#no comment on this one i thought it would be a silly fucked up Halloween party <3
Text
Purgatory Hall in Fall 🎃
#my art#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#obey me luke#obm simeon#obm solomon#obm luke#solomon#luke#simeon#no comment on this one i thought it would be a silly fucked up Halloween party <3
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
scara smut halloween theme!
we’re carving pumpkins together and he has the idea to carve a little hole for his yk and he tells us to pull the guts out of the carved pumpkin but instead we grab his dick and things escalate from there
Halloween smut. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Blowjob. Overstimulation. Pumpkin carving.
I wasn't very confident in myself when I wrote this, honestly..
Scaramouche scoffed you, rolling his eyes when you told him you wanted to carve a pumpkin for Halloween. "How childish," He said as he lifted the pumpkin onto the table. You'd chosen a pretty good sized one from the pumpkin patch.
You looked so excited about this silly little tradition that it was almost too cute.
"I love doing this every year," You said, picking up the knife. You stabbed it enthusiastically into the top of the pumpkin.
"Okay, no more knife for you," It was both incredibly sexy, and a little frightening to see you stab the knife into the pumpkin like that excitedly. He wasn't going to lie, it made him hard. "Find a pattern on your phone you want me to carve for you."
And he didn't want to risk you cutting your delicate little fingers either.
You pouted your lower lip out for a moment while scrolling through patterns on your phone. He looked relieved when you showed him a fairly simple pattern.
Scaramouche set to work carving the pumpkin. Honestly, he would never admit this, but this was fun for him. And maybe he wanted to impress you with his pumpkin carving skills.
"Huh? What's up?" You asked, seeing he was looking at one of holes for the eyes in contemplation.
He looked right at you, smirked and said, "What do you think it would feel like if I stuck my dick in there?
You immediately blushed."Scara, I don't think that would equal-" Why did boys have such a fascination for holes of any kind?
Before you could finish, he cut off you off with a scoff. His smirk however never left his face. "Go on, take the guts out," He crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. "With your hand." He pushed the scooping spoon off the table when you reached for it.
The guts looked squishy and gross. If you weren't going to encourage him in his curious endeavor, then he wanted to see you squirm a little as payback.
"Scara, seriously?" You pinched the bridge of your nose.
"Do it~," He said teasingly. "What's the matter? Think it would be too gross." He laughed when you sighed and reached into the top of the pumpkin. You refused to let him dent your pride.
Scaramouche wasn't expecting his cock to twitch and throb hearing your fingers slosh around in the pumpkin as you scooped the guts out into your hand. "It sounds just like my fingers when they squelch in and out of your hole."
"Quiet from the peanut gallery," You replied, dropping the guts from your hand onto the plate. You looked at him, and saw the growing tent in his pants.
Your back talking only made his cock strain more in his pants. Scaramouche's eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat when you dropped to your knees in front of him. At first he thought you were going to grab the scooping spoon off the floor, so he kicked it away under the table. "The guts aren't down there."
"No, they aren't. But, your cock is," You replied, looking up at him with a blush on your cheeks. His teasing warranted some payback of your own.
"Can't resist me long enough to carve a pumpkin, hm?" He purred, looking down at you as you unbuttoned his pants.
"Remember what I said about comments from the peanut gallery," You replied over Scaramouche's groan of relief when you took his cock out.
"Tch, listen here, you little-" He grit his teeth, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you prodded your tongue on the head of his leaking cock. He grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling on it before he brought your mouth closer to his cock.
You sucked wetly on the tip, wrapping your hand around it and squeezing. That made his hips jerk forward. "Fuck, I almost cummed when you did that,' He groaned, forcing your mouth down on his cock.
Your eyes widened, tears stinging in your eyes as he abruptly pushed his cock into your throat. It throbbed in your mouth, your throat spasming as your coughed. You adjusted your breathing, vibrating a long moan on his entire length.
You flattened your tongue on the vein that bulged to the surface, sucking when Scaramouche started thrusting into your mouth. The more pleasure your mouth brought him, the tighter he gripped your hair. He needed to do it to ground himself because you always sucked him off exactly how he liked it.
Messy and sloppy. Drool poured from your mouth to soak into his cock, his thighs trembling as he fucked himself into your throat. You nuzzled his pelvis, making yourself choke on his cock. He whimpered in pleasure when you immediately started sucking again after you coughed.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," He cursed, holding your head in place, mindlessly thrusting into your mouth. "Don't stop sucking until I cum," He tugged on your hair. "You know I fucking love it when you moan pathetically on my cock."
You vibrated a pleased moan along his length, bobbing your head up to suck on the tip again. After a few moments, he hastily stuffed his cock in your mouth again, filling your mouth with cum.
Your mouth felt utterly worshipping as you sucked him off through his orgasm. However, your kept your hands on his thighs when he let go of your hair. Remember that payback?
You didn't stop sucking. This payback was coming in the form of overstimulation. You ground your mouth on his cock, making him whimper louder as he leaned against the wall. His knees shook and nearly buckled.
Scaramouche's head was starting to spin, the dull ache of overstimulation washing over him. He could barely find coherent words, the curling and licking of your tongue as you sucked was nothing short of exquisite to him.
He rubbed his fingers through your scalp, whimpers bleeding into moans. Panting he pulled your mouth off of his cock, looking down at you with a lustful glare. "You have 5 seconds to breathe before I fucking cum down your throat again.
#genshin impact#genshin smut#fem!reader#genshin imagines#scaramouche#scaramouche smut#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x y/n#scaramouche x you#modern au
687 notes
·
View notes
Text
Happy Halloween, Love ❤️
Pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!reader
Summary: Joe raids the costume department at work and conspires to make this Halloween your most memorable yet.
WC: ~4.4k
CW: 🔞MDNI!🔞, NSFW, RPF, PWP, smut, porn with a little bit of plot, established relationship, role play, dressing up, slightly dom!JQ, choking (referenced), oral (everyone’s a winner), fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex (always wrap it irl), tiny bit of mutual masturbation, squirting, maybe a touch of overstimulation, Eddie and demons are referenced, pet names (numerous, including references to reader as a pet, minion and servant), no y/n or descriptions of reader’s appearance, demon fucking (sort of). Please lemme know if I’ve missed anything, and don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with real-person fics or any of this content.
A/N: Inspired by the anonymous comment, “It’s as close as we can get to having Joseph Quinn dress up in the Eddie wig and have demon horns”, a scenario which got stuck in my head and wouldn’t leave. This might well be the only RPF I’ll write (they still weird me out a little). I hope this doesn’t put anyone off checking out my Eddie and Steddie stuff 😬 I wrote this fairly quick and it’s not beta-d. It’s also my first time sharing smut, so (constructive) feedback is most welcome!
You knock on the bedroom door gently, having slipped into your new outfit in the bathroom. Halloween season was always fun with your boyfriend Joe, both of you loving to dress up and create spooky scenarios that would inevitably lead to sexy shenanigans. You’d thought you were the only one dressing up tonight, but you were wrong.
Unbeknownst to you, Joe had raided the prop store at the studio he was currently working at, claiming he needed something for a Halloween party, and he had plans...
“Come in, darling.”
You open the bedroom door, sleeping in slowly, wanting to tease Joe with a slow reveal of the short, ivory satin robe you had on, something innocent-looking belying what was underneath.
A deep, velvet-smooth voice greets you, slowly murmuring, “Happy Halloween, my love.”
It’s Joe. Your Joe. Your kind, generous, loving and silly Joe, but there’s something else about him tonight, something you can’t quite place just yet.
He’s surprised you - the bedroom is dark, lit only by a pair of spice-scented red candles and a small, warm lamp. It’s intimate, but also somewhat lair-like, and the ambiance goes really well with the red and black skull-patterned bed linens you’d bought especially for this time of year. You love it.
Your eyes rake over your man, drinking him in. Clothes-wise he’s wearing nothing but a pair of snug black jeans and a studded belt.
Fuck, he looks so hot.
He’s looking down at the floor, hands clasped loosely behind his back, putting his delectable torso on display for you.
In addition, he’s wearing The Wig. That wig.
You’ve role played with this before; he knows how much you love Eddie’s luscious, chestnut locks, and how when he puts on the voice it all combines to rile you up. One time you even got some fake blackwork tattoos and put them on his arms and chest. That was a very fun evening.
But this time there’s more…
Amongst the curls he’s also wearing a pair of long, spiralling, ridged, red and black horns. They’re beautifully detailed. They nestle amongst the soft kinks, and the curls hide the ends of the horns and however they’re attached, making the effect all the more realistic.
God, he looks amazing.
You’re not can’t determine why he’s been looking at the floor since you came in. Is he being bashful? You’re confused, that doesn’t seem to fit the narrative…
Your question is answered when he slowly looks up at you, with a menacing, Kubrick-like stare.
He’s wearing contacts. Not just any contacts, but full-sclera, black contacts, completely obscuring his natural eyes.
You swallow, hard. Your fingers toy with the sides of the slinky robe you’re wearing, and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together, trying to provide just a little friction to the area between them. Joe notices.
“Fuck Joe, I mean Eddie, you look-“
He cuts you off.
“There is no Joe here. No Eddie either. Only… your Master.”
You gasp at his voice, how it’s even deeper than usual and slightly menacing. You’ve always been impressed by the way he can control his voice, the timbre, volume, pitch, cadence. You’re momentarily distracted by how you’re not surprised he’s always been in acting work.
“Tell me you’re mine, my loyal minion.”
