#i pulled something in my back separating fucking laundry of all things
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fic snippet (thomastair)
Alastair draws himself a hot bath when instructed in the next few notes, being liberal with the perfumed salts Thomas left out and losing himself in the heady scent of lavender. He continues to read—careful not to get the book wet in the process—until his toes are pruned and the water turns cold. He changes into the fresh pyjamas folded neatly on their bed after finding another by the towel he dries himself with, and he slides under the covers after he finds what he assumes is the final note of this elaborate event:
I hope you are feeling refreshed and thoroughly relaxed, mi amor. Now rest. Cast aside all your woes and allow the night take you on a grand adventure amongst the stars.
But there is just one final thing I’d like you to do. My final request.
Dance with me when I return from patrol?
It takes everything in him not to squeal like a little schoolgirl, and his voice is strangled as he whispers at the paper, ‘God, I love you, Tom.’ He raises it to his lips and kisses it. ‘Of course I’ll dance with you.’
With that, Alastair switches off the lamp and settles against the pillow, making sure to hold that little piece of paper over his heart. Moonlight streams through the curtain and onto the bed, silvery and bright, and he closes his eyes.
The grandfather clock downstairs fulfils its duty once again. It chimes through the silent house, a verbose sound.
One o’clock, it says. Definitely past bedtime, it says.
But Alastair cannot sleep.
Never mind Thomas’s sweet request to dance when he returns home, as much as it presses at his mind. He wishes to be against Thomas, to feel his hands on his waist and to hear his heartbeat in his ear as they sway in each other’s arms, and his body aches for it.
But he wants Thomas home safe and well and in bed with him more.
~
no graphic this time as this is a spontaneous decision, but here, have a little sneak peek into the historic valentine's day thomastair fic i'm working on :>
#the shadowhunter chronicles#tsc#the last hours#tlh#thomas lightwood#alastair carstairs#thomastair#fanfiction preview#fanfiction#fanfic#i would have finished by now tbh#as with a lot of things#but work has been so busy#life has been busy#and to top it all off#i pulled something in my back separating fucking laundry of all things#(laundry is my nemesis it seems >:o)#(am still feeling the effects of trying to fish a sock from behind the dryer and consequently tearing a ligament in my shoulder years later#so i've been put on strict bed rest until further notice#and fr it hurts even to sit up ugh#but at least this is the first time in two days i've managed to get the laptop out so hooray for that#anyway hopefully i'll be done with the fic soon despite the fact valentine's is well over ahaha#as usual i am LATE#how can i wait when queue are so beautiful?
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A Perfect Score - Epilogue | FigureSkating!AU
Summary: months have passed since the finals with no sign of Aemond, making you wonder if anything has changed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings below the cut~
Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist
Warnings: p in v sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, *a finger in the bum*, butt play, ass eating, orgasm denial, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping
A/N: *don't get emosh, don't get emosh, don't get emosh* I can't believe it's really REALLY the end! I've had this idea for the Epilogue for AGES and can't wait for you all to read the last instalment of our figure skating couple <3 would die for them and hope you enjoy!
"Good, but bend your knees!" You shout to El who's still got her hands outstretched haphazardly, wobbling on the ice as others whizz past her, knocking her off balance.
She throws a middle finger.
Charming.
You laugh as she pushes off to do another lap, reaching down between your legs for the bag and pulling your phone out for any new texts.
Nothing, you sigh.
El makes you jump, bumping into the ledge, "Will you stop being a simp and checking your phone every two seconds? He's going to text you!"
You click your phone off, "I know. I'm just so impatientttt…" you whine, exaggerating your frustration.
El rolls her eyes, "He'll get in, bud"
"Ew, don't call me that"
"Besides, if he gets rejected, he could always be your new manager, pal" she grins.
"You're so fucking gross, you know that?"
She shrugs, a grin that spells victory, "that'd be kinda hot to be fair. Going everywhere with you to competitions, organising your hotel rooms, fucking you over his des-"
"El! For fucks sake" you whisper-shout, heat rising to your cheeks.
A few other skaters on the ice turn their heads in judgment, making your face burn with embarrassment.
"Gods, so uptight" El jokes, a mischievous grin on her face.
To tell the truth. You missed Aemond. In all aspects.
You hadn't had sex since being in Dorne. And you hadn't seen him since the hospital.
Even though you texted most days, after months of seeing him everyday, it was quite the shock to the system.
It felt like there was a hole, conveniently Aemond-shaped, that was deepening the longer you two were separated.
"Oof!"
You both look up, to see Floris on the ice, wobbling her way back onto her feet, grimacing, "I'm ok!" She reassures, pushing off to skate slowly.
You nod in Floris' direction, "Is she okay skating?"
"Yeah, the physiotherapist said it'd be good to get her doing things like this again" El replies, looking over her shoulder at her sister.
She turns back to you, "Your manager doesn't hang around here anymore. Not since Floris has started coming back".
You resist the urge to frown.
Coward.
“Got you”, El smirks mischievously, "will you tell me what happened one day?"
It was something you’d thought about for some time. To tell her, or not? Floris certainly didn’t know the deeper details, but you knew she would have had suspicions.
Aemond was obviously unbothered if such information circulated, having put a very large proverbial wall between him and Otto the moment he was discharged from hospital. And yet, it still wouldn’t feel right, airing out all the Targaryen dirty laundry like that.
Even if he said it was okay.
But maybe, on a deeper level, Floris and El at least, deserved the truth.
"One day" you promise.
The cold winter chill nips at your bones, even through the layers of thermal clothing you've got piled on, the thick socks, boots and an overcoat, it still feels positively freezing.
“Who are you texting, missy?” you tease, bumping El on the shoulder, shoving your hands into your thick coat pockets.
She flushes, from the weather or the embarrassment you are unsure, but she puts her phone away quickly, “Nobody, you nosy cow”
King's Landing Winter Wonderland, Christmas Market and trinket shops, though it's far too early for any of that, it gets the people into the spirit. Stalls line the market square with several of them selling holiday related items as well as food, with an ice rink circling the entirety of the perimeter.
The air smells of mulled wine, cooked meats and the laughter of families and couples alike. With their warm breath creating clouds of white with each exhale.
El has you excitedly tucked into her arm, telling you all about her newest boyfriend, who for all intents and purposes is both hot and a keeper.
Ah, so that’s who she was talking to.
"He's already talking about us moving in together! Before the end of the year" She says excitedly, but her face falls, "but…I don't want to leave you in the lurch paying the rent by yourself".
You scoff, "I won't take you away from good dick because of fucking rent" you smirk, "if you want to, go for it".
She arches her eyebrows in uncertainty, "You sure?"
You pat her gloved hand with yours, "very", you smile, "as long as he doesn't steal you away from me, I want the lowdown".
"Oh you'll get that alright", she laughs.
Having poked your heads into a few stalls, and several sips of mulled wine later, you smirk as El is glued to her phone. Again.
"That your man?" You ask.
She quickly puts it away, biting her lip, "Yup" she replies, "wanna go skating?"
You roll your eyes, "It's not like it's my fucking job, El. Sick of it".
"Oh come on! I won't have to use the kids stabilisers anymore!"
She gives you her wide, puppy-like eyes.
Ones you know you can't refuse.
"Fine" you sigh.
She is far too excited to say that literally a few hours before she was struggling to use her two flippers to stay upright on the rink. Nevermind going backwards.
It’s quite entertaining to see her drag you by the hand excitedly to the ticket gate.
“One ticket for skating, please! Size 5!” she beams at the receptionist, who looks like he’d rather be dead right now.
You furrow your brows, “One? Did you want to go on by yourself and I watch or-”
“Nope! Just you” she grins.
“Me? El, what in seven hells are you on abou-”
She shoves the skates into your hands and practically pushes you past the gate, waving you off, “no questions!”
You don’t even really have time to cuss her out/question the situation, it feels like your brain is in overdrive.
There, either hand leaning against the entrance to the ice rink, where the public are zipping around slowly, laughing, pink in the face, hand in hand, is Aemond. The familiar ribbons of platinum hair that have fallen from the hair tie, now slightly waved from the moisture in the air, sways with the breeze at his shoulders.
He has that slack smirk on his face, his tall broad form leaning on one side, ankles crossed with the low quality skates on, tapping the tip onto the ice.
Even in a heavy looking coat, his hair messily done up and pink cheeks from where the cold had been hitting them, he still looks every bit as handsome as you remembered him.
It makes your heart sigh to see him smile at you with that glimmer in his eye. Blinking slowly and admiringly at you.
"Hey, Princess", he greets warmly.
You almost drop the skates in your hands, the cold wisps of wind making you realise now that your eyes are all wet.
You're sure his name slips out before you crash into his arms, flinging yours around his neck.
He smells just like he used to.
And all those good memories just flood back at once, making that wetness behind your eyes form actual teardrops that line your cheeks.
You feel him laugh a little, one of his big hands on your back, "missed me then?", he prods in a smooth tone.
Fuck. His voice.
You didn't realise you'd missed hearing it so much.
When you pull away, to properly look at his face, he's still smiling, in that classic 'Aemond' way.
You're so engrossed with just looking at him, you nearly flinch when you feel his thumb wipe your under eye softly, wiping the moisture away.
His gaze softens, "don't cry. I don't look that bad, do I?"
Giving a watery laugh, you shake your head, "Just missed you".
His hand is still around your waist, inadvertently pulling you close to him so your hands hover over his chest, "Now, now, don't get all soft on me".
Your cheeks hurt from smiling.
"How?.."
Aemond gestures with his head, "El organised it".
"But…she's-"
"With her new boyfriend, don't worry. It's just us, princess" Aemond smiles, picking up the skates you'd dropped.
"For old time's sake?" He smiles.
And all you can do is blush and smile up at him like a little lovesick teenager.
It feels utterly strange to get back on the ice with Aemond again, even if it is a public one in the middle of a Christmas market. Even more so that he's not flinging you around in all sorts of twists and jumps.
But it feels nice.
Hand in gloved hand, you glide about together, catching up.
Alicent, you learn, has gotten back in touch with her long time friend. Aemond furrows his brows when he recollects that usually she's on facetime with a glass of Dornish Red in one hand and creasing up in front of her iPad at something her friend has said.
Aegon. Well, he's Aegon. Aemond's words, not yours. But he's working on getting a teaching qualification so that he can coach skating instead. It's nice that he was able to find something to use his skills for. Other than womanising.
"Had minor surgery on my nerves…they think it'll do the trick for some years, hopefully forever" he says as you weave on either foot.
"Well that's good" you smile, "does it feel better?"
He nods, "Oh and Hel has a new partner".
You look over quickly, one eyebrow poised, "And? Was I right?"
Smirking, Aemond has to resist the urge to roll his eye, "Yes, you were right".
"Yes! I knew it! I knew she was bi!"
You flush when some families around you look over when you shout it a bit too loud.
Oops.
Aemond tugs you to his side by your waist, humming in a kind of quiet laugh. A comfortable silence descends, just enjoying one another's company.
"I got in", he says suddenly. Stealing your attention again as your feet synchronise in short glides.
"Got in?"
"KLU".
"KLU? Oh my god-" you surge up, his face between your hands, but he doesn't complain, and kiss him fiercely, "Congratulations, Aemond. Oh my gosh, that's-"
You beam with pride.
And you can tell he genuinely loves it, by the way he blushes slightly.
"And" he goes on, his face close to yours, smirking at the confused look on your face.
"And?..."
He licks his lips before he speaks.
"I got a place" he adds, "and was wondering…if you…"
He trails off. And your face settles into realisation. Your heart hammering in your chest, like the engine of an old train.
He shrugs, clearing his throat, “You know, because we basically spent all our time together during the championships…”
You swallow thickly, "Really?..." it comes out weaker than you intended.
He nods, “It’s just out of town, not far from here really” he gestures in the vague direction with his head, the hand that’s resting at your waist dropping somewhat.
Blinking the emotion from your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Alright, Mr Moneybags”
He doesn’t laugh, like you expect him to, but he does smile at least. At this point, you seem to have come to a stop, your skates nestled between his to keep you both stable.
His darkened gaze just looks at your face. Studies it.
Like he’s opened a book and is reading through the pages.
When he looks at you like that, you can’t help but feel a flutter deep in your chest. It feels like he is drawing on you softly, like a thousand little butterflies have landed on your face, and are slowly opening and closing their wings.
You shudder when his warm, ungloved thumb brushes against your cheek.
“What?...” you smile at him affectionately.
He hums, a cloud escaping his lips as he speaks, “I’ve missed you”.
All you feel is the ledge of the ice rink press against your lower back and yours and Aemond’s noses brushing against one another as he presses his warm, comforting lips to yours.
He takes his time, moving languidly against your lips with a soft, wet beat, his tongue parting your lips as if he had been waiting all this time to taste you properly.
He tastes just as you remember.
A hint of cigarettes that he’s tried to hide with spearmint.
When you break away, you can’t ignore the warm feeling that blooms in your gut. In all the time you’d spent apart, you forgot how his lips felt on yours, how his hands felt on you, and how his mere presence around you made arousal creep up your thighs.
Gods, it’s been so long.
A blush creeps up your neck to your face, and Aemond smirks.
“Stop that”
Your lower lip catches between your teeth before you reply, “What?”
He leans against the ledge, caging you in with his own body.
“Blushing”
His voice lowers.
“Otherwise I’ll give you something to blush about”
The tension was thick as you and Aemond trudged through the Christmas Market after vacating the ice rink. You tried to lighten it by doing idle things like looking at the homemade ornaments on one stand, to sharing a cup of mulled wine between you, feeling the way the liquid warmed your insides.
That warmth was nothing compared to the way Aemond looked at you.
It reminded you of all those months ago, at the hotel, before the dynamic of your relationship changed. The way he used to stare at you from across the room, in what you wrongly thought at the time was out of disinterest and detest.
How wrong you were.
Shooting off a quick text to El, who you were sure was already back at the flat anyway, enjoying all the ‘assets’ of her new boyfriend, you walk hand in hand with Aemond back to his apartment.
He was very intent on showing you his new place. And your insides fluttered in anticipation, heat crawling up your neck.
His apartment was nice. Not that you expected any less. It was several floors high, showing a good view of King’s Landing and the bright, illuminated Christmas Market in the square below. Even from here, through the tall and wide windows of the living room, you could see the couples zipping around the ice rink, as you both were just a few moments before.
It had that ‘new apartment’ smell, but whenever you brushed past a coat of his or a blanket, it smelled like him. The walls were bare, but you were sure that Aemond would decorate when he was properly settled.
“Is Vhagar going to be coming here?” you ask, cupping the warm mug of tea in your hands as Aemond gives it to you.
“Maybe. She’s quite settled at Mum’s though so…I don’t want to make her anxious”.
You nod, “It’s a nice place”
“Will look even better when you’re here” he smirks, bending down to huff himself onto the sofa, “I’m sure you have better ideas than I do on interior design”.
You simply watch him for a moment, the warmth of his apartment making your previously cold hands feel prickly. Your fingers tap against the ceramic, the sound of Aemond’s playlist rumbling quietly from a speaker in a different room.
Placing the mug on the coffee table, Aemond exhales as your legs rest either side of his torso, moving to sit atop him with your hands stealing beneath his shirt, watching as his pink lips part for breath.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess” he murmurs against your lips as he leans up, his large hands squeezing your ass, moulding the flesh to his grip and eliciting a low gasp from your lips.
"Who says it's a game?" You whisper back, teasing him by brushing your lips against his, moving your hips on him and smiling when you feel him harden instantly.
" - fuck - "
You know he hates it, just hates it, when you smirk at how pent up and desperate he gets. But you just can't help it. Not only is it all too easy, it's just too fucking tempting too.
How easily such a large, overbearing and domineering man, can be subdued to a mewling, near-begging mess just by the soft movement of your hips.
"Baby, please -"
Reaching down between your bodies, Aemond outright moans when you palm his erection through his jeans, sitting against his thigh quite obviously. You tease your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing through the denim, seeing the way Aemond almost knits his brows together in barely-contained pleasure.
And any time he tries to reach up, to kiss you properly, you pull back, allowing him to chase you.
"Oh, fuck you-"
You yelp in surprise as Aemond lifts you, keeping your legs around his waist as he pushes his bedroom door open and dropping you onto his mattress. And before you even have a moment to sit up on your elbows, he's on you, kneeing your legs apart and caging you to the bed with his body.
"Can't fucking wait any longer - need you, baby-"
Fuck, even the way he says that has arousal pooling between your legs, the desire to push your thighs together strong, but weakened with Aemond's body keeping them apart.
He's so fast and rough, the way he unbuttons your jeans and pulls the denim down your legs, taking your underwear with it, that you feel for a moment he may have torn something.
He practically fucking growls when he he looks between you, his thumb teasing your clit, finally able to look upon you the way he's wanted to for months.
"Already soaked for me, aren't you?" He coos lowly, teasing your bud in sure, confident circles, before swatting your heat firmly with a wet smack, "such a good fucking slut for me".
You mewl, pressing your lips together, a flush enveloping your face at his words. It's been so long since you were intimate with him, it will take a few moments to get used to it again and fall into that rhythm.
That, and you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the realisation you've not shaved your legs, genuinely not having expected to see him today.
It doesn't seem like Aemond cares.
With a fist over the collar of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, showing his lean and well-muscled torso lit with a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp.
You jolt in surprise as his fingers pull you by your thighs further down the bed, a gasp flying past your lips as his tongue and teeth nip and kiss at the inside of them. The sensation bordering on pain and pleasure at the same time.
"You don't know how long I've waited to taste your sweet pussy, princess"
You have an idea, by the way Aemond mouths at the crease between your thigh and hip. But you don't say it out loud. The anticipation of his mouth so, so close without touching you where you need him most is agonising.
" - fuck - Aemond -"
Your back nearly arches off the bed as he flattens his tongue against your warmth, swirling around your clit first before diving into your folds to feast on you, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage. The feeling of his grip into your flesh burns pleasantly as he tugs you towards him, your lips parting with hurried pants tumbling out.
Your legs tremble as his low moan vibrates through your core, electricity creeping up your spine as he laps at you with vigour, his sharp nose nudging at your clit as he moves side to side to eventually fuck you with his tongue.
For a split second, you worry if he can actually breathe.
But as your embarrassingly quick orgasm starts barrelling towards you without warning, it somehow gets pushed to the back of your mind, you reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, chanting his name as if it’s all you can say as he groans against your cunt.
His hands hold you down by your thighs, tugging you back to his mouth in soft micro-movements as you shake against him, head thrown back against the pillows with your breath hot in your chest, unable to catch it well enough to form any other sound than moaning unabashedly.
Aemond outright moans as you cum against his tongue, the lewd sound of him licking up everything that comes out makes a heat creep up your neck. But you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he makes you feel like this.
You can feel the moisture on his face when he takes mercy, drawing his lips away to kiss and nip at the inside of your thighs again, giving one firm bite before he pulls away with a smirk on his face, no doubt happy at the mark he’s left behind.
Your eyes feel heavy as you lift your gaze to him, now perched on his knees as he pops the buttons of his jeans off, the veins on the back of his hand straining, making you feel somewhat lightheaded.
“ - can’t wait to fuck you again - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted be buried inside that pretty little pussy -”
You lick your lips as your mouth goes dry. He always manages to do that. Somehow turn you into a limp, mewling mess in no time at all.
Something you have in common, clearly.
With your heart beating erratically, body throbbing in the afterglow of your orgasm, that feeling is enhanced still when Aemond tugs at his length needily, his shoulders rising and falling with the desire to just stuff himself inside you as deep as he will go.
You can only watch in awe as his fingers wrap around himself, the tip ruddy and desperate, with arousal coating it with every slow and calculated fist. His stomach muscles clench and unclench uncontrollably, his chest muscles moving steadily with each deep breath.
It feels exciting, how utterly small you feel when he leans over you, once again grasping your legs to spread them before him. His long, thick fingers tease your slick folds, before he guides the fat head of his cock to your centre, watching with parted lips at the way your eyebrows furrow in both relief and pleasure as he stretches you around him slowly.
“ - ohfuck - ”, he moans lowly, sinking himself slowly into your warmth and basking in the closeness it offers, “ - fuck, baby, so tight for me -”
Being with him like this again is like sinking into a warm bath, with the rolls of steam batting at your face. And his words are so soft, they’re like dozens of little snowflakes settling on your face in a flurry. All cold and numb, and yet warm and fuzzy at the same time.
It’s completely instinctual, the way you turn your head, slightly embarrassed as Aemond holds either of your legs apart, his pelvis smacking against yours as he eases himself into a steady rhythm.
“ -aw, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me -” he mocks, his eye glimmering with mischief as he looks down at you, “-where’s the needy, little slut I used to know, hm? -”
You gasp as Aemond pushes both hands down, pressing both of your legs towards your shoulders, bending at the knee so that he can kneel higher, using the new position with gravity to fuck down into you faster and rougher.
The new position has you pretzeled before him, completely unable to do anything but throw your head back against the pillows and turn bright red at the wanton, breathy moans that slip out.
“ -Aemond -”
“ - what’s wrong, baby? -” he coos, “ -is this too much for you? Hm? I know you’re more flexible than this -”
Fuck.
