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thisthatpinkvenom · 10 months

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IT'S SWEATPANTS SEASON, OH MY!

JOCK!SAN / BAND GEEK!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: Autumn has arrived; the season of pumpkin spice lattes, corn and—unfortunately for you—grey sweatpants. those pesky little things have attached themselves to your boyfriend's legs like glue, and you're having a hard time keeping your mind out of the gutter.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, fluff, humor(??), smut, smut, smut

⤏ Content: jock!San, band geek!fem reader (I know, I'm so original), you're referred to as "sweet potato" once—don't ask, just go with it, established relationship!au, college!au, non-idol!au

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): dry humping, unprotected piv (it's fiction, guysss. use your rubbers and stay safe!), creampie, just lots of build up because I'm down bad for a man in grey sweatpants 🙈

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

The mosaic of orange and yellow was striking below the dull blue clouds as the trees continued to shed their leaves. Your eyes swayed with the leaf you'd been watching descend its way patiently to the ground while you sat on the bench, shoulders jittering in the midst of the decreasing temperature. Your hands peeked out from the ends of your sleeves before rubbing together, the crisp morning air making your fingers tingle in the cold. You should've worn a thicker jacket, is what you mulled over in your head that you hadn't even noticed San until he enveloped his own padded jacket over you. The gust of warmth awoke you from your reverie and you hummed, meeting eyes with him when he lowered himself into a squat.

"You didn't have to come here," he said, a dimple indenting his cheek as he curled one corner of his mouth upward. After pulling the hood over your head, he tenderly brushed his thumb across your cheek. "I know you're not a morning person."

You struggled to fight a yawn until you decidedly gave in, white fog manifesting in your breath.

"I want to support you," you murmured. You were too busy blinking away your fatigue to notice how he looked on in nothing but fondness. Your conscience warped your thoughts when you scanned over the jacket engulfing your frame, your lips forming into a small pout. "Mm…aren't you going to be cold?"

San took a glance at his attire; he's only got a windbreaker left to keep him warm. Nonetheless, he shook his head and insisted he was used to practicing like this on the field. Despite wearing less than you and the flushed red on his nose and cheeks, you couldn't really tell if he felt the effect of the weather as much as you did. You couldn't fathom how he had the motivation to get up at the ass crack of dawn to run around with a ball, doing drills with his teammates while Coach Kim rapid-fired pointer after pointer without a stop to catch his breath. It truly was admirable how smiley he was at 7:00 a.m. without consuming any caffeine.

Coach Kim sauntered along the grass before he blew his whistle and commanded the team to group together. Your boyfriend looked over his shoulder before turning back to you, eyes squinting as the sun's orange glow began to blanket over the field.

"Well, gotta start soon," he observed. "Stay warm and if you're sleepy, just go back. I'm happy you're here but don't force yourself to stay. All right, Sweet Potato?"

You made a small noise of confirmation, unfazed by the odd affectionate nickname you had gotten used to over time. The heat of his palms skimmed over your ears as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before standing tall. But what you didn't anticipate—whoa—had really slapped you awake right then and there. For the mere five seconds you'd managed to capture a mental image, time felt as if it'd been stretched to hell when your boyfriend's crotch had leveled with your eyes. You hadn't realized the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and now that you've gotten a face full of…that, you're acutely aware.

You're shook to the core.

Your gaze trailed after his jogging figure, following the path up his long and toned legs to his cute little bu—okay, whoa! It's only 7:15 in the morning. You had no business indulging in these thoughts right now. Get it together.

Oh, he's facing your general direction now.

Are you staring at it too much? It's starting to feel a little warm, all of a sudden; it's the jacket, isn't it? Just how long is this going to take?

You're trapped on this bench. It hadn't even been 10 minutes since practice started and Coach Kim was rambling on about the importance of warming up while you're glued to your seat, pathetically staring at your boyfriend's dickprint while he seemingly had no idea. God, you felt like a perv. Even though he assured you that it was okay, you didn't want to just up and leave. This was a relationship built on give and take, and there were one too many times when he watched your concerts while knowing little to nothing about orchestral music.

You'll just suffer, then.

"Just fuck him."

"Lisa!" you chided, pushing three fingers against your friend's arm as she rolled her eyes.

"What?" She swirled her tongue around the glob of chocolate ice cream sitting on top of her waffle cone. "He's a hot, charming guy. Your own boyfriend makes you horny and that's supposed to be a problem now?"

"Oh, my gosh, I just…" you trailed off, eyes searching elsewhere for your thoughts. "I'm not used to being all"—you waved your hands disorientedly in front of you—"dirty…minded. He's the one who usually initiates it."

"Sex?"

"Everything physical, really," you clarified. "I just feel like if I start it, it's just going to be off—and awkward."

You sighed. "How am I going to get through this season?"

"Oh, yeah, the sweatpants; that's what's been making you a sex freak," Lisa recalled with an airy laugh. "Those things are like lingerie for guys. Especially the grey ones…oomf. 'Dicktoria's Secret' is real," she snorted.

You gave her a blank stare.

"Look, just be honest," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—which it was. "You really think any guy is gonna find it offensive that his girl's drooling over his bulge?"

"I wasn't drooling—"

"You will be."

"Oh, my gosh."

You weren't aware that having a footballer-boyfriend automatically signed you up for three months' worth of almost nothing but sweatpants. You also didn't know how many he had stashed in his wardrobe until now—it's good to know he didn't wear the same pair everyday. But this meant he had enough pairs to flaunt his dick outline in your face whenever you were together.

Not good for your cavewoman brain.

Fingers danced along your neck and you squirmed at the intrusion, meeting eyes with San's own with your face sporting a frown. The same fingers belonged to the arm lazing comfortably around your shoulders, both of you having snuggled together into mush on his couch while you binge-watched one of your favorite shows. You whined his name in annoyance when you're kicked out of your thoughts.

He chortled. "Sorry, I just—it's Buffy and you don't even seem that into it. Is everything okay?"

Let's see: it's a Friday night. His roommate, Mingi went to visit his parents for the weekend and you're all alone with your hot, charming boyfriend™ who's clearly gone commando under his sweats. And you're supposed to be watching Buffy slay vampires…how?

"Y-Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" you stammered.

He hummed in feigned ponder, and the knowing smirk surging its way onto his lips would've sent a churn in your belly if you'd actually caught sight of it.

"You know that my eyes are up here, right?"

Your eyes snapped up in panic, and silence was the only response you had sitting on your tongue. You wanted to hide in a cave, where you could wallow in embarrassment without disturbance. Your own boyfriend had just caught you ogling his crotch like a perv.

San tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a smile at how you resembled a deer in headlights. "You thought I wouldn't notice?"

Your mouth was stuck in a battle between opening and closing as you desperately searched for the right words. With a defeated sigh, your face fell into the safety of your palms.

"This is so embarrassing," you groaned, words muffled against your hands.

"Hey," he laughed softly, grabbing your wrists in an attempt to retract your hands away from your face. "It's not a big deal"—you sighed when the light from the standing lamp washed into your eyes—"it's cute."

You gave him a funny look. "Cute," you stated, doubt laced in your tone.

"Yeah. Usually, I'm the one doing all the staring."

He scanned you up and down with a pondering pout on his lips, continuing on to ask, "It's the sweatpants, isn't it?"

"Do you have to state the obvious?" you whined.

"What? I just wanna make things clear, so I know what to wear for you," he teased. He shifted closer and smoothed a hand up your thigh. "I'll wear more for you."

If he felt the goosebumps on your skin, he didn't comment on them.

"You say it like it's lingerie," you quipped, recalling what Lisa said a few days ago. You're saying anything to distract yourself right now, but you crumbled easily whenever he touched you. And he knew it well, especially when his hand moved dangerously close to your pyjama shorts. You're not even sure if you were breathing.

"If it's gotten you like this, then I'd say it pretty much is."

He moved on to say, "I like it when you look at me like that."

Your expression was frozen. "Like what?"

San's eyes changed ever so slightly, his hand finally slipping between your squeezed thighs.

"Like you really want me."

Your thighs parted for him. "I…I do," you murmured.

"Oh, really? Where do you want me?"

"Where else?"

"I asked you first."

You made a quiet huff from your nose, looking down at his hand that's aching to pull your shorts down. "Inside"—you hesitated—"inside me. I-I would like it if we had sex…please?"

His lustful gaze turned softer, eyebrows raised high at your interesting way of words. While you, on the other hand, visibly grimaced. San found your eyes shutting tight and your nose scrunching up all too adorable, and without a doubt, he would've bitten your cheeks if he could.

With a chuffed smile, he hooked his fingers at the waistbands of your shorts and underwear, waiting for you to lift your hips. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's have the sex now."

You sulked at his incessant teasing, knowing well enough that he was purposefully expressing his words awkwardly. He laughed and assured you he would stop there, before grabbing your now half-naked body by the hips and having you straddle him. His fleece sweatpants were rough from the continuous use, giving you some nice sense of friction on your sensitive nub.

But above all that, you could feel the presence of his cock hiding beneath his pants, your pussy lips spreading the slightest on his erection. Your breath hitched as his hands made their way under your sweater, then your shirt; reposed comfortably at your hips as if they made home there. The pads of his fingers kneaded your skin as he looked up at you with expectant eyes.

"C'mon, get yourself off for me."

You waited with bated breath for nothing in particular—you'd just been momentarily distracted by his intense stare. Nodding too many times in the span of a second, you began to move your hips under the guide of his hands.

"Oh…"

There was a minor ache in your hips when he dug his fingers deeper in your skin, but you were too focused on the soft chafing of the fabric against your clit. It was getting you in the right place; so rough.

"Are you doing okay, Baby?"

You released an unstable sigh. "Y-Yeah."

He eyed the way your skin slightly folded with every move you made on his clothed cock, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. Your motions grew faster and more impatient as you yearned for his mouth against yours, falling forward before your lips touched his.

He pushed you down each time he pulled you forward, earning growingly unsteady breaths from you into his mouth. You nearly choked when he bucked his hips upward, soft moans having no chance to escape when each were engulfed by his lips. You continued to do nothing but mindlessly grind your clit on him, humping his clothed cock like you were in desperate heat.

You didn't have the mind to warn him at this moment, unable to hear anything but your own moans until you were reaching your impending climax. And soon with trembling thighs, you came. Your skin grew rampant with shivers while your mind went elsewhere for the bite of a second.

San finally spared some mercy, separating from you with a thin string of spit connecting your lips before he's splitting it with a lick from his tongue. Stealing a glance at the dark spot you left on his pants, he served you a lustful, lopsided smile.

"This is what you'll get if you're just a little more honest with me," he chuckled.

Your ears grew hot at the sight of your arousal leaving its mark, adjusting yourself with your hands on the backrest behind him. You waited a few beats to gather your words before you muttered, "Well…can I be honest with you right now?"

"Of course."

San waited with patient eyes, his stare nearly melting you into goo while he thumbed your skin again.

"I'd like to have the sex—with your penis inside me…please."

He didn't try at all to suppress amusement at how you'd poked fun at yourself, hearty laughter producing from the pit of his belly. The dimples in his cheeks emerged from hiding as he grinned and nodded while pushing his waistband down, just enough for his cock to free itself. When his laughter had settled, he pressed a peck on the tip of your nose.

"Whenever you're ready."

You grabbed the base of his cock and pressed the tip against your entrance, pausing for a moment until you began to slowly but surely, sink entirely down his length. The stretch always started as an odd pressure between your walls, but once they'd completely swallowed his dick whole, it always left you wanting more. It's a feeling you don't think you could ever give justice to, if you were ever asked to describe it. He was just so right for you.

Your body gave into him as he pulled you flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist like a tightened belt. His hushed groans were made only for you, and hearing them continuously by your ear sent shivers down your spine.

"So warm," he muttered under his breath. He slid his bum further down the couch with you in his grasp and spread his legs wider. And when he was sure of the angle, he rolled his hips to meet yours, finding a steady pace with the most agonizingly unyielding thrusts. With every slam of his hips, your moans rendered into off-key whimpers as you melted under his guidance.

It felt like you were experiencing the hottest temperatures of the summer; your cheeks were burning and at moments, you felt like pushing away just from the sheer heat of your bodies entangled together.

A cuss left your boyfriend's lips when you gnawed on his shoulder, the salty tang of sweat grazing your tongue. And as if he wasn't holding onto you tightly already, he pulled you even closer as his cock rammed relentlessly, his rhythm growing sloppy when he began reaching his peak.

Your back felt like it'd been bent beyond repair as his cum coated your walls, the familiar twitching of his cock presented inside you. But he didn't stop there, he wouldn't until you came as well. And with his jaw clenched, he fucked into you like you were his toy, white rings of his own orgasm spilling with every move and making way to stain his pants.

"C'mon, Baby," he grunted. "Cum, f-fuck—cum, fucking c-cum…"

And in a few more thrusts, all you saw were specks of white among darkness. Your pussy spared no consideration on his sensitive cock and clenched as you trembled, the string of swears leaving his lips going deaf on your ears. Your limbs fell limp to pure exhaustion, despite how much you wanted to just wrap them around him like you were a koala and he was the tree. You wanted to mark your kisses all over his face but not even your lips were functioning right now as you barely managed to muster out a "thank you".

It was clear that it took a moment for San to register what you'd said, before he let out a breathy laugh. Not because he found something funny, it was just one of those laughs you got when you felt so euphoric—like getting your balls drained until you were a moaning mess; that kind of euphoric.

He kissed the top of your head, looking ahead at the TV where Buffy was still slaying vampires as usual. His dick stayed inside you, soft and relaxed in your warmth, neither of you in any rush to clean up.

"Mm…remind me to buy more of these sweats."

#ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #choi san smut #ateez san smut #san smut #kpop smut

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amourrs · 7 months

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you're such a fucking tease, you know that? with ellie williams pretty please 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

thank you angel!! — one where you wear ellie’s flannel and neither of you actually end up leaving the house (fem!reader, smut 18+, ai audios at the end, 2.2k)

You’re supposed to leave by nine, so of course Ellie gets out of the bathroom at quarter past.

It’s not the first time she’s made the pair of you run late. You’ve learned not to let it bother you like it used to though, because it’s not personal so much as it’s just shitty time management. Anyway, it’s not like you’re going anywhere fancy- just to the local Starbucks because you really want your first pumpkin spice latte of the season- but like, still. Surely everyone knows the rules: obey the timings of the pumpkin spice latte, or get cursed by the latte gods.

The sound of the toilet door clicking shut has you springing off the bed, eyes zeroing in on Ellie’s car keys on the bedside table as she bounds into the room, feet springing with every step.

“Pumpkin spice latte day— can I get a woop woop?”

Truthfully, you both know that Ellie couldn’t really care less about the seasonal drinks at Starbucks. It was more about making you happy- just like all the times she bought an iced brown sugar oatmilk shaken espresso because you were going through the Starbucks drive through and refused to get anything unless Ellie did too, because you “didn’t want to drink alone”, a sentiment she rolled her eyes at but still never challenged (which may have something to do with the fact that she orders her drink in a venti and adds two pumps of vanilla, because she secretly loves the silly little coffee just as much as you do— not that you could torture that information out of her, of course.)

You turn around with a smile, smoothing out your skirt as you look into your girlfriend’s eyes for the first time since she’s entered the room. The checkered black and red button up over your shoulders shifts as you move and you suddenly notice Ellie’s smile drop as her eyebrows arch to the very top of her forehead. Instantly you’re overtaken by a sense of complete bewilderment. That is, until you catch the glint in her eye as she slowly takes in your outfit, an expression of utter lovesickness working its way onto her face.

“Is that my flannel?”

It’s hard to bite back a grin as your girlfriend’s hand comes up to cup your face and she presses a kiss to your forehead, but you manage to do it anyway. You’ve borrowed Ellie’s clothes before— usually sort of ratty t-shirts you tend to sleep in, or oversized hoodies that smell like home— and yet every time she sees you in something that’s hers, it seems to melt her heart into a gooey puddle just as quickly as if it were the first time.

“Yeah, but I can take it off if you want,” you tease, hands sliding down until your arms are looped messily around your girlfriend’s waist and you can tug her in closer for a proper kiss. What starts off slow quickly turns messy as Ellie’s enthusiasm begins to shine through in her technique or lack thereof as the kiss deteriorates into a chaos of tongues and teeth and clashing (not that you mind, of course).

“Eh, maybe you should take it off. Red isn’t really your look,” Ellie jokes, eyes glinting at her own terrible attempt at humour. You go to roll your eyes but you’re caught off guard as an overzealous movement causes her leg to nudge hard into yours and you both fall backwards onto the bed, you trapped underneath her as you try in vain to extricate yourself from the tangled mess of her gangly limbs. Ellie makes no effort to help you— in fact, she seems to relish in the fact that you’re caged in by the lattice of her muscled arms as she gently reaches down to peck you on the lips. That one peck is of course followed by another, and another, and soon Ellie’s peppering kisses all over your face as you squeal and kick your legs.

“El, stop it. Thought we were gonna go to Starbucks and get pumpkin spice lattes,” you rebuke, head twisting until you can see the large clock over the door. You gasp as you catch sight of the long minute hand’s position. “It’s already half past! They’re probably all out of the pumpkin scones—” your complaints are cut off as Ellie returns to kissing your face again, lips smushing against yours in an almost aggressive display of affection.

“Fuck the pumpkin scones.”

Instantly your face takes on a mock-hurt expression that’s really only half a joke— not that Ellie seems to care. Her lips are already back at your temples and she’s smearing a little kiss on each side before she moves to pepper your cheeks.

“Don’t speak against the pumpkin scones. That’s blasphemy, El,” you remind her sternly, although it’s hard to keep your focus when her mouth is slowly sliding past your jawline and leaving little love bites along the column of your neck.

“M’sorry, babe. Let me make up for it, yeah?” Ellie teases, and that’s when you realise that somewhere in the midst of all the kisses Ellie’s hands have ventured under your shirt, running a hungry path from your waist to explore the expanse of your upper back. It’s impossible to contain the whine that’s begging to escape from your throat at the sensation of her warm fingers drawing circles against your skin, so you don’t. It spills into the air and Ellie laughs against your clavicle as she smears a kiss there. There’s something almost holy about the way she makes contact with you, the unbridled affection lathered in every touch as her fingers travel further upwards. You can tell when it registers in her brain that her hands had been able slide smoothly up your back with no obstruction, because she pulls back from where she’s been attacking your neck to let out a groan.

“Fuck, really? You were gonna go out without a bra on— and not tell me?” Mock betrayal saturates her words and you giggle, heart swelling about a trillion sizes as Ellie contorts her expression into a goofy frown. “S’not funny, baby,” your girlfriend complains, petulance colouring her words as she continues to keep up the facade of genuine annoyance, “what if some stranger decided to eye up the girls?”

“Oh my God, Ellie. I told you to stop calling them that.”

“They’re my girls!” she defends, eyes narrowing. “What else am I supposed to call them?”

“Thought I was your girl,” you say loftily, eyes flicking to Ellie’s panicked face.

“You are— I mean, they are— oh, fuck it,” she grumbles, hands coming up to slip the flannel right off your shoulders. There’s a pop as she pulls at the neckline impatiently and a few buttons launch themselves off of the shirt and hit the opposite wall. Your mouth falls open in shock.

“Ellie,” you admonish, “you really shouldn’t— oh, fuck!” A broken moan tears itself from your throat as you look down to see Ellie’s mouth circling your tit. She looks up for a moment in satisfaction at the sound, preening at the little gasps that continue to fall from your lips as you clutch at the sheets for purchase, before she buries her face back into your cleavage. Her hand comes up from your waist to pinch at your nipple as you whine, back arching up as you chase the stimulation.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” Ellie groans, head popping up like a jack-in-the-box as her lips chase yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as you kiss her back with just as much passion. “You know I can’t resist you in my clothes. Think you planned this on purpose, baby. If you wanted me to fuck you, you shoulda just told me, yeah? Don’t have to act like a little slut to get my attention.” The meanness in Ellie’s words has you keening, hips rocking up into her thigh of their own accord as warm arousal kindles in your belly.

“M’sorry,” you practically sob, hips still rolling upwards in desperate search of relief. “Ellie, please.” Your doe-eyed pleading expression clearly has your desired effect because suddenly Ellie’s hands are tightening around your waist and you find your positions flipped. Now the auburn haired girl lies beneath you, your legs wrapped directly around either side of her muscular thigh as she raises her eyebrow expectantly.

“Well, go on then,” she prompts, jolting her leg slightly to send a wave of pleasure through you as the rough denim of her jeans grazes at your clit through your panties. You wriggle your hips around slightly but you can’t find a rhythm that works, your legs growing painfully stiff within about two minutes of moving. “C’mon, babe,” Ellie tuts, hands reaching for your waist. “Tired already?”

“Hurts,” you moan, the puppy dog eyes coming back out in full force again. “El. Need you to help me, Ellie, please, I can’t and—”

You’re cut off by Ellie’s snide laugh. Dragging your eyes up to her face, you notice for the first time just how turned on she really is. Her pupils are blown so wide that her green irises are more like tiny, paper thin borders around the dilated black circles, her hair slightly dampened to her temples by sweat as she continues to chuckle at your dilemma. There’s just something about how fucking desperate you look that gets her going, makes her long to sink her canines into your neck and then tongue gently over the mark left behind, lips peppering up the column of your throat as an apology— and so she does it. It’s a nice juxtaposition to her recent meanness, reminiscent of the earlier affections which got you into this predicament in the first place, the sweetness of it making you let out a little whimper from the hollows of your chest. The sound tugs on Ellie’s heartstrings and she begins to relent, hands sliding down from where they’re snaked around your waist to find a home at the base of your hips instead.

“Okay, pretty girl, I know,” she soothes, mouthing gently at your neck still as you keen in anticipation of her movement, “I know, Ellie’s got ya. Gonna make you feel so good, yeah?” She doesn’t give you a chance to answer before she’s rocking her thigh in even motions, her hands helping your hips to tilt with the movement as your clothed cunt slides back and forth across the muscled surface. A sigh of relief spills from you as the long-awaited friction finally begins to build and you wrap your arms around Ellie’s neck, smushing your lips against hers. A pretty strawberry toned blush creeps up from your girlfriend’s neck to colour her cheeks, freckles highlighted against the surface of her skin as she attempts to hide the dopey smile that wants to make itself known on her face.

“What was that for, huh?”

“Love you,” you pant, Ellie’s hands moving faster as she bounces her thigh now, racing to give you the release you’ve been craving for the past half an hour. You shift your weight slightly and suddenly there’s a delicious pressure on your clit as it catches against the seam of Ellie’s jeans through the soaked fabric of your underwear. You moan out instantly, head tipping forward to crash into the curve between her shoulder and her neck as your hands rake across the rippled expanse of her back.

“Love you too, honey. How much d’you wanna bet that you’ll cum in the next five minutes?” You look back up to glare at her, mock offense painted across your tired features. “Or not,” Ellie rectifies quickly, a guilty look on her face as she tries not to laugh at your (quite frankly ridiculous) expression.

True to Ellie’s suspicions, it only takes you three more minutes to announce that you’re close, nails digging crescent moons into the pale skin of her shoulders.

“Ellie—”

“I know, baby,” comes her strained response, trying her hardest not to come in her pants at the way you’re whining her name. Instead, she settles for dropping her hand down to the point where your pussy drips all over her thigh, deft fingers flipping up your skirt and applying the perfect amount of pressure to your swollen clit. “Gonna cum for me, honey?”

“Oh, fuck—” you’re sobbing as your high crests over you, legs shaking as Ellie’s thumb continues to draw tight circles onto your sensitive bud until you have to physically push her away, body flopping down onto the bed in sheer exhaustion as Ellie leaves the room. You remain in that position until you hear your girlfriend call your name, your head swivelling up to meet her soft smile as she gently begins to clean you with a damp washcloth, taking extra care as you hiss when she bumps against your still overstimulated clit. You can tell there’s something on her mind as she grins to herself, and you can’t help but ask, even though you know you’ll probably regret it. “What’s up with you, weirdo?”