You’re broken abruptly from your reverie by Joe’s commanding tone, and you willingly play along, knees weakening and a pool of wetness forming surprisingly quickly in your underwear.
“Yes, my Master, all yours-”
You gasp as his strong hand reaches forward towards your throat, wrapping loosely around it. Not squeezing (not tonight, anyway), just demonstrating who’s in charge of this scenario.
Joe your Master smiles in that familiar way you know and love, but he keeps the sinister stare, giving everything a much darker edge.
“Well done, my precious. Now, would you like to have some fun with your Master?”
You bring one hand up from your side and gently drag the the tips of your fingernails along the inside of his forearm, a place you know is sensitive.
He breathes in quickly through his nose, trying to stifle a gasp, though you hear it. His grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly, and he tilts his chin up, narrowing his eyes and looking down his nose at you.
You surprise yourself as you reply, “Yes Master, I’m yours to command.”
Ever the consummate professional, none of Joe’s excited internal monologue shows, and he simply looks at you and murmurs, stretching out the syllables,
“Good girl...”
That’s it, you’re gone. He could do almost literally anything to you right now and you most likely wouldn’t stop him. You let out a small whimper.
Even with the dim light and the darkness of his denim, you can see the bulge in your Master’s jeans.
Releasing your throat, he moves his hand to the back of your neck, gripping firmly but not harshly, bending towards you and pulling your face to his. He crashes his lips against yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth in a passionate, messy kiss, which you eagerly return.
Breaking the kiss, he grins at you again, before removing his hand from your neck and flicking the edge of your robe near your collarbone.
“Take this off.”
You obey, slowly undoing the robe and slipping it off your shoulders. As the fabric slips to the floor you’re left in nothing but the new set that you bought especially for tonight.
Joe’s eyes caress your form, taking in the sheer, red, rose-patterned lace decorated with tiny bows.
But what’s really catching his eye is the fact that your bra is peek-a-boo style, and the ribbon ties are already undone, your nipples on display.
He hisses an inhale, and runs a thumb pad gently over one of your hardening nipples.
“This all for me?”
“Yes, Master, only for you.”
He takes a step towards you and glances to your panties.
“Are these…?”
“Crotchless? Yes, Master.”
He lets out an involuntary growl and brings his other hand to your core, pushing one finger between your thighs and swiping its tip through your already-damp folds.
Feeling your wetness he can’t help but drop his head back and moan.
It gives you a perfect view of his gorgeous neck, and you want to lick it, like you have so many times before.
Seeing Joe dressed up like this and regarding you with such obvious hunger leaves your whole body tingling, and the anticipation of him touching you more makes you feel like tinder about to combust.
You need him to have fewer clothes on too.
Biting your lip, you slowly bring a hand up between you and trace your fingertips over his solid torso, tracing shapes on his skin, touching the fine, soft hair and moving down towards his happy trail, finishing at his belt line. As your fingers reach his belt buckle, you ask,
“Please, Master, may I..?”
Your Master drops his hands to his sides and, with a lascivious grin, tongue peeping out at one corner running over his teeth, he gives you a tiny nod.
You undo his belt and jeans, running your hands inside the fabric and around his abdomen until you get to his hips. He’s not wearing anything underneath, just how he knows you like it.
You push the fabric downwards, dropping to your knees as you go, just how you know he likes it.
His cock springs free and slaps against his abdomen, fully hard already, and you drool at the sight.
Stepping out of his clothing, he positions himself in front of you, abs tensed and legs slightly apart, looking down at you with those completely black eyes, a curtain of dark curls framing his face.
“What are you gonna do for me, my servant?”
“Whatever you want me to, Master.”
You stick out your tongue as far as you can and languorously lick a broad stripe from his balls up the base and shaft of his cock, past his frenulum and all the way to the tip, where you pause at his slit, swirling your tongue and collecting a bead of precum that’s collected there.
Glancing up again, you notice he’s pursed his lips and his breathing has become uneven, all signs you’ve learnt are indicative of him enjoying what you’re doing.
Lifting both hands you gently grasp his base with one, pulling his tip slightly towards you, and caress his balls with the other, as you open your mouth and slide slowly down his length. Pausing after a couple of inches you return the other way, repeating and going further each time until your lips are touching the fingers you have wrapped around him.
He’s fully panting now, lips parted and brows gently furrowed.
“Fuck, precious, you’re gonna fucking kill me one day.”
Taking this as an indication to continue, you hollow your cheeks and suck, earning you a deep moan from his chest.
You move up and down at a slightly faster pace, sucking and licking, enjoying having your face stuffed full of him, until he’s suddenly grasping your chin and pulling you up towards him. His cock leaves your mouth with a soft pop, and you’re soon standing in front of him, eyes locked. Gruffly, he mutters,
“That’s too good, sweetheart, and I’ve got plans for you. Get on the bed.”
You obey, sitting your bottom on the edge of the bed and shuffling backwards until you’re in the centre, leaning back on your elbows.
He climbs on behind you, and using his hands and his knees he roughly pushes your knees and thighs apart, slotting himself between them.
He bends low towards your thighs, inhaling deeply and pausing for a moment, humming and enjoying the scent of your arousal.
At any other time you might be embarrassed, but his behaviour fits so well with the whole demon vibe and you find yourself heating up even more at the action.
He exhales a long, hot breath, which fans over your core, tantalising you further.
Dropping his upper body between your legs, he lets out a series of low growls as he sucks wet, biting kisses up your inner thighs, pausing occasionally to suck hard on the soft flesh. You moan at the sensation, wondering if he’ll leave bruises, excited by the idea that he might.
You use the opportunity to touch the horns for the first time, feeling the details and ridges, enjoying the contrast with the soft, flowing curls.
He eventually reaches your centre, and marvels at the lingerie framing your delicate, glistening folds.
With a gruff, animalistic hum he licks a stripe from your shining hole all the way up to your begging clit. You cry out, the most sensitive part of you finally receiving the attention it’s been craving.
Wasting no more time, he sticks his tongue out as far as it will go and pushes it inside you, moving and licking and devouring you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.
You watch him with hooded eyes, trying to sear the image of this demon-god between your legs into your mind, before your arms give out and you flop backwards onto the bed, just about managing to vocalise,
“More, Master, want more of you.”
He takes the hint, bringing one hand up and pushing two fingers easily inside you, and moving his mouth to lick and suckle at your clit. You moan loudly, pushing your hips down the bed and grinding into his hand and face. He moans at this, and the vibrations start to drive you towards your peak.
He chooses this moment to curl his fingers towards your front wall, hitting that spot inside you perfectly, and you begin to see stars. He keeps up his ministrations, your moans eventually turning to wails as he gradually increases the pressure on your clit, and you can hold off no longer. Your vision turns black, your limbs lock, and for a moment you stop breathing, a bubble of euphoria bursting within you as you come undone with a scream.
He reduces the pressure on your clit but doesn’t stop, forcing you to ride out aftershock after aftershock on his face. Eventually he removes his fingers from your swollen cunt, replacing them momentarily with his tongue, before pulling off entirely. Looking down at you he lets out a feral growl. Licking his lips, he wipes his chin with the back of his hand before licking it clean, before muttering,
“Fuck, so fucking beautiful…”
As soon as he thinks you can manage, he’s pulling at one hip, assisting more than forcing, as he says, “Turn over, baby, stick that beautiful ass in the air for me.”
You do your best to manoeuvre onto your front, keeping your face and chest on the mattress and putting your knees on the bed, lifting your butt. He kneels behind you, parting your knees a little further, running his hands over the globes of your ass, fully exposed and framed prettily by your red thong.
He lets out another, “SO fucking beautiful”, before slapping one palm hard cross one cheek, making you whimper, immediately moving in to kiss the stinging flesh, laving it with his lips and tongue.
He notches his tip at your hole, and, remaining in character, murmurs, “I’ve gotta fucking have you, my beautiful little -uh- pet!”
On the last word he sheathes himself fully inside you, no consideration given for the usually slow and gradual way he’d enter you, animal passion taking over and both of you more than ready.
You groan loudly as he bottoms out, adoring the feeling of him filling you up and how he rearranges your insides every time he does.
He moans as he remains seated within you for a few moments, groaning gutturally and gripping your hips harshly.
You don’t have much of a respite, as after only a moment of acclimation he’s setting a brutal pace, pumping in and out of you with feral force and abandon, wet and breathy sounds filling the room, his cock jolting your cervix with every thrust.
He starts to mutter almost unintelligible phrases in his demonic voice, but you make out,
“So fucking perfect, so fucking good for me, taking me like the cockvessel you are, my good little minion, my pet, my beautiful, beautiful pet.”
It’s all so exquisitely overwhelming, and you start wailing into your pillow.
He chooses this moment to slip one hand around to your front, immediately finding your sensitive, sopping wet bud and pressing small, form circles into it.
This brings you almost immediately to another precipice, and you cry out, “Ohgodohgodohgod!”
You can feel yourself clench down on his length, and he growls out,
“Jeezus fucking christ, squeezing me so tight, fuck!”
Euphoria washes over you again, a tingling heat beginning in your pelvis and spreading through your entire body. You go limp, but your Master holds you to him with one strong forearm, fingers continuing to circle your clit until you move and twitch, body trying to deal with the dissonance of wanting to get away from the overstimulation but enjoying the aftershocks.
As he continues to help you ride out your second orgasm he’s desperately trying to stave off his own, and eventually pulls out abruptly, your sweat mingling as he rests his forehead on your ass, breathing deeply.
You whine at the sudden emptiness and loss of contact, but are grateful for the opportunity to slump onto your side, enjoying the potential for a short rest.