Each rough push of his length into you from this angle has the curved head of his cock brush against your sweet spot with devastating precision. With every thrust, the air seems to expel forcefully from your lungs, not helped in part by the fact that Aemond has your legs pressed hard against your ribs.
All you’re able to see through bleary eyes is the way he smirks down at you with his hair stuck to his tacky face, his chest heaving with hurried breath, and every now and then, his neck muscles straining as he tips his head back and groans loudly as you inadvertently squeeze his length when he bullies the end of you.
The air is charged, hot and humid. And you barely register the fact that music is still playing in another room, and that the curtains are pulled back. Though there’s no chance of anyone being able to see you both from how high his apartment is, it still makes your insides tighten that it’s happening so unabashedly with the city right below you.
His hand drifts down your thigh, watching as you squirm beneath him as he presses hard on your stomach, your eyes closing tightly at the feeling of him closing you around his length as it pistons roughly into you. He smiles slightly, almost as if he can feel how deep he reaches inside you.
“ -Oh fuck, baby - can fucking feel you gripping me -” he moans helplessly, leaning over, the sweat on his forehead slightly illuminated by the warm lamp’s light, “-does my girl like being a dirty little slut?”
You barely even register he’s speaking, everything sounding utterly muffled and just too much all at once. His low voice only serves to make that coil wind tighter in your gut, reacting to the way he never lets up his pace once.
You jolt slightly when he taps your cheek twice, a little rougher than you’d anticipated.
“ -I’m fucking talking to you -” he growls, moving his hand from your stomach up to bunch the shirt in his fist, exposing your pebbled nipples to the warmth of the room.
You nod helplessly, “Yes - yes -”
It’s all mindless babbling, and Aemond knows it as he grins, his eye flitting down to watch the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you.
“ -please, Aemond -”
“ -please what, hm? You want to cum, is that it? But you’re too fucked stupid to say it?”
As much as you hate to admit it, his words send a bolt of humiliation through you that does nothing but excite you, your core throbbing around his length with every calculated word he says.
"Aw, poor thing -" he jeers, "- I'm going to have fun with you-"
Wait what?
This isn't said 'fun'?
Oh shit.
Before that familiar coil can wind itself any tighter, Aemond pulls back, grunting as he manhandles your hips to turn you over and his palm cracking against your backside, smirking in victory at the mewl it gets out of you.
The skin there blooms with warmth, more so as Aemond’s tantalisingly hot skin presses against it once more, your lips parting in what can only described as a relieved moan as he slides into you again, his cockhead hitting the spongey end, filling you utterly.
"-Aemo-"
Smack.
"Not my fucking name, Princess. C'mon, you can do it" he purred, pressing his hand against your back, pushing against your spine and forcing your face against the sheets.
A choked moan almost slips out, with him tugging your hips up to him in such a curved position, his cockhead bullies your sweet spot, dragging his length along your sensitive walls, propelling you to an overwhelming orgasm.
"Go on - beg me for it or I won't let you cum-"
The idea of him denying you yet again when you were so close last time just seems utterly unbearable. So despite the humiliation rocking through your core with each harsh smack of his hips, despite the overwhelming heat of the room and most of all, despite your pride.
You do.
"Please - daddy - need it-"
If you could see him, you'd hate it.
Because he grins. Ear to fucking ear like he's wanted to hear it for months.
"Aren't you gonna beg me for permission to touch yourself?"
You suck in a breath, squealing muffled against the sheets as he gives another hard thrust. Clearly, despite appearances, on the verge himself.
"-can I - can I touch myself - please, daddy -"
"-fuck- baby, touch that little clit for me, yeah? - want to feel you cum-"
His voice is strained, pushing you with each thrust further and further against the sheets, your arms near giving out with the weight of him on you. With difficulty, your hand snakes between you and the mattress that constantly dips with how rough Aemond is being, and finds your bud, running the slickness that has collected over it, tying up your pleasure into two feelings.
Aemond’s lips part, staggered breaths the only thing coming out, as he feels your walls flutter around him, looking down at the way your bodies meet with a soft smack every time. You feel so warm and tight, gods he’s wanted to cum since since you started touching him through his jeans.
But now, pulling you by your hips to spear you onto his cock, he’s so so close.
Just wants to feel you first.
“-baby, you’re doing so well for me-” he breathes quickly, his gaze flitting briefly from where he’s pistoning in and out of you, to your sweat slick face, pressed against the sheets, biting your lips harshly as you pleasure yourself in tandem with Aemond’s movements.
As his hand slid down past your hips, his thumb tracing the bottom of your spine, you suck in a harsh breath when he softly grazes over your puckered hole, still fucking shallowly as if to tease you and him into teetering on the edge of a climax.
You're barely able to see behind you, pressed so hard into the sheets, but he looks good fucking you. His chest shines with perspiration, the chain dangling around his neck teasingly, and his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching with restraint.
And then you see him smile.
"-oh? We've never done this before have we, princess?-"
Oh shit.
After all the exertion of your passion so far, your slick has easily made its way onto your thighs, so Aemond doesn't have to move much to drag some of it on his thumb and circle your hole with light, delicate motions, moistening the area.
Humiliation creeps up onto your face, eyes slipping shut. No guy before has ever really tried to do this. So this is uncharted territory. But despite the brief embarrassment, you have to admit that the feeling of Aemond ever so slightly pressing his thumb against you as he continues to thrust brutally into your cunt just feels new in the most amazing way.
His other hand still grabs the flesh of your ass, tugging you back to his cock in a frantic rhythm. The mewls coming out your mouth now sounding so unlike your own.
Aemond knows by the way your hips move up to meet his touch that you like it, but are too embarrassed to say.
"-how about it, hm? - you want me in both your pretty little fuckholes? -"
"-yes - yes, please daddy, I-"
Making sure his thumb is slick enough, your puckered hole also, he slides in slowly, using the palm of his hand to grasp whatever of your ass cheeks as he can.
You almost hear his choked moan.
"-fuck-, you're so tight here, princess - you gonna let me fuck it one day, hm? - you'd be so fucking good here-"
The batting of his cock against your upper walls has you very nearly sobbing outwardly, combined with the feeling of him in such a new place, pressing in, you'd forgotten you'd stopped pleasuring yourself. Completely embroiled in this feeling.
He chuckles darkly, crooking the digit ever so slightly, leaning over to press against your back "-you'd fucking let me as well, wouldn't you? -"
The curling of his other fingers on the flesh of your backside has him smiling at the sounds it emits from you.
“-did I say stop, hm? Keep touching yourself - cum for me-”
You know that as soon as you do it’s all over.
His voice, combined with all three feelings at once, tugging at that pleasurable spot inside you that has white, hot pleasure soaring through your bloodstream, has a long, choked moan filling the space between you. And you’re surprised to hear that the same sound slips past Aemond’s lips as well, the air of his breath batting against your neck as he tries to bury himself as deep inside you as he possibly can.
You’re trying to suck in breath without really realising it, the earth-shattering orgasm making your body go all rigid for a moment before you relax against the sheets, with the pleasant weight of him above you.
Everything feels warm. His bedroom right now feeling like a large blanket has enveloped you both. It seems a weird thing to think in the moment, with Aemond’s half naked body hunched over you, his cock twitching and pulsing, whimpering as he is still emptying himself inside of you and feeling the aftershocks through your fleshy walls.
All his micro-movements seem overly-sensitive. And when Aemond exhales, lifting himself off your back, lifting your lids to open your eyes feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.
“-sorry-” he whispers cautiously as he pulls his softening cock from you, immediately feeling the warm rush of cum coating your inner thighs.
Warmth blossoms once again to your cheeks as he stays still, and you think he must be staring at the way he leaks from you, sighing in a sort of perverted admiration.
You don’t even have time to open your mouth before his thumb slips out your other hole, only to jolt in shock once it’s immediately replaced by his tongue. All those dulled out endorphins that were dissipating into your limbs feel like they all gather back, and you squeeze your thighs together, fisting the bedsheets so tightly they could’ve torn.
Both of his hands seem to find their home on each asscheek, spreading them so he can easily swirl his talented wet, muscle around your hole, fucking moaning as he does it. All your nerves ring semi-uncomfortably, overstimulation nipping at the edges of the pleasure.
“-fuck, Aemond, no no, please-” you plead, emitting a weary, exhausted laugh when he chuckles and pulls away, landing one softened smack against the flesh.
“-Mm- another time-”
Lethargy pulls at your body as you lay on your front, blinking slowly as you feel the mattress rise, pressing your lips together as Aemond disappears into the en-suite, tucking himself back into his jeans.
A moment later, he comes back with a warm washcloth, offering to clean you up. But you simply smile, pushing yourself to sit up, “I’m good”, you smile, with a flushed face, feeling slightly bashful after what you’d just done together.
One long shower together later, you lay in his bed, looking out at the city beneath, the cascade of brightly coloured lights littering the dark space between buildings. Aemond’s shirt easily reaches to your thighs, with nothing beneath, not having anticipated staying over anywhere today.
Aemond sighs calmly, his chin on the top of your head, pressed against your back, with one of his hands running through the tresses of your hair, every now and then stroking at your scalp, which has your eyes slipping shut at the pleasant feeling.
“Well, princess? Do you like it?” he asks, his voice all soft and tired.
You meet his lilac gaze, tilting your head slightly in question.
“The apartment”.
“It’s perfect”, you smile, reaching up his cheek and running the back of your fingers over it, the scar tissue feeling slightly different in texture over your skin, “you sure you want me to move in?”
He blinks slowly, a smile rising to his lips, his hand coming to yours and pressing a soft, tender kiss to your wrist. And though not directly sexual, it makes your belly do little backflips, feeling so intimate and captivating that warmth floods your skin through his lips.
“Of course, princess. I can't do this without you”.
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[vol i] [vol ii] [vol iii]
Eddie x fem!reader
Summary: Eddie is slowly becoming easier to live with you’re not sure if you’re just used to his disgusting behavior or if he’s truly trying to change. You make a schedule for chores and when/who/what time showers will be taken, chaos ensues on both Eddie and you. Eddie reveals a side of him that reader hasn’t seen/ noticed before.
W/C: 6.4k
A/N: if you were looking for some disgusting! Eddie smut this is the chapter for you babe.
Warnings: NO MINORS! Smut, blow jobs, rough sexual acts, degrading, daddy!kink, vomit, crude language (as if any of my fics don’t have this)
S/O: @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @banished-big-ope-vibes @carolmunson @newlips for helping me beta read, come up with dialogue, pacing, letting me insert them throughout the fic, helping me breakdown how this disgusting little mf would act in certain situations + everything in between! You guys are the best! If you aren’t already— follow them.
/
You couldn’t deny that things had gotten better with having Eddie as a roommate (not that you would ever express that to him) but living with the overgrown child was slightly very slightly, like a teeny tiny bit, better than it was before.
After living in his disgusting cluster fuck of a room for a week, Eddie finally sat down amongst his heap of mixed dirty and clean clothes and organized it. The disaster made your eye twitch every time you walked past his room in the morning and got a whiff of his stench, reeking of weed and Doritos, you finally convinced him to get it done, and in typical Eddie fashion— it came with a price.
After bargaining for days and nearly pulling your hair out because all he wanted was a single pair of your panties—
“Why? So you can hold them up like that dork in Sixteen Candles to show all your nerd friends?”
“Babe, the ladies I fuck don’t wear panties.”
He finally settled on a six pack of Busch Light, and for you to do his laundry for a week.
“Remember to separate my delicates, sweetheart.”
Fucking pig.
The only thing delicate about Eddie was his ego when you told him his hair was thinning out on top, (it definitely wasn’t, he had more hair than cousin It) but you needed the upper hand, and criticizing his hair was the way to do just that.
His bed frame and the oak dressers he had ordered, finally arrived. Allowing him to put away his never ending collection of band tee’s and holy jeans. Clearing a path for his floor.
“Holy shit, is that the carpet?” You ask, standing in the door frame before your shift at the salon, toothbrush in your hand, minty dollop of toothpaste atop it.
He’s elbow deep in the dresser, foregoing folding anything but instead shoving the clothes haphazardly into the shallow drawers and slamming them shut with his legs, or his hip.
“Wow, Tooty, you’re hilarious,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “but since you asked, yes, it does, match the drapes.”
A smile spreads across his lips. Another normal conversation turning into a sexual innuendo. He couldn’t be prouder of the way you walked right into that. Since you told him what happened to Eyeball he really has been holding back his usual gross behavior, but sometimes it was just a slip of the tongue for him. Involuntary action.
You turn to leave but he stops you, crossing the room at record speed and placing a ringed hand on your wrist, the surprising warmth from his hand burning your skin.
“Hey, uh, can I get your opinion quick?”
“I’ve already told you, I don’t think the groupies give a shit what color boxers you wear.”
“Wow, okay— that’s the wrong answer! But I’m talking about this.”
He points to the shelf crammed full of his odd knick knacks. It originally belonged to Nancy, but she had left it behind. Inside of it were a hoard of books. Lord of the Rings, something that looked like manuals for Dungeons & Dragons—of course he’s still playing that— a plethora of Stephen King books, and a full— more than likely sticky— stack of playboys. Go figure.
“What about it?”
“Do you think it looks good here or should I move it under the window?” Eddie asks, hands out wide measuring and comparing in arms length the distance under the window and the width of the book shelf.
You take a step into his room, every square inch of wall was covered in posters, your former bed sheets graffitied with his band, hung on one wall, the opposite held a kitchen knife stabbed through the drywall.
“What are you trying to do, feng shui?”
“Bless you.”
“What?”
He shrugs, “You sneezed, and me, being the pinnacle Christian son that I am, I blessed you, now should I keep this here?”
It took you a minute to comprehend what the hell just happened and why.
“Blessed by Eddie Munson— that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard,” you snort, a smile twisted on your lips as you look at the overgrown man child huff about where to put his shelf, shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, “looks fine there.”
-
He did start cleaning up after himself, even offering to vacuum the living room in exchange for you making supper most nights. Begging you to make the lasagna again after he ate almost the entire pan the last time. He even decided to get take out on his one night a week to cook. Thank God because you couldn’t handle one more night of burnt, made-in-the-toaster, grilled cheese or using orange juice as a replacement when the milk was gone for cereal.
You learned the hard way that you needed to buy two separate gallons of milk, after watching Eddie drink straight from the jug, a dripping white mustache formed on his upper lip as he licked it suggestively, “Got milk?” He’d ask before roaring with laughter.
-
The next few weeks with Eddie as your roommate went rather smoothly. With you working at the salon and him working long hours at Boom’s Auto shop, you two came home at almost the same time every night. He would show up covered in grease and reeking of motor oil. His work coveralls, branding a white and red labeled patch with his name on them, had the sleeves cut off, showcasing his muscled arms and the wide array of tattoos prickling up and down them, shoulder to wrist. He wore a sweaty bandana wrapped around his head, rotating between a black or a red one, depending on the day.
You didn’t mind doing his laundry since his pockets were always full of either loose bills or the occasional joint, which you would keep, and smoke later with Robin and Steve, giggling watching the stars as you laid out on blankets in the backyard.
On Saturday nights, he usually played with the band, scoring a gig at the Hideout or working at the bar til closing time, helping Tom bartend a little until Walt got back from vacation. He stumbled in at night knocking over a lamp and almost falling backwards down the basement steps. He’d pass out for a greater half of the next day, waking in the afternoon with a raspy voice and smelling like cheap cologne.
One particular Sunday morning, he stumbled out of his room, wearing black boxer briefs, and a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.
“Mornin’” he grumbled opening the fridge and diving in for his notorious pickles, tilting it to his lips and drinking straight from the jar.
You shake your head, sitting at the table and sorting through the mail. Your hair in a clip and wearing an oversized crew neck sweater, your mauve fingernails flicking through the envelope flaps, jotting down what’s due and when. “It’s 1 in the afternoon, Eddie.”
He smacks his lips loudly and faces you, fishing a pickle from the jar with his bare hands, “metal has no time limits, Tooty, we play until the bar shuts down.” He makes his way towards you, wearing one sock and chomping on his pickle.
You notice something on his stomach, a new tattoo? Maybe? Riding low on his waist and almost dipping below his underwear. The closer he gets you can make out the writing, a permanent marker phone number from a groupie written on his lower abs.
You point your pen towards his stomach, “gonna get that thing tattooed on, make it official, that Eddie the freak Munson has at least one adoring fan?”
He looks down, a smile pressing on his lips, “aww no need to be sad sweetheart,” he says lowering himself into a chair beside you, “there’s plenty of me to go around, and besides, I thought good little nuns couldn’t fuck, saving themselves for God.. or are you one of the dirty ones, showing your tits for cash so you can gamble?” He winks and laughs as you shove his shoulder trying to throw him out of the chair.
“You’re so gross!”
“And yet, I’m still here.” the Cheshire Cat smile planted on his lips.
Still. You had to admit, no matter how nasty his jokes were or how annoying he could be— having Eddie around wasn’t that bad.
-
“Tooty!” Eddie yells through the bathroom door bouncing from one foot to another, banging on the door with an open palm, “I’m going to piss my pants if you don’t hurry up!”
You had only been in the shower for ten minutes. When you walked past his room this morning with sleepy eyes and a deep yawn, metal music blared from his bedroom along with the annoying beep of his alarm clock, but the prince of filth was fast asleep.
“The schedule that you made says I get the bathroom first on Fridays, which is today!”
The schedule you had designed for Eddie and yourself consisted of 7 vertical columns one for each day of the week, and 5 horizontal columns: showering, laundry day, dishes, cooking, garbage. You had more days in the cooking column than Eddie, just like he had more days in the garbage column than you did. It evened out.
“Wrong— you were supposed to get the bathroom at 7, it’s now past 7:30 so it’s my turn,” you correct, putting a generous amount of body wash on your loofah and foaming it up, white suds cleansing your skin, “not my fault you can’t wake up to your alarm.”
“Christ, seriously just open the door! I’m fuckin’ dancing around out here like a little kid!”
“Can’t hear you,” you sing out to him, laughing silently beneath the spray of water.
You hear the feverish jiggle of the brass handle on the door and heavy footsteps as he stomps away. Oh the joys of victory. You bask in the delight of getting a one up on Eddie. Something that rarely happened in the few weeks he has been living with you. Slathering conditioner in your hair and rinsing, you exit the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day.
Opening the bathroom door you expected Eddie to barrel through you to get to the bathroom, you’re taken aback when you hear faint yelling coming from outside.
“… piss in the front yard of my own house— I will! Go back to trimming your hedges with your toddler sized shorts and mind your own goddamn—,”
“Eddie!”
He’s standing barefoot in the middle of the lawn, his navy boxer briefs the only clothing he has on. Double middle fingers raised in the early morning sky aimed towards your neighbor across the street, Mr. Derry, the neighborhood watch dog. He was an older man, no kids, no wife. Retired. And a grade A pain in the ass.
Eddie turns and looks to you, pink blush creeping over his cheeks, “…business.” Eyes wide in innocence as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.
You’re still in your towel, hair soaking wet down your back, watching as this crazed lunatic you have as a roommate terrorizes the neighborhood, one flash of his dick at a time.
“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.
“Gracing the common folk of Cherry Lane with my morning wood, yeah take a picture and frame it you fuckin’ perv!”
Yanking harder you get him inside and slam the door. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.
You open your mouth to speak but Eddie has already started explaining.
“Listen, I had to piss bad, like really bad. You could have just unlocked the door but no, Ms. Uptight-independent Tooty with your rules and schedules—” he stops and takes a breath. After your conversation a few weeks ago about the downfall of Eyeball and your own family abandoning you, Eddie had been trying to be more reasonable about things, more cautious about the way he worded things. Not trying to twist the knife lodged into your chest that had been driven there years ago.
“So I made up my own rule! If you’re gonna take forever shaving your legs or…other things…” his eyes cast down your body. The white towel snug against your form, you clutch it tighter around you as his eyes stare through the towel, begging to catch a glimpse of your wet, smooth skin. Water droplets taunting him as they fall down the slick of your hair. He shakes his head to clear his gutter mind. “I’m going to take matters into my own hands, and believe me princess, it was a handful.”
That’s about as dialed back as Eddie could be.
“You can’t just piss in the front yard! This neighborhood is not like the trailer park, that asshole you called a perv—“
“He was! He was looking right at my dick!”
“— once called the cops on Nancy because she parked by his curb when we were having her bridal shower.”
“Wa-wait, Nancy fucking Wheeler got the cops called on her?”
“Yeah, Hop wasn’t too happy to find out what it was for, calling Derry a waste of space.”
Eddie laughs, “Oh I’m not surprised— him and I go way back, remember?”
Of course you did, he busted Eddie too many times driving higher than the Empire State Building while bringing you, Dustin, Will and Mike back to the Wheeler’s. It was almost a running joke between him and Hopper. Eddie would slip him a joint while in the back of his patrol vehicle and away he went, no ticket, no charge, nothing.
“Anyway,” you jeer, pointing a finger into his bare chest, the tip of your nail making a half moon indent into the head of the bloody demon inked on his left pec, “he’s a fucking asshole so don’t piss him off, he’ll make our lives hell.”
“Fine,” Eddie groans, running his hands down his face “but he was gawking!”