She looks up at you. “Huh?”

“You’re smiling like you just won a contest.” Ellie hums noncommittally and returns to her gentle ministrations with the flannel between your thighs until, finally, the question that she’s been holding back since the second you came spills out of her:

“Bet you’re not thinking about that fucking pumpkin scone now, huh?”

(You were, in fact, thinking about that fucking pumpkin scone. Not that you could torture that information out of you, of course.)

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #the last of us blurb #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou game #the last of us ii #elliewilliams

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astonmartinii · 7 months

Text

we don’t play about halloween | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem reader

max doesn’t play about three things: formula one, his cats and his girlfriend’s love for halloween

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 607,344 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: yes we dress up to carve pumpkins, it’s rude if you don’t.

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user1: gosh they are so cute

user2: did max just dress as himself whenever he’s within 5ft of y/n?

maxverstappen1: i get why the americans don’t play about the statue of liberty

yourusername: i think they should build one of you in zandvoort

maxverstappen1: and they still wouldn’t worship it as much as i worship you

yourusername: i literally light candles in your name and pray for you with you mum, i think i worship you more sorry

maxverstappen1: the ONLY loss i’ll take

user3: i feel lonely year round because of them but it’s SO much worse during halloween

user4: they are the definition of the couple costume they invented it and they PERFECTED it

landonorris: i thought your apartment was a safe space, why did i get harassed over my costume?

yourusername: it was more of the lack of costume? “streamer” does not count

landonorris: who actually dresses up to carve pumpkins?

maxverstappen1: COOL PEOPLE

yourusername: imagine not dressing up and having an awful pumpkin … could never be me

landonorris: STOP BULLYING ME

maxverstappen1: do better then.

user5: obsessed with how peace and love y/n is for the whole year but as soon as someone doesn’t care about halloween it’s fight time

charles_leclerc: remind me to never accept an invite to a halloween event at the verstappen-l/n household - far TOO much stress

yourusername: but you’re like the only one who deserves an invite to next year because the air max costume slayed

maxverstappen1: i might even let you back on it

charles_leclerc: might???

maxverstappen1: follow me on instagram

yourusername: 2019 was so long ago we really need to move on

danielricciardo: you seriously underestimate just how petty these men are

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 894,560 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: halloween is a full family affair

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user8: JIMMY AND SASSY I CAN'T

user9: yall looking at the croissant and the lobster i'm focusing on AMY AND NICK?

user10: has max even seen this film?

maxverstappen1: nope i just like doing the costumes y/n wants to do

user11: i wish i had enough friends to have like ten billion halloween parties

oscarpiastri: i didn't know what to expect but i did not think i was going to see alex trying to drown george at the apple bobbing station

yourusername: i let them work out their own mess as long as they don't accidentally flood our living room again

oscarpiastri: AGAIN?

maxverstappen1: f1 drivers are just competitive about apple bobbing as they are about driving

alexalbon: in my defence there is a sick trophy for the champ i simply cannot let anyone else win it

user12: they got a trophy made? and girlies are serious about this?

yourusername: custom trophies for apple bobbing, pumpkin carving and best costume

alexalbon: three time apple bobbing champ right here

charles_leclerc: i'm coming for best costume this year

danielricciardo: pumpkin carving was an easy dub last year

maxverstappen1: but no one has out done us for costumes thus far

yourusername: and that's not bias, there is a democratic voting process x

user13: i need to be in this friendship group right now

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, maxverstappen1 and 723,409 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: it's the most wonderful time of the year ! thanks to everyone who came out and making the spooky season special. p.s. shout out to max who found this wig while going through our costume box and insisted on not taking it off the whole set up.

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user16: NOOOOO WHY IS HALLOWEEN OVER ALREADY

user17: rip to all of us who were hoping for a sexy y/n x max costume

user18: they heard we wanted sexy and gave us ratatouille i hate their asses

oscarpiastri: okay so lando wasn't lying when he said you guys go insane for halloween

yourusername: i fear not. i hope you enjoyed your dip in the pool, we found you in a guest room in my bath robe at 3am

oscarpiastri: oops.

maxverstappen1: you fared better than others on their rookie halloween appearance, just ask lando and charles

landonorris: you told me there was no alcohol in the jelly so it's not my fault i ate the whole bowl and threw up in your shower

yourusername: wow way to blame the victims there lando, you literally blocked the drain

landonorris: MAX SAID THERE WAS NO ALCOHOL

yourusername: it was labelled with the ingredients. you just can't read

landonorris: no comment

yourusername: and charles got so drunk that he decided he would sleep on the couch but got 'lonely' and insisted on cuddling with us

charles_leclerc: Y/N!!!! YOU SAID YOU'D KEEP THAT A SECRET

maxverstappen1: don't worry we thought it was cute

carlossainz55: wait is that why you came as a "cuddle bug" this year?

charles_leclerc: NO

alexalbon: and that must be why he got best costume RIGGORY

yourusername: no riggory here, you and lily as mavis and jonathon were a close second

user19: i won't rest until i have an invite next year.

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 821,309 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: sorting the recycling with your head barely attached is always the worst part of halloween

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user20: drunk max looks like so much fun

yourusername: i think i might drink my weight in coffee today but i need to see the kitchen floor soon before i lose my mind

user21: ma'am i know you're clinging to life rn but can we know who won what?

alexalbon: ALEX ALBON APPLE BOBBING CHAMP FOUR YEARS IN A ROW

charles_leclerc: i won best costume and it's purely because i'm cute cause NO one there knew about my cuddling escapades last year

landonorris: ugh pretty privilege back at it again

charles_leclerc: jealousy is a disease get well soon

oscarpiastri: my pumpkin ended up winning !! turns out people love a kangaroo in the ghostface mask

maxverstappen1: first rookie to win that title (i am so impressed by the kangaroo)

yourusername: you were actually so good you have to help me with all the decorative ones next year

oscarpiastri: i'm in

user21: but who won the real award - most embarrassing moment?

maxverstappen1: daniel got stuck in the door in his inflatable horse/cowboy costume

danielricciardo: NO esteban dressing as the cheese string man was worse

estebanocon: that's real creativity at least i didn't fall asleep in the bath like carlos

yourusername: not to gang up on carlos but the blanket you took in their is damaged beyond repair and i request a replacement

carlossainz55: fair, but it was me, lando and george in the tub

georgerussell63: fake news @carmenmundt

carmenmundt: i was also at the party babe, it was impressive how you all fit in there

user22: the fact they do all of this and race like two weeks later and the teams just deal with it

maxverstappen1: we've done much worse on race weekends

yourusername: someone didn't have to try and get home after abu dhabi 2021, halloween is nothing compared to that

note: a lil halloween one for you all. i also DO NOT PLAY ABOUT HALLOWEEN. and am currently planning my costume lol. just wanted to get a small one out before all my work comes in tomorrow, much love xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 #f1 x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen

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ohtobeleah · 6 months

Text

Scream // Jake Seresin

🔪 Summary: When home alone on Halloween Eve, someone keeps calling you from an unknown number. As fear begins to consume you and panic builds as you run for your life, the masked stranger really takes advantage of the pretty girl he’s decided to hunt down.

🔪 Warnings: Mask kink, CNC (consensual non-consent) knife play, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), choking, hair pulling, dirty talk, degradation, creampie, rough sex. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Ghost Face likeness/cosplay.

🔪 Word Count: 7.6k

🔪 Author Note: Happy Halloween ya filthy animals. Hope you enjoy this X-rated Ohtobeleah Halloween Special! Concepts are open for this one too! Especially with that ending….

Spooky season. It had to be your favourite time of year. The fall brought so many changes and flavours and aesthetics you just couldn’t resist. From the pumpkin spiced everything’s to the burnt embers and oranges that littered the trees that lined the sidewalks. To the overconsumption of old Halloween classics and seasonal house decor that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Halloween was and always would be, yourself favourite holiday, and for that you thanked the pagans for their belief system many centuries ago. Without them? Why else would you have an excuse to sit in your living room with what felt like an endless supply of single wrapped sweets and chocolates that you should very well have been saving for the trick or treaters that would be roaming the streets of suburban Texas the following night.

“Is that how you wanna spend your summer?” You’d seen IT probably a million times before, but it was always a good start. “Inside of an arcade?” Eddie Kaspbrak asked little Richie Tozier as you popped another Reese's peanut butter cup into your mouth.

“Beats spending it inside your mother.” You couldn’t help but to say the line out loud knowing exactly what comeback was coming around the corner. Like clockwork little Richie said the same thing he always said and you laughed like an adolescent. Yeah, the IT Saga was always a good place to start before moving into the Halloween Collection and Scream Series.

You were what some would call ‘Basic’ But to you basic was better than being overly ambitious and lacking in complete pop culture appreciation for the movies that were, in your very not so professional opinion, the backbone of the spooky season film industry.

In need of another glass of Prosecco or perhaps something a little stronger and gin based, you made your way into the kitchen after you’d paused your movie. The house smells of cinnamon and pumpkin, there was no escape from the ever present and consuming aroma of fall as you took a moment to decide if you were going to finish that bottle of Prosecco or move on to the big boys. The gin sours. After all, you were home all alone on Halloween Eve and there was nothing stopping you from getting a little tipsy in the quiet and comfortable silence of your humble abode.

Even your Flyboy boyfriend, Jake Seresin, wasn’t coming home. The original plan had been he was taking some much needed leave to come home and spend two full weeks back in the arms of the woman he loved so dearly. But things changed, life happened, and all of a sudden you were facing the reality that you would be alone for the Halloween holiday head on.

You couldn’t blame him, it was just the way the job went sometimes. Things came up, plans changed overnight and soon enough, four entire months had passed since you’d last seen Lieutenant Commander Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, or as he was more affectionately known to you as, Flyboy.

It was just the way the pumpkin spiced cookie crumbled this time around, but Jake had promised the minute Robert Floyd was back on deck after his four weeks of leave for paternity were over, he was racing back to you.

In the middle of your silent thoughts on when you’d get to see your boyfriend of three years again, your phone began to vibrate back on the coffee table where you’d left it. The ringer had been silent—but the vibration against the glass was all you needed to hear as you padded back into the living room. Still drinkless and very much sober, something that needed to change very quickly if you were going to enjoy your time alone.

You anticipated the call to be Jake, but when the caller ID didn’t read ‘Flyboy’ with one of those obnoxious pink hearts next to it, you frowned. All that was staring back at you was an unknown number, one you hadn’t seen before. One that didn’t look familiar or resemble any contact you might have accidentally deleted from your contacts.

You’d heard what could become of curious minds, but that didn’t stop you from swiping the pad of your thumb across the vibrating screen before you held your phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked cautiously, already wondering who could be calling you this late who didn’t know you.

“Hello?” A voice you didn’t recognise mimicked your greeting.

“Yes?” You grimaced at your own stupidity for a second as you made your way back into the kitchen.

“Who is this?” The man on the other end of the phone asked like he wasn’t the one who called you.

“Hmm—Well who are you trying to reach?” You tried to remain polite, for all you knew as you reached up for the bottle of gin, it truly could have been a mistake. A wrong number situation if you will.

“What number is this?” The man asked, a little more confused.

“Well what number are you trying to reach?” Your patience was going a little thin, but nevertheless you remained polite.

“I don’t know.” The man on the end of the line sounded as if he shrugged with a cocky little smirk. Was this some sort of prank call?

“I think you have the wrong number.” As if you were going to play along. Prank calls around this time of year were a dime a dozen and you just weren’t in the mood for childish antics.

“Do I?” He asked, almost shocked, like he knew that he had the right number all along. Because he did.

“It happens.” You shrugged it off with a quick eye roll, silently masking your annoyance. “Take it easy man.” You ended the call with a quick sigh and placed your phone on the counter as you went about making yourself a stronger, more appropriate beverage. The night was still somewhat young and you wanted a buzz. But then, once again, your phone rang with that same unknown number. At first you weren’t going to answer, but something inside you told you it could just be one of Jake’s friends pulling a prank.

“Hello?” You tried to mask the annoyance in your tone but it must have come across as clear as day as you answered the phone. Same unknown number, same smug voice.

“I’m sorry—I guess I dialled the wrong number.” The man on the other end sounded like he smiled through his words.

“So why’d you dial it again?” It was a genuine question, why would someone who dialled the wrong number dial it again? On purpose.

“To apologise.” The man replied rather quickly as you worked to pour yourself a rather strong shot of gin. It was going straight into the shaker.

“Well consider your apology accepted.” How stupid was the guy? “Goodbye now—“

“Wait, wait—don’t hang up.” He nearly begged, you could hear the desperation in his voice, the need to keep you on the line. What was this weirdo playing at?

“Why would I not?” You frowned, stilling your movements to pounder this entire situation. Who the fuck was this guy? What did he want? Did you know him? Was this some sort of prank?

“Because I wanna talk to you for a second.” Oh okay, now you got it.

“They’ve got numbers for that kinda shit.” You chuckled to yourself under your breath. “I ain't that kinda girl.” You didn't even bother saying goodbye this time, you simply pressed the end call button and went about making yourself a drink.

By the time you got settled back on the couch amongst a sea of throw blankets and halloween themed pillows, the TV had dimmed. If anything that was a clear indication as to how much time you had actually wasted talking to that random creeper on the phone.

As you got settled, the buzzing vibration of your phone on the coffee table scared the ever living Christ from you. You groaned when you saw it, that same unknown number. With a huff, you answered.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” Your heart nearly sunk at the harshness the man used as you held your phone up against your ear.

“Who the hell is this?” You frowned again, this time you weren't playing games. You’d spent enough time entertaining this lunatic and now it was time to get to the bottom of who the fuck was messing with you.

“You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.” The man chuckled to himself as he watched you get up off the lounge and slowly approach the nearest window to have a cautious look outside.

“I don’t think so.” The only thing you could see were the small pumpkin lights that boarded the front porch as they softly illuminated the stone in an orangey hume. Besides those small plastic pumpkin lights? There was nothing but darkness until the street.

“What’s that noise?” The man asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He sounded far too intrigued by you and your surroundings.

“I’m trying to watch a movie, now would you quit calling me?” You hissed through a huff as you made your way back to the couch. You were going to have to rewind your movie now, completely having lost track of where you were up to because of this lunatic.

“What movie is it?” This game was becoming old and cheap, you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes as you sat back down and fixed the fuzzy grey blanket that was one of Jake’s favourites. God you missed him, wished he was here. “The one you’re trying to watch?”

“IT, Chapter One.” There was a sharp, get to the point, I’m over this damn conversation tone in your voice as you picked up the remote to rewind the movie.

“Oh so it’s a scary movie?” The man sounded as if he raised an eyebrow at your explanation.

“Well I tell ya what Sherlock Holmes—“ Once again, you weren’t trying to be nice, so the sarcasm dripped from your mouth like liquid candy. “You’re onto something there.”

“Do you like scary movies?” He prolonged the question rather politely, but you didn’t miss the way his voice dropped an octave as your heart quickened inside your chest.

“I do—“ Your house was far too quiet for your liking as you spoke on the phone to this complete stranger. You’d all of a sudden lost all interest in your movie as you looked back to the front door. Did you lock it?

“What’s your favourite scary movie then?”

“I’m not sure, there’s a few that I could choose.” In an overprotective manner you walked back to the front door to check if it was locked. It was.

“Oh come on now, you’ve gotta have a favourite scary movie.” The man asked as he watched you walk around your house to check all the locks on all the windows and back door. “What comes to mind?”

“Fine, Halloween—“ None of your attempts to secure your humble abode would avail to anything. “You know, with the guy in the white mask that walks around stalking babysitters.” Because the man you were currently talking to was already inside your home. The home you shared with your loving, cock sure, flyboy boyfriend who was still in damn San Diego.

“Yeah, I know it.” The man replied softly, he was just trying to keep you on the line.

“So—what’s your favourite? Since you needed to know mine so desperately.” It even surprised you, but before you could stop yourself from entertaining this creeper any further the words had already escaped. You mentally had to slap yourself across the face for that one. That one was all on you.

“How about you guess?” The man chuckled as he watched you walk back from the back door to the living room where once again, you sat back down on the couch.

“Is it Nightmare on Elm Street?” Why oh why were you doing this to yourself?

“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?” The man sounded like he had a smile on his face, like he was enjoying this a little too much. Like he was just waiting for the right moment to come around.

“Yeah, Freddie Kroger.” There was an ever increasing pit in your stomach that wouldn’t go away, something wasn’t right about this entire interaction. Who the fuck was this guy and why was he calling you on Halloween Eve.

“Freddie, yeah that’s right, I guess I do like that movie, it’s pretty scary, don’t you think?

“Well, the first one was but the rest sucked.” Again, why the fuck were you entertaining this guy.

“So—you gotta boyfriend?” There it was, the last of many red flags. The first three being the late night unknown phone calls.

“Why? Are you gonna ask me out on a date, Mr. Cold Call guy?” A little teasing wouldn’t do any harm you thought to yourself as you popped a piece of candy into your mouth.

“Maybe—“ The line went silent for a moment as your heart rang in your ears. “So? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do—“ You didn’t even need to lie, you did in fact have a very loved, very attractive, very not here at the moment boyfriend. “So, unfortunately for you there’s not gonna be a date.”

“How could there ever be a date when you still haven’t told me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?” The next few seconds of time slowed down into nothing as your heart sank into your stomach and your head rang in fear. The man you’d been talking to with the rough voice and the polite responses had you turning seven colours of bad shit as he spoke.

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at—“

“What did you just say?” You shot up off the couch as you looked around your home frozen in fear.

“I said I wanna know who I’m talking to.” The man tried to plan it off cool, calm and oh so collected but he knew he’d been heard and heard correctly.

“That’s not what you said.” You could feel your heart hammering against your chest like it was trying to escape, but your feet refused to move.

“What do you think I said?” He egged you on as you heard what sounded like footsteps coming from the laundry and tears began to well in your eyes.

“Look, I gotta go, this is starting to get fucking creepy and my boyfriends gonna be home any minute.” The man on the end of the line could hear the shake in your voice as you tried to hang up and get out of this situation. He chose to play on your fear a little more.

“Wait, I thought we were gonna go on a date?” He questioned rather quickly as you tried to regulate your breathing and get your feet to move. This wasn’t happening, this was like the beginning of some slasher 90’s horror movie where the ignorant girl gets killed for not using her brain.

“Nah—you’re dreaming.” You pulled the phone away from your ear but froze in fear when you heard the man scream down the phone at you.

“Don’t you fucking hang up on me.” He spat with venom in his tone.

“Listen asshole—“ You spat back as you finally let the anger overtake the fear inside you.

“No you listen here you little bitch—“ He argued back as he watched you storm into the kitchen looking for a weapon to defend yourself with, only then did you realise the knives in the knife block had all been removed. “Hang up on me and I’ll gut you like a fish!”

“Is this some sort of sick joke to you?” It was like nothing you had ever experienced before. God you wished Jake was here right now, he would have told you not to answer an unknown number.

“More like a game—“ You should have listened to the little voice of his that lived in your mind. You never should have answered the phone. “Can you handle that—Y/n?” The way he said you named made all the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention.

“Can you see me?” You asked as you looked out the window once more, when there wasn’t an immediate response you growled into the phone. “Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police—“

“I don’t think they’re gonna make it in time sweetheart.” The man chuckled rather menacingly and it made your blood boil. “But they’ll definitely get here with just enough time to see what your insides look like.”

“Ahh!” The doorbell rang and you swore your heart nearly exploded when it did. “Who’s there!” You shouted as you back away, screaming and crying into the phone. “Who’s fucking there!”

“You should never say who’s there, don’t you watch scary movies?” The man chuckled. “It’s a deathwish.”

“You’ve well and truly had your fun, now please—leave me alone.” You whimper for mercy, this was all too much.

“Or else what?” The man asked curiously, he wanted to know exactly what you were going to do about all this. He was, after all, the one with the upper hand.

“Or else my boyfriend will be here any second and he’ll be pissed when he finds out what cruel sick bastards been harassing me!”

“Isn’t he outta town?” How did? How the hell did he know? Had you told the mystery man fucking with you.

“No!” You denied the fact that Jake was out of town, still stuck on base in San Diego when he should have been here. “No he’s not, and he’s big and fucking jacked and he flys fucking military planes for a damn living and he’ll kick the ever living shit out of you!” You shouted into your phone as you backed away from any door and window you could possibly get away from. Spinning around to make sure you had good enough vision of the whole house.

“Oh yeah?” The man laughed on the other end of the line. “Sure, I’m shaking in my boots honey.” There was no question he could tell he was scaring you beyond belief, he’d watched you for the better half of five minutes frantically rush around the house locking all the doors and windows. “His name wouldn’t happen to be Jake? would it?” This was going to be so much fun.

“How do you know his name?” There was a clear whimper in your voice as tears streamed down your cheeks. Fear was caught in your throat like a ball of wax, choking you completely.

“Turn around—“ Slowly, you hung up the phone you held with a vice grip and turned around. To your absolute horror, there he was, the man who had been on the phone with you. Only you recognised the outfit with ease—it was a GhostFace costume. A really good one too. One that wasn’t from Dollar General the night before Halloween. This one had been thought out, the costume had intent and it was detailed.

“Boo.” Was all he said as he took a step towards you. “Aw look at you.” He chuckled to himself as he approached and you remained still in complete and utter fear. “A little scared are you?”

“How—how did you get inside my house?” It was a stupid question to ask, but as the man in the GhostFace mask approached you, you felt like you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.

“You looked me in?” He simply explained as he showed you a shape, clearly brand new knife. “Now we’re all alone, with no one to interrupt.” It was slow, but the man behind the mask moved the knife closer and closer to your chin until he was using the knife's edge to tilt your chin up.

“I—“ Before you could speak, the man brought the knife down by his side and tilted his head. The silence that followed was all consuming as he just stared at your frozen, shaking and clearly terrified state.

“Y/n?” He growled from behind the mask, all you did was stare at the mask. That all consuming, all encompassing mask that made your heart beat so hard inside your chest you swore your sternum was about to break “Run.” Was all he barked and that’s all it took for your flight or flight to kick in.

“Help!” You shouted as you turned in the opposite direction and ran towards your front door. “Help me! Someone!” The masked man was right on your heels with heavy strides that made the timber flooding of your home creak with anticipation and excitement.

Oh to be hunted, oh to be caught.

You tried your best to get the front door unlocked in time but you just weren’t quick enough, or perhaps being caught was exactly what you wanted to happen. Just as you opened the front door and took two strides out onto the front porch—an all encompassing arm wrapped itself around your waist and the other wrapped itself around your mouth.

Your eyes shot out of your skull as you felt yourself being dragged back inside your house. Your feet slipped under the anxiety of it all and soon enough you were on the ground being dragged back across the living room by the man in the GhostFace mask.

“What’s the matter darlin’ I thought you said your boyfriend would be home any minute?” The man teased as he manhandled you up by your hair, forcing you up to your knees as your own hand came up to grip around his wrist, giving him two very firm squeezes in a row. Green, you were emerald green and everything in between as you clenched your teeth together and let your tears fall free. “I don’t see him anywhere?”

It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, the feeling of being completely overpowered by someone. Being told you had no control, no say.

“Fuck. You.” You spat as the man worked to pull off the black cloak he was wearing, revealing under a simple outfit of dark blue jean, a nice brown belt that matched the leather of his boots and a white-T.

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna do.” You didn't register what that meant at first, but as you watched the man in the mask unbuckle his belt with one hand as he held onto your hair tightly with the other, that's when you started to feel the all too familiar heat pooling between your legs.

“No!” You shouted as you tried to rip your hair out of his tight grasp. “No! Get away from me!” Kicking and screaming you tried your best to free yourself from your captor's hold, but it was to no avail.