He comes to lie behind you (if you’re honest, one of your favourite positions in which to get railed), but you realise something.
“No Master, not from this angle. There’s no point in you looking like that if I don’t get to enjoy it.”
Growling again (and seeing your logic) he deftly flips you over onto your back, slotting himself between your plush thighs, tip nudging your entrance as he stares into your face.
He moves both of your arms above your head, running his hands up the soft skin of the undersides and holding them there, hands clasping your wrists and pushing them into the mattress.
He seems to consider something for a moment.
“Hmm, I haven’t given these lovely tits nearly enough attention, my love. Especially considering you decorated them so prettily for me.”
That lascivious smirk is back, and with his free hand he opens the slit in the lace on one side and hums as he licks the flat of his wet tongue over one nipple. As he moves away he lets out a sigh through his nose, cooling the flesh delightfully and causing your already hard nipple to peak even more.
He massages each breast with his free hand, but decides that’s not enough, so commands you to, “Keep those there for me, my pet”, letting go of your wrists and starting to use both of his hands on your soft mounds. He’s enjoying pushing his fingers under the holes in the lace, pushing it to the side to expose your soft flesh, squeezing and squashing, pinching your nipples and licking and sucking on your sensitive nubs. You arch your back and moan with delight at the sensations.
Eventually satisfied that he’s given your tits enough attention, he licks a wet stripe all the way from your sternum, up the side of your neck all the way to your jaw, making you shiver in delight and anticipation.
He hovers over you, tips of his curls tickling your forehead. He plunges his tongue inside your mouth again in another passionate kiss, and you can taste the musk and salt from your own skin combined with the unique taste of him.
He returns his focus to getting himself seated inside of you again. He leans forward, holding your wrists with one hand, with the other lining his member up with your hole as he moves his hips forwards.
He slowly slides into you, filling you up yet again. He fucks you slow but ever so deep, the languid pace a welcome change that allows you to feel every vein and ridge of him against your sensitive walls. You’re both trembling, all of your nerves alive with sensitivity.
“Like me fucking you like this, my pet? Want your Master to -mmm- make you cum again?”
Though you know without doubt that would be an absolutely delectable option, you decide you want to do something for him now.
“I want to be good for you, Master. I want to sit on you, wanna ride you so bad.”
His eyes widen and that signature grin spreads across his face.
“Well, what my pet wants, my pet gets, doesn’t she?”
He slowly pulls out of you and releases your wrists, and in an attempt to conceal his excitement, languidly moves up the bed to lounge on a pile of collected red and black, silk and fur pillows. Abs tensed, knees spread wide and slightly bent, cock in hand and giving every appearance of being cocky and arrogant, he’s the perfect vision of a commanding demon. He’s sitting like he’s on a throne, like he deserves this. It drives you wild.
He lazily tugs at himself as he watches you crawl up the bed towards him, though he furrows his brow slightly as you pause halfway to sit on your heels, knees wide apart, displaying yourself for him.
“What’re you doing, my pet?”
You start touching yourself, parting your folds and sinking a finger easily into your dripping cunt, your free hand coming to massage one nipple.
His eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly, and you see his grip on his dick get tighter. You know he loves to watch.
You mumble, as innocently as you can,
“I couldn’t wait, Master.”
He watches for a few moments, entranced, but then remembers what’s on offer and points to his lap, raising his voice a little, aggressively muttering,
“Get up here, minion. Obey your Master!”
His domineering tone sends tingles up your spine and to your core, and you instantly comply, clambering the rest of the way up the bed and straddling his hips.
He holds his cock steady underneath you, running it over your slit, the wet noises exciting you even more.
You place your hands onto his shoulders, stabilising yourself. You take another moment to admire his outfit and presence, holding his gaze before starting to sink down onto him.
As you seat yourself into him fully, that delicious stretch and feeling of fullness returns. You take a moment to enjoy it, before starting to move, lifting up, slowly at first and not too far, before lowering yourself back down. He’s at a fantastic angle, and feeling him so far inside you is intense. You whine out,
“Fuck, Master, you’re so deep…”
He bends his legs behind you and plants both feet on the bed, encouraging you to prop yourself against them. He knows you love to lean back, giving him not only a delicious new angle but also an exquisite view of your tits jiggling as you move, and it also gives him purchase to occasionally buck his hips and slam into you from below.
He’s full-on panting again, and, huffing, he breathes out,
“That’s my good little pet, fucking me so well. You gonna make us both cum, my sweet little thing?”
Wanting to do a good job, you use your thighs to bounce up and down on him, his cock hitting that spot inside you and rocketing you towards yet another high. He’s grabbing at your tits, your ass, your hips, anywhere he can reach, grumbling and growling and clearly desperate to feel every inch of you.
His pelvis is hitting your clit in just the right way, but you need more, and you grab one of his hands and bring it to your front. He immediately begins rubbing his thumb against your clit, and you start to whimper, already close. Before you lose the power of speech he asks,
“Do you trust your Master, baby? Gonna let me try something?”
You trust him implicitly and, although you have no idea what he has in mind, you nod. He moves one hand to your sacrum, stabilising you. The other thumb continues circling your clit, but he pushes the flat of that hand against your belly, like he sometimes does when he wants to feel himself inside of you, except this time there’s more pressure.
You’re rolling your hips against him now, all the different sensations combining to bring you closer to your release. You can hear him panting too, feel him tensing, and you know he’s not far off either. But there seems to be a different kind of pressure building in your abdomen.
You try to say something, but full sentences won’t come out. All you can manage is parts of words, like, “Wait-, no-, someth-, it’s diff-, oh fu-“
Unable to control anything anymore, your release washes over you in a searing wave, but there’s something else too - you feel a hot, wet gush coming from you and soaking his hand, wrist and abdomen.
Unable to process what’s just happened, you simply look at him, open-mouthed but still euphoric.
That’s it for him, he can’t hold off anymore and his release hits him, hard. He pulls your hips down onto him at the same time he slams up into you, face slack and breathing ragged, and you feel his hot, sweet release paint your insides, simultaneously letting out a long, low, broken groan.
Unable to process anything else, his eyes close and his head drops back against the headboard. You get another glimpse of that delicious neck, and run your hands over it and his collarbones as he comes down. He always looks so beautiful like this.
You both need a moment to let your heart rate and breathing come back to some semblance of normal. Evaporating sweat leaves you both with delicate goosebumps on some of your exposed skin, but the change in temperature is welcome.
You’re the first to speak as you look down at his wet belly and ask,
“Uh, Joe. What the fuck was that?”
His face turns slightly pink as, voice back to normal, he bashfully admits,
“I, um, just wanted to see if I could make you squirt, that’s all.”
He looks a little sheepish as he continues, slightly concerned,
“Was it ok? I mean, did you hate it?”
“God no, it felt… amazing! Just, y’know, maybe warn me next time?”
“Of course my sweet. Anything for my baby.”
He plants some wet kisses across your cheeks.
As if wanting to illustrate how much he enjoyed it, he brings his wet hand up to his mouth, sucks his fingers, and slowly shakes his head in delight as he adds,
“Mmm-mm, it was really fucking hot though!”
You slap his chest playfully, rolling off him to settle in the crook of his arm, your head against his chest, running a hand up and down it.
Ever the considerate lover, after a few moments he inquires,
“How was it overall, baby? Did you enjoy it?”
Full of endorphins and the love of your man, you gush,
“Fuck yes, Joe, it was incredible.” As you toy with some of the ends of the wig, you add, “Thank you so much for doing this for me. For us.”
He replies, “Oh love, it was, and I mean this quite literally, my absolute pleasure. I’m such a fucking lucky bastard.”
You both giggle a little at this. Joe delicately removes the horns and wig, laying them reverently on your bedside table so as not to tangle or damage them, another testament to his devotion to his craft, and you snuggle into each other, continuing to murmur sweet nothings and enjoying the afterglow.
After a few minutes Joe admits, “Sorry, I’ve got to take these bloody things out babe, they’re really sodding uncomfortable.”
You both laugh again, as he rises from your shared bed and makes his way to the bathroom to remove the contacts, returning with a warm washcloth, which you take gratefully. As you clean up he picks up the horns, examining them and twisting his fingers around what you now see is a sturdy headband.
He takes the washcloth from you, retuning it to the bathroom. As he comes to sit by you on the bed once more, you spy a small smirk on his lips. You know that look, devious yet playful. He’s got some kind of plan.
“What is it, my treasure?”, you goad, using your fingertips to gently tickle his happy trail and tease at his exposed belly.
He replies,
“I was just thinking, next time, maybe you could wear the horns…?”
Thanks so much for reading!
Comments and reblogs make my world spin, please let me know what you think!
#probs my only RPF#joseph quinn#Joseph Quinn smut#RPF#Joseph Quinn fic#stranger things#Joseph Quinn x reader#joseph quinn x you#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#role play smut#slight dom!joseph quinn#dressing up smut#halloween smut#halloween fic#demon fucking#demonfucking#mrsjellymunson gets the horn
169 notes
·
View notes
Note
May I please ask for headcanons for la squadra reacting to their gn s/o doing this for halloween?
oh my god...yes??? holy SHIT am I finishing this so late I am so sorry but yknow how i am at this point...
-----------------------------------------------------
La Squadra getting pranked by their S/O with a fake snake
Formaggio
You have to keep yourself from cackling when his eyes light up at the sight of the cooler. He looks to you, asking if you brought it, then making some silly comment about how he'd "be taking one for free anyways" before reaching for the lid.