You roll your eyes and grab your hair dryer from your room. An adjustment you’ve had to do since Eddie moved in, getting ready partly in your room and in the bathroom. After your hair is dried and styled, you opt for a pair of light wash overall shorts, and a thick strapped, high neck tank top underneath. You finish your makeup by applying a coat of Revlon’s Toast of New York on your lips. Sliding on your knock off Doc Marten sandals, you grab your purse and head for the door.
Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table, chair pulled out as he laces up his black work boots, body bent over his knee as he jerks his hand side to side, lazily working the laces through the hook eyelets.
“Still getting groceries tomorrow?” He asks, shoving his white cotton covered foot into his other boot, repeating the process. “I added some essentials to the grocery list.” He gestures to the pad and paper with a tilt of his chin.
Scanning the list you laugh, “Dunkaroos are not essential.”
“Don’t you dare cross them off!” Eddie fake shouts, a grin stretching across his lips, showing off his straight teeth.
“I’m off tomorrow and don’t have many clients today— I know it’s your night to cook, but I was thinking of making tater tot casserole for supper, I’ll just have to stop and get some ground beef from Bradley’s before I come home.”
“Oh shit,” Eddie lamented, “I have a gig tonight instead of tomorrow at the Hideout,” he says standing, running his hands down his legs to shake down his coveralls. “It’s probably going to be late, so don’t worry about making anything.”
Ripping the grocery list from the pad and stuffing it into your purse, you think back to how long it has been since you’d seen them play. You went along to support Chrissy and since Eddie was Kev’s longtime best friend and basically your chauffeur, you at least owed it to him to go with. A memory of you head banging and holding Chrissy’s hand tight as you both screamed for Corroded Coffin clouded your mind.
Threading your purse straps through your fingers and casting your eyes downward you have to know, “… you guys still play Lady Evil?”
Eddie grins again, “wouldn’t be a Corroded Coffin gig if we didn’t play some Sabbath, Jeff would probably throw a hissy fit.”
-
Friday evenings were usually busy in the shop. Boom ran a tight ship and paid better than any auto shop in a thirty mile radius. Eddie was lucky to get hired on using his street smarts and the fact that he was the unpaid mechanic of the trailer park for every banged up old sedan that his neighbors had since he was sixteen.
The old radio crackled and fussed as Hank Williams Jr sang about the survival rate of country boys. Boom whistled along with the tune. Running his tanned fingers through his blonde hair, a Mr. Pibb and a ham sandwich in front of him.
“So Eddie,” he says leaning back in his plastic chair, “I heard from the boys that you moved into a house on Cherry Lane. Damn boy, I thought that trailer park ran deep in your blood.”
Eddie throws his empty Mt. Dew can into the trash, missing by a mile. “Ahh Boom, you know I’m the prince of the park. Just stretching my city legs, helping out a friend.”
“Didn’t know you and Eyeball’s sister were close.” Aaron sneered, lighting up a cigarette with a strike of a match against his boot.
Eddie’s light hearted demeanor immediately changed, smile fading and eyebrows pulling together, “what the hell does that mean?”
“Helping out a friend?” Sean spat, his wiry mustache shriveled into a snarl, “what are you Mother Teresa? The only help that bitch needs is a fucking lobotomy.”
“Hey,” Eddie interjects, pointing a greased finger into Sean’s face, “don’t fucking talk about her like that, man.”
Aaron talks around his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table, “It’s true, she’s smokin’ fuckin’ hot but crazier than a shit house rat.”
The pair laugh, choking on smoke and bits of crusty bread.
“Remember what Chad said about her?” Aaron laughed..
“Fuck yeah how did he put that? Don’t marry the girls with the daddy issues, even if they let you put it in their a—”
Eddie slams his fists into Sean’s shirt, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, “another word, about her— and I’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”
“You threatenin’ me Munson?” Sean chokes out.
Eddies eyes are crazed as he glares in Sean’s, “never a threat, pencil dick, it’s a promise.”
“Fellas,” Boom hollers, shoving his chair back with an eerie scratch, metal legs scraping on broken tile, “I’ll send ya both home for the day with no pay if y’all don’t knock it the fuck off.”
Eddie shoves Sean into the wall hard once more, releasing his grip on his shirt and adjusting his rings. He cracks his knuckles as he stomps back through the bay doors and out to the Buick he had been working on.
Ducking under the hood his breathing is erratic and his fists are shaking.
He never asked what happened with you and Chad but by the sounds of it, it sure as hell didn’t end on good terms.
It was fine if he teased you, but hearing it from anyone else wasn’t gonna fly with him. Not today, not ever. But something about the way you opened up to him, showed him your vulnerable side, it made him almost protective of you, like he needed to shield you from the ugliest parts of the world.
He never would have thought that Eyeball’s little sister, tough little Tooty, the same girl who punched Billy Hargrove in the face after pinching her ass one night, would make him care so much.
-
“Told ya he’s cool,” Steve slurs over his Bloody Mary, clinking the ice in the glass as he tips it back into his mouth, “he’s like a wild animal, but once you get to know him— he’s just a tattooed teddy bear.”
You, Robin and Steve were out for dinner and drinks at Louie’s, the newer sports bar in Hawkins, sitting under an emerald and white striped umbrella in the hot humid summer air. A monthly ritual you started ages ago when you all worked at Family Video. Only back then you went to Benny’s to get burgers and concrete thick milkshakes, racing to see who could finish first which ultimately ended in Robin getting a stomach ache, every time.
“I could have killed him the first few days,” you say, sipping your Malibu and Diet Coke through two neon straws, “honestly, still debating it.”
Robin steals the pickle spear and celery stick from Steve’s drink, munching away and talking with a mouthful, Steve simply rolls his eyes and reaches for another mozzarella stick, “wait, I thought you guys were getting along better now.”
“They are!” Steve interjects, pointing the mozzarella stick around like he was directing an orchestra, “I asked him myself when I brought my car to Boom’s yesterday for an oil change.”
The thought of your friends asking your roommate, who just so happens to also be their friend, how things were going between you both, made your stomach lurch.
“Well,” Robin began, twirling her pina colada and biting into the yellow flesh of the pineapple , “I’m just glad you aren’t by yourself anymore. It freaked me out knowing you were there alone.”
She wasn’t the only one.
Before Eddie had moved in, Steve gave you his prized nail bat to keep by your bed. So far you haven’t had to use it. And with Eddie in the house, it was stored in your closet.
“Alright, I’ll admit,” you say, taking a long drink, feeling the warmth of the coconut flavored alcohol mix with the Diet Coke bubbles, a frenzy on your tongue, “he’s come a long way,” you admit, dunking a fry into the mayo ketchup concoction, “finally house broke.”
It was the truth, you really didn’t mind him being around.
-
“Shh, gotta be quiet girls, daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, but seriously, you need to shut up.”
The girls laugh, drunk off bottom shelf liquor and Jell-O shots from the Hideout. Three pairs of tangled legs stumble through the front door as Eddie hurriedly works his keys into the lock.
The two of them giggle and hush one another, planting kisses on either side of his neck and stepping out of their shoes. His leather jacket hits the floor, the shirt he was wearing was ripped to shreds from the collar down. Carol’s fingers feverishly tore at his clothing before the three of them even made it to the van.
Foregoing the zipper on the tight leather mini dress she’s wearing, Eddie shoves it down her hips, giving her ass a firm squeeze, toying with the fishnet tights, “these stay on,” he demands, slapping her ass and unzipping his jeans, a parade of cheap lingerie, and leather studded clothing start from the front door and end in Eddie’s bedroom.
Your car wasn’t home which was odd but maybe it was parked in the garage. He wasn't sure where you were but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you up. You had never discussed any boundaries about him bringing someone home, but what kind of rockstar would he be if he turned down hot twins?
They had approached him after the show, twisting their evil tongues into his mouth and groping him as soon as he got backstage.
Jeff was in the back room with his long time girlfriend Ash, they were holding each other tight as he kissed her neck and she squealed into his ear.
The girl who showed up to every gig, Marissa, wearing her signature “here for the drummer” shirt, was currently bent over the bathroom sink, Gareth buried deep inside her.
Even Big D was getting some action, the waitress from Benny’s, Emily, was currently bobbing along on his dick.
All of them were getting lucky, a win for Corroded Coffin. The girls were screaming for them, bras and panties tossed on stage, Gareth sporting multiple pairs around his neck. The old bar flies drunk off beer on tap were singing along to the requested songs.
Cece’s pink floral dress is brought over her head as Eddie sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing and biting as Carol kneels at his feet and works her palm into his boxers, gasping at the hardened length in her grip.
A monster lies beneath the cotton. Almost as thick as her forearm, her dainty fingers unable to reach fully around his girth. She pumps him slow, releasing his throbbing cock.
His fingers twist into their hair as he shoves Cece down to her knees, joining Carol in the worship of Eddie Munson’s dick. Their greedy mouths take him in, one popping his balls into her mouth the other choking on his fat cock.
Eddie wasn’t gentle when he fucked groupies. He took what he wanted and didn’t leave any room for complaints or questions. Shut off from the gentle loving side sex can bring and only seeing red, it was like he was a mad man. A different person entirely. Truly the horns of satan poked through his forehead and his eyes clouded over revealing a black veil of sin.
Demon eyed.
He was pissed from what happened earlier at work. Fucking insane with rage at Sean and Aaron talking shit about you.
Not you, not Tooty.
His frustration builds as the sound of lungs gasping for air fills his ears.
“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Jesus Christ— don’t you wanna be good for daddy? Open that fuckin’ throat up and take what I give to you.”
He grabs Cece’s hair and thrusts himself in her mouth, ignoring her tears as she gags and swallows him whole. “Are you crying? Poor fucking baby, what a shame, on the bed now.” He grabs her up by the throat and tosses her onto the bed.
He’d kill Chad if he ever saw him again. Still had no idea what he did or why you two broke up but hearing his mantra spill from those asshat’s mouths today was enough to make his skin crawl.
The vulgar shit they were saying. The way they non chalantly said it like they were reciting their McDonald’s order. Fuck that bothered him.
Cock swinging, Eddie pinches Carol’s nipples until she’s standing, he flips her upside down, fucking into her open mouth as he bites her fishnet tights open and spits on her pussy. Tossing her on the bed like discarded trash he slaps both of their asses.
He tries to blur you away from his mind, separate you from his brain for a while to release this pent up anger. But all he can see are the small tears falling from your eyes when you tell him the truth about your family.
The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.
Shaking his head he bounds to his bed, trying like hell to focus on his task at hand.
“Are my little whores ready? Think you can handle this without tearing up?”
-
When Steve drops you off you’ve already puked in his car, twice. When he announced that drinks were on him tonight, you may have been double fisting Jack and Cokes with Robin, and taking vodka shots, racing to see who could finish first.
Robin passed out in the back of his car, snuggled up with the cold leather on her cheek.
“Steeb, I’m fine, seriously! Look how good I’m walking.”
“That’s because I’m carrying you.” Steve huffs as he opens the front door.
You’re slurring your words and talking in a volume that could raise the dead, “You’re such a good friend Stephen, why? Why why why are you single?” You hiccup, the remnants of your vomit lingering on your breath, “You need a wife!”
“Tooty, we can talk about my failed love life another day,” Steve grunts, carrying you into the house, stepping over boots and skimpy clothing, “for now let’s get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up and maybe puke in the toilet this time!”
“I just wanna go to bed. I’m tired,” you whine, “Stoven bring me to my room, let me go to sleep!”
Ignoring you, Steve brings you to the bathroom and plops you down on the floor, opening the toilet lids just in time for you to blow chunks all over.
“Ooh that one looks like a mozzarella stick.”
“Jesus, I’m never letting you two idiots drink again! I’m always your goddamn babysitter, it’s so annoying.” Steve laughs, riddling your hair. Ever since you stepped foot into Family Video at fifteen, looking for a job, the three of you were inseparable. “You think you’re gonna be okay? I gotta get that other shit head home before she pukes in the backseat, I already have to clean the front.”
“Oh no! I didn’t know you threw up!”
Steve rolls his eyes, dragging his hands down his face.
“See you tomorrow, I’ll call you okay?” His face is pulled into concern, eyebrows raised and pinched together
You salute him and wave, laughing at his mop of hair flopping around as he turns to leave. Struggling for at least ten minutes to get your denim overall shorts unbuckled, cursing and giggling at your own drunken stupor. You finally manage to get them un done shucking them off your legs, leaving your upper body covered by your tank top, the black panties you were wearing still on. Sliding your arms around your back you manage to unhook your bra and thread it through your shirt, tossing it into the shower beside you. Exhausted, you rest your head on the toilet bowl— falling into a dizzy sleep.
-
“Cece, come here!” Carol whispers loudly. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight of the slumped over figure hugging the toilet bowl.
“Holy shit!” She says, emerging from Eddie’s bedroom. “Is that? No fucking way.”
“I didn’t know he was screwing her too!” Carol breathes jealousy spewing from her lips.
“You really think he’d want to fuck that? Look at her! She’s a walking basket case. I heard that her family moved away because she wigged out and tried to kill her own mom.”
“Actually, the rumor is that I killed them all,” you add, raising your sleepy drunk face from the toilet, seeing double and trying not to puke on the spot, you try to stand, using the toilet to support your weight as you push off from it, wobbling horrifically.
“Get the fuck out,” you say, vision dancing as you try to point to the front door, holding onto the sink to stabilize yourself wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, “now.”
“Yeah?” Cece spits, folding her arms across her chest, “you gonna make us? Last I checked we were guests—“
“Not anymore,” Eddie hissed, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants as he looks into the bathroom at your disheveled appearance. Your makeup is smeared from throwing up, you’re half naked and barefoot, clutching onto the sink. Your overalls are covered in puke, and in a heap of vomit on the floor, a purple bra hangs over the edge of the tub. He wedges himself into the bathroom between you and the two girls, covering you with his tall frame from their view. His nostrils are flared and his chest is puffed out, “you heard her, get the fuck out.”
“What the fuck Eddie?!” Carol gripes, looking into his mad eyes.
He glares back, bored with her, “Did you really think you were gonna stay the night?” He prods, “Please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. Get your shit and go.”
“We live across town!” Cece squeaks, face pulled into shock and humiliation.
“Don’t care.”
Carol crosses her arms and glares into his eyes, “It’s late!”
“And?” He asks glaring back, and pushing through them, “Here let me help.”
Eddie takes their purses and shoes, tossing them out the front door into the yard. Pointing to the open door and fuming, he spits, “Out.”
The girls leave screeching ‘fuck you’s’ as they walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.
He turns back to the bathroom, hearing you vomit again, one small glance and he can tell you hit the sink at least, puke splattering all over— the same reaction if you held a spoon under running water.
He turns around and comes back with the cleaner and a roll of paper towels, gagging with each wipe of the sink as he cleans it up.
Your crumbled body is slumped over the toilet again.
“Gonna live? Or should I call the coroner.” He says leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.
“ ‘s Robin’s fault,” you mumble, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, “woulda been fine if it wasn’t for the sh—,” you gag thinking of the vodka, “—shots, I’m usually not like this.”
Eddie sits on the side of the tub. You’re wasted and half dressed. He was a lot of things but taking advantage of a drunk girl wasn’t him. He finds your robe hanging in its designated spot, and drapes it across your bare shoulders.
“Sit up a bit,” he instructs. With great effort you sit up, almost falling backwards but Eddie catches you, careful of his hand placements not wanting to graze you in your inebriated state. He helps you sit and you put your arms through the holes of the robe. He reaches gently around your middle to tie it. Putting delicate pressure on your back as he leans you forward towards the toilet. You hum with satisfaction as your face feels the cool plastic of the toilet seat. Fighting the urge to rub your back.
“I’m dying, you can have the house when I’m gone, scatter my ashes in the rose bushes out back.” You say with a whine. Groaning as your stomach churns again, puking up more and more of the mixed alcohol you drank earlier in the night.
“Need some water?” Eddie guesses.
You nod your head, feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds you set it back down.
He leaves and comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, swirly straw included. Tapping your shoulder he hands you the Disney cup, taking a long pull from the straw, you set the cup down on the linoleum floor.
“Thanks.”
“Agh, you’ll be alright. The porcelain Gods and I are great friends— well we used to be back in high school. I haven’t prayed to them in a while,” he says with a chuckle. Sliding down against the wall behind you, sitting on the cold floor.
“Don’t forget the time you and Kev ate those shrooms and puked all night in the basement of our house.” You mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and flushing the toilet.
That was a night Eddie would never forget, he was only sixteen, and he somehow scored some homemade brownies and shrooms from one of the seniors. Being young and dumb, him and Eyeball each ate three brownies and an entire bag of shrooms. The high was insane, but the aftermath was death. He hasn’t touched shrooms since.
“Shit,” Eddie exclaims, “how old were you? Ten?”
“ ‘leven,” you say, holding your elbows on the toilet seat and your head in your palms, “old enough to know you and Kev didn’t magically get the flu at the same time.”
“Man we were dumb,” he says with a laugh, rubbing his chin with his hand.
“Were?” you say slyly.
“Easy, I’m not the one who can’t hold their liquor, Princess.”
“Oh Jesus please no more mention of it or I will barf—again.”
He stands to leave, laughing and stretching his arms out over his head as a small yawn escapes him. Exhausted from the day's events: work, concert, threesome— ain’t no way he’d be up before noon tomorrow— you either.
“Think I’m gonna go to bed, you going to be okay?”
Sitting up and looking at Eddie for the first time tonight, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re drunk, but it’s almost as if it’s the very first time you’ve seen him. His amber colored eyes are surrounded by a forest of black eyelashes, his mop of curly hair hanging in them slightly, smooth pink lips, surprisingly full, a sharp jaw with a days worth of stubble, his veiny neck dances as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His shoulders are thick snaking down to muscled forearms, veins protruding from them, his hands are easily double the size of yours, thick fingers adorned with the same chunky stupid rings he’s worn forever. His broad chest stretches across his ribs, nipples pierced since the 80’s. He stands with confidence. His slender waist with the tiniest patch of hair ducking into the gray waistband of his hanes boxer briefs. And the prettiest alabaster skin peeking out from his collection of black tattoos.
Mouth suddenly dry, you stutter, “I—I’m done throwing up, gonna go to my bed.”
You stand on Bambi’s legs, hitting the wall hard with your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughs and scoops you up making sure he’s holding under your bent knees and around your upper arms. He carries you to your bed, his skin burning hot against your cheek. He lays you down, throwing the blankets over your head for good measure, trying like hell to ignore the flutter in his stomach as you huff and pout pulling your eyebrows inward and frowning as you place your blankets to your liking.
“Get some sleep Tooty.” Eddie says all too softly. Pushing your cute sleepy face from his mind, rocking back on his heels as he starts to leave your room.
“Eddie?” You call after him, your small voice ripping through him like a knife. “Thank you, seriously. For everything.”
Shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair flows like a curtain around him in the dark as he leaves your room, “you owe me,” he says with a small grin, shutting the door behind him.
//
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SEE YOU IN VOLUME: V
[volume: 5]
putting random symbols in hopes that read more will eat this instead of the last paragraph 😩
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#eddie x you#eddie x reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#roommate!eddie#roommate!eddie munson
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Please 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 do a yandere miles morales scenario if reader runs away from him
Pain Isn't Strong Enough
A/n: I'll get as close as I possibly can to "running" away as I can. If nearly spinting almost counts, then absolutely.
Miles didn't know what went wrong. You two were fine with each other the entire time. You often came over to eat dinner. Paid attention to his jokes. You made jokes back. You seemed comfortable when you came over to his place, and vice-versa seemed comfortable when he pulled up at yours. You stole hoodies from him like he wished for you to do. You often texted and called, and everything. You two had great communication skills, the whole fucking nine. So why....? Why are you not...being you??
He knew something was up when you gave him weird strained smiles all throughout the school day. Only would greet back when you two ran into each other again during passing period, and never said anything past that, especially when you two had physics together. He spoke the whole time. You best understand that he definitely checked up on you. Multiple times.
"...baby, are you okay? You've been kind of....kind of quiet lately. Did you eat? How'd you sleep last night?" "I'm fine. Nothing's wrong. I'm good." You'd say, nodding at him. He'd stare at you for a few seconds. Waiting for your face to crack or anything. But nothing. So he let it go for now.
At the end of the day, he offered to walk you home. He asked every single time you two walked back to your place, and you always told him to stop asking since you both always would go, no matter what happened. "Lemme you home, ma." He mutters it softly like every other time. "No." Miles stopped in his tracks and snapped his head toward you. "No?" He nearly shouts it. The confusion he felt was embedded deep into his voice when he repeated that word. The fact that you felt, he assumed, uncomfortable enough to openly decline him walking you home just rubbed him the wrong way entirely.
But he didn't mean to respond so abruptly. He collected himself as soon as he said it to not alarm you. He gives you a concerned stare, making sure to watch your eyes. "You sure?" He steps closer to you, getting rid of the space that he felt like was separating the two of you. "Yeah. I just want to go home." You made up some phony excuse to get him off of your back, but of course, it didn't work. "Then let me take you." "I just said no. Is it wrong that I don't want you to come with me this time?" You slip on your wording, wanting it to sound nicer to not be suspicious. And it just left Miles with more questions.
