” Soap begins, leaning down to your ear., “Need to relax.”
Without much warning, his hands dig into your shoulders, working out the knots. You let your head fall back with a groan.
“That bad, bonnie?” he asks.
You nod absentmindedly. He hits an especially bad knot in your right shoulder and you can see his eyes widen without looking.
“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He mutters. “You store rocks in there?”
“All from dealing with Ghost.” You reply. Soap swings over the sofa, and sits back down next to you. He sets his glass of Scotch down on the table, resting his head on your shoulder.
He’s awfully comfortable in your personal space.
“That how you get the ladies into your bed? With back rubs?” you joke, and Soap snorts.
“Usually takes much less effort.”
“Sure it does.”
“You just have high standards from med school.” He shrugs. You try to ignore the fact that he’s flirting with you. And that you’re enjoying it.
“I do not.”
“You do. Price doesn’t need all that for his report. What do you think mine look like?”
You turn to look at Soap, who’s gesturing to your screen.
“I don’t want to imagine.” You reply.
“That so?” he asks. You barely hear him. Your eyes flicker down to your lips. You don’t mean to do that.
“Mhm.” You mumble, tearing your eyes away. You tell yourself that this is just because you haven’t been dicked down for a while. It’s only partly true. The other part of it is the embarrassing crush you’re harboring.
Soap grows uncharacteristically silent at your lackluster response.
“Red looked really good in that dress, don’t you think?” you say to break the awkward silence.
“I don’t give a flying fuck about Red.” Soap replies.
What?
There’s a moment of tension, and then Soap leans forward, kissing you with an urgency that you can almost taste from the taste of Scotch on his tongue. You let out a surprised sound, and Soap laughs into the kiss.
You kiss him back hard, hands scraping over his neck, and his cocky laugh turns into a groan. He’s pulled you onto his lap in the blink of an eye, and you barely manage to set down your laptop on the able before his arms wrap around your waist, holding you to his chest.
Soap moves fast, trailing kisses down your jaw and biting your neck. You let out a small moan, before immediately looking around the lobby.
“C’mon Stitches.” He says, crooning your callsign. “Relax. There’s no one here.”
His hands roll your hips, and you can feel the growing bulge in his pants. You reply by letting your own hands wander under his clothes, running them up his chest. Desperate for friction, you let him guide you, biting back sounds that would give you away.
“I want to hear you.” He demands, pupils blown wide.
“Then take me back to your room.” You say, and Soap doesn’t have to be told twice, haphazardly, he grabs papers and laptop in one hand, and pulls you into his side with the other. In the elevator, he tugs at your uniform, and you peel off your jacket.
His follows quickly, and then his shirt, and you take a moment to stare while Soap tries to balance his and your things in one arm.
“Your turn.” He says, and you pull your shirt over your head. He’s absolutely shameless, staring at your tits, only interrupted by the ding of the elevator, and then he pulls you outside, practically stumbling into the nearest wall. He lifts you up with one arm, hand under your ass and you’re once again reminded how strong everyone in the 141 is.
“Card’s in my pocket.” He manages, and your hand drifts into the pocket he gestured to, pulling out the card and swiping it on the door.
As soon as you’re inside, Soap drops everything apart from you, stepping through the absolute chaos you expected from his room and letting you down on his bed.
Soap
She pulls him down by the shoulders, and he barely manages to catch himself before her mouth connects with his, teeth nipping at his lower lip.
He knows he’s being greedy, but he’s been waiting for this since she joined the team. He opens her pants, and she lets him pull them off, lets him paw at her thighs.
“Sit on my face.” He says, and she looks up at him, confused.
“What?” she asks. She looks adorably shocked
“You heard me.” Soap replies. Slowly, she gets up, pulling off her panties as Soap leans back. She’s hesitant, hovering above him and Soap pulls her down, holding her in place firmly. He can hear her moans, albeit muffled as he tastes her.
She tastes fucking amazing.
After a moment, he feels the weight atop him shift, and her hands on his trousers. She makes quick work of them, and his boxers, and Soap barely has any time to process it before her mouth is on his cock.
“Fuck.” He groans, and it goes straight to her cunt. He can feel her moan on his dick, and she takes him impossibly deep.
Her hips grind down on his face, and every last thought leaves Soap’s head. All he can think of is her on his face, and fuck, she was too good at sucking dick.
And when Soap felt that sensation creeping up on him, he lifted her up and turned her around.
“Fuck, what’d you do that for?” she asks, completely out of breath.
“I wanna cum inside you.” Soap manages. He’s almost more exhausted than she is.
“Fuck. That sounds really nice.” She replies
“Yeah?” Soap asks, laughing. “C’mere love.”
She’s scrambling to get into Soap’s arms, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to catch feelings.
When he kisses her, he knows she can taste herself on his lips.
“You like that?” he teases, and she nods. Her eyes are completely glazed over, and Soap can’t pretend that he loves the fact she’s cockdrunk on him.
“Please.” She begs. With one movement, he’s buried inside her, and she lets out a moan so loud that Ghost and Red have probably heard it.
“Didn’t know you’d be so loud.” He teases.
“Is that-“ she begins, interrupted by her own moan. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Nah. I wanna hear you.”
He thrusts forward, watching her eyes roll back. Her hands are digging into his back, scratching downwards, and Soap is certain that there’ll be scratches there tomorrow.
“Soap.” She murmurs. Her legs wrap around his waist, pushing him closer to her.
“Say my name.” he demands, His hand finds her sweet spot, and he’s got her arching into him.
“John.”
“Say it again.” He demands, and she obliges, chanting his name like a prayer. It’s going to his head that put-together, competent, always perfect Stitches is falling apart under him.
And then she’s there. He can feel it, her cunt sucking him dry, always demanding for more. He wants to give it all to her.
He’s close behind, and there’s still only her. Her body, her face, her moans all for him.
She holds him even closer when he cums, if that’s even possible. His lips crash onto hers, desperate and all-consuming, but she meets him with the calm she always brings when someone get put under her care.
He stays inside her, lazy and tired, and she kisses him more softly, peppering them down her neck and biting his shoulder softly.