He jumps just a smidge, his only sound of shock being a small "oh-" before exploding into laughter. He's down on his hands and knees at the silly little prank. He's trying to call you either fucking stupid or a fucking genius but you can't tell through the giggles.
Takes the humor into his own hands afterwards. Grabbing your attention, he flaps the lid up and down rapidly the nod the snake's head with a stupid grin.
"B-before you can grab a drink, y'gotta answer my three riddles!"
Illuso
You don't even know he had spotted the cooler - he just made a beeline for it the second he could read the writing, not thinking to ask about it or even notice your presence. Beer first, chat later.
That is, until you hear his scream. Yes I think he'd scream like a little girl, what're you gonna do about it? You look over and the lid's slammed shut, your lover holding a hand over his mouth, looking at you. His expression hasn't yet decided whether to be pissed or horrified.
"Did...did you-?" once you explain that you set up the little trick he calms down quickly, save for his furrowed eyebrows. He's standing next to you then, arms crossed as a smirk tugs at his lips.
"As long as you don't tell anyone about my reaction, I'll play along. I'd love to see what everyone else thinks."
Prosciutto
He's suspicious immediately. Of course the beer would be free. It's a cooler, just sitting there, why would there be any charge whatsoever. No reason to point out "free"...nonetheless, he could use a drink.
Obviously he's not stupid enough to get it himself, so luckily you're there. He asks you to grab him a beer. Knowing what lies beyond that cursed lid, there's no way you'd follow his order, and he's clearly ticked off at your "strange" hesitance.
You two just stand there, arguing over who's to grab the beer, both trying to hide your "secret knowledge" from one another. He eventually realises it's futile to try and make you fall for your own prank, and in defeat he walks over to the cooler and opens it. The only slightly sour look on his face is disappointing.
"Wow. A fake snake, really? Childish."
Pesci
Doesn't like the taste of beer, has no interest in it, so you can't really get him like you can with the others. At best he'd tell Prosciutto about it, and you get a new target. But it's not what you originally hoped.
So if you really want this to work, you need to enlist Prosciutto's help. Once you somehow get him to agree, you wait for Pesci to inevitably join the two of you in the room. The boy is obviously quick to obey when Prosciutto asks for a beer.
Pesci stumbles away from the cooler with a cry when faced with the fake snake, and when he turns to you and Prosciutto to point out the danger, he's even further disconcerted when you look amused and unbothered respectively. This makes him check the cooler again, and you can't help but chuckle as he reaches out and shakes the false snake.
"Jeez, it's nothing...why would you do that to me??"
Melone
He's smart, at least you thought so. But...somehow the genius you love barely even thinks about it as he approaches the suspicious cooler without so much as a second glance. He...he wasn't that gullible, was he? You wanted this to happen, yeah, but this was...creepy.
Then you notice the look on his face and know that smile means he knows what's going on. Of course he's not stupid enough. He's trying to play around with you, isn't he? He might even know exactly what's about to pop out of the box.
Well, apparently he didn't know that last thing, because the smug look on his face is gone the second he is met with the fake snake. He gasps and shoves the lid back down, stumbling away. You try to make some silly comment to him but he's averting eye contact and retreating, ashamed.
"Well, goodbye darling. I'm....no."
Ghiaccio
Oh come on, what fuckery is this, is the first thing your blue-haired beloved thinks as he sees the writing on the cooler. Paired with the fact that you're standing a few feet away, totally not glancing at him every few seconds makes it even more obvious.
He decides after some moments of just staring at the cooler to just go for it. Best case scenario, he gets his beer and leaves, worst case scenario he witnesses some stupid useless prank. and leaves. Literally facing disappointment head-on, he kneels down and is face to face with the snake that greets him.
Of fucking course. He grabs the false snake by the head and rips it off the lid with a scowl before walking off. It's your choice if you're underwhelmed or howling with laughter.
"Stupid fucking...why would you even..." *insert the sound of the frozen snake scraping against the floor*
Risotto
In any other situation he should, and would, be weary - the perk of being his S/O is that he lets his guard down when it comes to you. He doesn't jump right into falling for it, he stands around and makes conversation with you first, asking where you got the beer and why.
You're hopefully prepared for this with a good lie about a sale, or some shit you never finished yourself that you thought the team might want. You better be a good liar too. Check both those boxes and soon you'll be watching him open that cooler.
He probably didn't expect a snake of all things, and does let out a surprised "oh!", but his reaction is pretty much over once he doesn't see razor blades spew from the serpent's head. Risotto does chuckle when he shuts the cooler, just a bit.
"Do tell me if this works on anyone else. That was a good one, dear."
#I'm sorry i HAD to be silly with Melone's abfhsdgsj i couldn't NOT.#I know he wouldn't have cause to be scared yet cuz. the snake he sees in canon fucking kills him but IM the writer#la squadra#la squadra x reader#formaggio#formaggio x reader#illuso#illuso x reader#prosciutto#prosciutto x reader#pesci#pesci x reader#melone#melone x reader#ghiaccio#ghiaccio x reader#risotto#risotto nero#risotto x reader#jjba x reader#sometimes I feel like I don't know how to write speaking things for risotto#i should probably study his speaking a bit more (by that i mean watch the doppio risotto fight more)#not too bad. i fucking love that fight beyond the discomfort of. metallica.
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pick Me Up - A Gojo x Reader x Geto Fanfic Part 3
Gojo and Geto are two serial killers who enjoy seducing their victims before killing them. Every year on Halloween they have a friendly competition, and this year the target they both choose is you.
Read Part One Here! Read Part Two Here!
The first two parts will be fairly short and just serve to set up the way these two operate. The third part starts the “main part”. Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated! Divider by @violetbudd
Smut. 18+. Fem Readers. Smut mostly just thought/talked about in this part. Gojo and Geto are both bisexual.
You’re standing in line at the convenience store, two giant bags of potato chips in your arms. Your friend told you to bring some to the party, so here you are, standing here in a silly white Angel costume. There’s a fake halo on a stick over your head, small white wings attached to a white top that is way too sheer for your comfort. The skirt is shorter than anything you’ve ever worn, and your white thigh-high stockings have little bows at the top. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to look innocent or slutty. Probably both.
Your friends picked out the costume for you, saying it fit your personality. You don’t know what that says about you, but you’ve decided to take it as a compliment.
The teenage boy working the register stares at your chest, not even trying to be subtle. You pay for your chips and for some gas you just put into your car, then you head out.
A group of trick or treaters nearly mow you down as they run into the store, excitedly chanting the familiar phrase as the teenager rolls his eyes and begins dropping handfuls of cheap candy into their colorful buckets and bags. You smile as you watch the little goblins, remembering how much fun you always had as a child on Halloween.
This year is going to be just as fun, you tell yourself. You’ve never been to a large Halloween party before, but you’re really excited. You hum the Ghostbusters theme to yourself as you toss the chips into the backseat and climb into the driver’s seat of your car.
***************
Satoru and Suguru have been sitting in the white van, parked far away from the pumps at the gas station, for a couple of hours now. They’re watching the various people who stop for gas, each trying to pick out their special Halloween victim.
Suguru has one hand buried in a bag of popcorn. “How about her?” he asks, pointing to a “nurse” strutting by.
Satoru takes a bite of the king sized candy bar in his hand. “Nah. Too easy. I want a challenge tonight. Besides, you need to focus on picking your own target.”
“My taste is more discerning than yours,” Suguru says, holding up the small bag to pour the rest of the popcorn into his mouth.
“Wait,” Satoru says, pointing with his free hand toward the door of the convenience store, “look at her.”
Walking out of the store after nearly bumping into some kids is the sweetest looking Angel either of them have ever seen.
“Fuck, she can barely walk in those heels!” Suguru says breathlessly, “Can you imagine chasing her?”
Satoru’s eyes are shining above the rims of his dark sunglasses. “She’d trip so fast. That flimsy outfit would rip… she’d be crawling on the ground, crying her eyes out, begging me not to hurt her…”
Suguru laughs. “Easy, you’re gonna bust a nut.”
“Only in that sweet angel’s mouth,” Satoru says.
“I’m picking her,” Suguru suddenly declares.
Satoru swivels in his seat immediately to look at Suguru. “What? No, I’m picking her!”
“Too late. You didn’t get a chance to cut her fuel line.”
Satoru frowns. “I’ve got other ways of getting her into my van.”
“Really? Like what?” Suguru asks.
Satoru gives him a meaningful look, pulling the shades down. “These baby blues. I could roll up covered in blood, carrying a machete, and she’d still wanna ride my dick after one look into my eyes.”
There’s a moment where Suguru just stares at Satoru silently, allowing himself to get lost in those eyes. Then he looks away. “You’re too full of yourself.”
Satoru laughs, taking anther bite of his candy bar. “Just admit you think my eyes are pretty.”
Suguru ignores him and stares out the windshield, watching the angel climb into her car. “How about we make the contest interesting this year? Let’s both pick her.”
Satoru raises his eyebrows, clearly intrigued by the idea. In years past, they competed to see who could fuck and then kill their individual target first on Halloween night. The rules were pretty simple. They had to act suspicious, and they had to get the target to willingly have sex with them despite throwing up glaring red flags. It was their fun way of testing their own charm and good looks.
“Okay, let’s do it,” Satoru says, grinning. “If you’re lucky, I might just give you sloppy seconds!”
Suguru rolls his eyes. “I hope you like fucking girls with no skin, because that’s the only way you’re having her tonight.”