The undertones on your phrasing made him frown. He stays silent and you regret opening your mouth for every second he doesn't respond. You avoid his gaze, staring down your designated block. "No. Go 'head. My mom prolly need help with the chores anyway. I'll see you later, Mi Corazon." He softly whispers the nickname to you, pecking your cheek. You cheese every time he does it. Giving that laugh he loves and saying that you love him back. Now, you don't even flinch, not meeting his gaze once. "Hm." And you walk off.
His initial thought was that you're cheating. But he would know. So, he lets his heart and bones ache for the rest of the day as he waits for you to talk to him. He lets his mom bother him about where her "step-daughter" is and tries to stay chill the entire time he does his homework. His mind was loud and quiet at the same time. He couldn't seem to focus on one thing at a time until he knew the two of you were good. But he didn't want to press you, he didn't want to stress you out. He wanted you to take your time in reaching out to him. So, he stays patient.
By 9 o'clock, he was done with all possible things he could've done to pass the time. Did the laundry, made dinner, cleaned his mom's car, spoke with a neighbor, he even fixed the fucked up cable wires that had been preventing everyone from watching TV this past week. And it was until then, that Miles finally gets a text message from you. He was practically staring at his phone as if he knew you would answer and immediately swiped it off of his desk to see what you finally said. But nothing in the world could've prepared him for what he saw on his screen and he felt his heart drop as he read the message.
Baby - [Are you the prowler?]
He was ready. He was ready for any response you could've given him. I need space, I'm sorry, how are you, what are you doing, can you come over, hey, i miss you, i love you, fuck you, don't talk to me ever again, lose my number. "Is he the prowler"?? Is that what he's seeing on his screen right now?? Miles firmly believes he's hallucinating that message you sent, but the other ones above it that he had read a million times over are still the same, so it has to be real. Miles thinks of all of the hiding places for his gear, his other computer, his hidden weapons, his other bunch of keys, the paperwork for the deals he made, fuck, he couldn't think of what you possibly could've found that made you draw that conclusion. He cursed aloud and watched his hands begin to shake.
It wasn't the end. You wouldn't end the relationship over something as small as this, right? I mean, he would never hurt you, he knew that you knew this. But on the inside, he knew that this was the end of something. And he didn't know if he wanted to know what. Another message came up. You knew he saw it.
Baby - [Answer me.]
Miles - [I'm coming over.]
Baby - [No, don't.]
He shoved his phone into his pocket and rushed to put on a jacket and some shoes. Sneaking out to the fire escape, he rushed down to the street to speed walk over to your place.
You were scared. You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but in the back of your mind, you knew the truth and just couldn't help but feel real fear in your heart. He really was the prowler. You saw everything. That hyper-realistic metal mask you found under his pillow, it couldn't be for just nothing. For fucks sake, it even had the same holographic colors and shape. You found the claws and couldn't bring yourself to see anymore than you already did. And what made it worse is that when you spent the night the same time that you found his gear, he snuck out of the bed....not returning until the early hours of the morning. It made you sick to your stomach.
He was supposed to just be your boyfriend. Not a killer and a fucking robber and whatever else he was. Secrets as big as these just made you question everything else about the relationship you two had. What if he also had bitches on the side? What if you weren't the only one? What if he was using you? Would he......would he kill you...? You were gonna vomit.
Your body felt numb as you put on his hoodie and a pair of shoes he had gifted you. Everything that reminded you of him, you couldn't get rid of. You love him too much. The more you try to shove him away, the more he surrounds your everyday life and mind. And now he was going to find you. You weren't ready to talk at all.
You turned off your location on your phone and left. Maybe you can stay at one of your girl's houses tonight. But she lives in the direction of Miles's place, and you'd probably run into him on the way there. Maybe your cousin that lives like 30 minutes away? It's dark and....the walk would be so fucking dangerous, but it's safer than literally talking with a killer who you slept in the same bed with who-knows-how-many times. What were you going to tell your mom? Your family? His family?? Did his family know? How can you break up with him without causing an uprise? It almost seemed impossible because everyone loved you two being together. And the ones that hated it wanted it more than the two of you did. Too many people had hope in your relationship, it was horrible. It shouldn't have come to this. Maybe you should've just minded your own business.
You round one, two corners. It's dead silent and there's no one on the streets, which somehow feels worse than actual people being there stalking the streets. You hate that you can hear your own heartbeat and breath. On your third corner, you crash into a chest and rough hands grab you before you can fall. "No! No, get off of me!" You thrash in his arms and he seems to almost yell in your face. "Y/n, can you calm down? What the hell is you screaming for??"
"You know why I'm screaming at you, nigga!" "No, I don't I actually don't. So instead of running from me, can you talk to me?" You huff and go silent, pulling yourself out of his grasp to try and breathe. Miles's face falls when he sees how stressed you look. Your veins almost seemed to pop out of your neck. Did you really not want him there? He didn't know what to do. "Please, cariño, I just want to understand..."
You didn't want to start the waterworks and looked up to keep tears from falling down your face. You struggle to croak out the words, gesturing to help yourself cope. "The stuff...t-the stuff under your pillows and bed." Miles looks off to the side. "What is that stuff you got, Miles?" Suddenly it was quiet again. He didn't want to tell you. You didn't want it to be true. Why wasn't he denying it? Why wasn't he hugging you and telling you it was all fake? A science class experiment? Something? Anything but this?? He looks back at you and gains the courage to step closer, bringing a hand up to wipe away your hot tears on your face, like he promised he'd always do for you. He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, baby."
You just seemed to cry harder at his words and pulled his hand from your face. Your throat was beginning to close up, the truth showing in what wasn't said. "I hate when you lie to me. I know you know that I hate when you lie to me. Don't lie....don't lie.." Miles wanted you in his arms again, not far away, distancing the two of you in your mind like he knows you're doing. You're great at disappearing when feeling stressed, but to leave him alone? He doesn't think he can take that. He gave his heart to very few people in his life, and somehow it can never fix his problems. His mom's stressed, Aaron wants more from him, and his Dad.... You're the only one that's given him what he didn't know he needed. You're his salvation. And for you to slip out of his fingers is something he can't allow. His only option left is to tell the truth that he has been hiding for so long.
"I am." You sniffle and wipe your eyes. He can't seem to look at them, instead he stares at the necklace he gifted you when you first got together. Knowing that you kept it on was all he needed to keep speaking. "I am the Prowler."
Your face shifts from sadness into one of frustration as he explains. "I've been the Prowler for 2 years now. I go out almost every night. It helps my mama pay the bills, it keeps Brooklyn safe, and it keeps my close family safe as well. I don't do this for nothing." He whispers the words so quietly, as if he was whispering a taboo to you. Never slipped out of his lips before until this one moment with you. You turn your face the other direction. Miles watches you clench your jaw and rushes to take your hands into his, kissing them lightly.
"And I know that's a long time. And I know I was hiding it from you, baby. Pero tienes que confiar en mí. You're on my mind every single night when I'm out. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I couldn't come back to you one night because I wasn't careful. So I stay careful."(But you have to trust me)
Both of his knees hit the hard concrete as he stares up into your glossy eyes, not daring to look away. "You can do anything, anything to me. I don't care. You can beat me the fuck up, mami. But, por favor, no me dejes. I need you! I need you to live, baby. I can't be without you. I don't wanna see you walk away from me. Please." (Please, don't leave me)
Miles whispered the words only for you to hear. All you wanted was that apology and you wished to give in so bad. You wanted him to stay. Miles stood when you looked the other way to catch your eyes again. "Just let me walk you home, mi vida, and we can talk about this in the morning, okay? Or even tonight, if you want to. Just don't give up on me, not like this." Miles's heart was racing a mile a minute. He really didn't know if he could convince you in this moment. Your face seemed to be stone cold. But when he grabbed your hand, you seemed to tighten your fingers around his. His eyes told you what his mouth couldn't say. And by communicating through silence, you let him pull you in the direction of your home.(My dear)
#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere character#reader#across the spiderverse#atsv#miles morales#earth 42 miles morales#42 miles x reader#earth 42#42 miles#earth 42 miles morales x reader#prowler miles fanfic#prowler miles#miles 42#miles g morales#aaron davis#itsv#yandere miles x reader#yandere miles morales x reader#yandere miles morales#yandere earth 42 miles morales
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Wind Me Up
Pairing: Tangerine x Black!Reader
Warnings: Poking at an assassin's hidden praise kink for fun. No smut, but an allusion to smut.
Word Count: 1.1K
a/n: Something that was just rattling around in my head. What if you could get an assassin to whimper for you? There's something really fun about disarming a man that dabbles in violence for a living.
(gif source)
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There were a few things in life that brought you pure, unfiltered pleasure: fresh laundry, the first scoop of ice cream from a carton, the sun on your face on a warm spring day, and making Tangerine flustered. It didn’t happen often. He very clearly liked being in control of most situations and had a huge affinity for bluntness.
And you usually acquiesced. But today you felt like being a menace.
You found him in the kitchen drinking whiskey and scrolling through his phone, chuckling under his breath. You could tell by the low chuckle that he was probably talking to Lemon. Because, between the both of you, Lemon was probably his favorite person and you couldn't even be mad about it.
You'd probably choose Lemon over you, too.
Tangerine was dressed down in black sweatpants and a tee shirt from some action movie you’d never seen, and his dark curls swept across his thick furrowed brows. You let out a slow, heavy sigh when he took a sip from his glass and his tongue darted out to absentmindedly lick his lower lip.
The devil on your shoulder said, “Ruin his evening.”
You strolled into the kitchen with pursed lips, admiring the way his arms and chest looked in that shirt and how good he smelled. You rested your elbow on the island separating you and said nothing but watched him with wide doe eyes until he sighed and shoved his phone into his pocket.
“You alright?” He casually asked. “What’s up?”
You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, but you softened your gaze. “Nothing, baby, I just wanted to come look at you.”
You both stared at one another for a beat, and he quirked a brow at you.
“…Why?”
“Because you’re beautiful, what do you mean?” You responded matter-of-factly. He squinted at you, but you maintained your innocence, “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”
He finished the last of his whiskey and placed the tumbler in the sink, all the while refusing to take his eyes off of you in suspicion. “The hell are you on? You takin’ the piss?”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and sigh as you rounded the island to get closer to him, “I don’t joke about beauty, honey. I’m as serious as a heart attack.”
He snorted at you. Because of course he did. But as you hopped onto the counter and gently pulled him between your knees, he couldn’t help but rest his large, ring adorned hands on your thighs and mumble, “You’re serious? Or are you just trying to fuck with me? You want something.”
You felt his gaze rake over you, but you weren’t giving in. You would maintain the upper hand here. You gently caressed his chin and ran your thumb across his jaw.
“All I want is for you to keep looking at me. God, look at those eyes,” you cooed through slightly pursed lips, “and that nose, and those dimples, and those lips. Look at you. You’re so pretty, baby. How’d I get so lucky?”
His nose twitched, but you could see the hint of a pink bloom across his cheeks as he averted his eyes from yours, choosing to focus on his hands on you. "You're full of shit, you know that right?"
As you cocked your head to get a better look at his attempt at coyness, you shot him a playful and flirtatious smile, "You're so fucking cute when you blush."
"Okay no. Nope. Fuckin' no." He pulled away from you but you caught the way he seemed to fight the smile on his face by biting the corner of his mouth. Even though he turned his back to you and pretended to rummage through the fridge to escape your treachery, you knew you had Tangerine right where you wanted him. "You're not doing this."
"I don't know what you mean." You sighed, swinging your legs and hopping down from the counter.
"You do. You know what you're doing. You're being...me"
You couldn't even argue against that, because you were absolutely taking every page from his playbook. You wondered if anyone had ever told him these things before. Judging by his reaction, you guessed not. But it's not like you were really lying about what you told him. He really was the most gorgeous person you'd ever seen. Even his gruff, sarcastic demeanor had a level of natural charm to it. He had to have known that at least. You hummed to yourself and sidled up behind him, wrapping your arms around him to run your hands up his chest. You could feel his heart thud under your hand.
"Are you sure, sweetheart?" You purred, placing kisses on his back, "I'm thinking about the way you looked last night...with my hand wrapped around your throat and that fucked stupid glaze in your pretty eyes."
You felt his back tense and he looked at you over his shoulder. You challenged his gaze and he swallowed hard fighting some unreadable thoughts bobbing around in that adorable head of his. He seemed to be coming up short, so he parted his lips to simply say, "You're evil."
Maybe. But you weren't wrong. You could feel yourself going powermad now that the shoe was on the other foot, and you couldn't bring yourself to stop now.
"So are you saying you don't like getting on your knees for me? We both know that's not true."
In the blink of an eye the fridge was closed, and you were back up on the counter with his hands gripping your hips. His face was even redder than it was before. You gave him your best shit-eating grin.
"You're not allowed to do that." He declared, though his voice cracked a bit and you saw right through the faux bravado. The look in his eyes didn't match his demand in the slightest.
"Do what?"
"Just...that. Whatever you're doin'. It's--"
"What do you mean? I'm being so nice to you. You don't like it?" You reached up to comb your fingers through his hair, and not so innocently grip a handful in your fist. He let out a low groan and slowly closed his eyes. "There he is," you cooed again, kissing the corner of his mouth and along the stubbled, delicate skin of his throat. And when you kissed the pulse point just behind his jaw, and nibbled on his earlobe--earning a low whimper that spurred you on--you whispered in his ear, "there's my sweet boy. You're so fucking perfect, baby."
He hesitated as if his brain short circuited, and he let out a hoarse, "Yeah?"
"Mhm," you hummed, pulling him in closer, "In fact--"
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he blinked like he'd been pulled out of a trance. Confusion and disappointment crossed his features, and as he pulled out his phone to answer, he shot you a sidelong glance.
"Yeah. It's me. What is it now?" he answered after clearing his throat. Considering his evening sufficiently ruined, you jumped down from the counter and kissed him on the cheek.
"Have fun at work." You whispered.
#tangerine x black!reader#tangerine x reader#aaron taylor johnson x reader#atj x reader#aaron taylor johnson x black!reader#atj x black!reader#jaelle writes
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Not Waving But Drowning
Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Request: can I request a Dean x reader, where they get in a fight. Also where brothers and reader go on a hunt that involves drowning victims. They all separate and the reader is pushed/pulled into the water. Sam and Dean look for her but can't find her until a kid says something then they have the hardest time trying to revive her? Kinda like, but not exactly like "Drowning on Dry Land" Grey's Anatomy: Season 3, Episode 16. Angst please, if you're willing!
A/N: This episode is engrained into my brain along with most of Grey's Anatomy because it fulfils all my angsty desires SO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST!!! Also, the title is in reference to the poem and album of the same name, but the content is not.
Warnings: drowning, near-death experience, cpr, hospitals, suicidal thoughts, angst, lots of pent up feelings
Word count: 4,040
You hadn't spoken to Dean in the five hours you'd been driving, and you didn't intend to any time soon. It had been building up all week really; at first it was little things, like forgetting to ask for the tomato off your burger when he order take out, and when he actually took responsibility for the laundry for once but dyed all your whites pink. You'd been picking at each other for a while now, with Sam hovering uncomfortably as his brother and best friend bickered. But things had really come to a head that morning, when you'd had a sleepless night having been stuck on the rock hard motel sofa while the boys took the bed. As you pulled your things together, you did your usual count up of your weapons and froze. More frantically, you rummaged deeper, tossing things out of the little bag that you always carried alongside your gun.
"You alright, Y/N?" Sam quizzed as he sensed your panic.
"My bullet. It's gone. Did one of you take it? Dean?" You spun round with anger in your eyes as you stared down the elder Winchester as he emerged confused from the bathroom.
"Take what? Hell, what have I done now!"
You stormed towards him, refusing to take his attitude. "My bullet, you moron. Where is it?"
"Wow, chill out will you. Yeah, I borrowed a bullet on that last hunt cause I was running low. Why's that such a problem, you've got a shit ton of them in that weird little bag you carry round-"
Before he could even finish his sentence his head whipped round as your palm collided with his cheek.
"What the fuck Y/N?" Sam tried to intervene, but you shot him a look that told him to do otherwise.
"Yeah, I carry a bag of loads of random bullets so I don't run out. Because I'm not careless like you. But you didn't even think to look at what you were taking, did you?"
Dean squinted at you with a pout as he rubbed his red cheek.
"That wasn't just any bullet you stole, Dean. That was the one bullet I've never used, the one bullet I'll never use because its the one thing I still have from my dad. It's not for just using cause you forgot to top up your own stack!" You thrust your hand out, nodding towards it when he didn't get the hint.
"Oh you-you want it back?" Dean snorted before standing up straighter. "No can do I'm afraid. Used it on that demon to distract him before I used the knife. I gotta say, he did not see that coming," he spoke proudly, grinning at his brother who shook his head wide eyed in response.
You gulped back tears. "You...you used it? As a distraction? Are you fucking with me?"
Dean shrugged. "Oh c'mon Y/N, you've got loads of little things from your dad, it can't have been that special."
"Look, I'm sure Dean's sorry-" Sam tried to interject but you spun round on your heel and stormed towards the door.
"Don't you even start to defend him, Sam" you hissed. You had to get out of there before you lost your shit completely.
But of course, the motel was in the middle of nowhere and the only place you could go was the dusty parking lot where the Impala stood. Which explained why, five hours later, you were curled up in the back of her, gazing out the window, refusing to even acknowledge the boys.
Truth be told, you were looking forward to the hunt. It was a vamps nest, you'd concluded, which had taken a family hostage in an attempt to turn them. You'd been following the group across state lines as they added to their brood, and you had finally caught up with them just west of Yellowstone. Destroying them would be the distraction you needed from Dean and your feelings. Feelings which were driving you insane because no matter how hard you wanted to hate him for how he had been acting these past few days, you just couldn't. And that was part of the problem.
Locating the nest was easy; there were old caves situated between a group of lakes which often acted as a diving spot for kids during the summer. Now, in the cold depth of February, they offered a dark, quiet place ideal for a group of vampires.
As expected, things went smoothly. Until they didn't.
One of the younger vamps was on guard - you recognised him from the last scene when you'd just missed them. He was recently turned and it was the first time he'd been trusted to turn the next bunch but had made too much of a mess of it. No wonder the older vamps had regelated him to lookout this time round. You took his head clean off before Sam and Dean had even seen him, and you ignored Dean's huff as you stormed ahead into the cave. You knew he didn't like you going ahead, but right now you were not in the mood to stick to his petty rules.
The other four vamps were in the middle of the turning process, having just finished the draining process of their victims. A couple in their forties were slumped against the wall, while two kids were shivering with fear from where they were tied up still in their pyjamas. The younger boy was looking round frantically and caught your eye as you peered round the corner. Raising a finger to your lips, he nodded and visibly relaxed slightly.
With the brothers hot on your heels, you ran towards the group at full speed, each taking a vamp and finishing them off quickly. But with three of you taking the first three, that left one to react. You didn't recognise this fifth vamp and you guessed they must have been the newest turned from just a few weeks earlier. She was sharp though, and in her bloodthirsty desperation grabbed the boy and sped from the cave.
"Shit" you snarled as you kicked the head beneath your feet away. Dean went to run after her, but you got there first.
"I've got it. You deal with these three." Your tone told him not to bother arguing back.
As you sprinted out the cave, you blinked in the moonlight and walked tentatively, desperate for a sound. But it was silent. Not even a cricket buzzed and you gulped at the eeriness. You were a split second behind them so they couldn't have gone far.
You tiptoed cautiously towards the lake just meters from the cave entrance, hoping that the reflection of the moon would illuminate the immediate area some more.
"Hey," you whispered, not quite sure what you were trying to achieve. If the boy could hear you, the vamp most certainly could too. But you had to try something.
"Hey kid, where are you?" As soon as the words left your mouth, the crack of branches sent you whirling round, machete at the ready. Still you were met with silence, and the only thing that seemed to move was your frosty breath floating up into the air.
Except this vamp hadn't quite got the hang of one of the key parts of being a vampire: stealth. She giggled at your blindness, which gave you just enough of a hint to dive forward towards a bundle of ferns and grapple with your free hand to grasp onto a piece of material. With a tug, you hauled the boy up and out of the creature's arms, thrusting him behind you as the vampire jumped. Everything else was a blur; her hands tightened around your shoulders as you flung your arm towards her neck, slicing it off on the diagonal. As you did so, your whole body moved in that direction, and with the force of the vampire's jump landing over you, you lost your footing and tumbled downwards. Unsure if you'd even managed to successfully kill the thing, you tried to rip the body off you rather than grab onto something more solid, which only hauled you down further. In the darkness, there was no way of making out the edge of the lake. One second the air around you was dry and frosty, the next it was heavy and icy.
-
Dean didn't like that you'd just sped off towards the rogue vampire, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He knew he'd pissed you off royally, and as much as he was desperate to apologise and admit his wrongdoings, he knew doing so would for sure give the game away. He'd successfully been able to hide his feelings for you for years now, and suddenly acting differently even though he knew he'd upset you would make his feelings all too clear. Sam had been catching on, which was why he'd tried to be more careless with the little things like your take out order (which of course he knew off by heart), and your laundry (which he'd practiced breaking the news to you in the mirror). The bullet thing had been a genuine mistake and he'd barely paid any attention to the road as he'd kicked himself for being such an idiot. But that vamp was fresh blood and he couldn't let you go after it alone.
Kicking corpses aside, he hurriedly helped Sam pick up the rest of the family and guide them out as they started to take in all that had happened to them.