“My cocks been aching for your mouth since I saw you pop that candy into it.” There was a distinct primal need dripping from every word the masked man spoke as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down ever so slightly to reveal what you had been anticipating since before your phone rang for the first time that night. “Now you’re gonna suck me off like a good fucking girl before I gut you.” The threat could’ve been taken suggestively or literally, but as the man pumped his entire fist around the throbbing velvet length right in front or your face, you could have sworn you drooled. But you couldn't break character, not yet, it was far too early and you wanted to see just how far this could actually go before you had to tap out.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You turned your face to the right to try and save yourself from the ever looming sexual act you knew you were about to perform. Pre-cum oozed from the throbbing tip that looked exactly like the colour of your boyfriend's lips. A mix between pink and red, the perfect soft flesh colour that you adored. It looked just as pretty on his cock, but you would tell him that, not right now.

Not when he was dressed up as your favourite Ghost Face Killer for Halloween Eve.

“Uh uh uh–” His voice still sounded like his, but with the mask it muffled the familiar twang you had leant to love. Without that comfort this felt all too real, you weren't going to lie and say you weren't a little scared. But that's exactly what you had asked for when Jake had agreed to do this for you. To play into one of your biggest and longest standing sexual fantasies. “Don't you turn that pretty mouth away from me, we’re just getting to know each other.”

“I'm not sucking your dick.” You hissed through gritted teeth as the masked man crouched down a little further and used his free hand to squish your cheeks together as you kneeled before him. “Fuck you!”

“You have two options here.” He growled from behind the mask, if you looked close enough, you could see those familiar lips of his behind the darkness. “Either you do what I say, everything, without a fucking fuss–” There was a very distinct pause that the masked man made you sit in contemplation in before he told you your second option. The one he knew you wouldn't like very much. “Oh i'll just kill you, right here right now, no one will hear you scream, no one will know who did it, you’ll become a forgotten first kill because let's face it sweetheart, no one really gives a shit unless you're a final girl.”

There had to be someone psychologically wrong with your brian and how it was hard wired to experience pleasure, because in that moment, in that very millisecond of time, your core throbbed at the thought of being used against your very willing will. The idea of consensual non consent had been brought up a few times, by you of course. Jake took a little while to come around. He wasn’t too keen on the whole idea of forcing himself on you, he wasn’t sure how it all worked, but once he understood the concept, once he understood how to act and how to communicate while you were deep, deep in that subspace scene he knew you loved, it became as easy as riding a bike for him to please you.

“Well?” It was like he could see the cogs turning inside your mind as your eyes never left his from behind the mask. “What’s it gonna be?” When you didn’t answer and instead involuntarily shook in his grasp, Jake took a split second to check in on you. He stood up slowly, letting the hand that had once been squeezing your cheeks caress the side of your face as he pulled you closer to his hardened sex by your hair. “What colour?”

“Green.” You replied and within a second, Jake had made your mind up for you and was guiding his tip between your lips.

“Suck my dick sweetheart, come on, be a good girl for me.” It was hard to pretend to protest, but you tried to keep your mouth shut until Jake was gripping your hair a little tighter until you gasped at the pain. “That’s it, good fucking girl.”

With eager hips Jake growned at the feeling of your mouth taking him in, so warm and tight around his throbbing girth. The mask he wore, the one that seemed to get you off to the heights of heights was humid from his open mouth breathing. But like hell was he about to ruin this roll play, he’d rather pass the fuck out than ruin the illusion the both of you had so perfectly orchestrated.

“Oh god your boyfriend’s a lucky guy isn’t he?” You couldn’t help but to look up as the man in the mask looked down at you. Fuck—your panties were soaking, arousal pooled between your folds as you felt the very tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.

The eye contact was intense, you knew it was Jake but something about that damn mask had your head spinning so violently that your eyes watered with fear and need. You wanted to fight, to run, to fake the unwillingness to cooperate just to see how far Jake would go.

“Don’t fight it baby—“ He growled as you strained to stop your head from bobbing up and down his length. “You’re doing such a good job, fucking whore of a thing aren’t you?” The feeling of his slightly calloused hands keeping your head right where he needed it to be was pure pleasure—being used like this, being told what to do even if you didn’t want to do it. “Fuck look at those tears, what are they for huh?”

The man in the Ghostface mask, your boyfriend, Jake, dragged his thumb across your cheek to collect the tears that fell as he fucked your face to a rhythm that had him weak in the knees.

“Ohhh god I’m so glad I didn’t decide to kill you straight away. Stupid girl—“ He went on to say as the tip of his hardened and throbbing cock bashed against your throat, making you gag around him before he held you still. He made sure that you couldn’t breathe, not while you were choking on him and only him. “Maybe this will teach you not to answer unknown numbers, there’s some fucked up people in this world sweetheart.” He teased as you pushed against his jean clad thighs, trying to push him away so that you could feel the sweet relief of oxygen returning to your lungs. “What did I just fucking say huh!?”

“Let me ggoo—!” You screamed as the man in the mask pulled himself out of your mouth and let you go. He watched with a curious held hilt as you crawled away crying and gasping for air. “Get away from me!”

Jake pumped his hand up and down his shaft a few laboured times before he stuffed himself back into his jeans and went after you with heavy strides. You hadn’t gotten far, but oh how thrilling and invigorating was it to be hunted in your own home.

“Gee that boyfriend of yours is running real behind on schedule isn’t he?” The man in the mask chuckled as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, you were hiding just behind the countertop. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” He cooed childish as he stepped slowly, the floorboard squeaked under his boot as he did so. “Y/n, I know you’re in here sweetheart, why don’t you come out so I can cut you up.”

You were careful not to make a sound as you placed your hands over your mouth and pulled your knees up close to your chest. Every second that passed? Your heart threatens to break out of your body. You knew deep down that the guy in the mask was Jake, but he was doing this a little too well.

“You wanna play psycho killer?” You mumbled under your breath. You really didn’t know how you were going to get away, but you knew that the man in the mask was about to come around the corner and see you hiding clear as day. “Fine!!”

As soon as Jake rounded the corner he was met with you first to his stomach with enough force that it had him doubling over. His moment of weakness gave you five seconds to run out of the kitchen and straight up the stairs. The plan all along has been to eventually end up in your bedroom.

As you ran down the hall towards your bedroom, the man in the mask was quick to catch up. After all, this man was a highly skilled Naval Aviator who was fighting fit. You never stood a chance at getting away.

“Ahhhh!” When you saw him in the mirror standing right behind you as you looked for a place to hide, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. This was what it was like to be hunted down, used, tormented.

“What’s the matter Y/n?” The man teased as he tilted his head and stepped towards you, pointing the knife he held in his hand your way. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Leave me alone!!” The sound that came from you was something straight out of a horror movie as the man stepped closer and closer, completely ignoring your cries and pleas for him to stop.

“Get on the bed—“ Was all he demanded as he pointed the knife to the mattress. “I said, get on the fucking bed!”

“You’re gonna have to force me or kill me because I’m not letting you touch me again.” The standoff continued in the all consuming silence of your bedroom as your core throbbed and soaked your delicate panties. This was it, all the talks, the explanations, the ideas. They all boiled down to this moment.

You trusted Jake Seresin with your life, so much so you let him in on a fantasy of yours, a kink so deep and nasty that you’d never told any of your ex boyfriends about. You didn’t trust them to do this with you. But Jake? Ten fold.

“Colour?” It would be one of the last check in points before you got exactly what you wanted, what you so desperately craved. Jake remained in character as he once again looked you right in the eyes through his mask.

“Green.” At your whimperious admission, Jake lunged at you with so much force it truly knocked the wind right out of your lungs. He had you pinned on the mattress within seconds of your admission. “GET OFF ME!”

“Shut the fuck up.” The man’s hand came up to tightly wrap about your throat, squeezing the sides to restrict your breathing. “Now listen here and listen good, I’m gonna fuck you real good, and after you cum all over me—I’m gonna make sure no one ever finds out what happened to poor sweet Y/n when she was murdered in her own damn home.”

You were manhandled by your neck and hips to flip over onto your stomach into that position you knew your body loved the most. Doggy style. Something about the angel always sent Jake's length so deep you swore the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust.

You felt the edge of the man’s sharp blade run slowly over the fabric of your pyjama shirt, directly down your spine as you shivered under the touch.

“I bet you're a tight little thing.” Too afraid to move, you felt the elastic of your pyjamas pants slipping past your hips until the chill of your bedroom kissed your exposed cheeks. “Holy fuck look at you, you’ve ruined your panties.” The man growled as you heard him shimmering out of his jeans behind you. “Someone likes to be taunted, don’t you darlin’?”

Again you could do anything but remain silent and shaking in fear as you felt the man’s hands trail up under your shirt, across your smooth ass and finally down between your dripping folds. The anticipation was all consuming.

“That boyfriend of yours is a lucky guy—“ You saw a flash of white light illuminate your bedroom for a brief moment as you felt a hand pressing your head down into the mattress. Holy mother of god he’s taking photos. “I’ll need these for later.” He admitted as another flash went off. Photo after photo.

“Please, please don’t do this—“ You cried as you felt the tip of his cock sliding up and down through your folds. Collecting all your arousal as he did so to slick up his length to fit right inside. “Please—“

“I love it when they beg.” Was all the masked man said before he was pushing himself inside you. Your eyes rolled so far back into your head at the overwhelming pleasure that you swore you saw your own soul. “Ohh fughh—such a pretty pussy you’ve got, go on, scream for me darlin, no one's gonna hear you.”

“AHHHH!” With every frightful, pleasurable thrust you screamed into the mattress. “Stop! Stop please!”

“Oh but you feel so fucking good.” The man growled as his free hand that wasn’t pressing your face into the mattress came up to slap your ass. You jolted from the sting. “Look at that, so reactive.”

Again you felt another sharp slap as the man behind you quickened his pace.

“Ah fuck!”

“That’s it baby, I know you love it—“ The man let go of your head as his hands came to hold

Your hips tighter than ever before, pulling you back into him as you tried to get away. “I know you love this, being used, don’t run away, stay right here on my cock.”

Jake didn’t let up as he fucked deep and hard into your push from behind. You couldn’t see the mask, but the idea of him wearing it was even to have you seeing stars. Every thrust brought you closer to that ever looming orgasm that threatened to crash over you and every slap against your ass sent you further and further into that sun space where you could just feel and exist.

“Dirty fucking thing look at you, fucking a killer.” The man taunted you as he pulled you up by your hair so that your back was flush against his chest. When did he remove his shirt? Was it when he took his jeans off? Did he also take the mask off? “Unbutton your shirt.” He hissed as he slowed down the pace to a barely there rhythm. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you like it was dying to coat your velvet walls.

“I said!” The man held the knife to your throat as he fucked you slowly from behind, keeping your back pressed against his chest. “Unbutton your shirt—“

With shaking hands and the inability to fully comprehend how pleasure filled and ignited your nerve endings were, you slowly but surely unbuttoned your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your bra. The black lace one Jake adored to no end.

It matched the panties you’d ruined, the ones the man had dragged down your legs along with your pyjamas pants.

“What colour?” When you didn’t answer straight away Jake frowned behind his Ghostface mask and dragged the knife away from your neck along your sternum towards your core. “Sweetheart, it’s me, I’m here, what colour are you?” The gentle words broke through the blinding spell of the role play situation you were in. It was all fake, you were safe, Jake would never do anything to hurt you. “It’s me, just me.”

“Green—“ That was all Jake needed before he was pushing you back down onto the mattress, he manhandled you expertly so that he was on top, sliding back into you like you were his home, like you were made just for him. “Ahh! Fuck!!”

“Naughty little thing—“ He growled behind the mask that hovered over you. His hips slammed into yours as he hovered over you with a hand on either side of your body. “I can feel you trembling.”

That coil had begun to wind to new heights as you wrapped your legs around Jake's waist and dragged your nails down his back. You were getting close, oh so close to that orgasmic euphoria you’d been searching for since that first phone call.

“Ohh fuck yes I can feel you gripping my dick, ohhh fuck, that’s it sweetheart, bet you wish that boyfriend of yours could see you like this huh?” The taunting mixed with the rhythm of Jake's rutts we’re sending you towards the edge of the cliff face you wanted so desperately to jump off. The mask that was staring you right in the face though, that’s what was doing it the most for you. “You wanna come? Wanna cum like a little whore all over my dick?”

Needy little cries were all you could reply with as the man in the mask trailed one hand down between your bodies to circle the pad of his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I’m close too, which means you’re gonna be full of my cum, dripping, completely stuffed full of my load.” He moaned through the mask as your back arched and your eyes rolled. You were so deep into your sun space Jake hardly recognised the please in your eyes. “Colour?”

“I’m coming!” It was all you had the energy to say before your cries and whimpers and desperate pleas all mixed together into a babbling mantra of euphoric high. Your back arched all the way up till your stomach was pressed against Jakes and he was following within seconds. Seeing you like this, so spent and fucked out and blissfully under control made the orgasm that was pooling at the base of his shaft shoot up to overcome his entire being.

“Ah shit! Fuck fuck fuck fuck, baby yes—ahhhh Christ!” It was one of the most intense orgasms Jake Seresin had ever had. The load he pumped inside you was thick and heavy and dripped around his shaft as he continued to fuck you deeper and fuck you through your own high.

His back bled from your nails scraping down his muscles, but he didn’t mind, they were worth it to see you like this.

The second he could, Jake was taking the Ghostface mask off and coaxing you to look at him while he was still buried deep inside you. Tears welled in your eyes as old tears stained your cheeks. His gentle touch made you jump.

“Shhh baby it’s me, just me.”

“Jake.” You sobbed as he came down to kiss your lips as gently as ever before trailing those same soft kisses across your collarbone as you came down.

“It’s just me darlin’ you did so well for me.” He whispered sweet nothings across your fiery skin. “You played along so well.” Jake knew you were gonna take a while to come down, he knew it would take a while for you to process everything, from the phone call to the oral to the knife okay. But he already had a plan in place and a surprise organised for you tomorrow night.

“I’m gonna run us a bath.” Jake mumbled against your skin as he left a few marks behind in his wake. You swallowed heavily in response as your body continued to experience the after effects of being so deep into role play. “I love you so much, thankyou for letting me in, for letting me bring your fantasies to life.”

“Are you staying with me in the bath?” You could barely speak as Jake helped you up, handing you your pyjama short back as he dismounted from your bed. His cock remained flaccid and coated in a mix of your arousal and his cum.

It was just as important to receive the aftercare than to experience the high. Jake was good like that, and you’d discussed this beforehand with him. That you’d need time to come down after and just be held and brought back to earth. Jake was more than accommodating to your needs.

“Absolutely, I’m not going anywhere.” You managed a smile as you watched Jake pick up the Ghostface mask and stare at it. “You know there were two of these guys right?” Jake smirked as he threw it over onto your bedside table. “Kinda makes you wonder how far we could take this role play kink of yours.”

“Who’d be your Stu Macher?” You asked as you stood from the bed to give Jake a kiss so gently it was like the wings of a butterfly had handed against his cheeks. “It’s bath time Loomis.” You cooed as you patted Jake's shoulder twice. “Come on.”

“I’ll wash your hair for you.” Jake followed you into the bathroom eagerly before he shut the door behind him. It was good to be home.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“This is awesome.” Javy beamed when he saw you and Jake at the annual Seresin family Halloween party. The Daggers had all been granted a week's grace and they all decided to utilise the time off to attend the celebration. “Sidney and Billy, that’s awesome.”

“If only he knew—“ Jake whispered in your ear as you giggled and pushed at his chest. You were still buzzing from your night with Jake. High on the ecstasy his Ghostface impersonation gave you. “Come on now, don’t act all shy.” Jake teased as he kissed you tenderly, tilting your chin up with his index finger. The costume was really making you dizzy, you were still all consumed by your burning desire to act out your wildest fantasies.

“Oh.” You felt your phone ringing in your back pocket. “Huh.” You had to laugh at the irony. “It’s an unknown number?” You turned your phone to Jake as he smirked and nodded.

“You should answer it.” After all, he did have a surprise for you. “Go on now, don’t be shy.” With confusion laced into the lines and fake blood on your face, you swipt your phone along the screen and held it to your ear all the while you kept eye contact with Jake.

“Hello?” You asked cautiously, still not sure what the hell was going on.

“Wanna play a game?” Bradley spoke through the phone as you caught sight of him behind Jake’s shoulder. Dressed in that all too familiar ghost face costume. After all, there were always two killers.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: 🏷️ @attapullman @330bpm-whiplash @mamachasesmayhem @echo-ethe @avengersgirllorianna @nmw-am @eli2447 @hookslove1592 @kmc1989 @seitmai @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh

#jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #tw: scream #tw: ghostface #tw: cnc #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun hangman #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfiction

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chans-room · 8 months

Text

Stray Kids as Spooky Season Dates + kinks

Skz (all members) x reader

word count: ~3k

My first real post for Spooyfest is here! Each has a mood board, fluffy date, and the spicy end of the night with the kinks specified, so this work is nsfw. Minors do not interact. Lmk what other groups you might wanna see this for! Also thank you @kiestrokes for making sure my grammar isn’t fucked, ily. Happy haunting!

Chan // camping & bonfire // free-use + somno

Chan would like the intimacy of camping. It’s just you and him, out in the woods, and the whole idea of forcing himself to disconnect from his obligations for a while is alluring to him. He would pick you up, and tease you the whole drive about the perfect weekend he’d planned. Once you’re at the campground, he would want you to watch him set everything up; he doesn’t want you to lift a finger. He just wants you to sit there, look pretty, and watch. When it gets dark out, he lights a fire and you roast marshmallows together and watch the stars. You spend the night in his arms giggling and getting tipsy before curling up in your sleeping bags together, passing out listening to the crickets.

But a few hours later, you’re woken up from your steamy dream by Chan grinding into your ass, fingers dipping into your underwear, and panting into your ear about how much he loves you and how hard you make him. He can’t help it. He’s hissing in your ear about how he’ll take such good care of you, and how you don’t need to lift a finger. Just let him please you. As soon as he gets a yes from you, he’s pulling off your underwear and sliding into you, groaning about how he’s wanted you all night. He makes sure you’re crying and begging him to cum after pulling countless delirious orgasms out of you before he finishes. After he’s done and he’s helped you through all the aftercare you need and desire, he’s tucking you back into your joint sleeping bag where you fall asleep naked with him wrapped around you, knowing the morning will bring more of the same.

Minho // pumpkin patch // pet play + car sex

Minho is taking you to the pumpkin patch, but he won’t go to some shoddy nearby one. No, he’s driving you to the nicest pumpkin patch within a 2-hour drive from you. He’s playing it off like he’s doing it just because you asked, but you both know he’s doing it because he’s unbelievably soft for you. It’s also definitely not just because this specific pumpkin patch is known to have friendly cats roaming around. But you have a surprise for him — you brought matching bunny eared headbands to wear, telling him it’s so you won’t lose him while you’re out on the farm. He rolls his eyes, but puts it in anyway. And you see his smile when you beg to take a picture of the two of you together. At the end of the afternoon, he’s buying you all the pumpkins your heart desires and making plans for everything he’s gonna do with his pumpkin haul.

But on the way home, despite the fact that he’s already thrown his bunny ears in the backseat, he huffs in annoyance every time you fidget with yours. It’s only when you get home and you see the outline of his cock you figure out what he’s been so bothered by. Before he can get out of the car, you turn on him with big doe eyes — knowing exactly what it does to him — and the smirk you get in response proves you right. He tells you that you’ve been a good bunny, and you deserve a reward. He pulls you into the backseat with him and the next thing you know, you’re crying and drooling into the expensive leather while he rams into your cervix repeatedly. You can’t remember how many times he’s made you cum but you can tell by his grunts and groans he’s nearing the end. After he’s finished, he jokes about needing to find you a bunny tail to go with your ears before redressing you and helping you inside. He’ll deal with the pumpkins later — his bunny needs more attention first.

Changbin // Ghost tour // exhibition + praise

It takes some convincing, but eventually you get Changbin to go on a ghost tour with you. He puts a brave face on when you’re at dinner beforehand, flexing his muscles and telling you he’ll protect you from any ghosts. However, once the tour starts, he has a death grip on your hand and every time someone steps on a branch or the wind blows his hood off, he’s jumping and cursing, loudly. But the moment you gasp or jump, he’s pulling you behind him and standing in front of you ready to square up with any ghost. The fact that he’s so scared but still willing to defend you melts your heart. After the tour is done, you shower some compliments on your big, brave Binnie; he deserves them.

But after you’ve sufficiently gassed him up, he’s rock hard and dying to take you home. But he knows he can’t last that long. He drags you into a bar playing something loud and aggressive, past the people dancing left and right and straight into the bathroom. He barely gives you time to question before your pants are around your ankles and he’s stretching you out on his fingers. He can’t stop moaning into your ear about how much he loves you, how much he loves fucking you, and how he could never ask for anyone better. Once he’s decided he’s stretched you out enough, he’s picking you up and fucking you against the door, ignoring the knocking and jangling door handle. Changbin barely even hears them, all he can think about is you. After he’s done blowing your back out, he’ll make sure to get you cleaned up and then carry you out of the bar, past all the angry people waiting for the bathroom, and right back to your car so he can take you home and show you again and again that he’s the best Binnie in the whole world.

Hyunjin // planning Halloween costumes // mask + fear play

Hyunjin just seems like someone who’d live for the drama of Halloween and he’s planning couple fits for literally every outing imaginable. Corn maze with the group, pumpkin patch with your friends, even just an afternoon decorating session; you name it, he’s got an outfit ready for you to wear. But his absolute favorite is dressing up on Halloween and hitting all the parties and bars. He knows you both look good and he’s thriving under all the attention. Especially because you’re both wearing masks — he loves the rush anonymity brings and it makes him let loose a little more than usual. He’s got you dancing and drinking well past midnight before you’re dragging him home.

But once he’s got you home he says he has a special costume he saved just for you; and he wants to try something new. You have to play his game and beg him to show you the costume and tell you what he wants — it’s a routine you’re used to with him. But when he steps out of the bathroom wearing a ghostface mask, you know what he wants. Your heart shoots into your throat as you push yourself off the couch and start running. His heavy steps behind you push you forward until you slip on a rug and end up in his arms, being pulled to the floor. Before you know it, he’s got you naked under him, watching him pound into you in the full length mirror on your bedroom wall. He makes you cum twice before he’s ripping the mask off and flipping you over to finish on your stomach with a satisfied smile on his face. After he’s collected you and your tattered costume off the floor, he’s helping you into the bathtub with him where he soothes your bruised skin and frayed nerves with kisses and soft touches.

Han // coffee dates // auralism + orgasm control

Jisung is such a soft boy, and he always wants you to be comfortable and at ease with him. So what’s better than a cozy coffee date? He’s picking you up, dressed to impress, and giving you flowers before whisking you away to your favourite coffee shop where he’ll treat you to coffee and pastries. It’s a quaint, cozy place you two go a lot and spend hours basking in each other’s company. Sometimes Jisung tinkers on his computer while you read, or sometimes you sit and talk to each other about everything and nothing for hours. After a while though, you decide to take your coffees to go and stroll in the park together before it starts to rain and you decide to head home to soak in the autumnal vibes the day has brought.

But after you get caught in the rain on the way home, you both decide taking a bath together is the only way to stave off the cold that threatens you both. You strip down to nothing and get in the tub with him behind you. You simply bask in the warmth with him until you feel his fingers slipping between your thighs, teasing you. The sound of the water with his movements mixed with his moans is mesmerizing and you close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. Eventually, it becomes too much and you bat his hands away before turning to face him and sinking into him. The sloshing of the water in the tub, the wet slaps of your skin meeting his, and his desperate whines are nearly enough to send you over the edge. But it’s his broken voice pleading for you to cum that does it. After you clean up the water that spilled onto your bathroom floor, you both curl up together in bed and fall asleep to the sound of rain pattering against your windows.