They both laugh, and then Suguru gets out of the van, heading to his own vehicle so that he can use the backroads to get ahead of her.
*****************
You sit for a minute in your car, trying to send a text to your friends to let them know you’ve picked up the extra chips and are heading towards the party, but there’s no service in this area. Too wooded and remote. You sigh and cram your phone into the small white purse beside you.
A couple miles down the road, you’re blasting Monster Mash on the radio, singing along with the lyrics, when you notice someone walking along the side of the road. You hit the brakes, your car screeching to a halt beside a man with long dark hair, dressed all in black.
If he’s walking along the road in the dark, he probably needs help! You roll the passenger side window all the way down and lean across the seat as he steps over and bends down to look in at you.
“Is everything okay?” you ask him, concern obvious in your voice.
He smiles at you, and you can’t help noticing that he’s incredibly good looking. “I ran out of gas,” he says.
“Well hop in and I’ll take you to the gas station,” you tell him, patting the seat beside you.
He blinks, hesitating for a moment before that charming smile returns to his handsome face. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice creamy and smooth. “It’s dangerous to pick up hitchhikers, you know. I could be a serial killer.”
You look him over, from his smile to his clean and simple clothing. He sure doesn’t look dangerous. “It’s fine,” you say with a grin. “I’ve got a good feeling about you!”
His eyes widen slightly, then he breaks out into laughter, so much that he clutches his side. “I can’t argue with that logic!” he says, opening the passenger side door and climbing inside.
“Wow, you smell nice,” you say to him, noticing the fresh fragrance of soap, or maybe laundry detergent. “Is that Gain or Tide?”
He glances at you sideways, seeming a little caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I just use whatever’s handy… I don’t pay attention to brands…”
“Well whatever it is smells great.”
He stares at you for a moment before saying, “Thanks.”
You hate the awkwardness of silence so you decide to keep talking. “Do you live around here?”
“No, just traveling through,” he tells you.
“I’m going to a Halloween party,” you say brightly. “But I guess that’s obvious.”
He looks you up and down. His gaze feels hot, and you notice his eyes lingering on your legs. “That’s a cute costume,” he says. “So are you sweet like an angel?”
You laugh and slap his arm playfully. “Is that a pick up line?”
He gives you a strange look, unreadable, then smiles again. “I’m just kidding.”
“Well, if you really want to know the truth, I didn’t pick out this costume. My friends did. It’s a little more, uh, risqué than I’m used to.”
“It looks good on you,” he says.
“Aw, thanks! You’re really sweet!”
Again, that strange look, but then a second later he’s laughing again. You’re not sure how your words were funny at all, but you giggle along with him, caught up in the moment.
He laughs so much he’s nearly in tears, then he looks over at you with a smile that seems genuine for the first time. “Has anyone ever called you naive?”
You nod, smiling proudly. “Yep! All the time!”
He tilts his head, black as night hair falling over his shoulder. “And you’re not bothered by that?”
“Nope! I’d rather see the good in people and be wrong occasionally than always assume the worst of everyone.”
He chuckles. “You’re like one of those virginal heroines from a horror movie.”
You look at him sharply, then quickly look away, heat spreading across your face.
“Haha, you’re totally red right now,” he says, then suddenly his smile disappears as his eyes seem to focus on your face. “Wait… why are you so red right now? Are you… a virgin?”
You wince. “Is it really that obvious?”
His face seems frozen as he stares at you. Then one eyebrow twitches. There’s an excitement in his eyes that confuses you but also gives you a little thrill.
“You really are an angel, aren’t you?” he asks.
**********
When the angel pulls back into the gas station, Suguru doesn’t even have to ask if she’ll drive him back to his car. She volunteers, of course. He smiles and thanks her, and heads into the store to pretend to buy some gas.
To his surprise, Satoru is standing by the magazine rack, thumbing through an issue of Fangoria.
“Not in any hurry, I see,” Suguru says to him.
“I know your patterns,” Satoru shoots back. “So, how is she?”
Suguru picks up a random magazine, not even looking at the cover, and pretends to flip through it. “She’s totally innocent and naive. Kind and sweet. She has absolutely no sense of danger, but I don’t think she’s an idiot. And…”
Satoru looks up at him. “And?”
Suguru meets his eyes. “Satoru, she’s a virgin.”
Ahh, there it is. That positively depraved, monstrous gleam in Satoru’s eyes. “Oh fuck,” he says, dropping the magazine back onto the rack. “I could wreck her so bad.”
Suguru understands the appeal. The thought of ruining something so pure and so good is irresistible to people like them. An image creeps into his mind, of that innocent angel choking on Satoru’s huge cock, and he doesn’t know why it turns him on so much. Because he’s also imagining her thighs trembling on either side of his face, gasping moans spilling from her lips.
“I better get back to work,” Suguru says.
Satoru waves him off with a smile. He must have some kind of plan in mind, Suguru thinks.
After buying an empty red gasoline container, Suguru returns to the car, where the angel is waiting patiently for him. She opens the trunk for him to put the gas inside, and soon they’re on the road again.
***************
The man beside you doesn’t talk much on the drive back to his car. You wish he would. He has such a nice voice. But he smiles warmly when he catches your eye, and he has a way of putting you at ease. You hate to admit it, but you might just be developing a bit of a crush on him.
He tells you where to pull off the road, and soon enough a car comes into view, parked in a wooded area, behind some trees. You stop your car and turn to him, feeling a little sad that it’s time to part ways.
“Here you are! Do you need any help?”
He makes no move to get out of the car, but looks at you with an expression you could only identify as “predatory”. But on him, it just looks sexy. “I’m not in any hurry tonight,” he says, turning to face you. “Are you?”
You feel your face heating up again. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’re feeling heated in another place too. “Well my friends are waiting for these chips,” you tell him. “Do you want to come to the party with me?”
“Actually, I was hoping we could spend some time together, just you and me.”
Ohhhh. He wants to hook up. Right here in the woods. You’re not sure how you feel about that. On one hand, he’s smoking hot. You’ve been getting wetter with each passing moment that he’s been in your car. But on the other… do you really want your first time to be with a stranger? You think about it for a moment, looking at his beautiful face, inhaling his pleasant scent.
Why not live a little?
“Tell me your name,” you say.
He blinks at the sudden shift in the conversation. “Huh?”
You turn in your seat to face him. “I don’t want us to be strangers.”
“Ah, I see,” he says, then he smiles. “I’m Suguru.”
You smile back. “I like that name.” You introduce yourself and then you take a deep breath. “Okay, so what did you wanna spend time doing with me?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.
He scoots closer to you, then leans his upper half toward you. “I don’t think you can handle what I want to do with you,” he says, his voice practically dripping with honey.
You feel a shiver run through your body. Is this really happening? Are you really going to have sex with a guy this gorgeous? That you just met? There’s something scandalous about it that thrills you. “I probably can’t,” you admit, “but you’ll take care of me, right?”
There’s fire in his eyes as he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you gently. One of his hands moves to your hair, caressing it, pulling you closer, making the kiss deeper. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you offer no resistance. After a few moments, he pulls away to look at your face. You’re breathing slightly harder than usual as you say, “Wow, that was some first kiss.”
His eyes widen. “That… was your first kiss?”
You blush. “Yeah. Thanks for making it a good one.”
All at once, as if a switch has been flipped, he’s upon you, his hands rubbing over your body, his lips on yours, then on your neck. It’s a bit overwhelming, but it feels good, and there’s a thrum of energy coursing through you. There’s no doubt in your mind that by morning, you’ll no longer be a virgin.
And then you hear it, a strange sound, like someone breaking a large stick in the woods. You put your hands on Suguru’s shoulders and lightly push him back. “Did you hear that?”
He presses forward, nuzzling your neck. “I didn’t hear anything,” he murmurs.
You push him with a bit more force, causing him to stop and look up at you. “There’s someone out there,” you tell him.
He sighs. “There’s no one out in these woods. Trust me.”
You turn around in the seat, looking out all the windows. There! Someone ran by some trees! “I saw someone,” you yell, pointing toward the spot where the figure disappeared.
He looks in the direction you pointed. “I don’t see anything.”
“It might be an elderly person who needs help!” you say, starting to open your door.
He gives you an incredulous look. “An elderly person?”
“They had white hair!”
Suguru’s eyes flatten to unamused slits. “Ah. I see. It’s probably some asshole playing a prank. It’s Halloween after all.”
You slide out of the car. “But what if it’s not? What if some grandma got lost in the woods and needs our help? I won’t be able to relax until I check.”
A look of annoyance passes over Suguru’s face, but he quickly replaces it with a warm smile. “Okay. I’ll help you check.”
“Thanks! You’re a really great guy!”
The two of you move around the car, calling out shouts of “Hello?” and “Is anyone out there?” and even “Shout back if you need help!”
When no answer comes, you run over and open the trunk of your car with the key. “I have a flashlight in here,” you say, digging around. You push the container of gas out of your way, and you notice something strange about it. The container is so light! You reach over and pick it up, and it’s immediately clear that the container is empty. Why would it be empty? Just as the terrible, obvious answer dawns on you, Suguru appears right beside you.
You look up at him with wide eyes. The empty gas can is still in your hands.
His eyes shift to the can, then back to your face. “Ah, I guess the jig is up then,” he says in a casual tone. “What a pity. I really, really wanted to fuck that virgin pussy before I kill you.”
You back away as his words sink in. You watch helplessly as he pulls your keys from the trunk lid and then dangles them in the air. Before he can take a step forward, you fling the empty gas can at him and break into a run as he knocks it out of his way. You only make it a few yards away before you realize running in stiletto heels on uneven forest ground is impossible.