"Y/N?" He called out to you as they exited the cave, to which he heard a sudden squark in response and a 'plop' of water. Head snapping round, he saw ripples in the lake as the figure struggled to stay afloat.
Without hesitation, Dean gently dropped the figure he held and raced towards the water, diving in smoothly. He grabbed the boy, hauling him up out of the frigidity and onto dry land. Within seconds, the rest of his family had come out of their shock of the whole ordeal and were by his side, wrapping him up in their dressing gowns and inundating the brothers with 'thank you's.
But Dean could only focus on one thing.
"Where's Y/N?"
Sam shrugged and gestured to the dead vampire on the bank. "Not sure, but she got it pretty good. She's probably still pissed at you and gone back to the car. C'mon, we gotta get this family safe."
Dean wasn't convinced, but then again, when was Sam ever wrong? And besides, hovering and fretting would only raise suspicions that he had feelings for Y/N even more. So, helping the family back on their feet, the Winchester boys guided them back, offering them token pieces of reassurance that they would be okay now.
Only the young boy, soaked to the skin, remained where he was.
"Sweetheart, its okay, these kind men killed the baddies. We can go home now and get you warmed up." The mother bent down, reaching out a hand to try and coax the child back up the slope. But he wouldn't budge, standing stoic where he was shivering away. His eyes locked on Dean - he didn't even acknowledge his family.
"What is it kiddo?" Dean bent down gently, trying to see through the child's terror. But he just stared.
"He's in shock. Let's get out of this place," the father straightened up and strode towards the boy, scooping him up in his arms. But he cried out, wriggling all over the place and sending droplets of icy water flying.
"Woah, hey, do you see something?" Sam questioned, looking around to try and pick up what they boy was reacting to. When his father finally placed him on the ground again, he turned to face the water, lifting a pointed finger ever so slowly.
It was like time stopped. No one moved. Not even the group's cold breath drifted through the air. In that very second, it was like the whole world was collapsing for Dean.
"Y/N..."
-
Once you realised you had fallen into the lake, you instantly kicked your legs powerfully and pulled your arms to try and break the surface. But it was no use. Cramp ate into your muscles within seconds, and the darkness blended with the night sky so you had no clue which way was up. Whatever breath you'd tried to hold had been stolen from you by the shocking glacial temperature and your lungs were aching.
But still, you didn't panic. Instead, a moment of realisation hit you. Neither Sam nor Dean had seen you fall in. You didn't know if that boy had or if he had run for the hills the second you'd moved him out of the way. You were completely and utterly alone.
And it was peaceful. Here, you didn't have to pretend. You could cry all you liked, your tears mixing with the liquid around you and hiding your emotions. You no longer had to pretend to be mad at Dean, and you could scream that you loved him knowing the only thing that would leave your mouth would be bubbles. You no longer had to fight, to take on the responsibility to save the world. You no longer had to live in the brother's shadows, knowing they would always think less of you for not being a Winchester destined to succeed.
And so you stopped. You let your limbs float around you, you welcomed the warmth of fire in your lungs. You closed your eyes and accepted your fate as you lost all feeling in your numb body.
But Dean...
-
The second Dean entered the water again it instantly seemed colder. Unlike with the boy, he had no idea where you were and swum around frantically, his arms flailing as he tried to feel for you. After what felt like years he finally brushed his fingers against the skin of something smooth and cold. Without a moments hesitation, he dived down further, reaching out and pulling you up by the arms.
"SAM!" He shouted as he flung your slack body onto the bank. Sam had already thrust the Impala's key into the father's hands and sent them off in the direct of the car, and now he pulled you close while his brother scrambled out the water.
"Is she..." Dean panted, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer. Sam shook his head sharply as he came away from trying to find a pulse.
Forgetting about the cold, Dean clambered over your body, pumping down on your chest. As he blinked away tears mixed with lake water, he swore at your grey face and the way your eyes drifted lazily beneath blue lids. He hated how your body flopped below him but he refused to stop until you were alive and breathing again.
"Dean, let me. You've done enough." Gently, Sam eased his brother off you, taking his place. He hadn't failed to notice how distraught Dean was, and he knew that having been in the water twice already he needed to save all the energy he had left. Muttering a prayer as he issued CPR, Sam tried to block out the sound of your ribs cracking beneath his giant hands.
"Get the car. Take that family to hospital and call an ambulance." It was clear to Sam that he needed to be the big brother now.
"N-no" Dean coughed. "I'm not leaving her!"
"Well we can't both stay here and that family have lost a lot of blood between them. Dean, you need to help me. Help me help Y/N by helping them."
Stumbling up, Dean clambered up the hill to the car as quick as he could. He couldn't leave you, but right now he also couldn't think straight. He found the family huddled in the back of the Impala, scared out of their wits still.
Wordlessly, he jumped into the drivers seat, started the engine and raced onto the road. Ignoring pleas from the petrified family behind him, he sped away, desperate to get them to safety so he could return to you.
As the first flash of lights went by in the opposite direction, Dean realised what a mistake he had made. He had left the love of his life when she needed him the most. He skidded to a stop, brushing off the cries from the back seat, and blocking the road for the next car that skidded towards him. Leaping out, he gestured for the family to follow and clawed at the truck that had been forced to stop so abruptly by his actions.
"This family are hurt and cold, and this kid has been in the lake. You need to take them to a hospital."
He didn't even wait for a reply as he offloaded the family into the cab and sped back to the Impala. Dean made a point not to glance at the little boy one last time, knowing he would loose all composure he had left.
Within minutes he was back at the lake side, brushing off Sam's questions. To his horror, you looked even more lifeless than you had before. He took over from his brother while Sam checked again from a pulse, coming away swearing. It wasn't lost on him that you'd been down for almost ten minutes now, and neither of them knew how long you'd been in the water.
Just as Sam was about to say something, there was a splutter as water droplets flew from your mouth. Dean frantically rolled you over, guiding you to release the water that was coming up, while Sam fumbled with your wrist.
"I've got a pulse. We have to move now."
Getting back to the car again was a blur. Dean held you in his arms close, hating how floppy you were. Sam drove while Dean laid you in the back, gathering blankets from the trunk without taking an eye off of you. He rested your head on his lap, stroking your sodden hair with one hand, the other gently resting over your pulse point on your neck. His gaze switched compulsively from your near-translucent face to your stuttering chest.
"De..." he almost thought he had dreamt it if it weren't for the rough coughs that followed. He drew you in closer, not caring for the liquid that was released down his chest, stroking your back and encouraging you. You wheezed and he cradled your head, your eyelids fluttering and your cracked lips trembling.
"It's okay sweet, I've got you. You're gonna be okay, just hold on for me, alright? Y/N? No no no, stay with me Y/N, stay with me goddammit!" He cursed as your eyes rolled back and your head lolled against his chest. The movement of your body had made him lose your pulse but he panicked once the realisation hit that it wasn't him who had lost it, it was you. Dean felt the car speed up as he flung your body flat and knelt over it, one leg curled up against the backrest, the other planted in the footwell. Unlike his brother, his prayers were muttered out loud as he worked to get your life back.
Things remained like that for the rest of the journey. Neither brother was sure how long it took to reach the hospital, but once they got there they wasted no time. Dean refused to leave your side as you were wheeled away, machinery placed all around you, and it took Sam to shake him into reality and remind him that he was no good to you if he froze to death.
That was when the waiting game really began. Even after Dean had been checked over by a nurse and Sam had got him dry clothes to change into out of the trunk, there was still no news of your condition. The two of them sat on the floor, back to the wall, legs against their chests, refusing to move from outside your treatment room. Dean couldn't remember what he'd said, but he knew he'd been harsh because no one dared to ask them to move along.
-
The first thing you got back was your sense of smell. You knew you were at home, or in a grimy hotel because it smelt so clean. Not clean in a good way, though. Clean like bleach, like sterile alcohol. Clean like a hospital.
With a groan, you desperately tried to open your eyes, only to find them glued together by stickiness. You tried to open your mouth, but that too was stuck shut by dryness. All you could do was groan again and use all the energy you could muster to wiggle your fingers and hope someone would see.
After the smell came sound. And out of all the sounds, the best there was.
"Oh god, Y/N, can you hear me? It's okay, it's Dean, I'm here. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, okay?"
Fuelled by his voice, you did as you were told, relishing the warmth of his hand in yours.
"I'm gonna get a doctor," you heard Sam's voice too, and as the door closed behind him, you forced yourself to push through the gunge and pry your eyes open.
Dean hovered above you, purple bags heavy above his hollowed cheeks. But still, his green eyes shone and his smile was broad and child like.
"The boy..." was all you could croak out and he nodded eagerly.
"He's okay. They all are. It was you we were worried about...do...do you remember what happened?"
It took you a second to catch up and comprehend the question, your brain still foggy. "The lake..."
"Yeah, the lake. We got you out as soon as we could, but doc said you must have been under for a good few minutes. You know, it was touch and go for a while..."
Dean squeezed his eyes closed as he started to choke up. Whatever happened he couldn't let you see him cry.
That went out the window the second he felt your cold hand brush against his ear. He opened his eyes to see you grinning lopsided at him, your arm shaking as you held it up to him. Quickly, he reached up to steady you, leaning into your palm with a sigh.
"I thought I'd lost you Y/N."
"You almost did," you whispered, still testing your rough throat. "I was going to let go. But I couldn't, Dean. I couldn't because of you.
I love you Dean Winchester. I'm sorry, but I just have to tell you and waking up from a coma heavily drugged with god knows what I think is probably the only time I'll dare say it out loud."
Tears were streaming down both your cheeks now.
"Fuck Y/N. I-I don't know what to say. I thought you - I dunno, but god I never thought you felt the same way. I thought you were starting to hate me."
You frowned. "The same way?"
"Christ sweetheart, I'm trying to tell you I love you too. I always have, and I think I always will. I'm so sorry I've been such a jerk recently but you've been breaking my heart. And the bullet...god I know I can never make it up to you but I am so, so sorry-"
He was silenced by your finger brushing across his lips. "Shut up and kiss me Winchester," you breathed.
And for once, he did as he was told, leaning forward and embracing you. Almost instantly everything in the world seemed better; it was just you and him, finally giving in to your true feelings and putting all fears behind you. Despite the burning in your lungs, you would have stayed right there, relying only on each other's air, if it wasn't for Sam chuckling away at the door with the doctor standing awkwardly behind him.
"If I'd have known it would have taken a drowning to finally get you two to admit how you feel about each other, I would have pushed you in a lake a long time ago."
Tag list
@sexyvixen7 @stitchintimefan @tristanrosspada-ackles @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mimaria420 @spnexploration @siospins2 @hellhound-whisperer @nancymcl @rinnie-rintarou @foxyjwls007 @imherefordeanandbones @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @craftytrashprincess @tiggytaylor @kye-the-nb @deans-baby-momma @flannellover67
(note: this is a forever tag list so if you’d like to be added/removed please let me know!)
#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#dean winchester fic#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x female reader#dean x reader#spn fanfiction#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural dean#dean winchester angst#spn fic#supernatural angst#sam and dean#sam winchester fic#sam and dean winchester fic#spn fandom
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you don’t have to elaborate at all if you don’t want to btw, but I can’t get L with a crush on fellow detective/friend out of my head! He’s definitely a starer imo 👀 👀 👀
"What?"
"..."
For a second, you thought L would stay silent and keep looking at you with those painfully hopeful eyes he only gives to you.
"I like the way you look."
You look back at him. The room is illuminated by the monitors, the only sounds are the computers fighting overheating and Light's shallow breathing in his sleep. It's comfortable and familiar, the smell of laundry detergent and the sweet aroma of spongy cake sits light in the air.
L has his thumb childishly stuffed between his pink lips, his big eyes trained on you and seemingly seeing way too deep inside your soul for your preference.
You snort and shake your head in a lame attempt to dismiss the flush creeping up your neck. "You have a weird way of talking, Ryuzaki. Anyone ever tell you that?"
"In some variation, yes." His hair falls just barely to the right as he tilts his head, you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't paying such close attention to him through your peripheral. You ignore that mental revelation.
"...Did you mean it?"
His chair scraps on the ground as he scoots closer to you.
"What reason do I have to lie?"
"I dunno... you're the smarter one here, you always have some fucking motive or something." You mumble the last few words and shrug, dropping your eyes to his hands that line up and assemble gummy bears in an apparently random order.
"You discount your own investigative abilities. You're quite the detective, Miss Y/n." L pushes with praise evident in his tone.
You're doing a poor job at hiding how his words effect you. With purpose and some difficulty, you roll your eyes and feign nonchalance.
"I told you to stop with that 'Miss' junk, it's just Y/n."
His eyes are on his hands where he holds the bears in one and prods at them with the second in a manner that you realize means he's weighing them and separating them based on that. It makes you giggle behind your palm.
"Of course, Miss Y/n." Now you know he's fucking with you and he's enjoying it too, his smile matches yours in his own diluted way.
"Oh my god..." You murmur under your breath. "You're ridiculous."
"..."
You look up at the quietness that meets your words and find his eyes doing that deep soul-search again. The way his long eyelashes hang shakily over his dark pupils somehow say I'm only ridiculous for you.
It's adorable and lovable and makes you feel like the most important thing in the world. This time you can't look away or shrug it off or laugh, this time it's too magnetic. It pulls you in by the belt hoops of your jeans, by the nape of your neck, by the swirling in your stomach intensifying to an almost cruel extent.
You could wonder how he got so close, so close his chair arms overlapped with yours. You could wonder what horrible consequences could come from acting on impulse. You could wonder what this meant for the investigation moving forward. But you didn't.
You let yourself move ever closer, push his legs out of your way and begin breathing barely an inch away from his face.
"Is this okay?" You ask with hazy eyes and parted, panting lips.
"Yes." He responds with his persistent clinical tone but his face looks too desperate to hide how he's feeling.
There's silence besides the sound of your lungs sharing air and for a second, L worries he's done something wrong and you'll pull away once you realize.
Then you're finally kissing him, enveloping his pillowy lips with yours and stealing his desperation from him. It fills your body in turn and you're pushing for more, fisting the shirt on his shoulder and letting your mouth move against his in an embarrassingly needy way.
When you pull away, his face chases yours. He still needs you, he thinks in that carnal, animalistic part of his mind. The satisfaction your kiss gave was so much more physical than any other, more than solving a case or enjoying a desert or even wrapping his fingers around himself in the dark depths of the night and bringing himself to heaven with the thought of you.
His usual high came from solving crime but that high was felt in his mind and it certainly didn't make him feel dizzy like this. This high was felt in his bones, his blood, and his pants; it was a physical satisfaction for the first time. He enjoyed it much more than he did when it was just mental.
It was so good because it was all yours to withhold and give, to bless him with and to make him yours. The desire to kiss you again, to breathe you in again nearly brought him to his knees.
"Can I kiss you again?" You ask in that breathy, sweet voice of yours.
L has never wanted you to shut up like he does right now, in fact, he does it for you.
#death note fluff#death note x reader fluff#l x reader#l reader fluff#l fluff#L lawliet fluff#death note l x reader#death note l fluff#l lawliet x reader fluff#l lawliet x reader#death note l lawliet#death note l lawliet x reader#death note l lawliet x reader fluff#l x reader fluff#death note l x reader fluff#oph.quickies#l lawliet#l#l sfw#l lawliet sfw#sfw#l lawliet sfw fluff#deathnote fluff#deathnote x reader fluff#deathnote l lawliet x reader fluff#deathnote l x reader fluff
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A Wife’s Witness - A Guero/Reader One Shot Story.
Just a lil’ thing I had rolling around in my brain because of King Blorbo Boy Toy here, who is still refusing to move from the creative space in my brain! Enjoy :)
Words - 1,666
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
You don’t question him as to why he smells like burned chemicals as he walks in, his lips finding the top of your head in a soft kiss. Instead, you witness his stripping off in silence, his clothes cast to the floor with careless abandon as he trudges to the bathroom, not getting on at him for being messy. When dread dances in his eyes, you see it. You’ve witnessed it too many times by now.
Nobody ever said being the wife of an outlaw would be easy.
Removing his belt, knife and wallet from his jeans, you collect them as well as the rest of his clothes, hanging his kutte up, heading into the tiny laundry room off the kitchen and putting them all into the machine, figuring they could benefit from a separate wash. You add more detergent than necessary, knowing they will need it to combat the stench, hearing the shower turn on across the hall.
You hover, watching him link his fingers behind his head as the water cascades down upon him, a soft groan leaving his mouth as the tension in his body eases a little for the influx of hot water. He needs a minute. When his day weighs heavy on him, you see it. You’ve witnessed it too many times by now.
Moving to the kitchen, you search the assembled bottles of alcohol, muttering a soft curse that you’re all out of his preferred choice, turning to the fridge to pull the vodka bottle out instead, pouring a large measure. Lingering there, the sound of the shower eventually being turned off is your cue to move, walking around to the bathroom, the sight of a damp Guero wrapped in a towel awaiting you.
Proffering the glass forth, you smile. “Sorry it isn’t your usual.”
He puckers his lips at you, taking it gladly. “Baby, I’d drink your fucking nail polish remover right now if it’d gimme a buzz.” You laugh softly and he sinks the vodka in one neat gulp, wincing slightly, shaking his head in rapid motion. “Ugh. Isn’t my favourite, but it hit the spot.” He places the glass on the side of the sink, a weighted exhale leaving his chest as he reaches for you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Got my favourite right here.”
You feel him smile against the side of your neck, a kiss laid where your pulse flutters gently, his shoulders easing as the warmth of you melts away the very last traces of everything that had weighed upon him.
Turning your head, you kiss his cheek a couple of times, your fingers stroking soothing swirls across his back. “Want me to take you to bed?”
He nods, lifting his head to look down at you. “Please. I need this day to end with something good.” When he needs to lose himself in you, you see it. You’ve witnessed it too many times by now.
His towel is abandoned along the way, the naked press of his body against your back scintillating. His hands reveal you to his gaze as you reach the bedroom, lowering your long nightie, letting the silky fabric flutter down to pool at your ankles. Soft kisses press against your spine, his fingers stroking your arms before he turns you, mouth upon yours, your bodies entwined as you hit the bed below.
Shower fresh skin blankets yours, your fingers combing through his wet hair, Guero shifting immediately, body crawling back, wasting no time in tease. He needs you, a mouthful of you, his tongue running a slow, firm lick through your folds without hesitation.
“Mmm, not that I’m complaining,” you begin.
“Better not be,” he interrupts with a smirk.
You push yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him. “Shouldn't this be about me making you feel good?"
He pauses, his lips placing a single kiss upon your inner thigh, eyes already blown from lust. “This is making me feel good. Now, shut up, lie back and let me wreck you with my tongue.” You’re never one for taking instruction, but those kinds of demands are hard to argue against.
His tongue begins moving in serpentine over your clit, evoking a gasp, the action repeated slowly as he slowly teases the pleasure from you. Starlight pulses through you as he begins to suck, and your hands go to his hair as your hips rise, his hands sliding beneath to cup your ass cheeks, bringing you closer to the fever of his mouth as he kneads you.
You feel your insides twist and bloom, a ragged pant exiting your parted lips at the feel of his tongue tip working your clit fast and hard, alternating to roll slowly, pausing to suck. The heat of it snaps over your skin, splitting your nerves as you cry his name, hands fisting in his thick hair.
“Mmm,” he murmurs against you. “So fuckin’ hot when you lose control.” He brings his fingers to the trickle at your opening, your dew hot as he slides them within, his other arm curling around your thigh, hand splayed in a wide, firm press at your abdomen. You don’t know why that press always feels so exquisite, glimmers racing to your very marrow, all you care is that it does.
This man, he has his repertoire so finely tuned to cater your desires that you often think he somehow crawled beneath your skin to gather that information, to elicit a touch so perfect, drawing moans from you as his fingers sink deep, have you fluttering, his tongue rapid over your engorged little clit.
“Guero, please. I need...”
He moves to kneel before your shaky, splayed legs, grasping his cock, stroking the head over your sodden folds. It burns a nirvana through you, just feeling him slide against your heat. “Yeah, I got what you need, baby.” The head of him snags at your opening before he’s parting you, your cunt suddenly very full, a shuddered breath leaving his mouth as he feels your walls hug on him, that aqueous velvet clench dizzying to his senses.
You squeeze on him, and he pushes deeper, a bonfire of pleasure crackling through you as he leans to offer kisses steeped in filthy heat, moans spilling from his lips to yours like wine, his hands clasping your face. “Fucking love you so much.”
Your eyes return the sentiment and so much more, your mouth hanging agape as he shows no mercy in beginning to pound you into the bed, your cries filling the room, hands tight upon his forearms. His cock scrapes sparks through your walls, spearing you hard, watching your face contorting in the ecstasy of taking the storm that is him inside of you.
Lightning begins to flicker as he thumbs at your clit, a wet drag sending sizzling sensations skittering through your veins, the thick of him splitting you wide as you pant, your hands trawling over his body. He’s a decadent feast for your eyes, lean muscles decorated in a blanket of tattoos, his dark eyes focused upon you as your hands clasp upon him.