Felix // Pie Baking // d/s dynamics + face fucking

Felix wakes you up with a phone call, asking you to come over and spend the day baking festive treats with him. Of course you agree. When you show up, he’s already on the second set of cookies. There’s soft, lo-fi music playing in the background, and it smells like a full bakery, and Felix is waiting for you with a soft smile and an apron just for you. You spend the rest of the day in the bubble he created for you both, full of laughter, snacks, music, and your favourite person in the world. Once you’ve gotten through all of his recipes for the day, you decide to give into one of your mischievous impulses and grab a handful of flour that leaves your hand headed in his direction before you can properly think it through. He gasps and before you can even think to run, he’s got his arms around you and is shaking his flour covered hair onto you, thoroughly coating you in the white powder.

But after you finish laughing, his eyes are hardening as he catches your chin in his hand. He asks if you thought there wouldn’t be any consequences, and the clench of his jaw tells you what type of mood he’s in. It’s serious. You fall to your knees in front of him, opening your mouth obediently, making him chuckle and shake his head. He’s not complaining though. Pretty soon he has you drooling with tears pouring down your face as he pistons his hips, holding you in place by your hair. Your jaw hurts, and your knees are starting to ache but the praises falling out of his mouth are more important than any discomfort you’re feeling. He’s praising how well he’s trained you, and complimenting your lack of resistance. Telling you how nice you look when you’re being ruined by him. And you love it. But he isn’t done with you yet — before long he’s got you naked, perched precariously on the counter and matching every thrust of his hips with one of your own. After you clean up the mess you made of the kitchen, you’re cuddling up with him on the couch with tea and all the goods you’ve baked.

Seungmin // Spooky movies // Choking + biting

The boys had invited you over for a scary movie marathon, and while normally you would jump at the offer, you just weren’t in the mood to be scared that day, which led to a polite decline, and many many assurances to your best friend Seungmin that you were fine. You resigned yourself to a day of solo self care, but 20 minutes into your skincare routine, your front door is opening and Seungmin barrels in with bags of snacks, and his laptop tucked under his arm. He simply shrugs when you ask what he’s doing there, telling you that he wasn’t up for a scary movie day either, so he decided to hide away with you; the only stipulation is that you have to watch all of the cozy spooky movies his heart desires. Of course you agree, because you know he’s only doing it for you – of course your favourite person knows that spooky movies are your absolute favourite. You spend the whole day cuddled on the couch with him, eating junk food and doing face masks. And after the sun sets, and you break out the bottles of soju you kept after the last party you hosted at your place. You couldn’t tell if it was the soju or the soft orange glow from the lights you strung around your living room, but Seungmin had never looked prettier. The liquid courage swimming in your stomach loosens your tongue during Nightmare Before Christmas and you make a joke that you relate to Sally, pining for someone (him) who doesn’t see you. He scoffs, leaning over and planting a kiss on your mouth, making a joke that you should know that Jack and Sally end up together in the end.

But after the credits roll, you’re turning to him to ask what he meant by that, and what it means for you; but he beats you to it and is pinning you underneath him, hands ghosting up your sides. He tells you he’s always wanted you, and now that he knows you feel the same he isn’t so nervous. You tell him you want him, you’ve always wanted him. He nods, stripping you both of your clothes before settling between your thighs. He nips at the skin of your chest and neck, leaving bite marks you know you’ll feel for days while he works his way into you. His hand finds your neck as you moan his name, eyes rolling back as he coaxes you through your joint orgasm. After you both catch your breath, he drags you to bed where you spend the rest of the night whispering to each other until the sun comes up, secure in knowing your relationship has changed but only for the better.

I.N // Haunted House // dacryphilia + degradation/humiliation

It’s not hard to convince Jeongin to go with you to a Haunted House, despite the fact that it’s definitely not something you’d agreed to when you started your arrangement. But it’s with a group of you, including his friends, and It’s one of those big ones that everyone goes to with actors who jump out at you. It’s really more surprising that you want to go to begin with — you hate being scared — but he loves to try and scare you. Despite everything, you and Jeongin are friends, and the benefits have never gotten in the way of that. But when you enter the haunted house, it’s not you who reaches for him, but him for you. And you know it’s not for his gain but for yours. Every jumpscare pulls a shriek out of you, followed by an embarrassed apology, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. But the whole time, Jeongin remains firmly by your side, holding you close to him and whispering calming things to you as you make your way toward the exit. He spends the rest of the night praising you for being so brave and you can’t help but feel butterflies every time he does it.

But as you’re leaving for the night, walking with the group in the dark parking lot, he decides to sneak up behind you and scare you. Which accidentally sends you into tears — which only makes you cry harder because you’re so embarrassed you started crying in the first place. Your friends chastise him as they all pile into their cars and leave you and a red faced Jeongin together, alone. You both stammer through apologies and an awkward car ride back to your place. You can’t even look at him until you’re standing in your entryway when you see that he’s been staring at you, and the zipper on the front of his pants is straining against him. He tells you that seeing you cry made him want to lick the tears off your face and made him so hard he could barely think, and he has something new he wants to try. You agree and find yourself bent into positions you could never imagine before, on display for him as he teases you into tears. You’re begging to cum, and shivering with every degrading comment but you’ve never been so wound up. All it takes is for him to lick the salty tears off your face as he gives you another painfully slow thrust to unravel with a scream. After he’s calmed you down and wiped your tears, he pulls you into his arms and reassures you he didn’t really mean all the nasty things he said and you fall asleep to him playing with the ends of your hair.

Spookyfest

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids headcanons #stray kids Halloween #skz headcanons #skz Halloween #skz x gn reader #bang chan smut #lee know smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #han jisung smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #i.n smut #spookyfest #stray kids x reader

703 notes · View notes

qraceiuv · 6 months

Text

pumpkin season. charles leclerc.

summary — you're charles' wife and known for going all out for halloween (along with your two twin girls)

note — sick and sad rn so here's this crap of a oneshot

warnings — nothing except google translate was used by me

_________________________________________

y/nleclerc

y/nleclerc: a cozy fall from the leclerc girls🍂🫶

—

username: THE CUTEST

username: amelie is gorgeous omg

username: I CANTT

username: y/n's season is here!!

username: icons

landonorris: who taught julianne to pose like that for photos?!

— y/nleclerc: you.

— landonorris: not sure what you're talking about.

username: lando being a bad influence on the leclerc twins part 500

— alex_albon: real.

carlossainz55: i want my halloween cookies asap

— y/nleclerc: "be patient" -amelie

— username: PLEASE

kellypiquet: cant wait to see you guys soon!

— y/nleclerc: 🥰🥰

lilymhe: MY GIRLS!!

charles_leclerc: tu me manques mes amours (i miss you my loves)

charles_leclerc: save me some cookies!

— leclerc_pascale: trop tard, ils sont tous partis! (too late, they're all gone!)

username: love this family so bad goodbye

y/nleclerc added to their instagram story!

y/nleclerc

y/nleclerc: happy halloween... 🎃👼🐸

—

username: amelie is the cutest angel wtf

username: DRESSING BETTER THAN ME😭

username: the little frog☹️☹️

username: i love them more than myself.

username: y/n's avatar costume disappeared

— y/nsleclerc: was only for the photos, walking around with blue skin is not an easy task

— username: pr queen💀

landonorris: 🤡🤡

— y/nleclerc: excuse you????

— landonorris: OMG NOO its supposed to be a hint to my costume for the party tonight

— y/nleclerc: show up to my home in a clown costume and i'll hurt you.

kellypiquet: my twin amelie🫠👼

— y/nleclerc: she adores you & the matching costumes so much!

— username: them matching omg🙁🙁

danielricciardo: princesses

charles_leclerc: no competition

y/nleclerc added to their instagram story!

_________________________________________

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc x reader #fanfic #ferrari #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #qraceiuv

605 notes · View notes

thebearer · 7 months

Text

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: target, halloween, carmen, and you. or a short, fluffy work about halloween shopping with target bc why not? 'tis the season.

contains: fluff. that's it lol. mentions to past family memories and some insecure carmen, but honestly just fluff!

“Oh, look at this one!” You coo, snatching the tiny ghost figurine off the shelf.

“Cute.” Carmen muttered, one hand on the obnoxiously red cart, the other on your lower back. “Put it in.” He nodded towards the cart that was slowly starting to fill up.

The speakers droned out some dull pop song, your coffee and his melting away in the drink carriers on the cart. Carmen didn’t usually prefer Starbucks, much more of a fan of the local coffee spot a block over from The Bear. They knew his regular, made it for him as soon as he walked in. No fuss, no forced conversation- just the way he liked it.

But you liked Starbucks, well, in the right circumstance. You liked going to Target, you liked having a coffee to sip on while you “browsed”. Browsed, Carmen had grinned when you told him that.

“You don’t just go out and browse sometimes? Look at things? Window shop to make yourself feel happier?” You’d asked him earlier in the car, head tilting to the side.

“No, baby. I, uh, I don’t.” Carmen looked over at you, his hand still holding yours in the center console. “But maybe you’re onto somethin’.”

Carmen’s lack of decorations was deemed a crime in your eyes, which inspired the trip. Halloween trinkets filling the cart, the sly smile you’d give him when you’d slip another one in, just like you were doing now.

“It’s my treat.” You’d remind him, with a little wink. Carmen let you think that. Like he’d ever let you pay. And miss out on a chance to spoil you? No way.

“Where’re you gonna put all this?” Carmen hummed, watching you situate the tiny ghost next to the plastic cauldron and iridescent ornaments- something you saw on TikTok that you were going to attempt to DIY. “My place isn’t that big.”

“I’ll find a place, don’t worry.” You hum, sliding back in beside him, swiping your cup out of the basket. “You’ve got a bathroom, and the kitchen, and the bedroom-”

“-Bedroom?” Carmen grinned lightly, his hand snaking to your waist while his free hand pushed the cart. “You gonna put this creepy shit in there?”

“It’s not creepy.” You huff at him. “It’s cute, festive. Makes the place feel more… homey.”

Carmen decided then, he’d let you put a full fucking skeleton in his room if it made you feel that way. He’d get rid of all his shit, didn’t need it anyways, so you’d have room for all your holiday stuff. Carmen’s heart fluttered at the thought of what Christmas would look like. Would you put up a tree? He hoped you would. He’d go and chop one down if he had to. Where in Chicago he’d find a tree? He wasn’t sure, but he’d find one for you. If it made you as happy as this did.

“Ok,” You pulled him out of his thoughts, stopping the cart lightly. You plucked the bright orange bag up. “Did you know these are my absolute weakness?” Pumpkin shaped Reese’s, in their bright orange and purple glory.

“Yeah?” Carmen grinned. “This is it, huh?”

“Yes, in any shape too. But I prefer the pumpkin.” You went to set it back, Carmen’s hand grabbing the bag lightly and putting it in the cart.

“‘M more of a Christmas Tree fan.” Carmen shrugged. “You know Cicero- uh, Jimmy-” You nodded, slipping back into his side. “He, uh, he used to bring a bag of these to Christmas every year when I was little. He’d always have to hide ‘em, ya know? My dad… My dad didn’t want us havin’ all that sugar before dinner. Jimmy would come in where all the kids were, toss ‘em to me or Mikey or Richie when he started hangin’ around. Tell us not to get caught, and Merry Christmas, and hide the evidence. We’d eat them before goin’ to Mass, and he did it every year until I got in high school.”

You smiled softly, hand sliding down his back. “That’s sweet.” You hum, squeezing his hip lovingly. “You should get him some for Christmas this year. Return the favor.”

“Yeah,” Carmen scoffed lightly. “Yeah, I think he’d like that.”

A silence fell between the two of you, chatter from the surrounding people, the scratchy-screech of the cart. Carmen’s heart hammered, mind racing. Why the fuck did you tell her that? Fuckin’ ruined the moment. Stupid, fuckin’ stupid.

“Hey, uh,” Carmen’s hands shook lightly, fingers drumming on the red plastic over the cart. “I-I didn’t mean to… ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that, ya know? Ruin the-the… I just, I dunno, you said that and-and I-”

“-What?” You asked softly, brows creasing lightly. “What are you talking about? Say what?”

“The, uh, the thing with Jimmy. I-I didn’t mean to make it awkward-”

“Why is it awkward?” You pressed, setting down the candle you were smelling. “I thought it was sweet.”

“Yeah? I-I just… I dunno why I said it, I’m sorry.” Carmen rambled, a hand falling over his face, hoping you couldn’t see the blush growing over his face.

“Don’t be sorry, Carm. There’s nothin’ to be sorry about.” You shook your head, waving him off. “It’s a sweet story. I like that you told me that.”

“Yeah?” Carmen asked softly.

You nodded, smiling at him. “You know I do, bear.” The nickname rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, calmly- Carmen’s sure he’s going to melt into the floor.

“Here,” You twist the lid off the next candle. “This one has caramel. You like that, right?”

Carmen wasn’t sure how you remembered that. He’d mentioned it once, in passing, that he liked whatever you were burning at your apartment when he was over. It was caramel and coffee, you’d remembered, because you showed up at his house with the same candle the next day. A love present, you’d called it, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You didn’t want anything in return, no strings, just buying him something because you wanted to; because he liked it. It was still a new concept to Carmen, how you could love him without wanting anything other than love in return.

Carmen ducked down, the brim of his hat bumping your wrist lightly. “Yeah, I like that one.” He nods. “Smells like that other one.”

“Yeah? Not too pumpkinny?” You tilt your head to the side.

“No.” Carmen laughs, breathy and light. “I don’t smell any pumpkin. Is there pumpkin?”

“Caramel Pumpkin Latte.” You tilt the label towards him. “They’re saying it’s in there.” Carmen hummed lightly. “You calling them a liar?” You giggle playfully.

“No, but I am sayin’ there’s not pumpkin in there.” Carmen snorted lightly, putting the candle in the cart anyways. “Not real pumpkin, anyways.”

“Maybe if this chef thing doesn’t work out, you could be a candle critic.” You tease, falling into slow steps beside him. “Be a candle blogger or something.”

“Candle blogger?” Carmen repeats with an amused smile. “That’s not real.”

You look at him, eyes wide in excitement. “Oh, Berzatto, am I about to blow your mind.”

“No? Really?” Carmen laughed. “You’re fuckin’ with me?”

“No! It’s a real thing, Carmen.” You laugh, pulling out your phone. “There was this woman that, like, went viral because she was going insane about Bath and Body Works not having her candle or something.” You giggle, typing slowly in the search bar.

“That’s fuckin’ insane.” Carmen rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.” You smirk. “Think she might’ve started a trend.”

“Well, can’t do that then.” Carmen shrugged, loading the items on the small platform at the self checkout. “Don’t wanna go up against her, baby. She’s intense.”

“Yeah, good call.” You grin, pocketing your phone, opening the bags while he scanned the ghost. “Guess you’ll have to stick to cooking.”

“Guess so.” Carmen muttered, putting the plush pumpkins in the bag, reaching for his wallet.

“Eh! No!” You click your tongue, eyes flashing at him. “I told you I was buying it.” You put a hand over the card slot, glaring at Carmen with a frown.

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head lightly, pushing your hand away lightly. “You got a number you wanna put in?” He nodded towards the screen.

You pouted, pausing for a moment. “Yes.” You mutter, typing in your number quickly, pivoting your body in front of the card machine.

“You gonna move?” Carmen looked at you, already reaching around to put his card in.

“No, I told you it was my treat.” You mutter, twisting with your phone in your hand. One look at the screen, and you were tapping your phone against the screen. The ding chimed, your smug smile spreading across your lips when the receipt printed.

Carmen was stunned, card still in his hand. “What- How did you-”

“Gotta be quicker than that, Berzatto.” You grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Carmen looked down at his card in his hand, shoving it back into his wallet. Maybe Sugar was right, maybe he did need to actually learn how to use his phone. He grabbed the bags from you, swatting your hand away while you pushed the basket back.

“Shoulda let me pay.” Carmen grumbled, walking beside you out the sliding doors. It had started to get chilly, leaves tinging with warm color and the temperature beginning to drop. “Stuff’s for me anyways.”

“Yeah, but I wanted you to get it.” You bump your hip playfully with his. “Besides, I told you it was my treat.”

Carmen didn’t respond, unlocking the trunk and putting the bags in carefully, but the frown didn’t fade. Brows still furrowed and lips still in a hard line.

“Hey,” You call, stopping him before he could close the trunk. “I told you I wanted to buy it for you.”

“Yeah,” Carmen’s brows furrowed. “But you shouldn’t’ve-”

“-Carm.” You groan lightly. “I wanted to pay, ok? You always get me stuff. Let me get this for you, ok?” You say lightly, arms snaking around his shoulders, looping behind his neck. “Let me spoil you, bear. Lemme be your sugar mama.”

Carmen snorts, lips curling in a grin lightly. “Shut up.” He mutters, your lips closing over his in a sweet kiss.

You pulled apart, blushed and swooned in a Target parking lot. “You gotta put the stuff up anyways.” You tease, hands sliding down his toned arms, over his color block jacket.

“Yeah?” Carmen snorts lightly, pulling the trunk shut. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“I’ll be directing.” You declare, pinching his butt lightly, grinning at how he jumped and flushed. Sliding into the passenger side, you lean across the console to Carmen. “I’ll make sure the ambiance is there.”

Carmen nodded, starting the car, eyes bright when they met yours. “Light the candle?”

“Yes.” You laugh. “And I’ll pick out a movie.”

Carmen snorted lightly, his free hand moving behind your head rest while he backed out. It made your tummy flip with excitement. “Yeah? Casper?”

You give him a feigned unimpressed look. “You know I’m more of a Hocus Pocus girl.”

“Right, my bad.” Carmen laughed, hand gripping your thigh lightly, thumb rubbing patterns over the material of your leggings. Your heart skipped. “Fine. As long as you open those Reese’s.”

“Deal.” You grin, kissing his forearm gently.

Hours later, wrappers piled on the coffee table, the candle burning in the kitchen, and the orange lights glowing from where Carmen string them over the TV stand in the living room. One Jack-O-Lantern fleece blanket thrown over both of your legs, your head on Carmen’s while the beginning credits of Beetlejuice played on the TV. Carmen decided right there that you were right. This was more homey. Felt… right and content. He wasn’t so sure it was the decorations, more likely it was the girl who picked them out.

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bangaveragewhitewine · 7 months

Text

Hearts are wild creatures

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

Halloween, 1999

A simple worn-before couple’s costume and drinks with friends. Kissing like teenagers and hushed voices. You and Steve, a night to make up for lost time before Halloween-morning with your two little girls.

Takes place two years after soft slow, morning glow

Word count: 6.4k

Contents: Parent!Steve & Reader. Explicit (18+) - oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up, friends!). Breeding kink. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids, mention of a difficult pregnancy, sickeningly sweet domestic fluff.

Author’s note: This started as soft Halloween-flavoured domesticity and then I imagined Steve dressed as Johnny Castle… we couldn’t not go there.

Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being wonderful. And for watching ST from the start with me! And thank YOU, dear reader, for being here. I hope you enjoy it!

Tucked away in the Chicago suburbs, your little house matches its companions in the cosy cul de sac; the residents of Elm Crescent had transformed their homes and gardens into a Halloween Wonderland as exciting for the adults as it was for the kids. You knew you had made the right choice buying your first home here.

The garden has been prepared for a night of costumed trick-or-treaters, the path flanked by two homemade sheet-ghosts and leaves raked in vain leaving the green lawn clear for those that fell since yesterday afternoon. Four carved pumpkins guard the house from their spot on the front steps, arranged from largest to littlest - one for each of you.

Inside, tissue-paper ghosties with wobbly marker-drawn smiles made by tiny hands float on lengths of thread, seasonal art projects take pride of place in the kitchen, and paper bats guard the stairs from their hanging place on the spindles. Nothing too scary to frighten a four and nearly-two-year-old, all brightly childish orange and purple and green, smiling instead of scaring.

Halloween fell perfectly in ‘99 - a Sunday night for tricks and treats meant that you and Steve could make grown-up plans on Saturday. A simple worn-before couple’s costume, a competent and willing babysitter, and drinks with friends in a too-loud bar that you all left early to get pizza and a cab home. It was later than you had stayed up or out in months, maybe years, and you both felt almost giddy with excitement. Far from the late and boozy Halloween nights of your early years as a couple, it was exactly the night you and Steve had wanted.

Back home, your Johnny and Baby costumes were barely folded before you crawled into bed together and kissed like off-the-leash teenagers, keeping your voices and giggles low while your babies slumbered peacefully down the hall.

After paying the babysitter from across the street, making sure she got home safe, neither you nor Steve could resist a peek at the two sleeping girls when you got home, both sentimental (and a little broody again) as you held each other gazing at their little dreaming faces. Beth with her bunny-teddy pillowing her cheek (reminding you to wash it soon with lavender detergent and steaming hot water) and Ava, sweet little Ava, starfishing in her crib. Your tiny girl takes up so much space in your hearts, pulls attention in every room she enters with her big brown eyes and honey-blonde hair; she is your little cherub.

You had missed them on your night out, tried not to count the minutes since you had left or until you got home to them. Steve had felt the same, but you knew they were safe and (hopefully) sleeping. So, you tried and succeeded in letting yourselves be distracted by your brilliant little group of friends, strong drinks and each other - all of which came easily, with warm cheeks and loud laughter, stolen kisses while your friends pretended to take offence that you loved each other more than them.

Now, at home in your cosy little bedroom, Steve’s hand skates upward, feeling the dips and curves of your body as your lips lock in a needy kiss. Smiling against your mouth, he greedily swallows the soft noise pulled from your throat. His hand finds its home, cupping your breast through soft shell-pink satin, as the other holds your hand pinned to the sunshine-coloured cotton sheet.

Two kids later and he is still utterly obsessed with you, in love with all of you - especially the bumps and marks of motherhood that came with each perfect girl. You had spent most of the night tucked to his side, pretty pink contrasting his tight black shirt and jeans. Robin had tried to sit between you at one point and you had been hauled onto the warm sturdy throne of Steve’s lap, his chin on your shoulder as he argued with his best friend over whether they should do karaoke or shots next. Except for quests to the bar for more drinks and a few trips to the bathroom, you hadn’t been without his warm touch since you left the house. He would have held your hand while you peed if he could, would have accompanied you to the bar except your friends forced you to be apart ‘for five fuckin’ minutes, dude.’

His lips skate lower, abandoning your kiss-swollen lips to nibble your jaw and seek out that spot on your neck while his thumb presses firmly against your nipple. Your brow creases in pleasure when he finds it; the quiet gasp ‘Steve’ is whispered into his hair, edging toward a whimper.

“Mmhm? M’here, baby.” Tipsy from a lower alcohol tolerance and drunk on you, Steve’s voice is hot against your neck.

Your fingers wrap over his own as he presses you into the mattress, his black Calvin Klein’s straining with need, with want. Your own underwear have been damp since his hand settled on your thigh in the cab at the start of the night.

Your fingers slide into Steve’s hair, directing him back to your lips as his thigh slots snugly into the apex of your spread legs.

“Yeah? There?” he murmurs, smiling cockily.

It had been far too long since you had time alone like this; too tired after work or parenting, one or both of you needed to dry tears and check for monsters after a bad dream just as hands began to wander beneath the covers.

Your hips roll, electrified, grinding on the firm bulk of his thigh. “Please, Stevie…”

You both know you could get off like this and if he thought that was what you really wanted - what you needed - Steve would let you. He would gladly watch you come undone, guide your hips and be whatever you need him to be. But neither had forgotten your hot whisper against his ear as Eddie carried a tray of drinks and shots back to your table earlier; the way your lips grazed Steve’s neck as you so quietly asked him to fuck you into the mattress when you got home.

You had watched his eyes blow wide and pressed a rose-pink kiss to his cheek (warm and blushing) while your friends placed bets on when Baby Harrington the Third would be coming.

Steve peels himself back, kneeling on the bed as he palms himself at the sight of you. You feel saliva pool under your tongue as you rake your eyes from his thighs, over that substantial bulge, and up his furry chest. He is nothing short of breathtaking, and Steve thinks just the same of you.

Your fingers slip over the nude lace of your underwear, biting your lip when you brush over the damp spot visible even in the low light from the bedside lamp. You don’t play long, already too worked up, and push your panties down toward your thighs with a lift of your hips.