Slowly, he untangles himself from her. Soap feels both guilty and prou when he sees the bruises on her thighs, carefully cleaning her of him
“Looks like Ghost and Red had it right all along.” She finally says, and Soap laughs.
“They’re just both stuck in their horny teen phase.”
“I don’t think we’re the ones to talk right now.” She replies. Soap looks over to her. The blanket is barely over her hips, and he takes the chance to stare.
“Enjoying yourself?” she teases, and he nods. He reaches out, trailing his hand up her chest and to her neck, and she shudders.
“You’re insatiable.” She complains.
“Only for you, little lady.” He teases in return. She kisses him a little angrily, mostly to shut him up and Soap makes a note in his head that he can tease her like this the next time they fuck.
Hopefully at least.
Her kiss turns soft, and Soap finds himself melting into her. She pulls him into her arms, and Soap rests his head on her chest. He can hear her heart hammering from exertion and grins to himself, thinking he’s being slick.
“What are you smiling about?” she asks.
“You’re adorable, Stitches. Did ya know that?”
“Am I?”
She lets her hand trail down to his dick, and the effect is instantaneous.
“Jesus bonnie. Let a man catch his breath.”
She laughs, wrapping herself around him like a cat and putting her head into the crook of his neck. There’s a faint smell of shampoo coming off her, and Soap inhales it, completely indulgent.
Hs missed this ever since he joined the 141. And he knows he’s got a one-up on Gaz and Price and the others.
Stitches is there with him, and she’s soft and sweet. And if he’s hurt on the mission tomorrow, she’ll be there to put him back together so that he can take her apart afterwards.
#ghost x red fox#soap x reader#john 'soap' mactavish#john 'soap' mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#john price#soap smut#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#john 'soap' mactavish smut#ghost x oc#soap x you#john 'soap' mactavish x you#john soap mactavish x you
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1st Day of Yule: “A Partridge in a Pear Tree”
Crown Prince Thranduil & Princess Maereth
Second Age 3430
Bar Lasgalen, Palace of the Crown Prince
In all his three and a half thousand years of existence, Thranduil was certain he had never before held anything so precious, so desperately in need of his protection, even while the tiny fist that clutched his forefinger already boasted of a strength that made his heart swell with wonder and pride.
He tugged the swaddling clothes up higher to sufficiently cover the newborn’s head, before stepping out into the balcony and the cold winter's night. He held the babe aloft for a moment, so that the legion of stars might meet and kiss his face with their light before fading into the dawn.
But something else, something less expected, greeted them in the morning twilight. From far off, unseen voices carried faintly across the sprawling, snow-covered palace grounds, singing in chorus a sweet hymn so old, as ancient as Eryn Galen’s trees, that even he could not understand all the words of the Nandorin blessing.
“Our people welcome you, ion nin.” Thranduil chuckled at the gurgle he received in response. Such keen curiosity shone in those wandering little eyes, that already sought to take in the wide world he had just entered!
Tonight they were given privacy and peace. Tomorrow, well-wishers will descend upon Bar Lasgalen and the great feasting will start. King Oropher had already declared and made arrangements for a kingdom-wide celebration in honor of his new grandchild. The heir to his heir, the future of his house, the scion of his line. It pleased Thranduil that his father had finally set aside his grievances concerning lineage and did not let it mar his excitement over the newborn prince.
Yet a persistent cloud cast a shadow of unease over Thranduil's boundless joy. His knowledge of the Darkness stirring in the lands beyond their realm weighed on him, more heavily now that he carried a priceless treasure in his arms. The enemy threats they thought they could dismiss as distant and outside of their concerns, suddenly felt too close and too real to him, too unsafe to ignore and leave unquelled.
As father and son retreated back into the warmth of the royal chambers, Thranduil sensed his wife stirring behind the sheer curtains of their canopied bed, waking from her much-needed rest.
“Can I bring you anything, Endanya? Are you hungry? Shall I send for food?” He did not doubt his wife’s great strength, but she had yet to properly eat after her long labor, and in the days leading up to the birth she would consume only the golden pears she craved, a rare fruit that grew in the valley of Imladris where she had previously lived. Elrond himself had sent baskets of it across the mountain to Eryn Galen, making time for this gesture of care even in the midst of a rising crisis. However well-intentioned, this kindness added to Thranduil's burden of obligation to their old friend.
“No, my love.” Maereth smiled and reached out with a hand that Thranduil immediately took inside his own. “I have everything I need right here.”
“I never imagined I could love anyone anywhere close to how much I love you,” Thranduil shifted his gaze from her lovely face to that of the infant that had now fallen back asleep, content in the curve of his arm. “But this one has firmly taken his place second in line.”
He knelt at his Queen's bedside to bring their son closer to her. Maereth brushed her hand lightly over the baby's head of fine hair, silver as the starlight, just like his.
“I will do everything in my power to protect you both,” the prince said suddenly. “To the last breath in my body, I will do what I must. I will not let any danger or evil come near either of you.”
He knew she understood his meaning, and that she believed him; she always did. But she squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss his forehead.
“Leave those vows for the morrow, Melmenya,” she whispered. “For now, let us keep our thoughts on the gift we have been given. On Mirion.”
“Our Mirion,” Thranduil agreed, carefully returning the sleeping child to his mother's bosom. “Finally, a jewel I could agree is worth marching to war for.”
Yuletide Series MASTERLIST
Yule Event Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @fizzyxcustard @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @spacecluster @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell @acornsandoaktrees @warriormirkwood @emmanuellececchi
#yuletide in the elvenking's realm#yuletide#yuletide sotwk 2023#sotwk fanfiction#sotwk headcanon#thranduil#elvenqueen maereth#mirion thranduilion#lotr#tolkien#the hobbit#thranduil headcanon#greenwood the great#sotwk oc#thranduilion#mirkwood#mirkwood elves#woodland realm#lord of the rings#christmas#holiday fanfic#christmas fanfic
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Do you think I have forgotten about you?
Ghost x f!OC Angst/fluff
Thank you @cassietrn for this request💕, I hope I have met your expectations. This au is a bit inspired by Fatal Frame, one of my favorite games and a bit of mine and is set in 1920(so I apologize if Ghost is a bit out of character if it bothers some). After that I'll let you read, good luck <3
Tw:Blood and graphic description of violence
Divider by @saradika-graphics
The job was simply: to have to explain the paranormal phenomena inside that mansion and capture them with her camera obscura. The owner had been clear with the woman: "Drive that idiot away or I will lose my money."