You pull him into messy kisses, his forearms balancing his weight, mouth kissing a smoky path to your neck, teeth sharp as his cock glides effortlessly into your silken heat. His groans fill the air, sharp snaps of his hips sending you reeling, a wet suck from plump lips making your nipple furl. The soft bite he places upon your pebbled peak has you arching into him, his hands stroking scorching paths over your skin, rutting you a little faster as he begins to chase the light he can feel sparking in his depths.
A sudden change of mind has you feeling bereft when he pulls from the clasp of your cunt, your soft whine sounding your reluctance to lose him. “S’okay, beauty. Just wanna feel this pretty little pussy gush on my tongue before I fill it with cum.”
If there are erotic intentions you are fonder of hearing, he is yet to speak them.
His tongue is like a whirlwind upon your clit, his fingers holding you spread, heat snapping through you as he beckons forth your release, the noise of his mouth on your cunt sinfully dirty as he licks and sucks, groaning hungrily against the wet of you. “Yeah, baby. Gimme all those pretty moans.”
You offer him an aria of bliss as each lick speeds you to full burn, the sizzle of pleasure roaring until you’re at full blaze, crying helplessly as every roll of that clever tongue sends you into orbit, Guero the sun, his heat lighting you up into a full blaze of dawn.
You’re given no time to recover from such an earth shattering high, his cock arrowing into you once more, the filthy sound of his fuck echoing off the walls as he rails you voraciously. His hands grip yours, bringing one to his mouth, sucking your fingers as his eyes burn with dark fire. It feels like he’s remaking you around him as he grinds you deep, bliss fizzing to your bones, his muscles tightening as he groans wantonly around the suck upon your fingers.
Pulling them from his mouth, you receive his body in your arms, nails dragging his back, another rolling orb tumbling down your spine, little pricks of pleasure coaxing another undoing from you as the fervid culmination strikes you both. You pant against kisses full of love and filthy indulgence as he sinks his release into you, his clammy body slowing, yet he doesn’t stop. Each wave of bliss flutters through you before his cock finally stills, his cum leaking from you, forehead rested to your shoulder.
“Better now?”
Inky eyes look down upon you with adoration, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Always am when I’m inside you.”
It’s true, this is no mere orgasm drunk pleasantry. You know because see it in his face, feel it in his body. You’ve witnessed it too many times by now.
#guero mayans mc#guero mayans mc fanfiction#guero fanfiction#guero smut#guero x female reader#guero fanfic#guero x you#mayans mc#mayans mc fanfiction#manny mayans mc fanfiction#mayans mc imagine#mayans mc smut#mayans mc fic
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(for @teanshan, who requested a drabble about what happened in the time between tianshan's kiss and them sharing Guan Shan's bed <3 enjoy!)
———
He Tian was the first to pull away from the kiss.
In any other circumstance, Guan Shan would’ve suffered a considerable blow to his self-esteem. He's prone to self-destruction at the best of times, after all. The questions would've been endless: Did he do it wrong? Did He Tian change his mind? Was it all just a joke to him?
But for once, Guan Shan reined in his anxieties. It was made easy by the way He Tian’s fingers lingered on his cheek for a moment longer after they separated. It’d be foolish, Guan Shan knew, to mistake this for anything except what it was. He’d spent too long dancing around everything that He Tian was willing to give him, convincing himself that it was something else, something encrypted. Now he looked He Tian in the eyes and saw everything like an open book: want, embarrassment, nervousness, exhaustion. He’d cracked the code, and the reward of knowing He Tian was plentiful. To be honest, Guan Shan wasn’t quite sure what to do with his newfound riches.
But he didn’t get to linger on it for long. He Tian blinked, smiled, and it became clear in the heavy weight of his gaze that the exhaustion was winning him over. Still, he took Guan Shan’s hand in his bandaged one again, pulling him off the desk, toward the bed. Guan Shan flushed, pulling back.
“What are you doing?”
“Lying down, and taking my little Mo with me,” He Tian answered, tugging on his arm.
Guan Shan swallowed, flushing a shade deeper. “We’re fucking filthy. We should— shower.”
It was a trivial excuse, but a valid one nonetheless. After all that had happened, the last thing he wanted to do tomorrow was laundry when he desperately needed rest. Still, as if on cue, He Tian released a wide yawn, blinking hard afterward.
“’M too tired,” he mumbled in a way that was both childish and endearing, and Guan Shan’s heart soared at the thought of kissing those lazy lips again. But instead of indulging him, He Tian sat on the edge of the bed, keeping hold of Guan Shan’s hand. He gave another gentle tug. “Come lie down.”
Despite the burning heat of his face, Guan Shan felt equally adamant about maintaining cleanliness as he did giving into He Tian’s whims. He shook his head. “I’m gonna shower.”
The pouted look He Tian gave him would have been more compelling if he’d been able to maintain it for any longer. Instead, he eventually nodded, releasing Guan Shan’s hand to flop backward on the mattress with a deep sigh. It only took a matter of moments for Guan Shan to recognize the futility of the situation; He Tian’s ability to sleep at the drop of a dime was no stranger to him. He’d leave him there for now. Quietly gathering a fresh change of clothes, Guan Shan slipped out of the bedroom.
— — —
“You’re awake now, so move and lie down properly,” Guan Shan scolded later, face flushed once again from He Tian’s teasing. He’d quickly given up on wiping down the other boy’s body, instead threatening to pour the bowl of water on him if he didn’t at least wipe his own arms and face. The threat, albeit empty, worked, but then He Tian had simply resumed his position halfway slumped on the bed, dead weight.
“’M comfortable here,” He Tian muttered, eyes closed.
“You’ll be more comfortable if you move,” Guan Shan maintained. He kicked at his leg. “Plus, you’re taking up the entire fucking bed. I’m tired too, asshole. Move already.”
Despite his fatigue, a small smile built on He Tian’s lips. “Wow. I can’t believe I kissed a mouth that dirty.”
“He Tian.”
“Okay, okay.” Sluggish, He Tian pulled himself up on his elbows. His gaze was soft and sleepy as he looked at Guan Shan. “Inside or outside?”
“Outside,” Guan Shan answered immediately, heat crawling up his neck. He knew better than to let He Tian trap him. He’d already given him an inch; it was only a matter of time before He Tian took the whole mile. He Tian seemed to recognize this, too, as he gave Guan Shan a knowing look before finally inching up the bed, assuming his position on the innermost pillow. His hair splayed out on the pillowcase like spilled ink, although he pointedly contained his long limbs to his half of the bed.
Exhaling with relief, Guan Shan reached down to pick up the spare blanket he’d grabbed from the hallway closet. He draped it over He Tian — who watched him cheekily the entire time — before reaching over to turn off the desk lamp and escape his gaze in the darkness. And it felt strange to climb into bed afterward, knowing someone else was in it. Eyes unadjusted to the dark, Guan Shan could only feel the many forms of He Tian’s presence: the dip in the mattress, the warmth of his body, the press of his legs. It felt familiar yet novel, as if the concept of sharing space with He Tian wasn’t new, but doing so like this was. And as he settled beneath the blanket, skin warm and muscles sore, Guan Shan wondered what other things would feel familiar but new between them from here on out. He wondered if the tightness in his chest was excitement or anxiety or maybe a combination of both — another slew of emotions that He Tian always managed to pull out of him, messy but honest.
Shifting under the covers, He Tian pressed close.
“Little Mo,” he whispered.
Guan Shan swallowed, ears warm. “What?” he whispered back.
“Look at me.”
Guan Shan turned his head. He could only see the faint outline of He Tian next to him, but he shivered as he felt a hand come up, long fingers cupping the back of his head, running through his damp hair. He felt He Tian shift — and then there was a soft, warm pressure on his forehead. Guan Shan closed his eyes, pulse racing.
“Good night,” He Tian whispered against him, breath warm.
“Good night,” Guan Shan whispered back.
They fell asleep.
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I'm Thinking of the Way it Was - ch 5
Excerpt from chapter 5 of my getting back together fic
When Steve makes it home Sunday evening from the trip, he’s relieved he missed his parents on their way out again. He’s exhausted but knows he has some things he needs to get done before he can relax for the night.
The trip was nice, Chicago’s weather was perfect, but he’s happy to be home. He tosses his duffel bag onto his bed and strips from his clothes, pulling on a pair of old Hawkins running shorts and removing his shirt. Then, he grabs his hamper out of his closet and starts separating the dirty clothes.
He has a full schedule with classes and work coming up this week, so he needs to get his laundry completed this evening.
He hauls his laundry basket on his hip downstairs. When he turns the washer on, the water fills the barrel, but something doesn’t look right. He sets his basket down and flicks on the light to try and inspect the washer, but the light reflects off something on the ground and catches Steve’s eye. He crowds down and sees water coming from underneath the machine.
“Shit!” He jumps up and smashes the start button stopping the water flow, but that doesn’t stop the water from continuing to pool along the floor. “Fucking hell.”
In a rush, he dumps his clothes onto the puddle and tries sopping up the liquid. The water continues to dribble but has slowed down; he pushes his wet clothes around, trying to soak it all up.
When he thinks the water has stopped flowing and he’s cleaned up as much of it as he can, he accepts he will need someone to come over and help fix it.
He tries calling Hopper first, but Joyce says he and Wayne are out of town on a fishing trip. Unfortunately, that means his second option is also unavailable.
He stares at his phone, knowing exactly who he needs to call but hesitates. Maybe if he could look inside, he could see a leak or a hole or something.
He sets his phone aside and sticks his head inside the drum. He tries to position his body to let the overhead light through, but it’s not working well. He squints through the darkness, trying to let his eyes adjust to the lack of light. Maybe if he waits long enough, he’ll be able to see better.
This is not how he imagined he’d spend his evening, his ass hanging out of a washer while he searches for some kind of hole.
As he looks around, he realizes this isn’t going to work. The interior is covered in holes. Holes that are clearly there on purpose and make the machine work in the first place. He can’t see where he could lift anything up to look underneath, so he knows he won’t be able to fix this.
He shimmies himself out of the washer and stands in front of it with his hands on his hips.
“Asshole. Why? Why today?” He kicks the washer with the side of his bare foot. “UGH.”
In frustration, he throws his hands in the air and scoops his phone up. Then, with one more pause, he hesitates before dialing the obvious choice.
“Stevie?”
“Hey, Ed…uh, sorry to call you, but I need some help.” Steve leans against the machine.
“What’s up?”
Eddie’s voice rumbles directly into Steve’s ear, and goosebumps spread across his arms in response. “Um, do you know how to fix a washing machine?”
“Uh…maybe? What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s leaking. When I turned it on a little bit ago, water started coming from underneath it. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I have to do laundry, Ed.” His annoyance is seeping through. “I have a busy fucking week and just got home from the trip, and I can’t deal with this right now. Um, can you…?”
“Yeah, Steve.” Eddie cuts him off. “I’ll be right there. Give me 20 minutes to grab some tools, and I’ll head over.” Eddie sounds happy to help.
“Thanks, man.” They hang up, and Steve squeezes his phone in his hand. “Of course, of fucking course. They leave, and I have to deal with this shit. Every freaking time.”
He’s used to dealing with things around the house after years of being the one at home when things break, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be the one to deal with it. He never dreamt of having a homeowner's responsibility without the home's actual ownership.
He stomps back upstairs and moves into the kitchen to take stock of what’s left in the fridge. He’d gone grocery shopping before he left, knowing he wouldn’t have time when he returned. By the looks of it, his parents didn’t touch much, so he’s relieved he’ll still have enough food to prep lunch for the week.
While waiting for Eddie, he prepares a salad that he splits into smaller servings. As well as a couple of sandwiches. When he hears a knock on the door, he wipes his hands on a nearby handtowel and moves quickly to the front door.
He takes a deep breath before pulling the handle. He is greeted by Eddie, wearing a toolbelt, and holding an overflowing tool bag. Steve’s mouth goes dry, and he realizes he has just learned a new turn-on.
Eddie’s staring at him, with his mouth slightly open, but not talking. Steve follows Eddie’s eyes and realizes he’s only wearing his running shorts.
“Oh shit,” he puts his hands on his chest and shakes his head. “Sorry, I was doing laundry. Obviously. Come in; I’ll go grab a shirt.”
“You don’t….” Eddie follows behind Steve, who is already moving up the staircase. “…have to.”
Steve rushes into his room and throws open a dresser drawer, blindly reaching in and grabbing anything. Then, he hurries downstairs while pulling the shirt over his head and back to Eddie. He stops midway when he realizes what shirt he’s grabbed.
Eddie stands at the base of the stairs and smirks up at him.
Steve accidentally grabbed the undersized crop top that Robin purchased him during last year’s Pride month. She’d told him that as a proud bisexual man, he needed to own a piece of clothing that would bring all sexes to their knees.
By the look on Eddie’s face, Robin may have been correct about the shirt. Maybe the accidental crop top can help remove the no-sex ban.
Steve runs his hand across his exposed stomach and hooks his thumb into the elastic waistband of his shorts. The weight of his hand pulls the fabric away from his hip, and Steve can almost feel the heat coming off Eddie from 10 feet away.
Steve wonders if this fuck up can turn into a good thing. If he’s careful and moves slowly, maybe he won’t scare Eddie away. As if he’s trying to capture a stray animal.
“Thanks for coming over.” Steve moves slowly down the rest of the stairs and stands closer than necessary to Eddie. “I wasn’t sure what to do.” He bites his bottom lip and tries to lean into the damsel in distress moment that’s presented itself.
Steve was going to be good. He really was. He was distracted with the washer and how frustrating it was that the idea of sex or getting off wasn’t even in the cosmos of his thoughts. Until Eddie looked at him like he wanted to skin him alive with his bare teeth.
Eddie shifts his weight and moves the tool bag to his other hand, trying to keep his eyes off Steve’s body. That won’t do for Steve, however.
“Yeah, no problem. So where is the…uh,” Steve runs his finger across the tool belt, causing Eddie to shudder.
“This looks good on you.” Steve lowers his voice. “I had no idea a tool belt could be so hot.”
“Heh, sure.” Eddie’s cheeks flush. “Just like you didn’t know what shirt you threw on.”
“I didn’t, but it still worked out.” Steve’s fingers continue exploring the tool belt, letting them gently poke and pull on the pockets.
“Stevie,” Eddie says sternly while taking a small step back. “Don’t.”
Steve feels his heart drop, and a sudden rush of embarrassment hits him. “Sorry.” He lowers his head, hoping Eddie doesn’t see his red cheeks. “Um, the washer is downstairs.”
Steve leads them downstairs where thirty seconds ago, he would’ve hoped Eddie’s eyes were locked on his body, but now he’s hoping he doesn’t make this exchange any more awkward.
He always fucks things up.
Eddie’s being kind, stopped whatever he had been doing and immediately drove over to help, and Steve couldn’t control his libido.
continue reading on ao3
Excerpts: ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 4 ch 5 ch 6 ch 7
#steddie#steddie fanfic#eddie munson in a toolbelt#awkward flirting olympics#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddiecameraroll posts#my writing
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WIP Game
Rules: Go to your current WIP and share the following:
The first line of your work.
The first line of your current chapter (or if it’s a one-shot, the first line of the tenth paragraph).
The last line you wrote.
A line for a chapter/part you haven’t written yet.
Tag at least 3 people whose work you wanna see, and if you make a separate post for it, please link the original.
I was tagged by @nardaviel to do this game! I figured why not participate in a little fun and also share little snippets of my upcoming longfic? :3
First line of the work:
“By all accounts, Goro Akechi was supposed to be dead.”
The first line of the current chapter I’m working on:
“Akira thought that adjusting to the life of a househusband would be easier.”
The last line I wrote:
“Again, this was getting…very complicated, to say the least. Akira had hoped that maybe this world would spontaneously implode or something before he had to come clean to his now husband. But it was still here, they were still married and Akira was balls deep into scrubbing this stubborn piece of stuck rice off this godforsaken bowl.
Okay. Yeah. Maybe it was time to stop playing house. As horrible as the repercussions would be, Akira owed it to Akechi to confess. Who knows—maybe with all his ‘glorious intelliect’, he’d have a few ideas on how to get him back home.”
Line for a part I haven’t written yet (got carried away might delete later 🤪✌🏻)
“‘Something wrong?’ Kurusu asked him.
Akechi blinked, scrambling to find an excuse. ‘No, just…sometimes this feels a little…unreal, don’t you think?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘This,’ Akechi said, surprisingly breathless. He stepped closer to Kurusu. ‘Us.’
‘Yeah. I get that too, sometimes.’ Kurusu looked equally as serious, setting down the basket of laundry and closing the distance between them. ‘Even now, it can feel…hard to believe.’
‘Heh. Sometimes I wonder how truly insane you must be to have married me.’
Kurusu grinned. That shit-eating grin Akechi hated. ‘I never said I was normal, did I?’
Exhaustion caused people to do strange things. Some studies say that exhaustion can almost impair someone’s judgement to that of a drunkard. And that really could be the only logical explanation for why Akechi pressed his lips to Kurusu’s own.
Before he could even ask himself why the living fuck he did that, Kurusu wrapped an arm around the small of his back and pressed them flush together. Akechi couldn’t escape, not that fleeing was much of a tangible thought right now.
No, Akechi was too distracted by swallowing the bitterness down his throat and just fucking yielding to this. Just this once. Just this once. He had never thought about kissing someone before this timeline. Except maybe with Kurusu a few times. Maybe more than a few times.
And look at what he was doing right now.
This kiss lasted a little more than 4 seconds. Truthfully it might’ve lasted a minute, maybe more. Akechi couldn’t get enough of the plush and warmth of Kurusu’s lips, a warmth that could only be exuded by a living being, a warmth that Akechi never wanted to admit he craved until now.
Somewhere along the line tongue got involved. If Akechi thought Kurusu’s lips were warm before, they were nothing compared to the pure heat of his mouth, slipping past his own lips and invading his entire being. Akechi tangled his hands into the fabric of Akira’s shirt, growing fervid from the other man’s soft hums and quiet pants, feeling like he may burst at the seams at any moment.
Shit. This was evil. This was delicious. Maybe this was everything Akechi imagined and then some.
When they both found it within themselves to pull back, they were flushed, breathless. Akira stared back at him, eyes blown wide with something resembling desperation and uncertainty and yearning, all at once.
They were on the razor’s edge. One more push. One more move and Akechi would be done for. His carefully crafted being would burn to ash, leaving a fool in the cinders.
And one thought kept his flame burning, alive: no matter what, this wasn’t real.
It wasn’t.”
I’ll tag users @sixteen-juniper @honeysweetcorvidae @ser-estinien to participate in the game! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and I can add you as well 💚
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Lie To Me
An Aaron Hotchner x Reader Fic
Aaron Hotchner x Ozark crossover
Part 3
Parts 1&2 along with the characters and a brief description of the story can be found here
Warnings: drinking, cursing, violence, crime, smut, unprotected sex, oral, (f&m receiving) fingering, minors DNI
Word count: 4.1k
As promised, you checked in at The Blue Cat the next day and decided you'd have lunch. You were going to Aaron's for dinner, but he had some stuff to take care of. You'd spent the night with him and left before breakfast, because he had an early start to his day.
"You're doing fine, Charlotte," you reassured her as she stood behind the bar, nodding towards the door. Marty was coming in, taking a seat next to you.
"How'd it go last night?"
You gave him a brief recounting of your night minus the spicy details, and he nodded, his expression unreadable.
"Wendy said he really seems to like you."
You told him that you thought the same thing, and he smiled softly at you.
"I just don't want to see you get hurt, kid. Just be careful."
He left right after that, leaving you and Charlotte fumbling with his warning. You weren't sure why he was so worried about you and Aaron, but he really didn't like the idea of you two together. He was playing nice because you were happy but if things went sour, you knew Marty would step in and say something.
"Dad's just really protective. You're like my sister," Charlotte said, a smile on her face.
"Yeah, the older, funnier sister," you teased, but she didn't disagree. You went back home, spending some of your much needed free time cleaning your house. You hadn't really been around lately, and it showed. You did laundry, almost losing track of time until Aaron called you.
"I'll be home in thirty minutes. We're making pizza," he told you, excitement clear in his voice. When you told him you had the weekend off, he was quickly asking to spend more time with you--it was cute.
"I need to shower. I've been cleaning all day," you told him, and he told you to just walk over when you were ready, that he'd be waiting for you.
You showered and shaved, putting on layers of lotion and a spritz of perfume in all of the right places, deciding you'd wear something cozy so you'd be prepared for later. When you knocked, he'd already changed too, and he'd gotten the memo on the dress code, because he was comfy too. He greeted you with a hug first and then dipped down to kiss you, pulling you inside by the waist.
"I didn't start without you," he told you, letting you wash your hands and get to it, rolling up your sleeves so the two of you could make dough. You made two separate pizzas, one for him and one for you. You sat on the couch watching a movie while they cooked, his hand in yours.
"I don't have to work tomorrow. I was thinking maybe you could stay the night and spend the day with me tomorrow."
You kissed him, nodding your head.
"I'd like that."
You ate dinner and moved to his bed, where he stripped down to his boxers immediately before he came to cuddle, wrapping his arms around you as you laid in his lap. You decided to initiate something a little different, rolling over onto your stomach, peering up at him through your lashes.
"What are you doing, pretty girl?" You could see him getting hard through his boxers, so you reached out to palm him through the fabric, watching his whole body visibly tighten at your touch. You put your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, taking his cock in your hands. You found a rhythm with your wrist, pumping him up and down until you took him in your mouth, flattening your tongue against him so you could take all of him. He hissed, his hand on the back of your head as he guided you on his member, watching with his mouth slightly agape as saliva coated his cock and he entered your mouth with ease.