Steve takes over, like a baton-pass, and eases your legs up against his chest with your feet against his shoulder. Your underwear is slipped off and thrown carelessly behind him, somewhere on the floor. He presses kisses to your calf, a curving path up over your ankle and the top of your foot before each leg is laid down gently on either side of his spread knees.

You prop yourself up on your elbows before pushing yourself up to sit and meet Steve for another kiss; it is smiling and sweet and a little dirty. Your fingers hook into his waistband before taking a greedy handful of his unfairly pert behind, making him laugh against your mouth.

“You going to give me what I want?” you murmur, kissing his chin. Your other hand slips down the front side, fingers wrapping around to squeeze his hard length as you look up through your lashes.

“Anything. Everything.” Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he cups your cheek in one huge hand, blindly bringing you back in for another kiss.

Your voices are just loud enough for each other to hear in the golden glow of your bedroom. You miss the days when you could be loud, but wouldn’t change it - take a day trip to the past perhaps, when you didn’t have to restrain your desire to a quick fuck after dark, or during nap time while the washer and dryer run in the background like white noise,

Maybe in a few weeks, before the craziness of the holidays, you can stow away to a hotel for a night or two and cash in on the babysitting offer from Aunties Robin and Nancy.

But tonight is perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect when you shove Steve’s briefs down his thighs and when his fingers skate over your back to undo your bra (before it joins your underwear and his on the floor). You lay back, taking Steve with you, and hook your leg over his hip and bring him as close as you can all over again.

All there is right now is you and Steve. You’re well-practised enough to be quiet.

Covetous hands palm over hips, fingers thread into hair, pulling each other close and closer still. Steve finds his home between your thighs and leans over, dipping to kiss you as his fingers press and tease, push inside you with care. His fingers stretch just right and curl up to seek out the place that makes you drool.

“Lemme have a little taste?” he asks against your mouth, smiling when a whine catches in your throat. “Yeah? Can I?”

“So greedy.” Your cheeks are warm and crease when his smile sets you off.

“I am. I can’t get enough of you.” His straight white teeth nip your lower lip, a bite he soothes with his tongue. “I think you love it…”

You gasp as his fingers curl again before he withdraws them, and watch as he licks your wetness from them.

Steve winks as his lips trail lips lower, over your chest and the softness of your tummy, your hips and the places on your thighs that jiggle a little bit. Steve presses a feathery kiss to your swollen bud before licking out his tongue to part your lips

Steve’s prone to getting sidetracked down there - not that you would ever complain about your husband who loves to go down on you - but you have been thinking of being railed by him since last Wednesday.

The begged-for ‘little taste’ quickly becomes so much more.

There’s nothing ‘little’ about Steve - not his hands or his thighs, his biceps or his manhood, or his heart. His appetite for you certainly is not little or lacking either. With his hand on your thigh, the other on the cheek of your ass, he makes your thighs tremble with a few skilful licks and the soft suck of his mouth. His nose rests and nudges against the pudge of your mound, darkened eyes fixed on you as he flicks his tongue.

He watches how your jaw drops, the crease in between your brows. You feel dizzy, anchored only by the weight of his hand spreading your thigh higher, wider for him.

The burning want in your belly flames hot and bright as Steve buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses firm and flat, encouraged when your fingers slide into his hair to keep him ‘right there, oh!’

Silenced by your own hand, you feel that white-hot tight-winding feeling as his fingers slide home again. The sound of his wet mouth on you sounds so loud, the same volume as the throb of your heart, the blood rushing in your ears. A whimper of Steve’s name is stifled, a high choked-up noise in your throat as his scalp burns from tugging fingers.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, amped up and tightly wound after a night of teasing and wanting, and the long groping make-out and grind in the kitchen after the babysitter left.

Steve’s solid weight keeps your hips low to the bed, even when your back arches sharply. An expert at your pleasure now, seeking it out and making you see stars every time, he keeps up the pace and pressure, with his fingers and tongue. He knows what you need, how you like it - never stale, never disappointing.

Your body attempts to curl up on itself, feeling too good. Slowly, carefully, Steve drags his mouth to kiss your shaky thigh before making his way back to lie alongside you. His damp fingers, wrap around his diamond-hard length to give some sort of relief.

Glowing and giggly, you gaze up at him and drag Steve in for a kiss. “Knew you were a greedy boy.” Your voice is quietly breathy, shaking with that post-orgasm wobble as he laughs against your mouth.

“Got carried away. Sue me.” His voice is a low murmur.

Cupping his cheek, you skate your thumb along the bone. He’s so gorgeous, gold-toned in the nighttime light. Your fingertips brush the moles on his cheek as Steve kisses you again; beneath the musk of you on his tongue, you can still taste the lingering whiskey notes from your night out.

Pulled right up against him, you feel the hard and soft of Steve’s body, the fur of his chest and thighs. He found two grey hairs on his chest earlier in the year which almost caused an existential crisis - only solved with your tweezers and a tonne of kisses and promises that you would still adore him when every hair on his body was shiny silver.

“You wanna be on your back or front?” he asks, squeezing your side.

The question makes that inferno in your tummy begin to burn hotter again. You think of how good it feels when he’s behind you, thighs slapping against the back of your own, the way he stretches you and hits that place deep inside. And yet, you need to see him tonight - you are so dreamily in love with him that not having his lips on yours might just make you expire.

“Back. Pass me that cushion?”

As you get comfy, Steve takes himself in hand again and settles himself between your legs. His non-busy hand runs through his hair - still a glorious mane into his thirties, despite a few shorter cuts over the years - and you are reminded of the pretty-boy you fell for almost a decade ago.

Steve catches you smiling and palms your leg as you settle on either side of his hips. He matches the little grin and dips forward to kiss you, nuzzling your noses together.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, huh?” he asks, running the head of his cock through your wetness before tapping it at the top.

He watches your lashes flutter, the way you bite your lip.

“Just thinkin’ about you, handsome,” you murmur, “You always make me smile.”

He grins and kisses you again, both feeling like young loves again despite the aches and pains and the mortgage and the two kids sleeping down the hall. “I fuckin’ love you,” Steve whispers.

“I love you,” you murmur back, running your fingers into your love’s hair as the other hand grabs his wrist. “Please? Been waiting all night, Stevie…”

His lips melt the put-on pout and together you guide him inside. The stretch of him has got easier over the years, well practised at love-making and fucking like rabbits alike. He’s gentle when he needs to be, rougher when you both want it like that.

“I’ve got you, baby. Sorry for making my girl wait,” he murmurs as he slides all the way in.

Eyes fluttering closed at the stretch-and-fill, Steve starts off with a slow grind that makes your jaw drop. He murmurs quiet swears at how warm-wet you feel around him, squeezing him tight as his hips draw halfway back before going all the way in again.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and braces one hand by your head with the other splayed wide on your side. Your hips lift with him, legs propped high to open you up wider for him.

For a scant second, you want to ask if his back hurts - he pulled something at basketball drills last week and you had massaged on Tiger Balm morning and night for a few days until the twinging stopped. The hard flick of his hips makes the question vanish from your mind, his cock dragging and hitting just right.

“Oh god,” you whisper-gasp, jaw hanging open.

“I know, baby. M’sorry it’s been so long. M’a bad husband, huh? Leaving my poor wife needy and un-fucked.” His voice is hot and rough against your cheek, breath tickling your ear as he finds his rhythm. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?”

You squeeze the back of his neck, giggling. “Make it up to me all you want.” He palms over your hip, hiking it higher before leaning over you again. “Fuck, Steve. Feels so good.”

Your eyes dip to the gold chain hanging around his neck, watching how it sways in rhythm to how he’s fucking you. You bring your hand to where it rests against his neck, guiding Steve’s mouth to yours again. His breath huffs hot against your lips, tongues sliding in a dirty kiss.

The wet click of parting lips sounds loud in Steve’s ears when you break away, moaning his name against his chin when his thrusts hit deeper, harder.

“Shhh, I know you wanna be loud, sweetheart. I know you feel good.” His voice is like lava dripping as he kisses your neck.

You pinch your lips together, the moan caught in your throat comes out as a high hum.

Steve is so hard. His pants felt too tight all night; half hard since he saw you in your little pink dress. It only got worse, harder not to ask you to meet him in the bathroom, when you sat on his lap and toyed with the back of his hair, whispered in his ear before slipping into conversation with Nancy about something totally different.

The slick-tight-hot feeling, the way you pulse around his cock, makes that tense coil of pleasure low in his gut wind tighter. His chest feels like

You can’t help but fall a little more in love with him, hypnotised by the swinging gold chain, the circles he rubs against your hip and the way his styled hair falls over his forehead.

Squeezing your thighs around him, you bring your legs up and tilt your hips higher. Steve adjusts the stance of his knees and slows his thrusts to a deep grind, the tip of him brushing your cervix. You can feel all of him pressed right up against you, inside and out.

“Oh fuck.. fuck, Steve.” Your voice is thin and strained, like a thread about to snap.

“Yeah, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, biting down on his own lower lip. “God, you’re so pretty. So sexy.”

The air in your bedroom feels humid and heavy, like a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to crack and split the sky, waiting for a downpour.

Steve moves his hand from your hip, gliding over your pelvis to feel how he makes you bulge just a bit before his fingers begin circling your sticky-damp clit. Just quick enough, firm enough, mean enough.

Your back arches, quiet voice babbling with incoherence at how intense it feels. “I’mgonnacomeohgodstevestevefuck…”

“Come on baby, come for me. Let me feel it,” he pants, hitting deep and hard. He’s so close, barely holding on to himself.

You hold him tight to you as you come, fingers tugging in his hair as the other hand claws and digs into the meat at the top of his ass.

Overwhelmed, a sweet shock of release hits you like lightning and opens the floodgates.

Steve holds you just as close, anchored to each other. Whispering hot words of praise against your mouth, he gazes into your watery eyes sparkling with tears - he makes you feel that good.

“Oh baby, I’ve got you. You okay?” he asks, so tender. He leans over you, wrapping his arm beneath your lower back as the other braces his weight along his forearm. One huge hand cups your face and wipes your tears. There’s mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and you look beautiful.

There’s that smile he loves; wobbly and lovely. A giggle-sob bubbles from those sweet kiss-bitten lips. “Fuck, Steve..”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Want me to pull out, is it too much?”

You shake your head against the duvet, your hair a mess. “No, no. Don’t... Wanna feel you.” Your voice is slurred, love drunk.

That makes him throb. He kisses you again and runs his nose along yours. “M’close,” he whispers, beginning a slow-dragging thrust inside your soaked and still-fluttering body.

You can see it, how close he is, and feel it in how his rhythm has faltered. His brows pinch, smearing wet kisses to your shoulder as he tucks his face into your neck.

“I’ve got you, Stevie. You’re so good,” you whisper, stroking the back of his neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

A grunting groan is smothered against your shoulder as Steve stills and shudders on top of you. His hips pump slow and hard as he comes inside with your name on his lips, making you shiver too.

His weight settles, sinking you into the mattress in the best way. This is exactly what you had missed so much. As much as you fervently adore actually having sex with Steve Harrington, there is something so special about lying with him in the afterglow.

Sweat-sticky and breathless, you stroke through his hair and press your lips into his hair. The hairspray scent lingers, clinging to the scent of shampoo beneath the smoke from cigarettes bummed from his bad-influence-best-friend Eddie. There was something about the smoke-tinged kisses that made you feel extra feral for him on the way home.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you whisper, laughing softly when his sigh tickles your neck.

“But you’re so comfortable.”

Lifting his head, Steve smiles all pink-cheeked and dozy. “So beautiful too,” he murmurs, inching forward to kiss you.

The wet noise from below makes you both laugh like teenagers and you take your turn to hide your face.

“You take your birth control today?” he asked, easing himself up and out of you slowly, carefully. His eyes can’t look away from where he drips from you.

“Mhm. Sorry, big boy.” You grab a tissue from the bedside table, wiping yourself gently before you mess up the duvet cover. You had both agreed, after having Ava, to wait a few years before adding to your nest again - it had been Steve’s idea after your less-than-easy second pregnancy. For a man with a bit of a breeding kink and a dream of a family the size of a field hockey team, he was wonderfully considerate.

He kisses you again before standing to find his pyjama pants; he leaves out one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts for you too - sleeping naked was a dangerous game with two small kids.

Clean-faced and exhausted and happy, you curl up together in bed after a few sleepy kisses and a playful argument about who would get up with Ava in the morning. As if Steve would ever miss a chance to let you sleep and steal the morning smiles from your youngest all for himself.

“You won’t even hear me sneak. M’a ninja,” he murmurs tiredly against the back of your neck and you can feel his smile.

“If you say so, ninja boy,” you mumble back, dragging your joined hands up for one more kiss before slipping into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Sunday. Halloween. The best day of the year for your little girls - since the last best day (their Daddy’s birthday in late July).

Ever a fan of Halloween, and autumn in general, you always wanted to bring your girls up to be excited for Halloween as soon as September began. Still so little, with Play-Dough minds, they had begun to catch on to your excitement and followed soaked it up. Beth especially, four with an expansive imagination, was excited about dressing up and eating candy and watching “Hogus Pogus” with you after dinner.

Your parental body clocks ring at seven despite the late night.

You wake to Steve creeping out, blindly bumping into the dresser with a quiet ‘shit’ as Ava calls out for him. This morning his presence was required to brush fat tears from the little one’s pink cheeks and kiss the damp paths they left behind until she was smiling again.

You hear the youngest babbling as Steve carries her quietly downstairs, hoping she won’t wake you or Beth. The throb of a minor hangover and post-sex ache drags you back under the covers and into a light doze.

You have another thirty minutes and some change until Beth wakes and realises she misses you, deciding to sneak in before even letting her Dad know she was awake - she wanted to see you hear about your Halloween party with her uncle and aunties and remind you that the best day had finally arrived.

The creaky hinge on the door alerts you - a reminder to ask Steve to show you how to oil it properly this time - you peek an eye open to watch the four-year-old sneak over to stand by the bed on her Dad’s side. She would be content enough with just seeing you, comforted in the knowledge that you were home to spend the day together; her face lights up when she spies you peeking over Steve’s pillow, your hand raised in a little wave.

“Hi Mommy,” she whispers, dimples showing her delight.

“Hi Bethie,” you whisper back, beckoning her into Steve’s vacant spot next to you.

You open the covers to let your big girl in. She folds herself into you for a hug, her head against your chest.

“I missed you. I missed you sooooo much,” she says, face turned up to look at you like she is a sunflower and you’re the sun.

“I missed you too, baby.” Her little face cupped in one hand, you press kisses to her forehead and cheeks, her little nose.

You make a tent big enough for two beneath the covers, lying on your sides facing each other until your giggling makes it too warm and your tummies rumble for the special Halloween breakfast you promise. (You curse yourself a little for that last glass of wine, trying to remember what exactly you had promised until Beth reminds you about the pumpkin-shaped pancakes).

Wrapped in your soft dressing gown, you follow Beth down the stairs, hearing Ava’s happy-baby babble in the kitchen as she eats her half-banana breakfast appetizer. The decorations look a little silly and rough around the edges in the morning light, but still, your little home feels like a perfect pocket of happiness.

Beth jumps into the kitchen with an excited-but-not-very-spooky ‘BOO!’ for Steve.

When she sees him, nursing coffee and Advil with a messy bedhead and tired smile, he quickly becomes Beth’s golden light source as her beaming face turns to him.

“Woah! You scared me!” he says, clutching his heart before dipping to scoop her up.

You try not to laugh at his Dad-groan and the cracking crunch of his knees as he stands, instead shuffling in your slippers to Ava in her highchair.

Her hands bash on the tray, smushing banana with fierce excitement as you peck kisses all over her pretty cherubic face.

Beth leans her head against Steve, playing with the string of his hastily thrown-on hoodie as she tells him about the dream she had and how he has to take lots of pictures of her costume later to send to your extended family.

Spotting his bare feet on the kitchen tiles, you slip into the laundry room to find a pair of socks for him to wear. Resistant to ‘old man slippers’, you tuck them into his front pocket as you peck his lips and move him and Beth away from the counter so you can start on breakfast. You steal a sip of his coffee, wrinkling your nose at the lack of sweetness before shooing him and Beth to sit with Ava at the table.

“What was Uncle Teddy dressed as?” Beth asks, head against Steve’s chest so she looks at him upside down.

“He was a vampire. But he just wore his normal clothes and some silly teeth.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically - he had seen vampire Eddie all the way back in high school when he was dealing instead of drinking, and again when you all used to drink and party the night away in your early twenties. Yeah you had dressed as Baby and Johnny before, but you had all boo’ed at Eddie when he showed up in the ultimate low-effort costume.

“Oh. Okay. Vampires is sca’wry though, Daddy!” Beth reminds him. “You and Mommy didn’t go as scar'wies. What about Bobin?”

You laugh quietly at the nickname Robin has had since Beth started speaking, and her simple way of humbling Steve about his own costume (and yours).

“Robin dressed up as Elton John. You know the song you like, Benny & the Jets? She dressed up as the guy who sings that song. And Can You Feel The Love Tonight. He sings that too.” Steve is a wee bit distracted, nibbling the chunk of crushed banana offered from Ava’s fist.

“Bobin was Simba?” Beth’s eyes are wide, excited. She doesn’t seem bothered about her lack of scary costume, only yours.

“No babe. Elton John, he’s a singer. She had big glasses on and a sparkly jacket. You know he sings... Um. ‘Rocketmaaan, burning up his fuel out there alone..’ you like that one. I’ll find the tape later.”

Ava squeals in delight when he sings, so Steve indulges her a little more.

As you mix up pancake batter (adding a little food colouring to make them orange like pumpkins), and take two Advil for the dull throb in your head, the soundtrack of Beth and Steve’s conversation makes you smile, interspersed with Ava’s chirpy shouts for attention, her little contributions to the conversation.

You glance back at the little tableau of Beth on Steve’s lap, his hood pulled over his messy hair (a pair of sunglasses and he would look just the same as your hungover mornings in your first apartment together). His spare hand strokes Ava’s hair, twirling the crushed baby-curls at the back of her head and tickling her chin and neck to make her giggle.

Beth joins you after a little while, standing on a chair to help mix the batter and supervise your pancake-making with little bits of commentary.

“That one looks a w’ittle bit squished, Mommy. Daddy can have that one.”

“Thanks, Beth.” Steve’s voice is muffled behind his second cup of coffee.

“Welcome Daddy! Mommy, can I has that nice stuff on?”

“On what, sweets?”

“My pancakes.” You can hear her eye roll, the implied ‘duh, mom’ (thanks Auntie Max).

“The nice stuff? Syrup?”

“Yeah! Sir-yup.”

“Yeah okay. A little bit.” You flip another pancake, turning the chocolate chip face down onto the heated pan. “Do you want bacon on the same plate or on the side?”

“Um. Can I dip it?”

“In the syrup?”

“Yeah, in that nice stuff.”

“Yeah, you can try dipping it. Who taught you that?”

“Teddy.”

You smirk, “Steve, did you hear that? Betty’s taking after her Uncle’s eating habits.”

“Which one?”

“Ed. She’s gonna dip her bacon in syrup.”

“That’s my girl.”

Beth giggles and turns carefully on the chair to look at him. “No Daddy, you does it all over! You got to dip-dip.”

“Can you show me how?” Steve asks, he smiles over at her, looking so handsome with the baby standing in his lap now.

“Magic word?”

You snort-laugh, tucking your chin to your chest as your shoulders shake; you just about slide the pancake onto a plate without incident. Beth has one hand on her hip, a mini-Steve for sure, giving as good as she gets.

“Are you practising your magic for later?”

“Nooo Daddy. You has to say p’weeeeeeze-uhhh.”

“Okay-uhhhh. Please, pretty princess Bethany, can you show me how to dip my bacon in syrup?”

Bethany considers it and looks at you with a cheeky smile. “Yep! I show you, Daddy!”

You wink at her before helping her pour more batter onto the hot buttered pan, praising her careful steady hand.

“Beth, can you grab a bib for Ava please?” You’re almost done and know you’ll get it served up quicker if your helper has a special task.

“Yes! What colour?” her hot cocoa eyes shine with delight to help as you help her down.

“Surprise me. We have a Halloweeny one for later, so any one you like for breakfast time okay? Dealer’s choice.” You dot a kiss to her head before watching her scurry to check what colour her sister's sleep-suit is.

“There’s a laundry basket in the living room, babe. The bibs are on top. Do you need help?” Steve asks her, lifting Ava back into her chair before going to get forks and plates and glasses of juice for the table.

“No tank you.”

You lean back against Steve’s warm chest and tilt your head for a kiss. “Hi. I missed you.”

“Missed you more,” he murmurs, squeezing the tender spots on your hips as he kisses you slowly and sweetly. A proper kiss for the morning, tasting of coffee and shared banana and sneaked chocolate chips.

Your fingers brush his jaw, feeling stubble beneath soft fingertips. He won’t shave today, you hope he’ll string it out a couple of days into the work week.

After another hip-squeeze, he picks out cutlery and you notice how he squints into the drawer.

“Glasses.”

“Getting them next, chef.”

“No, your glasses Stevie. You’ll get a headache.”

“I have a headache. I’m blaming Rob for it.”

“It’ll get worse if you don’t put your glasses on, babe.”

You watch him mimicking your correctness with a scrunched nose as he picks out forks and knives. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t have to like it.

Steve gathers everything for breakfast, including Beth’s syrup.

“I’ll get them in a sec,” he murmurs behind you, waiting for Beth to return with a bib first.

You smile to yourself and start plating up.

“Beth, how are we doing on the bib?”

When he looks into the living room, Steve sees Beth with every clean bib around her as she decides.

“I can’t find one to match!” Beth’s face is a scowl.

“Babe, it doesn’t need to match. Just pick. Please.” Steve tries to be patient. Ava is getting impatient without food or distractions in the kitchen and he hears you chatter to her to try and help. He’s usually good at the diffuse and distract technique, a pro after quasi-parenting more than half a dozen teenagers.

“Can we do a-a spooky one?”

“Um. Sure. This one is kinda autumny?” He holds up the orange and yellow floral one, tiny flowers and green leaves.

“But Ava’s jammies is pink Daddy! It doesn’t go! It has to be spooky and match!” Beth’s voice turns whiney, a pout on her face.

Steve pops his head back into the kitchen where Ava is entirely unimpressed with being ignored as you bring over the plates. “Beth would really like it if Ava could have a Halloween bib now, and if it matched her pjs too…”

You watch him suppressing an eye-roll, knowing it would just hurt his head. He looks exactly like Beth.

“Um, check the laundry room? I left a couple out.” You peek around Steve and see Beth with all of the bibs around her. “Sorry, I should’ve just told her to check in there.”

“No, it’s fine. Beth, pick those up please and come wash your hands.”

Steve smooches Ava’s cheek as he passes and palms your side with a squeeze. He picks up a purple bib with bats and a white one with ghosts - he is hopeful that one will suit Beth’s specifications and taste. He has this Dad thing down to a fine art.

The bigger girl has clean and almost dry hands, pyjama sleeves rolled up her arms by your gentle mom-touch. Her face splits into a grin when Steve presents the choices.

“Yes! The pur-pellll!” she squeaks, bouncing on her feet.

He dips to pick her up, barely suppressing the dad-groan - but it’s quieter than last time. “My little fashionista, huh? Everything’s gotta match?” He pecks her nose, making it scrunch like a bunny’s.

When Ava’s got her bib on, distracted by cut-up pumpkin-shaped pancakes and berries (with one slice of bacon), Beth sits in her seat at the table in awe of the jack-o-lantern faces you have created.

“Spooky enough, babe?” You sip maple-sweetened coffee and smile at her little happy face.

Her hair is spilling over from her messy bedtime ponytail, which comes more loose as she nods furiously. “So cool! Tank you Mommy!”

“Super cool,” Steve agrees, winking at you across the table. “Thanks, baby.”