Eden had always been passionate about that work; her father had always taught her well. Then at the age of 12 she received her camera, with the power to capture ghosts and seal them forever. She had made a name for herself and now at 28 was one of the most famous ghost hunters in London, but she had never seen anything like it.
Poltergeists, possessions and even the disappearance of several people, and only for one ghost. No one knew his name; most of the time he just called himself Ghost. It sounded like a joke but it was, and she already imagined it would be hard.
"I need to be alone, let no one come in" was Eden's warning, the three men and the woman with her raised their hands and like Pontius Pilate wanted to wash them completely. It was going to be her responsibility.
"You can do it" she stepped firmly enough to flutter her long skirt and the brunette reached the entrance to the mansion.
From the way it was composed it looked like the classic place where a family could spend their quiet days, with that almost manic order. The owner's wife surely wanted to make an impeccable impression with the future buyers of that mansion.
With the camera lens, the young ghost hunter began to capture as many angles as possible, before setting up in the center of the most haunted room: the living room. One of her theories might have been that many of the objects there, bought from some flea market in the Covent Garden area channeled the spiritual energy of whoever possessed it. More than plausible considering that many of the objects present were of Egyptian or Mesopotamian origin.
With salt Eden began to create a seal made in the shape of a pentalfa that could protect her. She had already felt the presence of the 'being.
"Show yourself, I'm not going to do anything to you" in a firm voice Eden called the spirit's attention.
Or rather the glass that almost was smashed against her, leaving a small cut on her cheek.
"Why do you bother these people? They simply want to help you."
A thud followed the female's words, as a kind of earthquake all around Eden began to move.
"Help me? You are just so stupid, these bastards have accomplished heinous things in this place" a mighty, angry voice made the glass of the room vibrate. Eden's fingers were trembling, held tightly around her faithful companion of a thousand adventures.
She swallowed, she could have run away but was now entangled in the situation. The only option seemed to be to make the spirit speak and capture it.
"Atrocious things? Why don't you tell me about them?"
A gust of wind blew out the candles, the house descended into that darkness, so oppressive that it seemed almost as if one struggled to breathe, and it was useless for Eden to try to light another candle.
The crunching of stairs caught her attention, from it a figure emerged, bulky and mighty came within inches of the border of the seal. A skull mask covered his features and a long hooded coat covered the rest of his body. He could have been about 6.4 ft.
But what struck Eden was the 'intensity of his gaze, she had never seen anything make her shiver so much and penetrate her bones.
"Silly ghost hunter, do you really think that ephemeral object can do anything to me?" With only the strength of his hand the creature flung the object away, for the first time in her life Eden was frightened. Scared that she could do nothing. She fell to her knees, reciting the prayer that exorcist had taught her during her stay in Rome a few months earlier. The demon's dark, low laugh seemed to suffer the opposite effect.
"You are fighting against those whom you should not be fighting instead, these people wanted me to enter their house" he lowered his hood, with Eden's blank stare that was helpless. With his finger he commanded her to step out of the circle, and she like a poor lamb stepped out of it, almost as if she must be ready to be sacrificed.
"I want you to be able to see the truth" Ghost laid his hands on the ghost's hunter eyes. Various images of people of all ages, desperate for them not to be sacrificed to that demon. Blood flowed inside those walls, reaching to the feet of Eden, who with her mouth open began to tremble.
"Please stop, I don't want to see anything anymore!"She began to cry, all the pain of those victims was affecting her both physically and spiritually. Unusually mercifully he let go, seeing her and her face wet with tears. What had those horrible people done? Had they used that place as a homeless shelter and sacrificed victims to enrich themselves?
"I have my reasons for this place not to be sold. I was the first victim."
"May I know how you died?" The question seemed ridiculous, but seeing him open up like that maybe Eden could help. The stern, angry gaze of the being did not seem to be of the same opinion, however, grabbing her by the chin. His breath, cold as death went to touch her rosy-colored cheeks.
"I'm not going to tell you a damn thing, you've already seen it all" he then left her, retreating his pace. Eden simply wanted to understand.
"Are you so afraid to talk? So afraid of a human that you don't want to give him reasons why you act this way."
Ghost's hazel eyes soon began to turn crimson red, like the blood of all those victims.
"I am not afraid of you human, get it through your head!Your bullshit doesn't work on me" Pacing back and forth he studied her.
"I" Eden released a tired, somewhat pained breath "just want to help you and all the people who lost their lives here."
A collection of people, of all ages surrounded the two suddenly , in that sort of tornado made of fog. She felt herself being sucked in and was motionless and afraid. She did not know what to do. The demon approached her, taking off the mask he had kept until then to conceal his identity.
"Simon" Eden's heart stopped beating for a 'moment, she could not believe it.
Simon, had her Simon died in that place? They had never found his body after he had said he was going on a trading trip, being the manager of the antique store with Eden, his wife.
"That's why I didn't want to tell you the truth!" at the center of the tornado Simon took her hands, the spirits around them were breaking free, ready to make the owners of that house pay. But what mattered to Eden was that now she knew, her husband was there before her.She would have liked to ask him why.Why him of all people?
Instinctively she closed her eyes, finding herself in a different place--a huge green plain that smelled of melancholy, she looked around.On various hills surrounding the small valley were the spirits of the people who had been saved by that revelation.
"My dear" a voice that smelled of longing called her back, behind her as soon as she turned around was her husband. He was no longer wearing that sort of black suit, no longer possessed by that demon, he was the same man she had married. The one with whom she had built their antique store, her gentle giant.
"I would have wished" she began to tremble, tears flowing "to save you and find your remains."
"Don't blame yourself you don't have" his fingers went to graze the heart-shaped pendant he had given her as an engagement promise, before they were married.
"I'm glad you still wear it."
"How could I take it off? It is an integral part of me. As are you."
Just feeling the contact of her skin against his fingers, reaching then to her brown locks. How could she not have him with her every morning beside her?To smell his aftershave scent as he rubbed her nose against his neck? And the words of love of how lucky he was to have her as his wife?