Stopping for just a moment, you tear off your shoes. When you glance back, Suguru is running toward you. In a panic, you throw the shoes at him one at a time before sprinting into the woods.
“Ow, fuck,” you hear him shout, “you almost hit my eye!”
“Sorry!” you yell back, a reflex you couldn’t subdue.
Branches from small trees and bushes scratch you as you flee. Your skirt gets ripped up the side, the thin, cheap fabric of your top is nearly shredded, and your cute white stockings have holes in them now, one of the bows from the top missing. You ignore all of this as you make a beeline for the road.
You haven’t heard Suguru since you threw the shoes. No yells, no footsteps, no crunching leaves. Either he’s a very quiet pursuer or he’s got some other plan for how to catch you. Both options are terrifying.
Finally you break free of the trees and reach the road. You scan the area for Suguru, or your own car. He could easily use it to chase you down. You see headlights approaching and you decide to take the chance that it’s not him. You run up alongside the road, waving your arms.
The vehicle that stops in front of you is a rusty white van, but it looks like a blessing to you right now. The passenger side window rolls down and a man in sunglasses leans over from the driver’s seat.
“You okay, miss?”
“No, some guy is after me! I think he wants to kill me!” Your voice is a bit frantic, but you’re trying to stay as calm as possible to avoid scaring him into leaving you behind.
He looks around as if checking for attackers. Even in your distressed state, you notice how distractingly beautiful he is. He pulls his sunglasses down and looks at you with eyes so blue you almost forget you’re in danger. “Get in,” he says with a disarming smile. “You can tell me all about it and I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
Feeling lucky to be rescued by such a charming prince, you hurry to climb into his van. You look over at him as he pulls back onto the road. “Thanks so much,” you tell him. “You saved my life!”
He grins at you. “Don’t mention it, angel!
Now where can I take you?”
You exhale as you slide down a bit in the seat, trying to decide whether to go to the police or not. You feel like the night has lasted forever, having no clue that your Halloween was only getting started.
Tag List:
@loyal-to-my-dilf @unearthlydream @noodlejitsu @itzmeme @themonst3rqu33n
If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please comment to let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged!
#gojo x reader x geto#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto Suguru#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#Geto smut
140 notes
·
View notes
Text
If You Got It, Haunt It
Curtis and Honey Halloween Special
Summary- 2.6k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You and Curtis are out for a night at Paulie's playing a game of pool with Claude and Grey. It all starts with one little Halloween pun and some purple nurples.
Warnings- Smut. This is an 18+ Only Blog.
A/N- Happy Halloween everyone! My personal favorite holiday and I had to drop something to celebrate. I hope everyone finds something good today among all the mayhem our world has going on. Thank you all for all the comments, likes and shares you give this series. The puns were from a reel I saw on facebook and if I ever come across it here, I will be sure to link it because it was so silly and cute.
Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist
The pool balls clacked across the bars table while you stood nearby watching Curtis and Grey debate on where the balls would go. Claude stood at the other end, picking out pool cues for you and her.
Money sat on the edge, waiting for the future winner to lay claim. The bar was festively decorated all around, the usual music that Paulie played was now tuned in with some more halloween themed songs. You were waiting for Monster Mash to start playing, already having told Paulie you were gonna need a tray of Purple Nurple shots to be delivered per your and Claude’s request. A little homage to Dean Winchester as well as shooting some purple colored shots. Tis the season after all.
Curtis wandered over after it was all decided who was playing what ball, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close. You sunk into his touch, cuddling in against him. “Mh mh MH.” You started, looking up at him. “I didn’t know my favorite Halloween treat came in life size.”
“Honey, I will be the monster you can mash.” Curtis immediately responded, a hand wandering to cup your ass, arching your hip to press against his while you hid your giggle in his chest. “You and Grey are stripes.” He rumbled, grumpy in the moment that Claude insisted on switching up the usual teams. “You over here looking all ‘come fuck me Curtis’ Pretty Girl is giving me some thoughts.” His nips on your mouth, tasting of his whiskey shots from earlier making you grin at the sensation, the warmth of his chest seeping through his hoodie and curling through you. You let your hands slide into the pouch at the front of his shirt, tugging Curtis in closer to you till he was wrapped all around you. “Babe, I must be a witch.” You let your nose rub against his before pulling back enough to see his expression, your grin wider with the upcoming joke you had for him.
“Really? Why’s that, 'cause you put a spell on me?” Curtis played along, his grumpy expression from earlier still a trace on his features, but he was starting to lighten up a bit more while flirting with you.
“I actually can raise your broomstick without even touching it.” You informed him, arching enough to press a kiss to his bristled cheek while he gave a huff of a laugh, you snorting in a giggle while he hugged you against him.
“Fuck.” He grunted, talking only loud enough for you to hear so his mouth was close to your ear, the bristles of his cheek a welcome sensation as they brushed against your jawline. “You really do have that kind of magic woman.”
Claude shouted over the table, making you and Curtis glance her way. “Curtis, remember you're on opposite teams. You can’t be over there flirting with the enemy.” She held up his pool cue. “And it’s your turn.”
“Then you’re in for some fucking bad luck Claude, 'cause I have no will power against my girl.” Curtis let his hand run along the curve of your ass one more time before pulling away and taking the cue from her, looking around the table for the best shot while Grey appeared behind Claude, catching her in his arms and making her yelp in surprise, the two of them fooling around with one another while Curtis aimed for a shot.
You admired Curtis, so reminiscent of the first time you two played pool when bumping into each other. It was even the same table, the two of you talking and getting to know each other while Curtis taught you how to play. That moment felt like a lifetime ago now, so much having happened between you and Curtis to get to this carefree moment shared with friends. The sound of Claude whooping in victory while Grey groaned had you breaking from your thoughts, giving a shrug of your shoulder to the group as if you weren’t at all worried while you approached the table and prepared to take your turn.
“Lucky shot Everett, now step aside.” Your hand pushed playfully against the wall of muscle that made up his chest, never really standing a chance at actually moving Curtis back a step but he purposely stumbled back like you did, giving you space to play.
“Yes Pretty Girl.” He muttered, making Claude shoot him a ‘don’t you dare look’ and he smirked in response. You set yourself closer to the table, leaning into the move with a sharp hit of the follow through and as soon as your shot was done, you felt Curtis’s hands fall to your waist and while you eased up, you were able to lean into his chest, watching the balls scatter once more, not making any shots but helping line up some for Grey to take when his chance came. “Good shot Pretty Girl.” He watched over your shoulder calculating which ones Claude should take.
“I'm happy with it.” You hummed out. “I sure as hell wasn’t going to be getting any at that time.”
They watched Claude and Grey play, the two of them doing their own game of flirting. You and Curtis stayed off to the side, losing interest in the game at this point.
“Pretty Girl, we should be werewolves for Halloween.”
“Oh really?” You turned in his hold to face him, the two of you wandering further away from the pool table, the halloween music thumping louder and although you knew Curtis wasn’t much for dancing unless the two of you were at the house, you started swaying to the music playing. “Why is that?”
His hands were flowing over your curves though, tracing you like he couldn't get enough of how you felt moving in his arms. “I bet we would have a howling good time together.”
You busted into laughter at this one, making him laugh too. Purple People Eater started playing over the speakers and you tilted your head back to listen to the song. “Paulie! Purple Nurples!” You shouted out. Claude danced over to you, grabbing your hands and pulling you into her arms, the two of you bouncing in a childish dance.
“Yeah, I got them!” He slid a tray across the counter towards Grey, who gathered up the bright purple shots to bring to the table you all had laid claim to earlier. Curtis took one and sniffed it, his nose wrinkling at the smell.
“Damn that smells sweet.” He handed you yours while waiting for the go ahead to take it.
“The grape jello, just be quick with it!” You tilted your head back and let it slide down your throat, Curtis doing the same. You reached over for two more, intent on finishing the tray before the song ended. “Hey Curtis, is it Halloween yet?”
He took the shot, not as enthusiastic as you, but he was willing to stomach the shot once more for you. “Just a couple more days, Pretty Girl and then you can take out those fangs again.” His blue eyes raked over you suggestively, his gaze dark and wanting with his suggestion.
“Good, Cause you can carve my pumpkins.” You grabbed his hands to lay them on your curvy ass cheeks, arching into his grasp as he squeezed his hands on you and gave a moan that bordered on getting turned on and exasperated at your last lame joke. A swift little swat to your ass made you wriggle against his hold all that much more.
“How long have you been saving that one Pretty Girl?”
“Since last week when I saw a tik tok video.” You admitted, tugging on his hoodie. The addition of the purple nurples made you warm and tingly all over in addition to the way you two had been throwing the suggestive touches and words all night. You must have been giving him a look cause the corner of his mouth lifted smirking, his mouth dropping to flush kisses along your jawline to your ear. “Backseat?”
“You wanna?”
“Pretty Girl…” His mouth pressed against the pulse point just behind your ear, eliciting a rushed breath as all those tingles and warmth blossomed in you, wanting, craving, needing more. “Always wanna.” His hand took yours, jerking his thumb over his shoulder when he turned to Grey and Claude in their own little world on the other side of the table, the pool game half played. “We’re stepping out for some air, meet back here in a bit?”
Grey nodded, raising his hand in a thumbs up. “See you guys in a bit.”
Claude, not quite caught up, raised a questioning brow in your direction but then when it clicked she mimicked Grey with a thumbs up. “Have fun!”