"Oh sweetheart. So fucking good," he said through clenched teeth, tears brimming your eyes as you gagged on his cock. You used your hand on the rest of his length, taking most of him in your mouth, occasionally stealing a glance at him from your spot below. He looked properly fucked--his pupils wide and dilated, his hair a wreck on his head. You hadn't even gotten started yet--not if you had anything to say about it anyway.
You didn't stop until you felt his salty release in the back of your throat, swallowing every last drop that he'd give you. He released his grip on your hair, bringing you forward so he could kiss you hard on the mouth. You draped your body over his as his tongue made its way into your mouth, and his hands came to rest at your sides, lifting your t-shirt slightly to expose your skin.
"Your mouth feels so fucking good," he said against your lips, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. He laid you down, his fingers falling to the waistband of your pants, lightly touching you over the fabric. You squirmed against the mattress, making him crawl between your legs hastily, pulling your pants and panties down in one swipe.
"You seem desperate," he told you, his voice still endearing as he said it. He loved it, loved how badly you wanted him, and that you weren't afraid to show it.
"Because I am," you panted, a cocky grin spreading out over his face as he buried his face between your thighs, making your eyes roll back as his tongue expertly flicked at your clit. You were lost in euphoria, your head sinking into the pillow and your brain turning to mush.
"I wish you could see how pretty you look right now, so relaxed," he cooed as you reached the first of many highs, your eyes squeezed shut as your body trembled. He kissed your thighs, your hips, every inch of you below the waist was under his tongue at some point. He finally focused his energy back on your clit, sucking furiously, his arms keeping you pinned to the bed.
"Fuck, Aaron--" the sweet rush of your orgasm on his tongue was like fuel to a fire; he only yearned for more. He slowly teased your entrance with his fingers before adding them to the mix, the fluid combination heavenly, flooding all of your senses with nothing but pleasure. It didn't take much to have you a whimpering mess on his bed, your sweet little sounds like music to his ears.
"I just can't get enough of you," he said as he sat up, lining up with you so he could sink into you, your walls stretching to accommodate him as you lifted your legs. He put them over his shoulders before he began to slip in and out of you, his hips smacking yours in perfect timing. You knew it was only a matter of time until you were hurdling over the edge again, because your nails were already digging into the bed, your legs shaking as you came.
"I'm obsessed," you choked, addicted to the way he felt as he was pounding into you, completely opposite of how he'd been the day before. This time was greedy, possessive. It took your breath as you struggled to hold your eyes open, blinded by such immense pleasure.
You were super sensitive, coming from the smallest, slightest movements, and he was in heaven watching. Each time you came, he would whisper the sweetest words, telling you how much he enjoyed having you for himself. It was easy to get caught up in the way he made you feel-- ten feet tall and bullet proof.
"You're divine, sweetheart. I could watch you for hours on end," you felt it, the sticky, warm substance fill you up as he tried to stay upright, pulling out of you so he could sit down. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he leaned against your legs, propped up so you wouldn't make a mess. He grabbed a towel and cleaned you off, climbing in the bed, letting you hold him, his head on your chest.
"Get some sleep," you urged him, sliding down on the pillow next to him. He fell asleep letting you hold him close, and he didn't move an inch all night.
✨✨✨
Things had been going well with Aaron. You usually saw him after you came home from work for the night. He'd come over and walk you to his place, although you warned him with summer approaching that your nights would get a lot later. He didn't seem to mind, as long as he got to see you.
You were just finishing up closing the place, your music playing softly through the speakers as you cleaned. Marty had delivered on the sound system, and it worked like a dream. You could hear your music everywhere in the restaurant, and you were grateful for it for summer. You'd be able to pack the place full and learn what the crowd favorite songs were, so you could keep the place energetic.
Ruth had just showed up for her nightly beer, followed promptly by Marty, who looked distraught.
"What's going on?"
He looked between you and Ruth, who seemed to already know what was happening, but she chose to say silent.
"Just some shit with Wendy. Nothing you need to worry about. How's the new sound system working out?"
You told him all about how Jonah helped you set it up and he showed you how to work it. You wanted to make the Blue Cat the summer spot that everyone came to hang out at, and now you were one step closer to packing the place full.
"Sounds like you have the place ready for the busy season," he popped the top on his beer, sitting between you and Ruth at the bar. He'd been acting a little more normal lately, despite how stressed he seemed. He wasn't warning you about Aaron every time you saw him, so that was a plus.
"Almost. I'm buying some lights to put up behind the bar, make this place a little brighter."
He grinned, something that didn't happen often, obviously happy that you were working things out to your liking and that more importantly, he didn't have to deal with it.
"Charlotte wants to come stay with you soon. I told her as soon as school was out, she could," he told you, but they both knew she was welcome at your house any time.
"I miss her, we'll do a bonfire to celebrate school being out as soon as she has her last day," you decided, making Marty pat you on the back.
"You know, my kids really enjoy spending time with you. You've become something of a role model for Charlotte and I really appreciate that. She and Wendy...Wendy has her own things going on right now, and the kids feel like she's forgotten about them."
You knew Wendy was a busy woman but she loved her kids; obviously there was much more going on than you knew about. Charlotte hadn't told you anything, but you could tell there was tension.
"I love your kids, Marty. They can come spend time with me whenever they want," you promised him, and then it was Ruth's turn to speak up.
"When you first moved here, I thought, 'no way is that girl really as sweet as she claims to be' but I was wrong. You're a regular ray of fuckin' sunshine," she cackled, making you blush like crazy. You had always tried to be good, see the good in other people before you judged them for the bad. It's part of why you had grown so attached to the Byrdes. They were good people, and you could see that in the way they ran things. Family came first to them, and that was a moral you'd always wanted for yourself, despite having no family of your own. Marty knew you were alone in the world and made you a seat at his table with no questions asked.
"I grew up around a lot of people that were cold and mean for no reason. I always told myself I never wanted to end up like that." It was the most you'd ever opened up to them about home, but they appreciated your honesty and they understood why you could never go back. It was too much for any one person to handle, and although you felt like you still had obligations back home, returning wasn't an option, not now that you were finally free.
"You've done more in three months than anyone in your hometown has ever dreamed of doing," Marty told you, trying to make you feel a little bit better. He knew you didn't like talking about home, so he'd always try to lighten the mood when you did.
"It's a dead end town. If I didn't leave, I would've been stuck too."
Ruth polished off her beer before grabbing another, and the bell signaling someone's arrival went off, and no one was expecting to see Charlotte standing there, soaked from the rain.
"Charlotte, what are you doing out this late? You have school tomorrow," Marty grabbed a bar towel so she could dry off some, but you noticed the tears before he did, rushing forward to check on her.
"Are you okay?" Marty looked back at you confused for a moment until she shook her head, water droplets pooling in the floor at her feet.
"Mom kicked me out! She's lost her mind, Dad! This new deal she's worked out has corrupted her mind," it was your turn to be confused--Wendy had thrown her daughter out in the rain.
"What do you mean she kicked you out?"
Charlotte rolled her eyes because sometimes Marty was naïve--he couldn't see past his love for Wendy sometimes, and it made him blind to some of the more shitty things Wendy put him through, like for instance, when she cheated on him. Ruth had told you about it, and it was before they ever moved to the Ozarks, but it still gave you a bad taste in your mouth when you spoke to Wendy sometimes. You loved her, but quite often she did things you couldn't exactly agree with, and this was one of them.
"She told me if I didn't like what she was doing for our family, then I could leave. She shoved me out the door! She didn't let me get anything, she just sent me on my way," she sniffled, and you opened your arms for her, holding her tight when she collapsed against you, filled with emotion, hurting deeply at the fact that her mother could be so cold. You knew if you ever had kids, you'd never kick them out--not when the world was a dangerous place and they were safer with you.
"Your mom is a little power hungry right now. She thinks we're in competition. She did this because of me, Charlotte. I'm sorry." Marty hugged her, Ruth standing by idly while the exchange took place. She didn't care for Wendy either, but you were both shocked by the fact that she'd tossed her daughter out.
"Let her stay with me until Wendy quits whatever this is. I'll make sure she goes to school and keeps her homework done," you offered, and it only took half a second for Marty to agree. Charlotte seemed content too, much happier than she'd been moments prior.
"Do you think you could do me a huge favor?" He asked, arms crossed over his chest. You nodded, handing Charlotte your keys so she could go start up the car and turn the heat on; she needed to dry up. She'd been walking in the rain for easily an hour, maybe longer.
"I need to talk to Wendy and it's not going to be pretty. Can I bring Jonah to you? Tomorrow is testing day for seniors so Jonah doesn't have to go," you told him to just bring him over tonight, and he could stay in one of the spare bedrooms. Jonah and Charlotte were the only people to ever use them.
You all split ways and you tried to get Charlotte to talk to you on the ride home.
"She's just trying to be more successful than Dad. She feels threatened, like she has to accomplish more to be something she's not. She's always ever just been our mom. Now she's something else," she said sadly as you pulled in to your driveway. Aaron was already walking across the street, stopping at your door when he saw Charlotte was with you.
"Is everything okay?"
You didn't want to tell Marty's business so you just told him the kids were staying the night with you until Marty had a chance to talk to Wendy. He nodded in understanding, but Charlotte was quick to invite him over for you.
"Don't let us ruin your plans. I'm basically grown, we can all have a coffee and wait on Jonah," she loved using your fancy espresso coffee maker, so Aaron agreed to come in--he'd never been to your place before, so he looked around a bit while you got Charlotte some dry clothes and changed out of your jeans into something more comfortable. When you found him, he was pouring three cups of coffee in the kitchen, turning around briefly to kiss your forehead.
"I won't stay long, I know it's late. I just wanted to see you," he said, handing you a mug while the two of you sat at the table to wait on Charlotte.
"I'll always be thankful that you let me keep clothes here," she said as she joined you at the table after grabbing her coffee.
"You can keep whatever you want here. You know that," you wanted her and Jonah to feel at home with you, somewhere safe they could turn to if they needed you.
"Do you need me to work tomorrow? I can come after school," she told you, and you told her that was fine, it would give you a little bit of time off to get things in order for her and Jonah in case they ended up staying longer than a couple of days.
"I'm going to head out, but I'll be up later if you want to call me," he kissed you quickly before he told you and Charlotte bye, and shortly after Marty showed up with Jonah in tow.
"Wendy isn't even at home," Marty told you, explaining that there was something going on that involved a baby and Darlene Snell--which didn't sound like a good combination to you.
"When did she get a baby?"
"When Mason Young went missing, she got Zeke."
Zeke was the local pastors son--he'd been missing for a couple of weeks now. You didn't know Marty and Wendy were involved with Mason, but you weren't surprised. They knew everyone.
"So Wendy's trying to get the baby?"
He nodded, telling you that there was a lot he didn't know about the situation, like when Mason would be coming back, and who would keep the baby permanently if Darlene didn't.
"Wait, Marty, you don't need a baby in your house," you rationalized, and she shrugged knowingly before telling you there was nothing he could do to stop Wendy once she got started.
"Zeke's going to live with us?" Charlotte asked, Marty told her that he wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen, but that they'd be home soon.
"I'll call you tomorrow and let you know what's going on," he promised before he left, so you let the kids get comfortable in their rooms and went to call Aaron, who answered the phone like he'd been waiting on you.
"I'm glad you called," he yawned, making you smile to yourself. You loved his sleepy voice, how soft and sweet he could get, but his voice would drop an octave and send shivers down your spine.
"I didn't know I was going to have the kids, I was about to leave for the night when Charlotte showed up."
He made a soft hum while he thought about what to say, afraid of disrespecting your friendship with Marty.
"You're a good friend. Not many people would keep someone else's kids at the drop of a hat."
You explained your love for his kids and why they meant so much to you but then again, he already understood. You hadn't talked about your family and it was that very reason that he knew why you and the Byrdes were so close.
"Can I see you tomorrow, assuming your life returns to normal?" You told him even if it didn't, that you'd make time for him, and he was glad to hear it. He was tired so he got off the phone, leaving you to dream about him.
The next day, Jonah came to work with you. He tweaked the sound system a bit, clearing up any audio issues you might run into, but otherwise he sat at his computer the vast majority of the day.
"If things don't work out at home, can we live with you?"
You weren't sure how to answer him so you were honest with him.
"You're always welcome at my house, but your Dad is going to sort this all out and you'll be home soon."
Your afternoon went by quickly after that, and then Charlotte showed up to help lighten the load. Your day was full of visitors, from your regulars to Aaron, who showed up right before you were about to close for the night. You didn't know whether or not to wait around for Marty or Ruth because you hadn't heard from either of them all day.
"Will you be up later?" You put in the order for his food and sat at the bar with him, but only for a minute so you could help Charlotte clean.
"For you, I'll wait up all night."
You made plans to sneak off to his place after the kids were in bed, because it was officially the weekend and they didn't have school tomorrow, so you could be a little more lenient on what they could do as far as staying up later. You knew they were probably exhausted though from such a long day. Jonah had came into work with you early, and Charlotte had testing all day and worked afterwards.
By the time you made it home, you took a shower and the house was quiet when you came out. You checked on everyone; Jonah was sleeping and Charlotte was about to lay down, she'd showered too. You told her you were going across the street, to text you if she needed you and she told you they'd be fine, that they were old enough to hang out across the street for a while so you could see Aaron.
You were off to his place and he greeted you at the door with a kiss, tugging you inside hastily, his mouth still attached to yours.
"I've missed you," he mumbled against your lips, his hands on your waist. He led you to the couch, letting you straddle his lap as you kissed him, your arms looped around his neck.
"I've missed you. Was glad you stopped by to see me earlier," seeing him always made your day; it was always a pleasant surprise when he showed up to your job, even if he only stayed for a little while.
"I have to see you when I can. I hope you don't mind me visiting you at work," he was tugging your shirt off, working on shedding your bra too.
"I love it when you come see me," you admitted, standing up so he could undress you, his eyes trailing over every inch of you.
"I hope you'll be able to come spend the night soon. I miss having you in my bed," he peppered kisses all over your chest, teeth grazing your nipples lightly as you mounted his lap and worked to free him of his pajamas and boxers. Once you had him naked, you lined him up with your entrance and wasted no time sinking down on him, making you groan in unison as he found himself buried inside of you.
"So lucky to have you," you whispered as you rode him, his hands helping you out so you didn't get tired. You tossed your head back as you came, and he cupped your face lovingly so he could watch you come undone.
"Gets better every time," he said under his breath, pounding into you from below as he held you upright. It was new, intense. Each guided stroke had you trembling, your orgasm right around the corner. You finished with him, shaking as he filled you, holding you in place on his lap.
"God, I've missed this with you. Not seeing you last night had you on my mind heavily today," he breathed, kissing you softly as you laid against his chest.
"I'll come back over tomorrow. Hopefully Marty gets his shit together soon."
Master tags: @wheelsupkels @periodtcevans @hausofwhores @criminallyobsessedcm @tojithesourcerkiller @fireworksinthesky
#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#hotch#ssa aaron hotchner#ssa hotchner#aaron hotchner smut#hotchner#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner au#jason bateman ozark#Ozark#ssa aaron hotchner smut#ssa hotchner smut
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"Hey, wanna check something out?" Gage asks Goat as he hovers up from the basement.
With a glance to see a smile, Goat replies, "it's not going to stab me, is it?"
"Not this time, not at all! It won't harm you in any form, at least not this time!"
Goat puts a hand over his muzzle and eyes sighing, "alright, I'm going down".
Gage hovers his way down the stairs and out of Goat's sight. Goat walks down the stairs, looking around. He heads to a slightly lower section used as a laundry room, or experiment room. Goat looks at a very giddy Gage, standing next to a strange circular device with a globe floating above it.
"So, you made a floating globe? You can already throw stars how is this impressive?" Goat asks. After asking he attempts to touch the globe. Gage catches his wrist and twists if away from the globe staring in Goat's eyes.
"IF YOU TOUCH IT YOU WILL DIE", Gage says in a raised voice.
"It's just a globe, man!"
"Oh, right, no. It's another Earth, look at it more carefully".
After a closer examination, it becomes apparent that Iceland is missing, a new land mass is in the Atlantic, and finally Wales and Scottland are their own separate islands. Of course this is just what Goat can notice. Goat looks up at Gage, who is once again smiling.
"What the fuck?" Goat questions with sincerity.
"Well, I've been working on a device that can project another universe's planet into our world without using my power to do so".
"And how many times did you fail?"
"... Don't ask!"
"And how would I die?"
"It would either translate your mass into their universe up in their atmosphere and rip you apart atom by atom as it forces you into free fall, or it would improperly translate you, causing you to shrink to a point where it'd crush you into a black hole and consume their planet".
"How do you know that?"
"... please don't ask".
"Ok, but I have just one last question. Why without your power, and what powers it?"
"It's too easy, just giving myself knowledge without failing or using it as a power source. Things are already easy in every little game, I need to bar myself".
Goat sighs, "I don't think I'll understand your plight, I'm sorry".
"I can do anything. Anything I want. Anything at all. Everything I do is pointless. Nothing is worth it", Gage looks down, flipping a black hood over his head, the universe in his cloak dim. Standing there.
Goat mumbles something. The fur on his body stands a bit as he looks at Gage. Goat slowly moves his hand to the Earth once again. Gage catches his hand, but before he could move Goat's arm away, Goat turns his wrist and grapples onto Gage, pulling him closer and headbutting him square in the nose. Gage falls back onto the floor, dazed.
"YOU ASSHOLE, NOTHING YOU DO IS WORTH IT!?" Goat shreds his voice, with intense vitriolic rage.
Gage sits up off the ground, his nose bleeding, he asks, "what the hell?"
"THAT'S WHAT I'M ASKING! I'M NOT WORTH IT TO YOU? MY FRIENDS, MY FAMILY, EVERYONE I LOVE, MEETING YOU? NONE OF THAT MATTERS?"
"I'm just... I'm just sad... I'm still suffering from depression... I don't want to lose myself just because I have power... I don't... I don't know what to say".
"Why don't I matter?"
"Goat, I didn't say that-"
"WHY DON'T I MATTER?"
"... I'm a disappointing god, aren't I?" Gage asks awaiting a response, only to not get one, continuing, "I can barely keep my feelings in check, I do things inefficiently, I make my loved creations suffer, I set up a universe to make a version of myself I can be happy with, and I make him feel like I don't care".
"No".
"What?"
"When I was a kid, I thought my God didn't care about me because my brother told me how small I was to the grand scale of the universe, I stopped believing the possibility of you existing".
"I'm not the Christian God. I just used similar universes to make the one you live in anyway".
"Does that matter to me? I get to know my creator, I just want him to know what he's done is important to me. Everything you set up allowed me to become me. Maybe I'm not happy either. I don't like everything my god has put me through, but I don't hate him".
"I... I've been going to church recently".
"Why?"
"I like listening to people being wrong!" Gage laughs, and gets quiet, "... but I also go to contemplate my cruelty, these people believe in a God they find fair, a bit immoral, but they find him fair. The God they believe in punishes sinners, punishes those willing to hurt others for themselves. I've made innocents just to be punished, just to lose all faith and be powerless on their own, and once the innocence is all lost, once they only craved vengeance, once they wanted to harm others with no way to express it, I gave them their chance to reap their rewards, killing everyone they wanted, just because I could. I ripped you apart and put you together to be able to kill efficiently, I allow you to make misery. I'm no fair god, I'm a biased god. I've rewarded sin. I make sin in ways people wouldn't comprehend..."
"I don't... Gage you..."
"I'm sorry for calling you meaningless, I didn't think about that. I feel useless. I mean, you get to know your god, you get to know you were created with love, by a loving mother overseen by your god. I... I don't get that. I get to know the vast multiverse and how spontaneous it all is, and I get to know that I could've been made by a god, or just be a byproduct of spontaneity of the vast amount of universes to exist. I mean, what god would want to make me? A useless being who can't find purpose, even after becoming a god, a boring human being who can't... who just can't..."
"You gave me a new family I enjoy being around".
"Goat, how does that make me any less biased".
"It doesn't, but you haven't just made misery. You made Lynn, he's found love because of you. Lily gets to be motherly to us, even if we're the same age. I get to experience the ability to change my body to any kind of game I wish thanks to help from you".
"I just... is the machine neat?"
Goat laughs, sitting on the ground looking down, "it's amazing. I can barely understand it".
Gage sneezes, the blood on his face vanishing, and he pleas, "may I go and cry? I want to lie down, forget myself, just for a moment. I just want to be alone now".
Goat stands up and holds out his hand, "yeah, I need to get some sleep too. I'm sorry for getting angry with you".
Gage takes his hand, and is pulled up to a crying Goat in an embrace. Quiet shaking apologies are said by both parties. Gage shows Goat how to operate the machine at a basic level, and shuts it down. Gage gets back up with assistance, and the two go to their rooms. They rest by themselves, and sleep.
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𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻
𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: vinnie hacker x short!fem!influencer!reader
𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: vinnie’s favorite thing about dating a short girl? how his clothes look on her.