"Remember," he placed a hand against her chest, his touch definitely calming her, letting him rest his forehead in a relaxed manner against hers.
"You managed to save everyone in that mansion. And you saved me from that demon, you did darling"
That way he pronounced it, Eden knew she had to momentarily say goodbye to him but she didn't want to.Now that she knew the truth about his disappearance she wanted nothing more than to hold him close to her.
"What will I do without you?"
"I will always be with you, I will not leave you. And in the next life I promise I will look for you."
"I won't make it, I can't make it" sobbed the brunette whose tears he wiped away before giving her that kiss, the last carnal kiss before their paths parted. At least in this life.
As Eden watched him walk away to join that procession of souls, Simon from high on that hill looked at her wistfully. He would find her again, in whatever life he would be reborn he would be with her.And she would look for him in the corner, even if it took her centuries to be with him together. Forever.
London, June 1920
Eden was sitting in that garden quietly, newspaper in hand was reading the article "An 'entire family arrested for the' murder of 60 strangers, sacrificed to the god Pazuzu in exchange for wealth and prosperity" read the headline.
After her investigation inside the mansion the brunette, returning home had immediately told the police everything, who investigating had discovered the remains of the victims. Among them were those of Simon, who could now finally rest in peace.
"We did it did you see?" She whispered as she raised her eyes to the sky, it was definitely a sunny and clear day, one of those early June days not so hot and not so cold.Just at the thought that her husband could now rest in peace she smiled, especially thinking of the promise he had made.
From a tree Eden heard cawing, a raven had alighted on a lamppost. That signal was clear to her, Simon was there.
Tag: @chloekistune @graveyard-party666 @alypink @kaitaiga @corvosattano @onehornedbeast @themotherofhorses @alexxmason @carlosoliveiraa @socially-awkward-skeleton @thewanderer-000 @thedeadthree @sinclxirx @simonxriley @marivenah @strangefable @captastra @aceghosts @kikiharinezumi @katsigian @voidika @pvnkesttt @starryylies
"I will always be with you, I will not leave you. And in the next life I promise I will look for you. That's a promise."
#oc:eden“spectra”park#pairing: ghost & eden#call of duty oc:eden “spectra” park#call of duty oc#simon ghost riley#cod oc#original character#cod mw2#call of duty original character#ghost cod#ghost mw 2#ghost call of duty#ghost simon riley#ghost mwii#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty#ghost mw2#mw2#mw3#call of duty one shot#call of duty fanfic#call of duty fic#cod#ghost x female oc#ghost x eden#call of duty au#cod fic#cod fanfic#cod fanfiction
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Catch Me If You Can
Bonus Christmas Chapter
Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Chapter Rating : R (p. much just smut)
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This chapter contains smut and Billy using sex to get what he wants . Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : ~2.3k
A/N : This was written as a bonus chapter for Christmas but I couldn't post it because of where the main story was, so I'm posting it now, late AF. It's pretty much just a cutesy smut fest. Nothing that happens in this chapter will effect the rest of the story.
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bonus Christmas Chapter
On Christmas morning, you’d woken to find Billy sprawled beside you, sleeping so peacefully, that you decided to wake him by slipping beneath the covers and wrapping your lips around his cock. He moaned your name in that sleepy, scratchy tone that always had your thighs clenching, and it wasn’t long until you had him falling apart. But you didn’t want to spend the whole day in bed with him so, before he could come to his senses, you were slipping out of bed and heading for the bathroom, instructing him to stay put.
Once you were done in the shower, you slipped into Billy’s Christmas present; a red lace lingerie set that was so sheer it was practically see-through, complete with a strappy garter belt and black stockings. Over the top you wore a dark red dress with a satin sash that you pulled into a bow, almost making you look like a wrapped up present.
He was speechless when you finally left the bathroom, but you didn’t give him a chance to do anything more than look before telling him to get showered so you could have breakfast; French toast, bacon and mimosas.
When you were done eating, he took your hand and led you to the tree you’d helped him set up and decorate. Dread coiled in your stomach when you noticed a pile of presents, and the feeling got worse when Billy handed you one.
Carefully, you tore the wrapping paper, revealing a brand new, top of the range mirrorless camera.
“Billy,” his smile waived as you looked at him and he realised you were upset, “this is too much, I can’t accept this.”
Before he had a chance to argue, you were on your feet, heading for the bedroom, feeling like an idiot - how could you have let yourself think that some lingerie would be worth whatever he could get you?
You should have known that something like this would happen, and you felt like an idiot for not anticipating it but - but, now that it had happened, you felt like you were being ungrateful and that wasn't fair to Billy. But, how could you accept a gift that had cost him thousands when all you'd gotten him was ninety dollars worth of lingerie?
“Hey, don’t walk away from me,” his hand on your wrist, pulling you back to face him. He wasn’t angry, he just seemed confused.
“I just need a minute,” you told him, pulling against his grip, but he didn’t let go.
“Talk to me.”
“You can’t spend over five grand on me and expect me to be happy about it,” you blurted out.
“Why not? You’re overthinking it; it’s Christmas. Why can’t I spoil you for Christmas?”
“Because it’s too much, Billy. I don’t need a sugar daddy.”
“Careful, sweetheart, I could get used to you calling me Daddy,” Billy tried to joke.
“I’m being serious!”
He let out a sigh. “I don’t think it’s too much. Not for you. You deserve it - I want you to have it. You know the money doesn’t matter to me.”
“It matters to me, Billy. Especially when all I got you was some stupid lingerie.”
“You got me lingerie?” He grinned, completely missing the point you were making. You slapped his chest with your free hand. “Okay, okay - if you don’t want the camera, we can take it all back. I’ll do whatever you want.”
It was strange for him to relent so easily, but you hoped he was finally starting to understand why his money sometimes made you uncomfortable, but with it being Christmas you didn’t want to argue anymore, so you let it slide.
“Thank you, Billy,” stepping forwards, your hand slipping around his neck and pulling him down into a tender kiss, happy that he seemed to have seen things your way.
“So, about this lingerie...” he grinned against your lips.
You’d wanted to save the surprise for later but, since the cat was out of the bag, you decided to take a step back, indicating the bow of your dress with a wave of your hand.