You’re just as sexy to him now, as you were last night with your messy hair and the well-loved teddy-print dressing gown. He notices his glasses case by his coffee and you wink back at him over the top of your mug.

With his world more in focus, Steve watches you smile at Ava as she shows you her chunk of pancake. You kiss her cheek, nuzzle into her milk-and-honey scented neck telling her you love her.

You feel like the littlest one hasn’t had your full attention this morning and you have missed her, feeling mom-guilt to the hilt. Steve will take on dish-duty once the plates are empty and bellies are full, giving you time with your girls.

There are a few last-minute decorations and chores you want to make time for in between kid-friendly movies, dressing the girls in their costumes - Beth as a tiny cute witch and Ava as a cosy pumpkin. The girls are your number one priority today, making core memories for them and taking one hundred and one photos for the albums. Ava is still too little to really soak it in but she takes enough notice to nourish her little mind.

You and Steve will fill out the candy for trick-or-treaters, and hold little hands when the girls go door to door in your own cul de sac. When they’re tucked up in bed, you will pick through the candy leftovers and curl up to watch one scary film followed by a non-scary one as a balm before you sleep.

For now, you sit back and share a loving smile with Steve, your socked feet brushing beneath the breakfast table.

What a treat.

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem #platonic stobin #platonic steddie #steve harrington fluff #bangaveragefics

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 9 months

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Hi so I wanted to request something I just thought of if that’s okay! A little meet cute story from season 4 where reader is the midwife who helped deliver Henry and her and Reid meet in the hospital and just hit it off🥺

this is so cute! this strays a lot from the plot of the episode because i haven't watched it forever and don't feel like it lmao

The Lanky Guy in Room 603

She wasn't sure if the long, lanky man curled up in the uncomfortable chair was Jennifer's brother or husband. He looked young; with a blemish-free baby face and a mop of soft brown hair. She could tell it had a slight curl to it and she had to resist an urge to tuck the stray pieces that fanned out behind his ear. Perhaps it was because she spent her days and nights caring for expecting parents, she just couldn't help but want to care for the sleeping man.

Jennifer was watching television, a pained look on her face as she held her round belly.

"You said it would be today," Jennifer groaned, the pain of labor evident on her face, "It's almost tomorrow."

Y/N sat on the stool beside Jennifer's bed, "I know I did, honey." She pressed a damp cloth to Jennifer sweaty face, attempting to cool down her body temperature. "But it seems like this little baby's got a mind of their own."

"Just like her mother."

The voice came from behind her. The sleep man, now not sleeping, unfolded himself from his pretzel-like position on the chair. He joints popped as he stretched his legs. Y/N noticed his socks were patterned. His left foot donned socks with gray tabby cats and a navy blue background. His right foot donned pumpkins on a lavender background.

Jennifer smiled, thanking Y/N for the damp cloth, as her companion checked her vitals. He peered at the numbers, probably attempting to decipher their meanings regarding his wife's health.

"Your wife is perfectly healthy, sir. You''ll have a healthy, sweet, baby within the next day. I'm sure of it."

Jennifer chuckled, "He's not my husband. Spencer's my....."

"Co-worker. Very proud godfather of her soon to be born baby girl?" Spencer injected, still reading the vitals.

"I'm concerned about JJ's vitals. Are you sure that her lab work is updated? It needs to reflect the high stress nature of her job. And her blood pressure? It was last checked thirteen minutes and twenty seven seconds ago. And does the satellite birth center have enough blood in the bank. On average a laboring mother may loose about...."

"Spence," Jennifer, or JJ as the man named Spencer called her, "I'm going to be just fine. The baby is going to be just fine. Please don't harass the midwife. Or I'll have to switch you out for Penny instead."

"You know if you wanted to get stuff done, you should've picked Hotch or Emily," Spencer countered, "I'm just going to be a nervous wreck."

"You're going to be fine. And think of it as practice for when your wife is pregnant. You'll be a pro by the time that rolls around."

Spencer chuckled dryly. His cheeks blushed crimson as he checked the clock. "It's now been fourteen minutes and thirty four seconds." He whispered under his breath.

"Are you and your wife expecting as well? It kinda smart for her to send you here for a dry run?" Y/N commented, making light talk with Jennifer and Spencer. Through her couple of years a midwife, she learned that many laboring parents and their companions need to have their minds occupied.

"N-no, no wife," Spencer said, his lips formed a tight smile as he looked at Y/N and then back to Jennifer, "We have a very time consuming job. Dating is hard. And family life is even harder. It’s common for many families in the BAU to end with divorce between the two partners.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Spence,” Jennifer quipped as a wave of labor pains came over her.

“I don’t mean you and Will,” Spencer backtracked, “You’re not even married to him.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes at Spencer, and Y/N got the sense that the Spencer and Jennifer shared a sibling-like relationship. It made sense, she supposed as she watched Spencer continuously checked Jennifer’s vitals. He hovered like a mother hen, but made no attempt at physical contact like the husbands usually did.

“Distract her,” Y/N whispered to Spencer, “And don’t talk about how her marriage is statistically likely to end in divorce. That’s not the way to comfort a mom that’s about to push a 8 pound baby out of her vagina.”

Spencer shut his mouth quickly, returning to Jennifer’s side. As Y/N walked out of the room, she noted that the soon to be godfather asked her if she needed anything.

***

“Y/N!” Nurse Lorraine said from her perch. “That tall kid from Room 603, the one that looks like he’s about to faint? He’s looking for you.”

Room 603? Y/N checked her chats, shuffling through the pile of laboring parents.

Ah! That would be Jennifer Jareau. And her very eager friend/co-worker/godfather of her child.

“Oh, Spencer? He’s a sweetheart. Trying to help her. He could teach those husbands a thing or too.” Y/N said, as she typed away at her computer.

“He’s not the husband?” Lorraine questioned, her tone making Y/N stop typing.

“What are you doing, Lo?” Y/N sighed with exasperation. “You’re meddling. And it’s not a cute look, I’m afraid.”

“It’s been how long since that idiot of a man dumped you for his unpaid intern? Todd? Taylor? What was his name again?”

“Tyler. He was an ass. I don’t think I’m ready to get myself back out there. He really did a number on me.” Y/N lamented. She took a sip of her third coffee of the day. It was a distraction from tearing up or worse, actually crying in front of Lorraine, the hardass nurse who makes Attendings cry.

“Y/N, honey,” Lorraine sighed, “Don’t waste your youth or your beauty on someone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not saying that man in 603 deserves you, but he’s holding his coworker’s hand as she’s delivering a baby that’s not his. All because her boyfriend is stuck at work in New Orleans. He’s a good man. And he’s looking for you. And he blushed when he asked for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Lorraine’s gossipy tendencies. “How do you know all that? I’ve been with him all day and I hardly can get him to tell me his name. Beside the snide comments about me not checking the vitals enough.”

“See! He’s protective over people he cares about, even if talking to the gorgeous nurse terrifies him. I can lock you two in the supply close if you’d like. I mean the piles and piles of extra large padsicles and bed pens aren’t very romantic, but maybe romance isn’t what you need right now.” Lorraine quipped.

Ignoring Lorraine, “I’m going to see what he wants from me.” Y/N said, recoiling because she knew Lorraine would twist her words into some sort of sexual innuendo.

“Go get’em, Tiger!” Lorraine called from the Nurse’s Station with a mischievous glint in her eye.

***

“Spencer?” Y/N whispered, noting that Jennifer was sleeping in her bed, “Nurse Lorraine said you wanted to speak to me.”

Even in the dark room, minus the glow of equipment monitoring Jennifer, Y/N could see his light blush. He was cute. She thought that before Lorraine even broached the subject. She though that when she silently wondered if he was Jennifer’s husband or not.

He was cute. Handsome, even.

Spencer couldn’t be more than 26 or 27. He had brown eyes that were kind and warm. Spencer looked gentle, and that was evident by the easy way he cared for Jennifer.

“I wanted to make sure I was doing it right,” Spencer confessed, “I’m not really good with all this,” he waved his hand around the room to show what he meant, “My mind can only focus on the possibilities of what can go wrong. I’m not cut out for this.”

“For what being a companion? A godfather? Spencer, Jennifer clearly cares for you and wants you in her baby’s life. She sees that you’re kind and caring and gentle.”

Spencer cracked a smile, warming Y/N heart. She hated it. Yet she liked it. And that only made her hate it more.

“Thanks.” Spencer said, taking a sip of his probably now cold coffee.

“You know there’s an excellent microwave in the nurse’s lounge room. Lorraine bullies enough attendings that I can totally sneak you in there to warm up your coffee.” Y/N offered, “Jennifer needs sleep. It’s the best thing for her right now. Besides, I can teach you how to swaddle a baby and change a diaper.”

“I know how to deliver a baby,” Spencer said, “It’s a lot messier than I thought.” He said with a shiver.

“Are you in healthcare?” Y/N asked they walked to the nurse’s lounge. It was so late that most of the families were either sleeping, in labor, or being discharged. “You certainly know a lot about medicine. And for the record we do have plenty of blood in stock. But we’re looking for donors every third Tuesday if the month.”

“Not technically. Well, not the doctor you’re thinking of at least. I have three PhDs. In mathematics, chemistry, and psychology. It’s….a lot I know,” He offered a small smile, “People either think I’m like some super genius or a freak. But not. I’m just….me.”

“Well I happen to think that you’re pretty awesome just being you. I can’t technically say it, but you and Jennifer are my favorites of the night. So it’s only my duty as a L&D nurse to make sure you are the best baby swaddling godfather in the metro area.”

“Now that’s quite the title to live up to. Do we use real babies or dolls to practice?” Spencer inquired.

Y/N giggled as she reached into the supply closet, “I’m in the business of delivering babies. Not kidnapping them, Dr. Spencer……?”

“Reid.”

“Reid.” She nodded, handing him a baby doll to practice with. “If it was twelve hours earlier I would be making you wrap my burrito to practice.”

“I think I’m going to equally as bad as wrapping a burrito as I would be a baby.” He confessed.

“Fear not, young grasshopper, your teacher is here.” Y/N teased, grabbing Spencer by the arm to the table where she ate lunch every day with Lorraine and Hector, her favorite to nurses on the floor.

She laid out a blanket and a baby on the table as her and Spencer stood side by side. “So fold the corner of the blanket down for the baby’s head to rest. And the you gently lay the baby down. Now wrap over the left triangle to the baby’s middle.” She watched as he followed expertly, “Good! Now fold up the little triangle at the baby’s feet. Make sure it’s snug, but not too tight.”

“It’s easier than it looks,” Spencer said as he folded the last part of the blanket and held up a swaddled baby doll.

“Now try when it when a baby is screaming at you and you’ve been on your feet for ten hours.”

“I’ll sit to my day job,” Spencer joked, “But call me if you ever need a swaddling partner.”

Y/N’s face heated at the thought of calling Spencer, of talking to him beyond this night when he friend was about to give birth.

“Where did you learn how to deliver a baby?” She asked, hoping to divert the conversation.

“I read about it.” Spencer replied.

“In college? Did you take a human biology class on pregnancy as well?”

“Uh, no,” Spencer said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I read about it. I read it today when JJ was getting admitted.”

“Getting admitted takes like 30 minutes? How on Earth did you read about human delivery in 30 minutes?” Y/N asked with awe on her face.

“Actually, it took 31 minutes and twelve seconds. Which is 2 minutes and 39 seconds faster than the average,” He blushed when Y/N raised eyes meant his comment only added to her questions, not answered them, “I have a very good memory. And I can read fast.” He explained.

“Oh,” Y/N said, taking out two mugs from the cabinet, “that explains the three PhDs and how you hounded me about vitals before. You’re brilliant. And a very good friend.”

“I don’t get brilliant often. Genius, yes. Freak, yes. Strange, yes. But brilliant isn’t usually reserved for me. I think my quirks out weigh my strengths and thus that changes how I’m perceived.”

“Well, I don’t see a freak or a stranger,” Y/N told him, “I see a man who’s probably 6’3” that crammed himself into a tiny plastic chair and has been fetching ice chips and throwing down with the toughest nurse to get his friend a blanket. That’s not a freak. Or a weirdo. Or anything besides a good, gentle, kind man. I don’t really know you, but it’s my job to watch people here. I watch all these husbands who don’t dote on their wives as they push a whole baby out of their bodies. They complain to them about how long it took to find parking, or that they had to pay 10 bucks for a decent cup of coffee at the cafe, or that the chairs hurt their back. I haven’t heard you say that once. You’re good, Spencer. There’s a reason Jennifer wants you to be her baby’s godfather.”

Stunned, Spencer’s lip twitched into what resembled a smile. He bit his lip as his eyes scanned the room.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, “it means more than you know.”

“Good. You seem like the kind of person that deserves to hear good things. And plus, I’m sure your wife or girlfriend will be very happy you spent the night learning how to swaddle babies and change diapers.”

“Uh, I’m not committed to anyone.” Spencer corrected, the blush returned to his face, this time it crawled all the way up to his ears. It only increased his cuteness as it increased the way Y/N’s heart pumped blood. Her nervous system was on overdrive and she hasn’t even touched the man. Yet there was something about him that drew him to her.

“Oh, seeing someone casually and don’t want to freak her out?” Y/N offered. “Because I will admit that’s not what you want to say to the girl you have a situationship with.”

“A situationship?” Spencer questioned, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m not seeing anyone casually or otherwise. It’s never been my strong suit.”

“Seriously?” Y/N said, pouring her coffee and Spencer a cup, “That’s very surprising.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, accepting the coffee with a tight lipped smile.

“Not to cross any professional boundaries, but you’re literally what most girls look for when they want a partner. Especially one that they want to you know,” she gestured to the baby doll on the table, “settle down with. You’re husband material.”

“Husband material?” Spencer asked, clearly beyond confusion. It was like it was his first time hearing that he was desirable to women. An overwhelming urge to tell him just how desirable he was to her overcame Y/N.

She fought it hard.

“You know,” she started, “you’ve got a great job, nice and normal friends, you’re close friends with a woman, but there’s zero sexual tension between the two of you. That means a lot to girls. It means that you can see women as whole people.”

“What else would I see them as?” Spencer questioned aloud. “They’re people. Not props or conquests.”

Y/N threw her hands up in surrender as if she finally has given up. “See, you’re like perfect. Not to mention you’re very nice to look at.”

Spencer gulped a big sip of coffee, but the burning liquid spewed out all over him and the table. Y/N dodged it, spending nearly three years getting out of the way of mysterious liquids from all different patients had certainly paid off.

“Sorry, sorry, god that was embarrassing,” Spencer lamented. “I hope I didn’t get it all over you.” He apologized.

Holding in a giggle, Y/N waved off his fears. “Don’t worry. You’re just fine, Spencer.”

In more ways than one, she thought silently to herself.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. It’s highly unprofessional of me to comment on your appearance.”

No matter how attractive she finds him.

Spencer’s face melted as she apologized. “No!” He practically yelled. “Don’t think that. Please don’t think that. I didn’t mind it at all. It’s just, I’m not used to hearing it. Especially from women that are like you.”

“Like me?”

“Smart. Hardworking. Kind. Funny. Beautiful.” Spencer confessed.

The last one hit a certain part of her heart that went pang. Tyler never called her beautiful. He would call her hot and sexy, but not beautiful. But maybe once he did. But he said she “looked beautiful” not that she was beautiful.

There was a difference between looking beautiful and being beautiful. And she was looking right at it.

“Spencer,” Y/N whispered. “Once Jennifer is discharged from L&D could I maybe take you out on a date?“

Spencer nodded, and she swore she could see his eyes light up at the possibility of something between them.

“Sure. Isn’t there a blood donation clinic next week?” He smiled and took a sip of his coffee, “I promise I won’t spew coffee all over you when you compliment me again,”

***

Tagging people who are active But please reblog and comment if you stumble across this. It’s a great way we can show our love :)

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho

Chapter 1: Behind the chain

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.

FIC MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”

As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.

As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.

But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.

You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.

Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.

Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.

You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.

"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.

“I missed you.” You playfully answered.

The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.

“Sure you did.” He huffs.

In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.

Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.

It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.

The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.

But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:

Who will we be to each other?

How will we change each other’s lives after this?

You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.

One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.

Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.

"Get that shit away from my face."

“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”

“Stop.”

Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.

He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.

You straightened your lips and raised your brows.

"Well, you should've done that sooner."

He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.

"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."

Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.

"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.

You hum. "I'm what?"

".. so fucking unbearable."

"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.

"Want a hit?"

"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."

A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."

Miles looks at you, horrified.

"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"

He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.

"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.

"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."

Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”

“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”

“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”

He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.

And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.

"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."

He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."

As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.

"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"

"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."

"Then why'd you come here?"

"Felt bad for ya."

You smirk. "So you did miss me."

He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.

"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"

He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."

"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."

The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.

Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.

It was damning.

Dangerous even.

As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.

"... Huh."

Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.

"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."

He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"

A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.

"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."

Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.

Eyes downcast and hands shaking.

"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.

"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."

"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."

"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."

"You're in a band?"

"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."

He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."

"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.

"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."

"Oo, make me."

He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.

"Hey, pretty boy.”

Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.

"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.

He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.

"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"

"Hol' on."

"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"

"Be patient."

And you did just that.

He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.

"... Ya already know what to do, right?"

"Mm, yeah."

An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.

"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"

"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"

"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."

Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.

You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.

He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.

As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.

But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.

But no one spoke of it.

"... You done?" He groaned.

"In a bit, hol' on."

You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.

You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.

And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."

His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”

"It's a capitalist world we live in."

"No shit."

The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.

"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”

“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”

You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”

Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”

“… You’re kidding.”

“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”

You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.

“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”

“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”

Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.

You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.

“Careful.”

"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.

"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.

"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."

"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."

“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”

You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”

“Ain’t nobody told you that.”

“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”

“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”

You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”

“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”

“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”

“Then what do you do at home?”

You blink.

“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.

“I do that too, dumbass.”

You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”

You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah.”

The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.

“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."

"Places like an abandoned subway?"

“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”

“That’s what it sounds to me.”

"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”

Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."

The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.

“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”

Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.

Yeah, you’re doing great.

Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”

“Okay, what the fuck.”

“When you go low, I go LOWER.”

In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.

Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.

You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.

"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."

The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."

Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.

"... There's some truth to that, I guess."

"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.

Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.

"... Maybe."

“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”

“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.”

You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.

Then he called out your name softly.

You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.

“What?” You whisper.

His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.

Then and there, you knew.

But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.

We can’t.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.

"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"

Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.

“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."

As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.

You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."

Confusion was scribbled all over his face.

"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”

You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.

Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."

"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."

"Que?"

"Queso."

You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.

“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”

For a moment, you pause to laugh.

“Are you worried about me?”

He nods. “I am.”

“I— wait, what?”

He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”

Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.

It was breaking you open.

You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”

“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”

There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.

“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”

Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.

“Aight.”

488 notes · View notes

omitea · 30 days

Text

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓

. synopsis. a halloween night that was supposed to be fun, quickly turned into a bloody mess in a small town named shibuya. one different path leading home and you come to face horror itself in the form of something undoubtedly inhuman. fortunately or unfortunately for you, your fate resides in the hands of the unknown before you.

. ft. vampire! choso x f! reader

. content. 2.9k words, vampire! au, mention of death, description of mild-gore, set in the 1890s (not too detailed), implied stalking, biting, mention of blood, choking, making out in the woods, grinding, palming, just overall highly suggestive.

it was a yearly tradition for the folks of shibuya to celebrate this specific holiday. halloween, is what they named it. suitable for the cold and spooky season. the noisy creaks of wooden carriage wheels sounded throughout the small town that was hosting a halloween festival. innocent children screeching as they reached the scary decorated vendors of boutique stores for trick or treat– often with their parents trailing right behind them.

most of them being occupied by the delicious pastries that some elders were selling on the streets. though it was frequently celebrated by wearing intriguing costumes, that not all preferred to. some think about it as time consuming, including a waste of their hard-earned money. while the rest found comfort in wearing clothes that fit their own selves. and you were amongst those people.

you were adorned in a traditional kimono printed with cherry blossom flowers that complimented your skin tone. along with a neatly wrapped bun, which allowed the fresh night air to brush against the apple of your cheeks. you hummed as you walked down the path where the festival was held. it should be starting soon, you think.

and as if on queue, your ears start picking up the booming music in the distance. music that the folks created with their own home-made instruments. precisely carved with metal and wooden tools that men ought to search for during their times in the country-side. a hard working man always seemed to sweep a lady right off her feet. and you were to agree– but unfortunately in this small town, some men were only thinking with their ‘manhood’, which is what you liked to tell them.

your feet carried you further into town, politely declining the nice elders that attempted to convince you into buying their sweet delicacies. with small bows and a few bumps into strangers, you finally managed to arrive at your destination. the view you had from this spot was perfect.

there was so much to see, such as; dressed up men walking on stilts, horses that carried carriages, and behind those– was a larger group of people. dancing their way up the front, engaging with the crowd and some of them were horrifying, along with a dash of makeup on their faces.

you felt a shiver traveling down the length of you spine– unable to shake off the uneasy feeling. you weren’t a big fan of halloween, but yet you found yourself drawn to the feeling of being scared. maybe it was the thrill or even the anticipation for what could happen next. although it was quite strange to mold the specific sensation into words.

suddenly, an eerie sounding scream could be heard; which caused you to snap out of your thoughts. the group of people who were dancing just now, running for what seems like their lives. the horses that once carried the carriages were neighing out of panic– just like the town folks. people were going haywire.

an awfully carved pumpkin made its way rolling towards your planted feet before being trampled on by a passerby that was running right past you. feeling partially confused and partially curious, you stood on your toes and peeked over the crowd. but to no luck, your view was mostly blocked. this caused you to push your way over; squeezing in between costumed bodies with a mix of alcohol and sweat. some being scented by the strong smell of nicotine.

after a few push throughs, you made it to the center. and in that exact moment you felt something beyond fear. you loved the color red. but this wasn’t the color red that tinted your lips, nor was it the color red that was polished on your nails. this was the color of blood. you felt your heartbeat racing as you stared at the disturbing sight in front of you.

someone, who you could make out as a woman, was laying as still as a stone on the pebbled ground. in her own blood. the dark red fluid seemed to be gushing out of her neck in spurts. chunks of clotted blood stained the tiny rocks, including the shoe soles and the clothes of the people who were too close. and if you’re about to move an inch more, you too, will become unfortunate.

you took a closer look at her white painted skin, meant to represent a ghost. well, she practically is now, you thought. your face turned into one of disgust as your eyes took in the wound on her neck. it looked as if something got caught on the piece of flesh and tugged on it with a harsh force. almost inhuman.

you felt a throbbing pain in your head– causing your vision to blur the slightest. i should go home, you think. trying to forget the image of a bloody crime scene, you took the long road home. you had to take your mind off things. at least for now. and a breath of fresh air should do the trick. maybe pour some delicious hot chamomile tea in your tea cup when you get home.

the cold gust of wind caused the leaves in the trees to rustle back and forth. it was quiet, almost too quiet for your liking if you must say. your footsteps sounded heavy on the brownish fall leaves, making them crunch and wither under your weight.

a small cloud of smoke escapes your parted lips when you let out a sigh you weren’t conscious of holding. still, it didn’t lift a single ounce of the weight that took place on your chest moments ago.

it made you feel sick to the stomach, worse than the stomach flu that comes around once in a while. the frightening screams, the sound of blood gushing out, the warnings parents gave their children to not look. it was all too much. maybe that’s why you weren’t fond of the holiday all along.

a snap of a twig made you halt. you felt the small hairs raise on the back of your neck, including on your arms. this is not what you needed after the night you just had. the woman’s death still seemed unreal– there was absolutely nothing insight that could’ve caused such a tragic death like hers.

you swallowed the saliva that was building up inside your mouth and took a step forward. you’ve heard about certain people’s stories of them getting stalked at night. and as sad as it may seem, you prepared in case the day would come. one punch in the sacks or boobs and you can flee. that’s what you always tried to convince yourself of.