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: fluff!, maybe some suggestive parts? +swearing and reader being an olivia rodrigo fan
𝗔/𝗡: this was a request i got months ago and i lost the ask so hopefully they see this!! i’ve been writing tall readers, so now it’s time for my short readers to shine!! (i made reader 5’1 but you can definitely just add in your own personal height! other than that, there was nothing too specific) PS: I KNOW OLIVIAS TOUR HASNT STARTED YET, THIS IS FICTION 🥴
also, i’ve been making gifs for my fics recently, and honestly?? don’t they look BOMB? ugh, idk i’m proud 😋
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
you and vinnie had an annual vacation that was almost a tradition for you two. every year, you’d put aside your schedule for the month, and spend it somewhere new with the love of your life. it was something the two of you looked forward to, always being exhausted from the influencer life and just wanting be together and see new things.
you two were only on your ninth day in paris, and had so much planned. one of those plans was crafted by vinnie, who had bought the two of you tickets to one of your favorite artists.
seeing the words ‘olivia rodrigo’ in neon lights while holding the hand of your lover, was a memory you’d never forget. the only tickets he could manage, were in general admission so you were slightly mobbed while in the line for the venue, many people recognizing the two of you from tiktok.
sure, it was somewhat annoying, but they were all much kinder than you expected and thankfully, not too many people bothered you after getting pictures. you guys had pit seats and you had never been to a concert before.
your blood pressure was through the roof and you were on the verge of bouncing off of the walls. a security guard had recognized vinnie and brought the two of you to a section outside of the pit where bars would separate you from the general public— which you were immensely thankful for. being rubbed up against a bunch of fans, just was not the move.
when the show started, people seated in front of you stood up and you realized how shitty your view was, despite being so close, everyone was just too goddamn tall, that you couldn’t see anything. you always hated being shorter than everyone and the silhouette of the back of peoples heads, had haunted you since you were young. you had lightly bounced up, trying to see olivia who was almost completely blocked out of view, her floating head the only thing you could see. vinnie noticed immediately and grabbed you, placing you on his shoulders. you had one hand in his hair and another waving around as you shouted out the lyrics, seeing olivia crystal clear.
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
“that was fucking incredible.” you paced in your socks around the bedroom of the loft you were staying at, vinnie laying stomach flat on the bed, admiring you with his head in his hands.
“i mean…i can’t feel my legs and my throat hurts like hell but, god that was incredible.”
“well, i’m glad you had fun.” he cooed.
“of course i had fun! oh my goodness, today has been one of the best days literally ever.” you sighed and sat on the side of the bed, your legs dangling over the edge. you checked the time on your phone, “it’s late but i’m starving..”
“you want food?”
“yeah, do u?”
“sure, i don’t mind. what do you want?” he sat upright and pulled out his phone, ording your favorite.
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
once you guys finished eating, you decided to do the rest of your laundry before bed. it was almost 3am and you were still jumping with excitement, like a kid who had too much candy.
“do she know how proud i am she was created? with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred.” you sang softly, humming the rest of the song. vinnie had taken a shower and was blow drying his hair so he couldn’t hear you.
you were listening to music through your headphones, droning out the noises coming from the bathroom. you folded the small articles of clothing, your brain associating the music to the core memory you had just experienced.
“and when the clouds won’t iron out and monsters creep into your house…” you sung, oblivious to the boy watching you, his back against the wall outside of the bathroom and his arms crossed. it didn’t matter how much your throat hurt, you loved singing along to songs, even if you weren’t the best at it.
“and every door is hard to close….” you bent over momentarily, picking up a sock that fell off the bed and continuing to fold the clean laundry.
“well i hope you know how proud i am you were created. with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred..” grabbing the completed pile of shirts, you turned to put them in the drawer beside the tv, seeing how you’d be living there for a few weeks.
“but god, i hope that your happier today..” you paused and closed your eyes, letting yourself have a moment with the outro of the song.
“cause i love you..”
“and i hope that you’re okay.” vinnie mouthed the words as he heard you finish the song. he began clapping, and since the song ended, you could hear it.
jumping slightly, you grew flustered. you didn’t sing much infront of vinnie unless there was music playing, so knowing he saw you sing fully acappella, was scary.
“oh stop, i sounded like a dying cat.”
“oh come on, you’re not THAT bad.” he joked pulling the covers up while you finished putting the laundry away.
“i’m sorry you had to hold me up all night..” vinnie wouldn’t admit it, but his shoulders were slightly sore from caring you all those hours, but he didn’t care. it was worth it, seeing how happy you were. plus, you were so little that your legs fit just fine around his shoulders.
“did you have fun?”
“yeah! i bought merch, y/n! of course i had fun.” he exclaimed.
“OH YEAH, about that…i wanna wear your shirt for bed tonight. i just wanna try it on since you got a shirt that i didn’t get.”
“let me get this straight— i buy you four shirts and one for myself, and you want to wear mine?” he asked.
“just this once! then it’s yours!” you smiled, holding your hands behind your back and looking up at vinnie who towered over you.
“fine, but only because you’re so cute..” he leaned down to kiss your nose before pulling his shirt out of the bag and watching you get dressed. it was just a standard tour shirt with olivia on the front and the tour dates on the back.
“let me see how your little five foot body looks wearing my shirt.” he laid under the covers, his arms behind his head as he leaned against the headboard.
“hey, i’m 5’1!”
“wow, so scary!” he put his hands up and mocked you as you spun around to face him.
“shut up! i didn’t ask to be short..” you huffed, crossing your arms.
“that looks so good on you, i—just have my children, right now—“
“what?!” you giggled, taken off guard as he swooped you up and placed you on his lap, the blankets in between you.
“you look so sexy in my clothes, sweetheart, i can’t help it.” he groaned, kissing up your neck.
“it’s literally too big for me, it ends at my knees!”
“yes, and i love it..” he continued his assault on your neck, peppering kisses everywhere.
“wait, look!” you jumped up, vinnie whining and questioning you as you ran to the window.
“it’s raining!” you cheered, grabbing your phone and filming it before realizing that it was too dark.
“y/n…you’ve seen rain before, this isn’t special.”
“yeah, but it’s my first time seeing rain in paris.” sliding open the window, you stuck a hand out, feeling the rain hit your palm. vinnie sauntered behind you, bending over to place his chin on your head.
“you’re so cute.” he smiled.
“i know..”
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@radioblah-blah @janesofia7 @sofslander
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ok so imagine that u and virgin!baby boy Reid are roommates (you share an apartment and ur rooms are right next to eachother) and he can always hear u moan every night that you play with yourself, but he feels to guilty to do anything about his little ‘problem’. and suddenly one night he’s like super horny and jerks off, not knowing that you’re awake and can hear everything. you try to drown him out until you hear him moan your name, so you go to his room and slowly open the door so he doesn’t hear you and when he feels you on the bed he’s super apologetic but you’re like “it’s okay baby boy😏” and he’s like “please mommy let me make you feel good🥺” and even though its his first time hes so good and when you let him fuck you hes so whiny and needy 😩😩😩😩
We Shouldn't
Warnings: loss of virginity, masturbating, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), perv!spence, sub!spence, mommy kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie
Word Count: 1444
A/N: I embellished a bit - apologies
Spencer made life or death decisions nearly every day. He had to carefully craft his words when talking down unsubs and be able to assess dangerous situations in seconds to decide whether or not to shoot someone but now, when faced with a relatively simple choice, he was completely stumped. He had been rooted to the spot for nearly 20 minutes, unable to process the sight before him.
In his defense, Spencer had very little experience with women’s underwear and certainly no experience with something like the lacy little number you had left in the dryer. At this point, he had spent so much time staring at you that he knew without a doubt that they were yours. He also knew that he most definitely should not be picking them up right now or putting them in his pocket or running out of the laundry room and back to his apartment without putting his clothes to dry. And he most definitely should not be stashing your panties in his bedside table. But, alas, should not is not the same as did not.
For example, he should not watch you from his window when you went off on your morning run clad in running shorts and a tank top. He also should not linger behind you in the stairwell, eyes glued to your ass as you bounded up the stairs. And he certainly should not listen to you get yourself off at night but he did, even going as far as to take down his framed map and press his ear up against the wall. Spencer’s only saving grace was that thus far he had managed not to touch himself thinking of you, the overwhelming guilt forcing him to take a cold shower instead. But tonight was different. Tonight the panties in his bedside table were beckoning him as he ate leftover takeout, calling his name as leafed through books he’d already memorized, burning a hole through the wooden drawer as he slipped under the covers and listened for you on the other side of the wall.
There’s no harm in just holding them, he reasoned. The next thing he knew the panties were out of the drawer and in his hand and his pants had somehow slipped to mid-thigh in the process. This could be fine. I’ll find a way to give them back tomorrow and no one will know.
And maybe, just maybe, if Spencer was a man of more restraint he would’ve gotten away with it but he was not. He could hear you getting ready for bed, singing quietly to yourself. It was oddly intoxicating to know that you were going about your business, completely unaware of him and convinced that you were operating within the privacy of your own home.
Except you weren’t ignorant of your next door neighbor. Thin walls worked both ways and you could hear his soft moans reverberating into your own bedroom. You sang a little louder to drown him out, guilt eclipsing your excitement. You had often wondered about the young doctor next door - always coming and going at odd hours, never meeting your eyes or bringing anyone back to his for the night. He was so nervous around you, it made you wonder if he’d ever been with a woman but you shook the thought from your head. I should not be thinking about my neighbor’s sex life or lack thereof.
Just as you resolved to go in the kitchen and leave him in peace you heard it. It was unmistakable. You stilled listening intently, half-convinced your imagination was playing tricks on you as it often did. But there it was again clear as day. “Fuck, Y/N”
You were an overthinker, always going over your options rationally and hardly ever comfortable with making spur of the moment decisions. But you were out of your apartment in seconds, using the spare key he had nervously entrusted you with weeks ago to slip into his place. A little voice in your head tried in vain to talk sense into you. You should not be breaking into an FBI agent’s apartment.
If only should not was the same as did not.
He had his back to you and you took the opportunity to perch yourself on the edge of his bed, the shift in the mattress finally alerting him to your presence. He whirled around in alarm and instinctively tried to hide himself and the stolen underwear, already soaked in precum and wrapped around his erection. You tilted your head slightly, trying your best to hide a smirk. “I thought I heard you calling for me”
“I-no-I can explain,” he flushed a deep scarlet, his futile attempts to conceal his predicament were only making it worse and there was no way he could come up with a plausible explanation with your eyes on him. The panic rising in his chest swelled - the feeling that he had ruined everything starting to trigger an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”
You softened your gaze, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his thigh. “It’s ok, baby boy”
Just then, something changed. A switch flipped, a light came on, a natural dynamic fell into place. Very gently you took his hand, forcing him to uncover himself.
“Wouldn’t you rather the real thing?” With that you trailed his hand up your thigh and to your soaked core, letting him skim his fingers over the wetness between your legs and take in the notable lack of panties.
“I-uh-yes, but-” he stopped for a moment, searching deep within himself for a shred of courage before blurting out the rest. “I’m a virgin”
Much to his surprise, you didn’t even bat an eye, instead, you sunk down on your knees and ran your hands up his thighs. “Well then, we’d better make this extra special”
You replaced his hands, taking hold of his cock over the panties and setting in with a deliberate pace before running your tongue over his balls. You toyed with the soft flesh until you felt his thighs tremble and the whimpers he had been trying to suppress spilled from his lips. Once you were certain he had abandoned any sense of restraint you started to suck on his balls, relentlessly pulling him into your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. At this point he was incomprehensible, any words he might have said being carried away by the sobs working their way up his throat and the tears streaming down his face. Just when you were sure he’d come you retreated, pressing sloppy kisses down his thighs and removing your hands from his cock.
He whined. “Please, Mommy. Let me make you feel good.”
You pushed yourself up and into his lap, taking your shirt off in the process and cradling his face in your hands. “You think you can make Mommy come?”
He nodded into your chest, capturing a nipple into his mouth and instinctively sucking on it. You guided his hands to your waist and you lined yourself up with his tip, slowly sinking down and adjusting to his size. He gripped your waist tightly, willing himself not to come as he watched himself disappear into you. “All right then, let’s see if you can be a good boy.”
Spencer sprang into action, taking hold and bouncing you on his cock as he rutted into you. Simultaneously he continued to latch onto your breasts, littering your chest with marks. You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling the tide of your release start to sweep you away. “Yes, just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me. So fucking good. My good boy.”
Just before you reached your peak, you threaded a hand in Spencer's hair and pulled him up to look at you. Those big brown eyes stared up at you, pupils dilated and vision hazy with lust. “I want you to come with me, baby. Right now.”
It was like nothing you had ever felt before, pure euphoria coursing through your veins and only amplifying when Spencer flooded you with his warm release. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation before the two of you collapsed back onto the bed. You shifted slightly so you could hold him in your arms without separating, brushing his hair back behind his ear as he buried his face into your neck, now overcome with embarrassment over his actions. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have taken your panties”
You tightened your embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s ok, darling. I’m glad you did.”
---
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#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#mommy kink collection#my beloved sub!spence with a mommy kink#sub!spencer#unsuitable for work
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mie.. i’m going into another eren phase.. so can you pls tell me your fav boyfie eren hcs…
Yeah, why not. I have so many random ones because he is my boyfriend <333 so here you gp
sfw
Eren doesn't actually work out all that often. He’s always been athletic, so his exercise comes in the form of playing sports, but he doesn’t really go to the gym outside of playing/practice.
Loves cake pops, more often than not “treats himself” to one after an exam or assignment, or whenever he feels like it lmfao. He basically eats it all in one bite, keeps the stick in his mouth to fidget with until he finds a trashcan.
Likes seeing you in his hoodies because, well, it’s his hoodie on you; but mostly because of the size of the actual hood on you. He thinks it’s so funny but also pretty cute how the hood alone swallows you up.
Grocery shopping with you is one of his favorite activities. He rarely goes by himself—if not with you, then with Mikasa or Armin—and all he really does is follow you around the store and occasionally put some stuff in the cart, but he still loves it. He likes running and then jumping on the cart like it’s a scooter.
No matter how many makeup tutorials he watches, or how many times he watches you do your own makeup, he doesn’t really understand how it works lmfao. He likes watching it, and he thinks you look pretty if wearing makeup is your thing, but he baffles him how a little tube of concealer brightens your under eye.
Speaking of which, he sits criss cross applesauce either on your bed or on the toilet if you’re in the bathroom, while he watches you do your makeup. Counts the steps in his head, always confuses the contour and bronzer. It’s okay, he’s learning.
He both likes and dislikes FaceTime. He likes the convenience of it (and will abuse it by calling you even tho you’ve just barely left his house), but he would much rather just go and see you; so he does. Unless there’s something keeping you apart, Eren will make the effort and the trip to go and see you, even if it’s late at night.
He gets warm very easily, but always has some sort of coat/outerwear on him, even if it’s just a light windbreaker. He usually ends up hanging it over your shoulders or telling you to wear it because you “look cold” when he wants to take it off.
He walks just like a half step behind you; technically still by your side, but trailing you by the tiniest amount. That way he gets to be with you and watch you, and also steer you away from anything/anyone else he sees ahead while you’re walking.
If he notices your shoelaces are untied, he gently pokes your shoulder to get you to stop, then bends down and ties them for you.
His phone case is brown leather, and has your initials engraved at the very bottom in a very tiny, dark green font.
Likes walking around with you at night so congrats on having your own personal guard dog for Safety lmfaoo. Sometimes you guys don’t even talk; he just wants to hold your hand and wander around, and just be with you for a little bit.
He is the one putting hair ties on YOUR gear shift and around YOUR wrist. Marking his territory lmfaooo
Learns to like coffee in college, and learns your Starbucks order pretty quickly. He’s got a very small addiction, but he always buys you a cup when he gets his own, so at least it’s beneficial for you. He doesn’t usually have much an extreme sweet tooth, but he takes his coffee with quite a few pumps of syrup and/or sweetener.
Eren loves hugs, and once he starts getting them, he refuses to go with out them. Back hugs are his favorite, whether it be you hugging him from behind, or him doing it to you; either works for him, both feel like heaven.
You know when it’s time to head home after a party/hanging with your friends because Eren will drape himself over you and gradually apply more of his body weight the more tired/drunk he gets. Regardless of whether or not he’s sloshed, he’ll still press very light and innocent kisses onto your neck and ears.
Turns out he really likes getting kisses on his cheeks. It always takes him by surprise; his eyes widen and his eyebrows raise just a bit, but he usually evens out his expression before you pull back, so you don’t see. What you do see is the sorta glazed over, happy look in his eyes, and if you look closely, you might see his pupils dilate, too.
He actually doesn’t mind reading, he just never thinks to read in his free time. When he does remember, and what he’s reading is interesting to him, he finishes the book pretty quickly—a few days, maybe a week at most—it’s kind of impressive. Then he goes on to not look at another book for a good five months lmfao.
Asked you what detergent and fabric softener you used on your sheets, then bought the exact same products to do his laundry with.
He picks you up pretty often. It’s not always tossing you over his shoulder, or carrying you bridal style, but if he needs to get to something behind you in the kitchen he’ll just. Just pick you up, turn, plop you down, get what he needs, pick you up, turn around again, and plop you right back into place. Like a doll.
Actually very good and very meticulous when it comes to cleaning. Not a single hard water stain in sight on your dishes. Sparkling countertops and tables, your oven has never looked shinier than when he’s done with it.
Doodles on his notes when he’s bored in class. Doodles on your notes if he’s bored in class and you’re there, too.
He claims to not get jealous easily, but he definitely does. His methods of dealing with it are either to (a) pout (usually only happens when he gets jealous of someone you’re telling him about), (b) find an excuse to pull you away from this other person, (c) be extremely cold to this other person, (d) pretend to be sick/tired/hungry as an excuse for you to be concerned about him/dote on him in front of this other person (this is his favorite method).
Will push your phone down/into your face if you’re laying down using it or just scrolling through your feeds. Thinks it’s peak comedy, always runs away with a little shit grin on his mouth.
He’s always tuned into you, and sometimes physically turned to you, even in a larger conversation with other people around. Finds a way to pull you into the convo if you’ve been on the quieter side, nudges at your side under the table to bother you when you’re distracted, frequently looks at you even if someone else is talking.
nsfw/suggestive
Eren really likes lazy sex, and it’s arguably one of his favorites; and for someone who’s not a morning person, he sure does like morning sex. He does this thing where he wakes up at like eight in the morning, starts feeling up on you, and eventually very lazily fucks you before you even have the chance to say good morning, then crashes and sleeps for another two hours. Sometimes he doesn’t pull out.
Always gets hard when you do try on hauls of the new clothes you’ve bought; whether it be via FaceTime or in person. You could be showing him your new sweatpants, and he’ll still find it sexy.
Can and will find time to grope you whenever possible. Getting water from the kitchen means you’re getting your ass smacked while you open the fridge. Putting on your shoes also means you’re getting your ass smacked when you bend over. Standing around debating on what to wear for the day means he’s coming up behind you to put his hands on your boobs. Doing your skincare routine in the bathroom means he’s got his hands on your hips squeezing at your skin.
Likes being bitten. Will tell you to bite him; he’ll lean down while he’s fucking you, smile wickedly when you grab and claw at his back, and you’re gasping against his shoulder, “Wanna hurt me? Go ahead, baby, do your worst.”
He loves making out with you, even if it doesn’t lead to sex; actually, sometimes, he prefers it that way. You make his head spin just by kissing him, and there’s a special kind of bliss of just rutting against each other without fucking that he loves.
Lovesssss taking mirror selfie’s with you on his lap and your back to the mirror, especially right after sex. Your head resting on his shoulder and he just barely murmurs, “Stay right there, don’t move.” Might start a collection of pics like that.
Tugging on his ear acts as encouragement, but somewhat surprisingly, that sole action doesn’t necessarily turn him on; it doesn’t turn him off, and he likes it, but it’s more... soothing? than sexual to him. What you should do instead is put your hand on the back of his neck/touch the hair near his nape.
He could have done all the work, but will still wrap you in his arms and kiss your head and tell you how good you are, how good you were to him. He really does think you fucked him 9/10 times and takes pride in it too lmaooo
Holds your jaw open with one hand, presses the index and middle fingers of his other hand against your tongue, and watches your spit pool around him. He exhales slowly at the sight, moving his fingers around to coat them evenly before pulling them out of your mouth and separating them; watches a thin line of spit connect them and groans.
Holds you jaw a lot, actually: when you’re kissing, when you’re blowing him, when he’s on top and fucking you, when he’s fucking you from behind, he’ll pull you up with one hand, use two fingers and turn your head to the side so he can kiss you.
It’s him that kinda loses it first most of the time; that gets that fucked out, hazy look in his eyes, that makes everything feel like too much so his head drops to your shoulder and he resorts to biting at your neck to further stimulate you.
Likes sucking on your tongue when you kiss. Falls in love with you all over again on the spot when you do it back to him.
You could just barely put your hands on him and Eren will groan, mutter about how you’re so sexy and how badly he wants to fuck you. Could just lay back with your chest heaving from kissing him and he’s got hearts in his eyes and his dick is hard.
#anonymous#sick and twisted and lovely and precious my boyfriend ladies and germs!!!!!#eren x reader#aot x reader#eren fluff#eren smut#eren jaeger x reader#eren.ask
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