“Why don’t you unwrap your present and see for yourself.”
His hands were on you in an instant, starting at your shoulders then slowly tracing the low neckline of the dress down to your cleavage, palming your breasts through the fabric before continuing down to the bow. He licked his lips as he looked at you, taking in the sight of you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world to him as he finally started to undo the bow. Once it was open, he turned you so he could get to the zipper, slowly lowering it and, then, letting the dress drop to the floor.
Fingers ran across your bare stomach, urging you back against him, letting you feel the press of his erection against you. You ground your ass back against him until you heard him take a sharp breath, then you stepped away from him, turning so he could get a proper look at you.
Billy froze, his eyes tracking down your body, taking shallow breaths and looking ready to pounce. You swayed your hips from side to side, watching as he fought against his desires. When he still didn’t move, you reached for him, pulling him towards the bed and sitting him down. Climbing onto his lap, your hips continued to sway as you slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. His dark eyes continued to glare and you just smiled, wanting him to do his worst.
“Aren’t you going to finish unwrapping me?” You asked as innocently as you could manage, finally snapping him out of it.
His arm moved around you, fingertips pressing into your back, pulling you closer before he deftly unclasped your bra. You slipped it off while his lips trailed down the column of your throat to your collarbone, your back arching without a second thought, knowing exactly where his lips were headed. Fingers ran through his hair as he sucked a nipple between his lips, teasing it to a hardened nub before moving his attention to the other.
While he enjoyed your breasts, his hand slipped between you and into your panties, smirking when he realised how wet you were. Fingers trailed through your wetness, teasing your clit before sinking into you, setting a languid pace; he wasn’t trying to make you come, he was making sure you were ready for him. He pulled back his fingers as you undid his pants and pulled out his erection, slowly running your fingers up and down him, but you stopped the moment you felt him tug on your panties.
“Don’t you dare tear these panties, Billy.” You tried to sound serious despite the laughter in your voice.
He practically growled in response, fingers still tugging, very obviously thinking about doing it anyway before relenting. His hands gripped your hips and he quickly moved you off his lap and onto the bed, pulling your panties down and gazing down at you as he dropped his pants and boxers.
“As much as I want your legs in those stockings wrapped around my head, I don’t think I can wait to fuck you.” He confessed.
You’d come to learn just what that meant; when he was willing to skip foreplay, it meant he needed you, and when he needed you, things got rough. Just the thought made you tremble with anticipation.
“It’s your Christmas present, you can do whatever you want with it.”
“You’re my Christmas present.” He corrected you, crawling onto the bed beside you. You. Not the sex on offer or the lingerie, you were his present. You were his. “And I’m gonna do whatever I want with you, sweetheart.”
He manoeuvred you onto your side and laid behind you, his hand slowly trailing down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. But, despite his tender touches, his ragged breathing told you that this was going to be anything but gentle. Finally, his arm hooked around your thigh, lifting it until it was almost perpendicular to your other leg, leaving you spread wide for him.
You looked down as he curled around you, realising you could see his cock between your thighs.
“That’s right, sweetheart, watch,” he muttered, slowly moving his hips, letting you watch his cock running through your folds. He watched too, slowly building up your arousal until he was coated in it and his tip was starting to leak. Eagerly, you reached down, thumb swiping a bead of pre-cum and bringing it to your lips, earning a growl from Billy, reminding you that he was in charge right now, not you.
To punish you, he started to tease you, pressing the crown of his cock against your slit, letting you feel the slow stretch before pulling back again. He did it over and over, leaving you feeling desperate and needy, moaning his name every time his shaft rubbed against your clit.
“Billy, please -” you finally broke, unable to take any more.
“Say it,” he demanded quietly, his lips brushing against your ear.
“I need you inside me,” you begged.
Finally, he relented, slowly pushing past the threshold of your wet slit. A cry spilled from you, the angle of his cock stretching you, filling you in a way you hadn’t felt before. Billy, likewise, let out a groan, easing you open with inch after inch, holding you close as he sank deeper and deeper.
You whimpered as he bottomed out, but he didn’t give you time to adjust before he started to fuck you with hard, brazen thrusts of his hips. Trembling every time he filled you, his grip on your thigh left you completely at his mercy to take whatever he gave. And Billy gave you everything, swearing and groaning your name as you clenched around him, as you drenched his cock with your arousal.
“Is this what you needed?” He grunted in your ear.
“More,” you moaned, toying with him. “Everything.”
He fucked you harder, faster, filling the deepest parts of you, and by the time you felt his fingers on your swollen clit each breath you took was punctuated with a moan.
“Like this, sweetheart?” he mocked, knowing you couldn’t answer. All you could do was moan. “Always so fucking needy for me, aren’t you?”
(You both already knew the answer to that one.)
Glancing down, just the sight of his fingers working your clit was enough to make you come.
His cock slipped from you without warning, still in the throes of your orgasm, still moaning and writhing beneath him. Getting to his knees, he straddled one thigh while pulling the other around his waist, keeping you on your side as he slipped back between your walls. The new angle had your eyes rolling back in your head every time he filled you.
Noticing your breasts bouncing with each thrust only inspired him to fuck you harder, his hand soon slipping up you body, fingers pinching and tugging at your nipple, the sharp sting bringing an overwhelming mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Mine,” he growled, demanding you admit it; that you were his, that you’d never want anyone else again. But you weren’t there yet, and your denial had him pounding his cock into you even harder, making you come again.
Rolling you onto your back, he pulled up both of your legs as he sank back inside you, lowering his body over yours, letting you feel his weight on top of you. His lips ghosted yours but, when you tried to kiss him, he pulled away, smirking. His movements turned slower, more purposeful, letting you really feel him. It was almost too much after everything you’d already been through, but you soon realised that was the point.
“See how easy it is to empty that head and stop overthinking when you give in to me?” His hand cupped your cheek and he smiled down at you. “This is why you’re mine, sweetheart. No one else will ever make you feel this good.”
As your back arched off the bed, Billy lowered his head, capturing a nipple between his lips, sucking and nipping, while his fingers found the other, tugging and twisting until it ached. It wasn’t long before you started to tremble beneath him, moans stacking and getting louder, nails tearing into his back as you tried to hold on.