another snap of a twig made you forget all the things you’ve taught yourself. so you ran. your eyes didn’t keep track of your surroundings, and soon, you found yourself in the woods. never go in the direction people won’t find you. especially at night.

heavy rain started to pour like a downfall. beads of water landing on the tree leaves and cascaded down towards the forming puddle of mud below. legs trembling in fear caused you to slow down your pace, but you pushed it aside and tried running faster.

you didn’t see the figure standing eerily still a few feet away and in just a few seconds, you felt a piercing pain and the familiar throbbing against your skull. salty tears mixed with the saltiness of the rain and flowing down to your chin. whether it was the cold that got you shaken up– or the fear, it didn’t matter. you had to get away.

pressing two palms against your temples did anything but soothe the pain. only making you hiss as the ache worsens. you froze when a pair of boots clouded your vision.

no. no, no, no.

not daring to look up, your eyes suddenly found the muddy ground more intriguing than the stranger that stood before you. it felt hard to swallow– to breathe and your hands came up to wrap softly around your neck. ‘’i apologize if i have scared you in some way, miss,’’ a deep voice cuts the silence in the air– most certainly belonging to no one else, other than this person.

and before you knew it, your eyes traveled up out of curiosity– landing on his figure. the sight before you could almost easily replace the one of horror earlier. how come you haven’t seen such a tall handsome man up until now. it should be against the rules of this town.

the said man was wearing a light tan robe that hung loosely on his body, along with a purple vest and a scarf. you could still make out that he had a muscular form, but you shouldn't think twice about it. that wouldn't be very lady-like, after all. his dark hair complemented his pale, almost white skin tone– including the questioning mark he had on his pointy nose.

your eyes regained focus from zoning out on the stranger and they immediately widened. the voice in your head basically yelled at you to pick up your feet and get the hell out of here. and indeed, you should be running away right now– but something feels off about him and it's trying to pull you in like a kinetic magnet. so you stay put. you don’t know where this suddenly came from, although the man in front of you doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed. he probably has women at his feet all the time, you thought to yourself.

he took a big step forward which made you back away, but you flinched when you felt your back hit the trunk of a tree. he was so close, you could almost feel the coldness of his breath against your cheek. your breath hitched in your throat the moment you held his gaze. “please-,’’ you said– just below a whisper, “i have to go home.’’

he hummed, as if in thought. “are you certain this is the right way?” at that, you felt your eyes almost fall out of their sockets. “what…?’’ you trailed off. “right way? of course it is.”

no. please.

you internally started panicking as a train of million thoughts went through your mind; he knows where you live, he knows your every move, he knew you would take this path, he was waiting for the right time…

he took notice of your state and inched his face closer. from this proximity, you could make out the way his dark eyelashes curled, the bow of his lips and oh— the stench of blood. it was strong. at each breath you took, it felt like the smell was burning through your nose and settling in your throat. but there was no speck of blood to be seen. his eyes darted from your face to your neck, making him part his plush lips the slightest. and that’s when you see it– sharp canines that stick out amongst the rest of his teeth.

a human has never been seen with such sharp teeth. it looked sharper than a blade, as if it could cut through layers and layers of flesh.

you tried to speak, to scream, but to no avail– not even a little sound managed to squeak out. shock and purely terrified topped all the things you were feeling.

his large veiny hand wrapped around your throat– squeezing it slightly only for his breath to shudder just by feeling your blood pulsing through your veins. dark eyes filled with lust the moment he looked at your desperate, teary eyes. shaking with fear, your smaller hands tried to pry his from around your neck, but it only caused him to put a little bit more pressure on your windpipe.

this caused a gasp to escape your throat, which made him quickly shut you up by placing his thumb between your lips. the action caused you to squeeze your thighs together– suddenly aware of the heat that started pooling between them. your chest felt hot– heaving up and down in anticipation. why did you like this.

maybe it’s because you’ve never let a man come this close before, or the inappropriate thoughts of the undoubtedly inhuman being before you.

that doesn’t matter. what you did know for sure, was that you had to go home to do something about the throbbing pain in your panties. but seemingly, the man had other plans for his night. he inhaled your scent in the crook of your neck, closing his eyes when he felt the uncomfortable feeling of something growing behind his robe. not now.

it was supposed to be a quick search for his next victim– but fuck you were too enticing. the bleary look you gave him as you silently begged for him to let you go– but behind those silent pleas, he could see, you too, were getting aroused. poor sweet thing.

you almost squirmed at the feeling of his fangs grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. so you subconsciously tilted your neck back to give him more access– to which he hummed in satisfaction.

a painful whine made its way past your red tinted lips as an indescribable sharp pain shot through your body along with two sharp teeth sinking in. your knees almost gave out, but his grip on you tightened. the vision of trees soon started to become blurry and your eyes felt heavy. you were for sure you were gonna pass out.

but what jumped you out of your dizzy state, was his wet tongue darting across the slope of your neck– cleaning up the warm iron-flavored fluid that cascaded downwards. a small moan sounded throughout the woods when you felt him suck and nibble on the bitten spot. he tilted his head up, heavy lidded eyes asking if you wanted this, if you wanted more. and like a desperate human being, you nod. almost too eagerly.

so he does just that. he presses you harder against the trunk and presses his knee between your thighs. fuck, not being able to feel you soaked through your kimono was torture. his lips meet yours and nothing could have prepared you for the feeling.

it starts a little clumsily from not having too much experience– but you quickly get the hang of it which leads to the kiss getting more heated. you felt his tongue peek out and swipe across your bottom lip. your small gasp gave it the chance to slip through your lips. just as the muscle explored the sweet taste, your eyebrows furrowed in grimace– tasting the iron from your own blood that still lingered on his tongue.

you tried to touch him anywhere you could reach. hands traveling from his chest down to his fully hardened bulge. this elicited a deep groan from the back of his throat. he didn’t expect you to start palming him, thinking you accidentally touched the spot.

he bucked his hips and your ears picked up his pretty moans the more effort you put into palming him. the rain that poured, almost drowned out the sounds that escaped his lips– which were still entangled with yours.

not having enough, you lazily started grinding against his knee that was in between your thighs. your eyes almost rolled in the back of your head– panting softly when he pressed into you deeper. “shit,” he sighed, pulling away and hiding his flushed face against the side of your head while his legs started to shake .

everything felt so good, he felt so close– that was until he heard a group of people coming. it was a few meters away, so he couldn’t risk it. not now, not ever. he got what he wanted and should’ve left minutes ago. yet you made it hard for him to leave. he had to taste you more than your blood. places he has never got to taste before.

he pulled away completely, making you whine at the lack of contact. you followed the direction his eyes were looking– taking note of the people making their way towards the depths of the woods. you turned back, brows furrowing in confusion at the sight in front of you.

he was gone, just like that.

you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and placed it on your neck afterwards. your fingers lingered on the two dots he left behind, and everything soon began to sink in. if someone were to ever say you'll end up almost having sex in the woods with a stranger– you would’ve laughed in their faces and called them crazy. especially if that particular stranger almost sucked the life out of you.

you shook your head and started heading home– something you were supposed to do the moment you saw that woman’s neck sliced open.

and as you’re walking down the path leading towards your loving home, you can’t help but think; was he the one who murdered that defenseless woman.

but that was another thought– as for now, you still have to take care of the soaking mess he left you with.

@satorisoup @kiitoru @seneon @sugurustattoo @saturvue @xstom @lapin0u

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ovaryacted · 8 months

Text

Autumn Delight

Pairing: DI!Leon x fem!reader

Summary: As you cook to welcome the change in season, your daughter plays grocery shopping with her father.

WC: 2.1k

Notes: After reading @cinnarette write for girl dad!Leon, I wanted to add on to the hype and do some fluff because that man deserves it and I want him happy. Also I know I said Death Island Leon for this one, but I imagine him older. Anyways, enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing this one. Reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

The sun shined through the window as you hummed to yourself, the pot in front of you blowing off steam and filling the kitchen with the aroma of sweet tomatoes and fresh herbs. The scent felt nostalgic, like a soft weighted blanket that reminded you of what your mom would make for dinner after you came home from school.

The season was slowly transitioning into autumn now, a more prominent breeze shaking the leaves as they began to change color from their vibrant greens to shades of orange and dark red. Warm air now starting to cool down every passing day, tank tops and shorts exchanged for sweat pants and cotton crew necks. Soon enough, it’ll be time to go apple picking and welcome all things pumpkin, you mostly looked forward to having apple cider come back in stock at your local grocery store.

A loaf of fresh sourdough bread rested in front of you, already knowing the cheese you needed for this meal was cooling in the fridge, ready to be melted to your heart’s delight. Grilled cheese and tomato soup were on the menu tonight, a nice hearty meal to welcome the first day of fall. You covered the pot of tomato soup, letting it simmer for a while longer. As you were ready to step to the side and tend to other tasks, you heard rambling on the upper floor of your townhouse, already knowing where the source of the noise was coming from.

Stepping out of the kitchen entirely, you went up the stairs, careful not to be too loud as your slippers moved over the hardwood steps. Walking down the hallway of the second floor, you continued until you were met with the white door to your left, wide open for you to take in the view inside.

Your husband was on his knees, surrounded by pastel green walls and soft carpet. Toys were all over the floor, a Barbie dollhouse in one corner of the room and a plastic play kitchen in the other. You leaned against the doorway and let out a snort, trying not to draw attention to the 3-year-old who walked around her bedroom with purpose. The man’s eyes were drawn to yours at the sound of your laughing, vibrant blues paired with soft wrinkles on the rounded corners of his gaze. A pearly white grin came your way, one that drew you to him all those years ago.

“You know, this place is quite small. Limited options”, Leon said, pushing a toy shopping cart that was comically small against him and skimming the shelf in front of him. He tilted his head to the side, finger on his chin as he thought heavily about what to grab next. Of course, he took this decision seriously, looking at the plastic toys resembling different foods from fake cereal boxes to ketchup bottles and eggs.

He reached forward and took a can of tuna, putting it in the cart and moving along. The cart was already full of a few things, plastic fruits and vegetables that were completely necessary. You watched him move around, going to the mini-kitchen that was set up on one side of the room.

“A drumstick in the sink? This is such a safety hazard for a grocery store”, Leon grumbled, knowing his daughter was right behind him, watching him diligently like a good sales associate. Her matching dirty blonde hair and blue eyes looked over him as he reached for the misplaced doll currently folded in the tiny microwave. He tried his hardest not to laugh, putting the doll back where he found it and gave you a glance.

Leon continued to shift around the room, finding plastic cookies on the floor and throwing them in the buggy with dramatic flare. He leaned down on the ground and found more toys littering around him. Grapes were underneath the toddler bed, toy crackers were in the hot tub in the dollhouse, and singular hot dog sausages were thrown in every nook and cranny imaginable.

Just looking at the room was stress-inducing, but the agent didn’t have the heart to be mad or irritated. If anything he was glad to have a mess like this to deal with in the first place. Had someone told him years ago he’d be happily married in a townhouse he bought with a three year old daughter that was his carbon copy, he’d laugh in their face. The image of having a loving family was a dream he had thrown away after the horrors he witnessed at 21. Being exposed to such monstrosities almost fully turned him away from ever thinking of having something more in his life besides fighting manmade monsters. He never thought he’d be able to have a life worth living outside of survival.

That was until miraculously, he bumped into you when he went to try a new cafe that opened in town. Years later having regained that dream he buried deep in his subconscious, he gets to be in a home full of love he never thought he’d get to experience. He has a reason to wake up every day, something and someone to fight for, and he wouldn’t take that for granted.

Leon shook his head and blinked at the sound of your voice, your eyes looking over him once or twice already knowing what happened. He zones out less as he gets older, but it still happens from time to time. Before, his memories used to haunt him, the traumas and burdens he carried would make his nervous system go haywire and put him in a constant state of paranoia. Now, he has moments where he’s reminiscing about his past and feels gratitude instead of self-hatred or fear. You didn’t mind, you accepted all parts of Leon with open arms, even the parts he couldn’t accept himself, and if it weren’t for your support lord knows where he’d be now.

“Hm?”, he hummed, giving you a look and silently admiring you like he often did, as if you were his guardian angel sent to ground him to this current reality.

“I asked if you could pick up some ice cream on your shopping trip”, you told him softly, your daughter now distracted and leaving her post at her fake cash register to collect all of the individual chip pieces she could find.

“Thanks for reminding me hun”, Leon said now returning to the present, shuffling to another part of the room to look for the ice cream pieces. He could only find the plastic waffle cone, not the strawberry ice cream scoop. With a shrug, he put it in the shopping cart as you held in your giggle with a bite of your lip.

Finally facing his daughter, he pushed the cart towards where she stood. Out of the kindness of his heart, he helped the toddler scan and swipe the toys, her small grabby hands reaching for whatever food item he gave her. It was moments like this you enjoyed the most, seeing just how much Leon loves the child you both created and how he treats her like the center of his universe. She’ll never fully understand just how much her dad cares for her, pure unconditional love if you ever saw it.

You couldn’t be more proud to see Leon become the father he never had, and the man he’s always wanted to be.

Leon now started to talk with his mini-twin, giving her sassy remarks as her tiny fingers threw the things she scanned back into his cart rather aimlessly.

“What? No bag? You’ve got to be kidding me”, he teased, playing the part of an angry customer all too well for your child to realize. She wagged a finger at him and pressed the button of the scanner towards his face, a beep sounding through the room as she did. She responded to him with an equal amount of sass, making you snicker under your breath and Leon had to bite his tongue so he didn’t follow you. Not only did your child inherit her father’s most noticeable features, she also got his corniness and attitude.

She continued to scan and beep all of the items until there was nothing left to pass, looking up at Leon with her hand out and demanding him to give the money for his groceries.

“Do you have change for a 20?”, Leon spoke, making you shake your head in disbelief at how dedicated he was in playing his role. He had a fake $20 bill he borrowed from the monopoly board sitting on the coffee table of your living room.

“Mine”, his daughter nodded with a bubbly giggle. She snatched the bill from Leon’s hand with enthusiasm, pressing some buttons on her cash register before the drawer opened with a ding. She pushed the bill inside and closed the drawer with no change in her hand. Leon only gave her a raised eyebrow.

“Wow. Is this how you treat your customers? You know what, I’m just going to go to Trader Joe’s down the block”, Leon playfully threw a hissy fit, making the 3-year-old laugh as she waved at her father and mumbled bye bye.

The blonde got up from his knees with a grunt, walking up towards you and pulling you in by the hips with a smile. Leaning down he kissed you on the cheek, then on the tip of your nose, and finally on your lips as you hummed against him, putting a hand on his chest and the other rubbing the back of his neck. It was an occurring routine of kissing he started years ago when you were still dating, all beginning the day he asked you to officially be his partner.

“You know our daughter is really starting to be more like you every time I see her. I’m getting scared, one of you is enough”, you taunted him, making him chuckle. You couldn’t help but stroke his stubbled cheek, loving the feel of the coarse hairs against your fingers.

“C’mon, you know you can’t get enough of me. I’m not that bad”, he grinned, offering you a corny wink that made you roll your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night”

“I sleep just fine knowing you’re right next to me sweetheart”, he openly flirted with you, a sneaky hand coming towards your rear and giving you a playful tap. “You’re cooking aren’t you?”

“Mhm, grilled cheese and tomato soup, all from scratch”, you told him, noticing how his ears perked up at the sound of cooked food. You learned early on in your relationship that Leon was a foodie and preferred home-cooked dishes above anything else. So you made sure to get your clutches on him by making him some Tuscan chicken pasta, aka marry me pasta, on your 7th dinner date together. Safe to say, he hasn’t left since.

“God I love you”, he declared so frankly and so often that you knew he meant it. You never questioned his devotion to you, and you can tell from the way he says it as if it’ll be the last time that it’s always sincere.

“I know, you would go hungry without me. I love you too”, giving him another kiss on his lips and letting him savor it.

You heard a tiny voice coming towards you both, something yanking on Leon’s jeans by the shin and forcing him to pull away from you for a minute. He looked down at the smaller blonde, cerulean eyes matching his own like a reflection of himself.

“Yeah sweet pea, what’s up?”, he turned towards her, reaching down to pick her up in his strong arms like he usually did. “You want some of mommy’s food too?”

“Yes! Sammi!”, it slipped out of her mouth, clapping to herself as she got excited at the mere idea of eating whatever was being made. She was always eager to eat, finding joy in the way she gripped her small spork and made a mess of herself with crumbs on her soft cheeks.

A passionate food lover, just like him.

“Hell yeah. Grilled cheese sammi and tomato soup. Let’s go help mommy cook”, Leon said, carrying his baby girl in his arms and marching down the stairs, allowing you to hear her laugh intertwining with his own. You followed them down the steps, watching your husband tickle your daughter’s tummy, beaming from ear to ear.

A warmth fluttered in your chest, silently watching the way they’d talk and interact with one another that would have anyone think they were the same person. You smiled again, going to the stove to stir the pot of tomato soup before you started on the grilled cheese sandwiches.

You don’t know how you got here to have all that you did in your life, but you wouldn’t change an absolute thing.

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #dad!leon kennedy #girl dad!leon kennedy #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil death island #di! leon #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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moumouton4 · 8 months

Note

Hello~ it's me again (i'm the problem, it's me~)

So I have a kinda angstt request

So headcanons for Naruto characters x reader, where reader and Naruto characters break up, and the next day around evening, reader calls them and leaves them a message:

"Hi, it's me. I know I'm not supposed to be calling but I am not doing really great right now, and I was just wondering if... Do you remember in "The Way We Were" how Katie and Hubbel broke up because his friends were laughing and joking and the president had just died, and she yelled at them, and he was mad and he was going out to Hollywood, and, I mean which she hated and, and he broke up with her. And she was really upset and she called him, and asked him if he would come over and sit with her, because he was her best friend, and she needed her best friend and he did. And, and they talked all night, and they went out to Hollywood, which was a disaster but it was good at first, with the boat and, uh, and the putting the books away. I've seen this movie a lot so if you don't remember the putting-the-books-away scene, don' feel stupid or anything. I was just sitting here thinking about it because, I, um... I'm in my house and I was just, uh... could you please come over? I-, please, really need to see you and talk to you and please come over... please"

So the boys listen to the message and the question is: what do they do? Do they go and come over like reader asked?

Kinda angsty, but please do whatever you want to do with it <3

Toodles~

Sending Them A Text After You Broke Up || Naruto characters x reader 6

A/n : Lmao finally done ! I swear my computer is dying it keeps switching off. Besides I'm in vacation so most of the time I'm out ugh. It was stressful because I want to write but obviously can't bring my computer to the beach 😂 I hope you're going to like it Pumpkin 🍰

Naruto Headcanons series : 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Warnings : No mention of gender, contains fluff and angst and smut ( nothing graphic, mentions of : sex, breading, jerking off, mating season, cum dump, sex friend ) 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 3610

Sasuke Uchiha : His ego took a big hit when you broke up with him. He's hurt. But he suspects that his behavior and his coldness undoubtedly had a role to play. When he listens to your message he shakes his head "Of course you can call me, Silly Girl" then continues smiling bitterly at how you apologize again even though there's no need to. He's told you so many times not to apologize to him. His hands tighten around the phone to the point of breaking it when he hears you begging him to come over. Suddenly there's hope for him, for both of you. He doesn't waste a second before he gets up and puts on his sandals before running to your house. He runs from roof to roof, knocking loudly on the door. And as soon as you open it, he looks at you as if you've just disturbed him. And then in a rush he grabs your face in his hands and kisses you "Not without you... impossible" he says between kisses. But maybe none of this happens and he decides to leave the village after you've broken up. There's no point in staying and hurting each other.

Sasori : He doesn’t want to look at his phone. Probably didn’t even notice he got a text. If he knew maybe he would have checked. If he knew it was you maybe he would have been faster. He sees your text something like 3 or 4 days later. And he panics. He rushes to where he knows you are. He doesn’t even bother to settle inside his big armor puppet. He needs to be sure you’re okay. He already hates himself knowing he let you waiting and he hates this more than having to wait himself. He doesn’t knock, he just enters. Once he sees you there standing in front of him he feels a pang of regret in his heart. How did he ever think he was able to go on without you “I won't waste any more of your time” He is also considering making a puppet out of you if this situation of breaking up ever comes back.

Genma Shiranui : He just doesn't take it seriously. He is too much of a child in his behavior yet. He knows he is handsome and that he can get bitches whenever he wants. The need to settle down was never really felt. So when you broke up well he was almost relieved, it was like a return to freedom. When he got your message though he felt bad. He knows he won't be able to be the man you want him to be for the time being. So he does one of the worst things - in my opinion - he sends you a text back “I’m sorry for what I’m making you go through. I love you and you know that. But you also know that I can’t just change like this and be happy with it” he doesn’t want to conclude his text. He secretly hopes that one day one person will suffice him. On the other hand of the line though, you cry. You knew from the beginning you wouldn’t be able to change him. It’s hope that brought you there

Naruto Uzumaki : He is so sad when you break up. He even stops going to Ichiraku’s ramen shop. He feels lonely like he never did. But he has hope. He knows it can’t be over just yet. You have so much more to live. When he gets your text he doesn’t even open the notification he just runs to your house. He doesn’t know why you reached to him but his instinct is telling him to get there as soon as possible. When you open the door he has a goofy smile on his face as he pulls you in a bone crushing hug. it’s only when he feels you sobbing that he pulls away to wipe away your tears with his thumbs “Hey why are you crying ? I’m here now”

Rock Lee : He is crushed since you broke up with him. He trains even harder. He doesn’t even hear his phone ringing once, twice. He doesn’t hear the notification signaling your text either. It’s either Neji or Tenten who tries to catch his attention. Once they do though and he actually focuses on your text there is no going back. He is going to scream your name in the whole village to find you as soon as he can. He will hug the hell out of you and apologize more than enough for not being the best boyfriend he could have been “No please let me hug you longer to make up for the time I was away. I’ll be 10- No ! 30 times better than before you’ll see !” Don’t worry he’s forgetting you two broke up as soon as he’ll feel your skin against his. Though he’ll always remember that your love is not granted. He is going to be even more the best for you.

Kakashi Hatake : He didn’t want you two to break up, but he couldn’t help but chuckle sadly. He knew this was going to come at some point. I mean look at you, how could he ever deserve all that to be his to love and cherish. Though when he gets your text his heart is close to jumping out of his chest. His mind starts wandering. He thinks about his father and he hopes. He just hopes it’s a genuine want to see him again and not the final plea for help before you… “No no don’t be stupid” he shakes his head “Y/n is strong” The pace of his strides betrays his growing anxiety as he rushes to your home “Please please please” he ends up being the one pleading When you open the door, the need to be sure you’re okay is too strong. his eyes explore your body to see any trace of injury. it’s only after that he pulls you in a gentle embrace as if scared to break you “I can’t leave without you. I couldn’t never. Let’s restart with something new. I couldn't take you to dinner tonight. How does that sound ?”

Sai : When you told him you wanted to break up, he replied, "Well, you're entitled to whatever I think", rather matter-of-factly. I mean he was right, but it wasn’t what you wanted, needed to hear at the moment. He wasn't really very good at navigating relationships, and this was representative of his lack of experience in the sentimental field. Every intense moment was counterbalanced by laborious moments when he struggled to find his feet with you. So it's no surprise that he's not sure how to react to your voicemail. He takes a few notes - still behaving like a ninja of the Root - and even if he doesn't know what he would have done under normal circumstances. There's a clear message at the end of the audio "Please come over" and so he follows the order and goes to your place. He can't account for the turmoil in his heart or the way his hands become clammy and fidgeting at his sides as if something important were at stake. Finally, when you open the door and he sees your tear-reddened eyes, he can't help but say "I love you too"

Gaara : His eyes impossibly widened when he got your text. He thought everything between you two was over. He didn’t think about any possibilities of luck that will bring you back together. You on the other hand needed to know. When you mentioned breaking up he shut himself off. Yes he tried to speak back a little but he made sure not to talk over you nor at the same time. It wasn’t the greatest solution. Sensing the urgency in your tone he just can’t help but leapt off his chair and run - literally - throughout the corridors. You, on your side also thought about the possibility of him hesitating to come over so you also decided to make your way to his office. you ended up bumping into one another in a corner “Sorry, are you okay ?” he mumbles. But when he notices it's you his arms wrap instinctively around you as his head nestles in the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to let go anymore, and he doesn’t care that he is in the middle of a public passageway. He shudders in your arms as he loses his grip on his emotions. You pull him in a gentle embrace as you drag him to a more quiet place to have a much needed discussion. Maybe you two would be able to work after all.