Before you could respond, Curtis had you weaving across the bar. The two of you rushing into the cool October night. Maybe the purple nurples were giving you some tipsy confidence but you pushed him against the bar's brick wall, his back thudding and he looked down at you in surprise for half a second before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you up enough to kiss you hungrily.
He tasted wild, a mix of alcohol and him, you ran your hands down his chest and grasped his belt to work the clasp off enough to push your hands into his jeans to rub at his cock through his boxers. Thick and throbbing already, he hissed against your lips while tilting his head back with a groan, his hold against the back of your neck falling to your waist, turning bruising in his lust. “Fuck Pretty Girl, don’t ever stop.”
“Don’t plan on it Curtis.” You cupped your palm around his length, squeezing just enough to bring him pleasure but not as far as you knew he would want it. Teasing him was fun and you were enjoying the power he gave you over him. But it didn’t last long as he pushed you back enough to continue back to the car, digging for your car keys out of his back pocket since he drove you two here tonight.
“Curtis… do you wanna play zombies?” You asked as you wrenched open the back door, falling back into the seat to pull yourself back, Curtis following inside to somehow get the door shut and hover over you.
“What?!” He asked distractedly as you worked your shirt off and he was as well. But he managed to catch up and shook his head. “No? Yes? Why?”
You giggled a bit, biting your lip as you snapped open the button of his jeans while looking up at him. “If you do then I will just lay here while you eat me.”
“Oh god Honey.” He laughed hard, his shoulders shaking and his forehead coming to lean against yours, looking in your eyes. “That one was my favorite tonight.” His mouth pressed to yours and you both started grinding against one another. Curtis eventually dragged his mouth from yours so you could catch your breath while following the column of your neck to your collarbone, sucking a nice little mark there while you arched under him, offering yourself to him. He worked your pants open, starting to drag them off while continuing down your body. This time leaving little bite marks after your zombie comment.
“Just like that.” You moaned while running your hands over his scalp and holding him to your chest after he tugged your bra up enough for your breasts to be free, your sensitive nipples aching pleasurably under his tongue, gasping happily when he dragged one into his mouth and pulled, making your legs wrap around his waist. “Curtis…” You arched again, your body feline rubbing against his now that you were practically bare under him, short of your pants hanging off one leg and your bra pushed up to be no longer practical on your chest. His hand braced against your back and he growled out. “Hold on Pretty Girl.”
You grabbed onto his shoulders while he maneuvered you both, him in a seated position in the middle of the back seat and you straddling his lap, mouths still chasing after each other. Curtis worked his cock out from his boxers, running his hand up and down his length while you prepared to wriggle off his lap so you could go down on him.
“Wat Honey…” He stopped you and tapped his hand against your ass. “Get up on your knees Pretty Girl.” You obliged, raising up and he ran a finger along the seam of your panties covering your cunt, sliding the slick fabric aside. “Did you know the human skeleton has 206 bones, Honey?”
You watched him mesmerized, his hand sliding up and down slowly on his impressive cock, whimpering with want and need as you felt yourself dripping on his fingers slipping between your folds. “I did… but I could take another.” You squeaked as he teased your clit, ready to start practically begging when he let the tip feed into your entrance.
“Good cause I plan on giving you another.” Curtis pressed you down onto him. You meant to laugh at this one, but instead it came out as a pleasured gasp, pressing your hands against his chest and grinding on him while adjusting to feeling him so deep inside.
“Shit…” You hissed out.
“Take your time, Pretty Girl.” He watched you with half hooded eyes, one hand resting against your waist and the other sliding up and down your folded thigh. “Fuck you are so beautiful just like this.” He praised, keeping still till you told him you were ready. But the way you were rubbing your clit against him and squeezing him, he just hoped you would be ready soon.
“Mmhh so deep.” You let yourself raise up and back down, finally feeling confident in it. “Okay, I'm ready.”
Letting Curtis go, he helped you ride him with constant praises, his hold helping you move up and down, rotating your hips which always felt so good your eyes would roll back, feeling every inch of Curtis pressed in you, full of him till you couldn't take anymore you were sure.
You both sped up, Curtis snapping himself into you while you slammed yourself harder down, once in a while one of you would seek out each others mouths for messy grunting kisses but it all got to be to much and Curtis hugged around you to bury his face into your chest with a curse, both of you rushing for orgasm and it was a slamming pleasure that sucked the air out of your lungs.
It wasn't till you collapsed against him that Curtis eased the two of you back, lounging in the back seat wrapped around each other comfortably. Your head laid on his chest and at some point Curtis did cover your back with one of your shirts to keep the outside chill slowly seeping into the car from making you cold. Your fingers traced his chest and went to fiddle with the chain. “How long have we been out here you think?”
Curtis hummed lazily as if he couldn’t be bothered to consider that they were in your backseat in a parking lot. “No clue, you ready to go back inside?”
“No, not really, I’m pretty comfy.” You said and the conversation went quiet for a moment.
“Honey, I got one more for you.” Curtis broke the silence and you didn't bother to lift your head, also to comfy in the moment to bother.
“Give it to me Curtis.”
“I think I already did.” You glanced up to see the smirk of pride. “Okay, will you let a demigorgon in our bedroom?”
“No.” You shifted in against him, sighing out a bit happily. “Why would I?”
“Awww come on Honey, we have done stranger things.” Curtis dropped his punch line. Both of you were silent for half a second till you both broke into laughter.
#life is short so make it sweet#curtis everett and honey#curtis everett and plus!sized reader#curtis everett x plus!sized reader#curtis everett x you#curtis everett and you#curtis everett and reader#curtis everett x reader#curtis everett fanfiction#curtis everett au#chris evans characters#amber writes#sweater writes#halloween 2023#halloween special#spooky time
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Inbetween (Austin!Elvis x Reader)
It’s becoming harder for me to write every single day, and I don’t know why. I have all these ideas and I want to write them all, but it comes to this point where I’ll write a sentence... and then sit on tik tok for ten/twenty minutes. It sucks... and it prevents me from posting more.
I want to have some halloween stuff up next month. I have to spooky things planned, might through in some headcanons and what not for daddy!Elvis.
Masterlist
Pairing: Austin!Elvis x gn!reader
Warnings: Death, Elvis’ death, burning, fire, death talk, sad vibes?, there is an age gap but nothing happens, Elvis is 39 when he dies in this fic, swearing, most likely spelling and grammatical errors.
Word Count: 3.4k
Song: Perfect for Me by Justin Timberlake
Life... sucked... You've met so many people in your life that you learned that some people wished to be dead. That, their pain and suffering would end once they passed through. Well, it doesn't. You never wished to be dead. You were quite happy. At least you thought you were.
First thing you were alive and happy. Next thing you knew you were staring at your dead body. You were the newbie to the afterlife... well... to the inbetween. A place you knew nothing about, but now... you just know about everything about this god-forsaken place.
As you walked past the famous crowded gate... you put a pause in your step. There was a light above the house, only one you could see, but... someone died... Could it be? No no, he couldn't be dead. He was only thirty-nine, right on the bridge of forty. Then again, you were twenty-two. Did you really have any room to speak?
Maybe it was his father? Or even... someone else? You doubted it could actually be the famous Elvis Presley. Taking a deep breath, you took flight and flew towards the house and inside. Now, you've been to your fair share of famous houses, well houses in general. You were always curious about what some houses looked like on the inside- but oh wow- Graceland... was fucking beautiful.
You placed your feet on the ground and traveled up the stairs. It always felt wrong to interfere with people's privacy... but... someone was dead and confused. You wanted to help out, even if it was Elvis. Taking a deep breath you walked into the bedroom and saw someone asleep in the bed. It wasn't them... So, you turned towards the bathroom and walked in... that's when you saw it.
"Ya know... it's not the worse thing I've seen." You commented as you placed your hand on your hip. Elvis turned quickly and looked at you. His face of confusion quickly turned to worrisome, and anger.
"What the fuck? Who are ya? How did you- what did I? How?" Elvis looked mad.... angry... sad... and yet confused at the same time. He looked like an emotional roller coaster right now, and he seemed like a time bomb. To you, it was only just a moment of time before he blew up on you.
"I can-"
"How did you get in here?!" He spoke up once again. He didn't even give me the chance to reply.
"Listen now-"
"Priscilla!" He yelled and walked past you into the bedroom. You let out a huff and looked at his dead body. It was quite a silly position to die in, but you don't get to choose how to die. He isn't the first person to die on the toilet...
"Priscilla babe... what the fuck!" You walked back into the bedroom and watched as he tried to touch the girl in his bed. The girl whom you assumed was named Priscilla. Elvis turned and looked at you. You could only imagine he tried to shake her awake, only to find his hands going straight through her body.
"You, you did this to me." He pointed his finger at me. You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms.
"You're kidding right?"
"I was perfectly fine before you fuckin'... before... before you fuckin' broke in!" He walked over to a dresser and tried to open it, but failed.
"And you thought it was totally fine that you were outside of your body?" You asked him... because honestly, you were quite curious to hear what he had to say.
"I-"
"You're dead, and I was nice enough to come in and help. Clearly, you don't want my help. So, you can suffer." You spat out at him and walked away. Now, you haven't met very many celebrities. Even in death, you didn't see many. You didn't expect Elvis to be... such a bitch. Then again, you couldn't blame him for acting the way he did...
"Wait! Shit, 'm sorry... I- I'm just confused." He rushed after you, reaching out to grab your wrist. You turned to look at him and pulled your hand back.