You clenched around his cock, so close to coming, when he took hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head.
Then he pulled out.
“Billy -” you practically sobbed, desperate to come, not understanding why he'd stopped.
“Say thank you for the camera, Billy,” he instructed.
You stayed quiet, defiant, realising what he was doing. He wanted to make you change your mind.
Squirming beneath him, you tried in vain to pull from his grasp. His cock filled you again, giving two deep thrusts, almost enough to push you over the edge before pulling out again.
“All you have to say is thank you,” he told you again.
With the way you were bent beneath him, you couldn’t move, couldn’t free yourself. You hated how much you were loving being restrained by him, hated the thrill that ran up your spine as he kept edging you, knowing you well enough to pull out each time you got close. Minutes passed, the demand made over and over, keeping you on the precipice until your eyes were watering and your body was shaking.
But you didn’t ask him to stop. You didn’t want it to end; naively, you thought you could beat him. You couldn’t.
“Thank you!” You finally cried out, broken by him.
“For?” He prompted.
“Thank you for the camera, Billy.” You whined desperately.
“You’re going to keep it, aren’t you?”
Fuck, he’d managed to trap you.
“Yes!”
He grinned, pitching his cock inside you again, fucking you fast and hard enough to finish both of you, his thrusts finally turning languid and lazy as he emptied himself of every last drop inside you, and you clenched around him, unable to stay annoyed as you fought to catch your breath.
“I’m really glad you decided to keep the camera, sweetheart.” Finally letting you lower your legs back to the mattress. And, before you could answer back, his tongue was in your mouth and you were surrendering to him all over again.
END NOTES : I know it's late to be posting a Christmas chapter but I had it written and I thought it was pretty cute (albeit in a smutty fucked up way) and I enjoyed writing it so, here we are. Normal posting schedule will start again on Friday!
Thanks for reading and sticking with all the ups, downs, and dirty parts of this fic!
If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know some people are having issues with the tags? think you might need to enable tagging on your end of things? IDK tumblr is weird)
TAG LIST
@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith @uncontainedsmiles @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lilliesofmay @billyrussoslut @readingabouthim
#billy russo#billy russo x female reader#billy russo x reader#billy russo fanfic#cmiyc ff#the punisher#billy russo imagine
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Hey Ellie! I hope you’re doing good! May I please request sfw prompts #39 and #13 with Vegeta? I got hit with the mood of wanting something soft with Vegeta out of nowhere.
Slow | Vegeta x Reader |
#13- "I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much."
#39- "Why are you scared of loving?"
author's note: something soft with vegeta? sign me the hell up 🫡🫡 this is also (i believe) the second to last request i have remaining from the prompt lists requests, since i lost the lists 🫠
pairing: vegeta x fem!reader
warnings: brief mentions of canon typical violence and death, no dialogue
Stargazing with Vegeta wasn't a new pastime of yours, but it's always somehow felt so special to sit with your prince in the darkened silence, watching the twinkles above you with no one around to interrupt. It's been a long time of this, with plenty lost along the way, but time and time again you've proven your strength to match up to his and that's why you've remained his second for so long.
You find that your eyes keep slipping to look at him rather than the dipper before you, however.
Oh, how he's changed after all this time. He used to be horrific, cruel even for a Saiyan. He was even unbothered by Frieza's annihilation of your home planet! And now he's at ease, though not without an occasional princely tantrum every now and then. Having his ass absolutely handed to him on Earth ended up yielding results you never could have seen coming; perhaps his death on Namek played the biggest role in his changing ways.
Though it was temporary and will continue to be should he perish again, you'll never quite recover from the scars his death left on you.
Vegeta shifts just a tad, his arm brushing against yours as you both lean on the large rock. It's wide and tall, slanted and perfect for gazing at the stars or clouds alike. It's as if destiny curated this spot just for you and your Prince of all Saiyans— you've never once seen or sensed another soul here.
Goosebumps cover your skin at the vague touch. He's attractive, no doubt, and you've seen him damn near naked more than once and vice versa, but the proximity is a thousand times more intimate and only ever occurs here. Any other time, without this setting, you and Vegeta are both highly prone to distance from the world and each other.
You're certainly best friends, having lived through what feels like three separate lifetimes together. And at one point, it seemed this barrier had the potential to lift. Post-Namek, things were… Gentler. Vegeta had hugged you for the first time, and you remember it more fondly than you'd like to.
There's a solid few taps on the door to the bedroom Bulma's given you, and you don't need to recognize the strength behind it to know it's Vegeta. It's late, well past midnight even, and perhaps he's also finding it hard to sleep on the too-soft bed. You can hardly stand to even sit on it, though you've been seated at the end of it ever since the shower you took in the extravagant bathroom connected to your new bedroom.
"Come in."
He enters quietly, not even a word spoken as he crosses the room to join you. The bed dips as he takes his place to your left, and together you stare at the carpet. This place is much different from Planet Vegeta, of which your memories hold an unfavorable fog, or any Frieza Station. There's no tyrant to obey, no missions to fulfill… The world is yours to claim on terms you get to create, for the first time in your thirty years of life.
Will you and Vegeta have those same terms, though? Or for the first time in both of your lives, will you navigate entirely alone?
Vegeta's arm moves around your shoulders, tugging you close enough for him to rest his cheek atop your head, and your lips curl just a bit for the first time in quite a while.
A breeze rolls through and you shiver despite your hot-blooded Saiyan nature. Unbothered by the chill himself, Vegeta tugs off the jacket he's wearing and drapes it over your shoulders. Wearing a small smile, you give his arm a gentle pat.
You find it difficult to believe the man before you is the man you once knew— though he can probably say the same about you. You were his favorite warrior, slitting throats and tearing things apart with your bare hands right alongside him, and now you care for the son he had out of wedlock with Bulma as if the boy was your own.
Vegeta being a father in itself has been hard to believe at times. But just as he's grown as a man, his fatherhood journey has been complex and constantly changing too. In the beginning he chose not to acknowledge the child at all, not until you swiftly nipped it in the bud at least, though one thing you absolutely could not (and wouldn't dream of attempting to) change was his lack of commitment to Bulma herself. Truthfully, it's probably for the best that they co-parent rather than cohabitate as husband and wife.