Iruka Umino : He lies awake in his bed the night that follows your break up. He just can’t wrap his head about what happened. It was just so unexpected and out of frustration. The day after, everyone knows that something is wrong with him. He lost his smile, he loses his temper rapidly and he is constantly lost in thoughts. When he gets your text he is actually on his phone. He was about to send you something similar. his heartbeats are ringing in his ears as he stands up suddenly. It doesn’t matter where he is at the moment. If he is in class, he is going to find an excuse, push some kids aside and zoom to where you are. As he runs to your house he can’t help the tears streaming down his face. He is just so sensitive. As you open the door you both fall into each other's arms crying. You start kissing sloppily as your tears stream towards your mouths. You both made a mistake by considering the mere thought of breaking up, and you’re not doing this mistake ever again “I won’t let this happen ever again. I won’t let go. Never”

Tobirama Senju : Probably screams “Okay fine you wanna break up ? Well just get the fuck out of here then !” when he feels you slipping from his grasp. He loves you, he really does. But he has too much pride. His little heart is crushed. His brother notices and tries to speak with him but Tobirama tells him to fuck off. When He finally gets your text his pride is still wounded and he doesn’t know if he pushes it aside and gets over to you or if he deletes the text and acts as if he didn’t see anything. Well he doesn’t do both. He doesn’t come to see you but he keeps the text. You’re extremely hurt that he doesn’t come. Until one day you hear a soft knock on your door. It’s Hashirama who comes to apologizes for his little brother’s behavior. Seeing you this sad makes him snap and he actually goes back to his brother and lectures his brother with the Hokage tone. Tobirama is shocked but at the end it reminds him that you’re more important than any pride he could ever have. It takes time for him to forgive him but slowly you start building your future together.

Yamato : Well he lowkey thought that the idea of breaking up would provide you both with more time to train and increase your already impressive level. But he was so wrong. Now, even more than before all his thoughts were turned toward you. What were you doing ? With who ? Were you sad ? Happy ? Thinking about him too ? Did you still love him ? Would you forgive him if he were to tell you that his idea was the dumbest ever and that he regrets and wants you back ? Then his phone buzzed and he got that frightening text. He, in fact, didn’t understand it the way one normally would. He thought you were rambling and that someone broke into your house and you needed help. He leaves in a rush and once in front of your door kicks it off its hinges. Damn, you panicked because you thought someone was breaking in “Y/n ! Are you okay !?” “Yamato ? My door ?!? The fuck ?!?” Well let’s just say that after repairing it he offered to take you out tonight and catch up around some delicious ramen.

Neji Hyuga : He literally didn’t see it coming. First thing, there was a rumor. And then he found himself single. He is going to investigate to know who the hell did this. When he receives your text though he panics at the clear need in your tone. He uses his Byakugan to look for you throughout the village, to make sure you’re okay. Before going over to your house he takes his time buying you flowers and whatever you might like. But he always keeps an eye on you despite the distance. Then he finally gets to your door and he takes a deep breath before knocking “Hello Y/n. I’ve got you these. I hope we’ll be able to talk this out- oof” you took him in a bone crushing hug almost tackling him to the floor. He shushes you as you cry against his chest saying how sorry you are. Next thing you know he is taking you inside and you’re gonna get spoiled rotten.

Minato Namikaze : Bro is fast, yes. But not so fast anymore when it’s about women’s feelings. And sometimes it’s almost as if he was managing to drown a fish. When you broke up he kinda knew it was going to happen because of how clueless he was most of the time. While reading your text he can’t help but feel sick when he sees how desperately you are pleading him to come. Just like you’be pleaded to him to understand your point that day. He doesn’t lose a sec to rush to your favorite bakery. He takes some snacks and literally throws the money on the counter top. When he arrives in front of your door he almost goes through like a Cartoon “Hey my Love I brought you some- sorry maybe you don’t want me to call you that. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” He doesn’t have time to finish speaking because you pounce on him and crash your lips against his. He will need to do a lot of effort to improve his ability to talk in a relationship but this is a good first step.

Itachi Uchiha : That was only a story of pressure and expectation. You thought yourself not at the level of an Uchiha and that was what made your couple burst. He is literally so mad at everyone that participated in putting these thoughts in your sweet mind. He hâtes himself even more for not seeing it coming. When you leave him the voicemail he gets anxious of what may be happening. He almost lost his best friend once and he wasn’t going to lose you too. So he immediately dials your number “Hey Y/n Don’t move an inch you hear me ? I’m coming over right now” And he is true to his word because not even 4 minutes after he is at your doorstep, panting. He takes you gently against him as his face nuzzles against your hair. Your scent helps him ground himself in the present. You didn’t know yet but he was going to change the traditions, for you he would do anything.

Hashirama Senju : He feels ashamed and sad. Sad because he doesn’t want to spend a single day of his life without you. Ashamed because he has always lowkey thought that something like this could only happen to his brother. And here he was getting a lecture from his younger brother, about how he isn’t the confident man he displays himself to be as the Hokage. Tobirama’s words were unnerving and actually pushed Hashirama to get some courage to talk to you. Tobirama’s plan worked just well. He is actually in front of your door when he gets the text. you wonder how the heck he got here so fast. You both talk things out and it gets better for both of you. He reads the text later on and ends up crying “I-I’m so so sorry sniff I didn’t know it made you feel like this sniff” Your fingers comb through his hair as you try to calm him down. He ends up sleeping on your lap with his arms tightly wrapped around you.

NSFW starts here :

Orochimaru : The mere idea of breaking up with him was always foreign and distressing to her. How you, his adorable Pet, would find yourself with this idea. But it happened. A mixture of several ingredients meant that the two of you finally parted ways. and as luck would have it, the mating season had begun. He couldn't stand jerking off without having his soul mate to fill with his seed. And then finally, like a miracle, your message arrived. If he could run naked into his hideout, he would. He got dressed in a hurry and headed for your room. Once inside you weren't in as good a shape as he was "Oh no look at you Pet. So wet and ready for me. Here I'm going to fill you and you''l get so much better" In the end, the break-up was mainly due to your hormones going all over the place. But if he gets you pregnant, I don't know if that'll help your hormones or his possessiveness.

Shikamaru Nara : For someone who doesn't like to stress out even in critical life-or-death situations, in this case he did.He couldn't breathe for a moment. Your voicemail sent a pang through his heart. He couldn't breathe for a moment. He remembered your break-up, and at the time he'd just said something like "Ah, women and their emotions'' He hurried to find you. When you opened the door he almost tackled with a strength he wasn't the first to display in common days. You found yourself pinned against a well as he spoke lowly "I'm here now. what do you need" and when you said you needed him, you didn't know it would end up in one of the best sex you ever shared with him. You're a keeper and he is never going to take your feelings not accordingly.

Hidan : Bro doesn’t care at all when you break up. He’s probably just going to get some bitches to make up for your absence. Of course you’re going to know about it. either by yourself, by other people or him bragging. You wonder what being in a relationship means for him. What this whole thing brought you at the end. Were you just some cum dump ? You needed to know, so you sent the text. He comes over like you requested but he isn’t a liar. He tells you right away that he isn’t the one to fall in love. Having sex with you is just convenient as you know how to touch him and bring him to ecstasy. He isn’t against becoming your sex friend if you’re still up to it “It’s a great reminder to how everything started between us, don’t you think Princess” - those fucking nicknames, he doesn’t how much pain they do to you. But you love him and the whole thing seems toxic if extended. Though you answer yes, at least you’ll get to spend more time with him. And maybe he’s going to grow up at some point. you’re not losing hope. And that’s what may destroy you.

Madara Uchiha : He always thought that besides loving him you needed him in your life. Just like he loved and needed you. But after the break up he is not sure anymore. He spends days passing back and forth trying to understand what brought you to this. Your text brings a smile of relief on his lips as he feels his shoulders release some tension. You did need him. So he comes over. And he handles the solution like a good head of a clan. He breeds you. Like that your thoughts will be turned towards another life. A life you’d cherish unconditionally. It will give him time to process things before it actually gets out of hand again. I mean that was the only way right ?

Deidara : For him breaking up was ineluctable. If for him art is an explosion it’s because he manages to find the beauty in things that just can’t stay beautiful forever. It was the same in your relationship. It was intense, full of passion but short. For him that was the perfect amount of time to enjoy the beauty of it, but for you it was just not enough. That’s why you set an ultimatum but to your surprise he agreed on breaking up. After getting your text he came over and reiterated his intention on not wanting to delve into a more serious relationship with you. Though the attraction between you too stays really strong. and it’s not uncommon to see him sneak out of your room in the wee hours “I just can’t get enough of your body. it’s intoxicating” You just can’t help but keep jumping each other’s bones, that’s the way it is for now. No strings attached for now. You just hope that someday he realizes that love is one of the rare things that get even more beautiful as time follows its course.

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tigertales9 · 9 months

Text

Déjà vu

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: Joe's calf injury at the start of training camp gives you a sense of déjà vu

Time/Place: July 27, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio

A/N: Took me a minute to write something about the injury b/c I needed to know he was okay first. Let's continue to manifest good vibes for him, y'all 🙌

Here's the follow-up - Déjà vu II

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You step off the treadmill in your home gym as it slows to a stop, grabbing your water bottle and guzzling half of it before dropping onto the floor to do some stretching; you're most of the way through your cool-down routine when your phone rings. You hop up and grab it, your brow furrowing when you see who's calling.

"Hey Sam," you greet. "What's up?"

"Hey Y/n," he mumbles. "Listen, I have something to tell you, but I don't want you to panic."

"What's going on?" you sputter. "Is it Joe?"

"Yeah, he tweaked his calf in practice today. I guess you haven't seen the video yet?"

You feel like you've been punched in the gut as you quickly sit on the weight bench. "I haven't seen the video," you whisper. "How bad is it?"

"We don't know yet. He's in the training room right now with the trainers and team docs. They'll have to do some imaging to determine the severity, but it seems like it's not crazy bad."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, he'll prob miss camp, but there's a chance he'll be ready for the season."

You feel silent tears start rolling down your cheeks; you take a deep breath before responding. "Why does this keep happening to him?"

"I don't know," Sam sighs. "He sure as hell doesn't deserve it, but he's strong as hell. He'll get through this like he always does."

"Thanks for calling me," you sniff, trying to fight back the tears before they can take over.

"You're welcome. Joe asked me to call so you wouldn't see the damn video and panic. He'll call you as soon as he gets a chance."

"I appreciate it, Sam."

You set your phone down and stare at your feet for a second, watching your tears drop onto the floor before angrily swiping them away. You take several deep breaths to get your emotions under control before grabbing your phone and doing a search for 'Joe Burrow injury'. You feel a wave of nausea as you watch him pull up and hop several steps before hitting the ground in a somewhat controlled collapse; you rewind and watch it several times trying to figure out what happened, your heart sinking every time as he plops onto the cart to be whisked away.

You eventually stand up and head for the stairs, wanting to hurry up and shower before Joe calls. You turn your face up into the stream of warm water cascading from the shower head, your hot tears joining the moisture streaming down your face. "Fucking déjà vu," you mumble, quickly scrubbing yourself clean before drying off and pulling on a pair of panties and one of Joe's t-shirts that hits you mid-thigh.

Once back downstairs you're a ball of nervous energy, not knowing what you should do; you consider your options for a minute before pouring a glass of rosé and taking a couple of hearty gulps as you grab your phone. You call Joe's mom to let her know the news, both of you getting emotional before pulling it together. You promise to keep her updated before ending the call.

You take a couple more sips of the cold wine as you look around the kitchen. "I gotta do something. I need a distraction," you mutter, opening the pantry to check ingredients. "No pumpkin puree," you sigh, crossing pumpkin pie off the list of options for distraction baking. You continue to rummage until you settle on brownies. "They can't be plain brownies, though," you mumble under your breath, frantically digging in every corner of your pantry for something to add to make them special. "I don't have shit!" you wail, dropping to your knees in the kitchen floor and crying for several minutes until inspiration hits.

You immediately peel yourself off the floor and run to the candy jar, your bloodshot eyes lighting up at the sight of several Reese's peanut butter cups. "Fuck yes!" you shriek, catching sight of your reflection in the kitchen window. "Simmer down," you whisper to yourself, a little appalled at how unhinged you look. "You're making brownies not negotiating world peace."

You stay just a little on edge as you whip up a batch of brownies, chopping the peanut butter cups and folding them into the decadent batter, popping them in the oven just as your phone rings. You snatch it up, your pulse pounding when you see it's Joe calling.

"Are you okay?" you blurt, your voice giving away every single fear coursing through you.

"I'm fine, baby," he soothes. "Sorry I couldn't call you sooner."

"How bad is it?"

"They're not sure. It's maybe a grade 1 or 2 strain. They'll need to do more imaging to know. I'm gonna be fine, though." The silence stretches out for a few seconds before he speaks up again. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you lie. "What sounds good for dinner?"

"I've had a couple protein bars so maybe just a sandwich? Do we have some of that pasta salad left?"

"Yeah. How about a club sandwich and pasta salad?" you ask, not mentioning the brownies.

"Sounds great, I'll be home by 8:00."

"Love you," you whisper, biting your lip hard to keep from crying.

"Love you, too."

You send a text to Joe's mom to give her a quick update before checking on the brownies, the delicious smell that hits you as you crack the oven open putting the tiniest smile on your face. You drum your fingers against the quartz countertop as you countdown the minutes until the brownies are done. "Gotta do something else," you mutter, eventually deciding to make a salted caramel sauce to drizzle over the brownies.

Twenty-five minutes later you hear the garage door open; you throw your caramel-coated whisk down on the spoon rest and hurry to greet Joe, tears welling in your eyes when you see him limping a bit. "It's bad, isn't it?" you whisper, wrapping him in a tight hug as tears start streaming down your cheeks. "It's not that bad," he promises, wrapping his arms around you and leaning down to drop a kiss on your head. He smiles as you look up at him. "It's déjà vu though, right?" he continues, his gorgeous smile breaking your heart a little. "Yeah," you mutter. "It could've been way worse," he states. "I dodged a bullet."

One thing about Joe is that he refuses to feel sorry for himself; no matter how many times he suffers a setback, his positive attitude and mental toughness stay fully intact. It's one of the "intangibles" that the talking heads constantly refer to when singing his praises.

You think back to his devastating knee injury his rookie season in the NFL; you'd been absolutely distraught when it happened, locking yourself in the bathroom and crying in the shower so you wouldn't burden him with your sadness. After a few days of this he finally sat you down and opened up to you. You close your eyes as you remember the conversation …

"I know we haven't really talked about the injury," Joe said, "everything's been kinda crazy since it happened." You nodded your head and looked at your feet as he continued. "Listen, I'm super lucky this is just a season-ending injury and not career-ending. Football is a brutal sport; guys go down all the time with horrible injuries."

"But why did it have to be you?"

"Why not me?" he asked, wiping the tears off your cheeks. "I'm not special."

"You're special to me," you sniffed, your bottom lip trembling as you tried not to cry harder. He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before responding. "I know I'm special to you, baby, but the game doesn't play favorites. It's a setback for real," he continued, giving you a reassuring smile, "but I'm gonna come back better than ever, okay? I promise."

And he did come back better than ever, you think with a smile. He rehabbed the knee like a man possessed to be ready for week one, then went on to win Comeback Player of the Year after taking his team all the way to the Super Bowl wearing a gigantic knee brace. To say you were proud of him would be the understatement of the century.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, pulling you back to the present.

"Déjà vu … like you said" you answer. "The damn knee, the damn appendix and now this."

"At least the injuries are getting less serious," he grins. "Maybe next year it'll be a hangnail." You smile against his lips as he kisses you. "Do I smell brownies," he asks, lifting his head to sniff the air. "Yes," you giggle, following him as he gingerly walks into the kitchen, his eyes going wide when he sees the pan of brownies. "Should I just get a spoon and dig in?" he asks, hovering his face about an inch above the gooey confections while inhaling their aroma. "No, sir," you scold. "You need to have your dinner before dessert."

He turns around and hits you with a pouty look so powerful it could probably bring about world peace. "Just one before dinner?" he pleads, batting his long lashes when you roll your eyes. "Has anyone ever said no to this face?" you ask, pinching a cheek while he grins. "No, ma'am," he answers. "And I'm not about to start now," you admit, quickly cutting him a brownie and drizzling caramel sauce over it. He takes a bite, his eyes rolling back in his head as he chews. "Delicious! What's in it?" he asks after swallowing, taking an even bigger bite as you answer. "Peanut butter cups."

"Oh my God," he mutters, taking another bite. "This is my new fav."

"Glad you like it. Now, what do we need to do about that calf?"

"Oh yeah, we need to ice it -- 20 minutes on and off for the first 48 hours -- plus compression, elevation and over-the-counter pain meds as needed."

"Okay, let's go," you state, shooing him toward the living room; you get him settled on the sofa and pull the ottoman over, placing a pillow on top before helping him situate his leg on it. "Be right back with an ice pack," you say before heading for the kitchen. You come back a few minutes later and place the ice pack under his sore calf -- which is still sporting the black compression sleeve -- watching his face for signs of discomfort. "You want some ibuprofen?" you ask. "Nah. It doesn't hurt that bad."

"Good. I'm gonna go get your dinner ready." You take a couple steps toward the kitchen before spinning back around. "Have you called your mom?"

"I texted her."

"You need to call her, Joe. She won't relax until she hears your voice."

He cuts his eyes at you as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. "No wonder she likes you more than me," he grumbles, laughing when you flip him off.

~ ~ ~ a few days later ~ ~ ~

You squirt a hearty dab of toothpaste onto your brush and go to town on your teeth, trying to scour away all of the spicy, garlicky goodness from your cajun fettuccine dinner; you cut a glance over at Joe as you watch him do the same, both of you spitting, rinsing and gargling with mouthwash at the same time. "If synchronized gargling was an Olympic sport," he chuckles. "We'd def win gold." You smile at him as you reach for your moisturizer, your eyebrows heading for your hairline when he gives you a naughty wink before exiting the bathroom. You quickly finish your skincare regimen, cutting the bathroom light off before walking into the bedroom.

Joe is sprawled on the bed butt naked, the look on his face speaking volumes as you approach. "I know you wanted to be super careful with my leg, but it's feeling much better now. It's been forever since we had sex," he pouts.

"It's been a few days, horndog," you chuckle, your gaze raking over his beautiful body as he continues to plead his case.

"I lifted weights with the guys earlier today and it was just fine."

"But that was upper body," you state. "Sex is gonna be more lower body. We shouldn't risk it."

"Just get on top and do all the work," he orders, giving you a filthy grin.

"Boy, please," you chuckle. "Anytime I'm on top it feels like I'm riding a bucking bronco at the rodeo. No way you can be still."

"Mmmm, that reminds me. You still have that cowboy hat?"

"Yeah."

"Remember when I positioned that armchair in front of the full-length mirror?" he nods at one of the plush armchairs in the sitting area of your master bedroom.

"Mmm-hmm," you mutter, biting your lip as the erotic memory floods your senses : you -- wearing only a black cowboy hat and a sultry smile -- sitting reverse cowgirl on Joe's lap facing the mirror, your legs spread wide to accommodate his thick thighs. He made you cum twice playing with your nipples and clit, dipping his long fingers inside your aching core just enough to make you beg for more before pulling back and teasing you, his usually pale eyes dark with lust as he watched you in the mirror.

A jolt of heat sizzles through you when you remember how turned on you were at the sight of his big hands pleasuring you, at the feel of his lips and tongue on your sensitive neck. And that was just the appetizer. The main course was him slowly impaling you on his thick cock, his husky voice in your ear sending shockwaves of pleasure down your spine as you started to ride him -- slowly at first then gaining speed -- your and his eyes both glued to the sight of your bouncing breasts and the even more erotic sight of his glistening cock disappearing inside you. His hands on your waist as your third climax hit helped keep the rhythm steady as you came apart, throwing your head back and moaning his name as he continued to thrust into you, his own climax hitting a few heartbeats later. When you finally managed to catch your breath, you lifted your head and locked eyes with him in the mirror, giving a bemused chuckle at the fact that he somehow ended up wearing the cowboy hat plus a very cocky grin.

Joe loudly clearing his throat pulls you back from memory lane; you focus your gaze on him, noting he's wearing the same cocky grin from your fevered imaginings sans cowboy hat.

"You were thinking about it, weren't you?" he asks, his voice loaded with that husky tone that always makes your toes curl.

"Yeah," you admit, flicking a glance down at his erection. "Looks like I wasn't the only one." -- If there's anything in the universe hotter than this man butt naked and fully erect, you haven't seen it. You give him a slow once-over, a twinge of unease hitting you as you look at the therapeutic compression sleeve on his calf.

"Don't overthink it," Joe orders, easily reading you.

You shift your gaze from Joe's calf to his face. "What if I hurt you?"

"You're not gonna hurt me, baby," he soothes. "Besides," he continues, gesturing at his erection. "We can't turn back now. One of us is gonna have to handle this, and I'm really hoping it's you."

You give a nod before stripping your t-shirt off and crawling between his legs, being super careful to avoid his hurt calf as you get settled. You flatten your tongue against his shaft and work your way up, tracing a prominent vein all the way to the tip before swirling your tongue over his plum-shaped head, sucking lightly as he fists his hands in your hair and … aggressively thrusts his hips up. "Don't move!" you order, throwing a glance over your shoulder at his hurt leg before getting back to work. This same scenario plays out a few more times before you sit back on your heels, spit and precum coating your chin and a pissed-off look on your face.

"I'm moving my hips not my leg," he argues. "If you were watching it happen you'd realize that." You give him a skeptical look as he makes a hand gesture. "Flip around," he urges. "Then you can look directly at my leg."

"Flip around?"

"Sixty-nine," he states.

You narrow your eyes at him. "You just want me to sit on your face."

"Well duh," he chuckles, "but you'll be able to look directly at my calf instead of whiplashing your head around when I make the tiniest movements."

You chew on your lip for a minute before sliding your panties off, your already throbbing core approaching nuclear meltdown as Joe licks his lips in anticipation; you sling a leg over his waist intending to gently work your way back, a surprised squeal escaping your lips when he grabs your hips and tugs you toward his face, his tongue immediately buried in your slit as you try to regain your balance. "Careful," you breathe, giving one last look at his injured calf before taking him deep, your whimpers and moans tickling his cock in a way that has him cumming well before you, his big hands holding you in place as he continues to pleasure you until you follow him over the edge.

You roll off of Joe (away from the bad leg) and stare at the ceiling, gasping for breath for several minutes before speaking up. "Is your leg okay?"

"It's fine, babe," he pants, reaching a hand out to pat your leg.

You eventually ease off the bed and head to the bathroom, cleaning yourself up before bringing a damp cloth out to clean Joe up, snuggling against him when you're done.

Several minutes pass with only the sound of the ceiling fan before Joe speaks up. "Sooo, as soon as my calf is fully healed, I think we need to do the whole armchair, mirror, cowboy hat thing again."

"I agree," you whisper, pressing a kiss on his chest.

"At least that gives me something to look forward to," he muses.

You lift your head up and lock eyes with him. "Getting back on the football field is something to look forward to, right?"

"Sure," he admits. "But it's def not as exciting as watching you ride me reverse cowgirl in a mirror."

"Yee-haw," you chuckle, pressing another kiss on his chest before snuggling against him, smiling to yourself as he pulls you close.

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