She's got it all, though. Money, beauty and fame, his firstborn child even. Why he hesitates, you may just never know.
Looking away from the sky and in the face of the man that's already looking at you, his normally sharp features softer than usual and illuminated by the stars and dwindling fire you lit hours ago. You're left to simply stare and wonder as far as your mind can take you.
Why are you scared of loving, Prince? You think to yourself as Vegeta's knuckles brush against you lightly in his effort to adjust his jacket over you properly.
To himself, Vegeta muses something he may never gain the ability to say aloud.
I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much.
#vegeta x you#vegeta x reader#vegeta imagine#x reader#reader insert#dbz imagine#fic#prompt list request#taura🩷
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Steve is NOT straight
Platonic Codependent Besties Steve x Robin (Steve is bi and Robin had no idea somehow, also a hint of Steddie 😉)
1K word one shot based on this text post by my buddy @steviesbicrisis because a lot of people liked it and wanted more of it lol (link to Ao3)
“Ha ha, very funny Harrington.” Robin said as she lay across her friend’s lap. Steve had asked her to paint his nails black, because he saw some rockstar do it and decided that he could too, even though, as Robin often pointed out, Steve was a pretty boy. I don’t HAVE to be a pretty boy. Steve would always respond. Steve…. Robin would say, ending the conversation.
“What’s funny about it?” Steve asked, confused. When he’d asked her to do this, he didn’t realize that the best method would be for her to lay on top of him, her stomach on his thighs, weighing him down. He was in the corner of the couch, his hand resting on the arm of it, and Robin insisted that she needed to be eye level with his fingers to do it properly. Three down, seven to go.
“You know, sometimes your humor is just kind of annoying.” Robin said, frowning. She loved Steve, but he drove her crazy sometimes.
“I’m not joking?” Steve responded. Robin finished the fourth nail on his left hand and shifted to face him.
“I just don’t appreciate you making all these jokes that you’re gay when you know I’m actually gay. It’s a little insensitive.” She turned back to his nails with a huff, focusing on his thumb so she could complete the first hand.
“Usually, yeah, I would agree, except once again, I’m not joking. Wait, did you seriously not know…?” Steve’s confusion turned to shock. She has to know. We spend every waking moment together. I tell her everything.
“Steve Harrington, you are not gay. Need I remind you of your blind love for Miss Nancy Whee-”
“I’m not gay, I’m bisexual. Where the hell have you been?” Steve asked, his shock now turned to anger. Robin sprang up from his lap, nearly dropping the bottle of nail polish in the process. “Careful, the carpet!”
“WHAT.” Robin exclaimed, taken completely by surprise. “No, no. We would have definitely talked about this before.”
“I thought we HAD talked about it.” He responded. “Like the time I drunkenly kissed Tommy at that party and then drank more to cover up the fact I liked it?”
“Oh my God.”
“And then last summer when I dated that guy Mark?”
“No shit, you were DATING him?” Robin asked, aghast.
“Uh, yeah. Are you being for real right now?” Steve asked. “I literally would tell you when we were going on dates.”
“I thought you were saying that because I was going on dates with Vicki! I thought you were being cute!”
“Robin, when have you ever thought I was cute?” Steve asked, wanting to run his hand through his hair and stopping himself once he remembered his nails were still wet.
“OH MY GOD!” Robin screamed, jumping up and pacing the floor. “Oh my god. You’re right. It’s been there this whole time.”
“Me swearing by using Farrah Fawcett hairspray and having a lesbian for a best friend didn’t tip you off?”
“Okay, okay, don’t be too hard on me. You didn’t know I was gay at first either.” Robin said, crossing her arms.
“How the hell was I supposed to know that?”
“Um, EVERYTHING about me??” Robin replied.
“Not the same. We weren’t that close yet.” Steve insisted.
“Bullshit, we’ve been buds from the very first scoop, Harrington.”
“Okay! Well, now you know I guess! Because for some reason I wasn’t CLEAR enough before?” Steve yelled incredulously. He’d moved from anger into being amused by the whole situation. “Jesus, does nobody know? Nancy? Dustin?”
“I don’t think so. Oh my god I have to call everybody.” Robin said, her mind going a thousand places at once.
“Slow down, Buckley.” Steve said, holding his right hand up. “Paint me first, out me later.” Robin couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, then resigned herself to lay across him the other way. She thought to herself in silence for a few moments, finishing two nails with ease.
“Bisexual. Holy shit.” She muttered.
“I gotta say, it’s pretty embarrassing that you never realized.”
“I’m sorry.” Robin said sheepishly. She painted another two nails. Just the pinky left.
“No, I mean, it’s embarrassing for YOU.” He clarified. Robin elbowed him in the stomach.
“Screw you.” She finished the last nail and put the top back on the bottle. “You’re all set. Wait like ten minutes and you’re golden.”
“Perfect. I have a metalhead I need to impress.” Steve smirked. Robin rolled off him so he could stand up, then blew on his nails to speed up the process.
“You’re kidding.” Robin said, the realization hitting her.
“Robin, we’ve been over this…” His hands flew to his hips, but he was careful of his nails. He didn’t need them to be perfect - chipped nails were hotter anyway, everyone knew that - but he didn’t want black paint on his new sweater. Robin looked him up and down.
“Fine, whatever. Pretty boy.” She smirked. He glared at her, then down at himself.
“Shit, you think I should change?”
“Aw, come on. Munson’s had heart eyes for you since you met.”
“Well, I’d hope so. We’ve been dating for a while now.”
“Shut up, no you haven’t. Am I an idiot? Is my gay card about to be revoked? How have I been so dense??” She ranted, theatrically. Steve laughed.
“Okay, that was a joke. I mean, we’ve made out a few times but we’re not official or anything.”
“OH MY GOD!” Robin yelled again, unable to control her excitement. “So EDDIE knows you’re bisexual?”
“Uh, yeah. He taught me the word and everything like a week after we met. Seriously, Robin, I think you might actually be blind.”
“Nancy will back me up on this.” Robin insisted.
“Whatever you say, babe. You go do that and I’ll go do some very non-straight things with Eddie.”
“Okay, then. Hey Harrington?” Steve paused at the doorway, turning back to look at Robin. “When you tell this story to people, could you…not? I mean, could you leave out the part where I didn’t know?” Steve rolls his eyes.
“No can do, Robin. It’s the only surprising part of the story, and it’s hilarious. See ya later!”
The door shut, leaving Robin alone in the empty room. She sat on the couch, replaying every conversation her and Steve ever had, going over every fact of him that she could recall.
Jesus. She really was dense, wasn’t she?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TAGLIST: @paintballkid711 @abraca-fxckyou @allbimyself26 @jellybabiesforall
#st fic#stranger things fanfic#st fanfiction#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve and robin#platonic stobin#bi steve harrington#don't disrespect my man's bisexuality#robin buckley#stranger things#me#writing#steve harrington x robin buckley
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You'll Be the Oxygen I Need - Jay Halstead Imagine [Chicago PD]
Title: You'll Be the Oxygen I Need
Pairing: Jay Halstead X Reader
Based On: Tethered
Word Count: 1,050 words
Warning(s): nightmares, mention of kidnapping
Summary: After a case takes a bad turn, Jay is taken hostage by the very person that the team had been chasing. The peace of getting him back only lasts for a few hours before the aftereffects start to rear their ugly head.
Author's Note: I don't really have anything to say... hi!
Part One of "April" [Release Date: 5/3/2023]
Part Three of "April" [Release Date: 5/7/2023]
YEARBOOK - SLEEPING AT LAST WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST
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I could remember so much of the case so clearly.
I could remember every choice I made. Every word spoken and path taken and mistake made.
I could remember the fear that consumed my entire body when no one could find Jay. I remember shaking and feeling like my entire body had frozen over.
I couldn't move for a little while. I just went completely numb as my mind raced through a thousand nightmares, all of them ending with me losing Jay forever.
I was snapped out of it in a matter of minutes. My freezing was of no use to anyone.
I didn't rest for a moment. I barely ate and when I did, I was still working. I didn't sit down at all. I didn't sleep at all. My defense was that he didn't get the chance to sleep, so I couldn't either.
Jay spent a few days in the hospital after we found him.
I spent my few hours away from his side cleaning our place and making some food and treats so he had something nice when he got back.
Driving him home was a strange experience. Just a matter of days ago, I was scared that I'd never see him again. Now, I was glancing over at him in my passenger seat. He was sitting there and grinning at me like nothing had ever happened.
"You alright," Jay asked after a few minutes.
I blinked a few times. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
"Really?" he pushed.
"You just got out of the hospital and you're worrying about me?"
He nodded. "Yup."
"Well, stop it."
"Nope," he replied. "Worrying about you is kind of my thing. And you just spent days worrying about me."
I reached over and laid my hand over his. "I am perfectly fine. I understand that you like taking care of me, but it's my turn to take care of you, got it? Let me do the checking in for a while."
"Okay."
I pulled his hand over and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
We got home a few minutes later. Jay went to change and go to bed, grumbling about how hard it was to sleep in that hospital bed. I grabbed some water and a little bit of food and put them on the bedside table.
Once I knew that he was settled and that his phone was nearby, I was ready to walk away.
He grabbed my hand. "Where are you going?"
"I was gonna call Voight and let him know what's going on," I explained. "Probably go try to finish up some work. I kinda abandoned it for a few days."
"Can that wait," he asked. "Lay down with me."
I grinned. "Let me at least call Voight. Then, I'm all yours."
He nodded, letting my hand go.
When I came back, Jay was half-asleep. He blinked a few extra times, trying to look a little more awake than he was.
"You can go to sleep," I chuckled as I crawled under the covers with him.
"Wanted to wait for you," he pulled me closer to him, resting his head on my chest with his arms tight around my torso. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I mumbled, running my finger along the hair on the back of his neck.
I wasn't sure that I would ever be able to doze off. I was still just so worried. Worried that I would open my eyes and he would be missing again. Still gone or taken again or that we found him and he had already been killed. The thought made it hard for me to feel safe enough to close my eyes.
I spent most of that time checking on him. Watching his breathing and waiting for the moment that I needed to jump up and help with something.
I had barely let my mind drift away from me when I was pushed awake. I jumped a bit, not fully comprehending what was happening at first. I shoved myself up.
Jay was pushed against the headboard, breathing frantic and eyes wide.
"Jay..."
He looked over at me. I moved to sit next to him, facing him properly. It took a few seconds for him to react to my presence, but when he did, he dragged himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around me. He hid his face in my shoulder, trying to hide that he had started crying.
"It's alright," I mumbled. "I've got you. I promise. I'm here."
I didn't stop whispering my quiet, comforting messages until I heard him trying to speak.
"Hey," I leaned back, cupping the sides of his face so he would look at me. "What is it?"
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
"Hey, hey," I ran my thumbs along his cheekbones. "You don't need to apologize. You have no reason to apologize for any of this. I promise. You have nothing to feel sorry about. I am here to help you and take care of you. That's not a one-way thing."
I saw his shoulders fall.
I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. His hands moved up to hold mine in place. I kept my lips pressed to his forehead for a few more seconds before leaning back.
"Do you wanna talk about it," I asked.
Jay shook his head.
"Do you need anything at all?"
"I just... I want to go back to sleep," he mumbled.
I glanced at the window. We had gotten home sometime in the afternoon, but it was completely dark now.
"Okay," I nodded.
I let my hands fall from his face so he could lie down. He laid on his back, eyes trained on bouncing around different spots along the ceiling.
I laid next to him. I grabbed one of his hands and brought it up so I could kiss the back of it. He turned to me. I grinned at him.
"I love you," I said as I moved closer to him.
"I love you too."
My other arm wrapped around his torso. His free hand touched my forearm, gently tracing a line back and forth along my skin.
All I wanted to do was bring him some peace. The same peace that he had offered me so many times.
Maybe one day I would finally feel like I had.
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#imagine#x reader#fanfiction#chicago pd imagine#chicago pd fanfiction#chicago pd x reader#jay halstead fanfiction#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead imagine#one chicago x reader#one chicago fanfiction#one chicago imagine
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