"Why can I touch you? But not-"
"If you couldn't tell, I'm dead." You responded and walked away, hoping he would understand to follow after you. Which, hearing his footsteps in return led you to believe he did follow after.
You made your way out of his house and lifted yourself up and took to the skies. Elvis stood stopped in his tracks. You could fly? Could he finally be like Captain Marvel Jr. and fly to the rock of eternity? You turned back towards him and saw him staring at you. You let out a sigh and went back towards him. You took his hand and pulled him up.
"Wai- Woah..." You went over to the fence and placed him down on one of the flat tops and lowered him down carefully. You pushed yourself away and gave him a minute to himself.
The king of rock n roll, dead at age thirty-nine. These people just keep dying younger and younger. You just didn't know how he died. It wasn't murder... it seemed to be an internal problem. You knew it would be wrong to ask him about it, but if he asks you how you died... You have every right to ask back.
"What even is this place?" Elvis asked as he watched you fly through the sky in front of him. He only just found out he was dead, so he didn't know the extent of his powers just yet. You paused in your flight and floated over to him, and sat down on the wall beside him.
"It's called the inbetween. It's a place where people finish off unfinished business if they have any. Those who have, they wait to be graded. Unless they want to stay... but I don't know why anyone would want to stay." You explained to him. You didn't know much about the inbetween if you were being honest. You knew more than when you first died, but you still just knew the basic information. You had a feeling that there was something more to this place. There had to be a reason that you haven't been graded yet.
"Graded?" He looked at you confused.
"To see where you belong. Up in heaven, or down in hell." You explained as you pressed your palms against the rough concrete top.
"My mama is in heaven." He breathed out and looked up at the sky. "I can' wait to be with her again... with my brother." You smiled softly at him and turned your head away. So he could be nice? Hmm... that's a change. You had a feeling that Elvis was suffering from something, and maybe... just maybe he can get rid of that soon.
"Let's just hope you can join them soon." You said softly and kicked your feet lightly. Your parents were both still alive. Sad... devested over the death of their daughter... They haven't been the same... They were depressed... Sad... The only moments they were happy is when they remembered the happy memories.
Your mama planted your favorite flowers... Your daddy played your favorite records... Your family celebrated your birthday every year... You would've been 37 this year... Yet... You were stuck at twenty-two forever. Why couldn't your life end completely? Like... Once you closed your eyes... why couldn't you move on to a new life? Why did you have to be stuck in here? In this Goddamn hell hole!
"How long have you been here?" Elvis then asked. You let out a sigh and a frown. You knew at some point this would pop up. Along with the question of... how did you die? It always did in these conversations with new ghosts.
"Nearly twenty years." You answered. He looked at you like you were crazy. Well... he looked at you confused. You could tell he was worried. He didn't want to wait another full twenty-some years just to see his mama again. He was dead now, and he wanted to see his mama now.
"Does it take that long...? Usually?" Elvis asked. You knew he asked... because he didn't want to be stuck here for... well... damn nearly twenty years.
"Uh... no... sometimes it takes weeks... months... not that many years. I haven't met someone who has been here longer than I have." You explained. Elvis took in your words and nodded. You could tell he was upset. Most people who died were. You heard of those who went to a dark place first. You couldn't imagine going to a dark place. You would lose your mind. Yet, there are places that you go to... just to sit in the dark. Cry for a few hours... then... scream for a few hours. Up until your throat couldn't take it anymore.
"Do... do you think it's because ya have unfinished business?" Elvis suggested. You knew he was just being sincere, but you thought about it. You thought about your unfinished business and well...
"If it is, I don't know what it is." You lifted yourself off the wall and went to be in front of him. You floated in the air, it was nice being able to float about and fly. While those who don't spend so much time in the inbetween, they never learn how to float... due to the fact that they are in and out quickly... you learned after a year or so.
"I've learned everything I could... I've done everything I could... I... I don't know what I could do... so- I go around helping new ghosts." You shrugged like it was nothing. You accepted it at this point. Well, the person you showed Elvis accepted it. You... well... you didn't.
"Don' a bunch of people die? Every single day?" Elvis asked. You knew what was on his mind. You said you helped those who have recently died. He most likely assumed you went around to every single person who died.
"Always." You nodded and pushed yourself away from him. You went around. It was nice when you could teleport just about anywhere in the world. You've been everywhere! Well, everywhere you wanted to go.
You've been to every state in the united states. There were some boring ones you had to admit... but they all held a beauty within them. You've been to Europe. Not every single country, but the ones you wanted to visit. You absolutely loved Greece! It was everything you dreamed about. You smiled at the memory but you were soon quickly brought out of it.
"Why'd ya choose me?" Elvis asked. Gosh, when did these questions end? Okay, you can't be mad. You were the one who walked in. It was your fault for this. Then again, you were curious and now you were paying the price.
"Let's... I did not choose you. I happened to be walking down the street on my daily walk when you decided to die. I saw the light," you pointed past him, "and decided to come in and help. Well, I wanted to know who died." You admitted. Elvis looked behind you and saw the light that was still shining. These lights usually shined until the person left the property, and since Elvis was still on the property... It was still shining.
"Right right... so you aren't a fan?" Well... do celebrities always ask that? Are you a fan? You're not a fan? It's like they figure everyone to be a fan of them. Then again, you showed up to see who died. So, okay... maybe he had the right to ask that.
"I died when you were enlisted. Yes, I was a fan, but then I died." You smiled annoyingly. Were you being too much? You definitely were. Maybe you should calm it down a bit.
"So- you're saying that... being dead caused you to lose interest in my music?" Elvis looked confused. Like he has been this whole time. You let out a breath.
"I'm sorry. I'm being just all rude about this. Just... I'm tired... and I just... I want... I want it to be over." You floated down to the ground and sat down. Elvis looked down at you and then back up at the sky like he was contemplating something.
"Yeah..." Elvis started as he got down next to you. You turned and looked at him. "I get that. I might've not been stuck in this place for as long as you, but... I've felt trapped ever since I lost my mama. Sure... I got married... but I was never happy. Well, she made me happy, but-"
"You weren't happy. Yeah," you nodded and spoke softly. You looked over as the sounds of sirens filled your ears.
"Let's go somewhere else," You stated and stood up. You took his hand and floated up and pulled him along. You didn't give Elvis any chance to respond. Mostly because he would probably overreact and not let you do it. That's why it was fun to not let that happen. Then again, it's hard seeing yourself being driven away in an ambulance... and then going to your own funeral... It was not fun at all.
"Why'd ya take me away?"
"Listen, Elvis... You don't want to be there." You sighed and sat down on the bench. "When I died... I didn't know what to do. I followed myself to the hospital... I watched my parents break down... I went to my funeral. It... It's not fun... It's... It's heartbreaking... I... Elvis... When the world finds out you're dead..."
"How... how did you die?" Elvis finally asked. You let out a breath and looked down at your hands.
"I was a camp counselor... It was my fourth year doing it... Something bad happened one day... A fire broke out in the mess hall. I-... I went to see if I could help and do anything but... I... I tried my best. I went to grab something, but the door was locked. There was no other way in or out... I... I... burned to death trying to save those kids." You spoke softly. Your voice was fragile, as you tried to keep your emotions at bay.
"I- You went to help when no one would... You can' be mad at yourself for that." Elvis tried to reassure you. It's like he could sense that you blame yourself for not being able to put it out. You died heroically, I died on the fuckin' toilet." You let out a light laugh and shook your head. You sniffled a bit and turned to look at him.
"You're not as bad as I thought you would be." You commented. Elvis raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"What do you mean?" He asked in return.
"Well, you were an absolute dick when I first met you." You pointed out. He let out a breath and nodded. It's like he forgot all about what happened so long ago. That's good. It's best to try not to think about your death.
"'m sorry about that... There was just... So much shit goin' on in my mind." Elvis apologized.
"Yeah... no no I get it... I just feel like... because I couldn't help those kids... I help those now who passed away and are lost and confused... Because I can't fuck it up."
"Don' call ya self a fuck up. You did somethin' when no one wouldn'" Elvis scolded you, in the nicest way possible.
"They called the fire department," you pointed out to him. It's not like no one acted upon the disaster. They clearly called for help, it's just that no one did anything at that moment. Probably because they were all smarter then you, and didn't want to die.
"But you took action despite the risks. You died a heroic act. How many people can say that?" Elvis asked. If you think about it, a lot of people died a heroic act, even if it isn't stated on a plaque.
"Probably a-"
"Zero, exactly," Elvis replied before you could finish your reply. You shook your head and looked over at him.
"You did somethin' with ya life. You became a hero to those kids." Elvis said as he reached out and grabbed your hand. You allowed him this time. He brought it close to his heart and held it there. He looked at you with those damn blue eyes and smiled softly.
'I'm glad ya find me... I wouldn' know what to do if it weren' for you." You let out a chuckle and shook your head. You finally pulled away your hand and waved it down.
"Please, I'm sure eventually you would've figured out you were dead. I'm just here to make your afterlife a bit easier... especially before you go to see your mama." You said with a small laugh. Elvis smiled and looked at you. Maybe being dead wasn' so bad. He imagined he would see his mama first, but he was glad it was you.
Little did you know, you would eventually fall for this man. You didn't want to... because you knew the dangers. You two spent every single second together every day for a couple of weeks. You took him to parts of the world he always dreamed of seeing. You took him to famous people's houses. You two did a lot together.
You spoke about the music he wanted to work on, but because of well... his death... he never could. You continued to be his audience for the shows he put on. It was something he was missing a lot after he passed. So, you sat down and he would sing a bunch of his songs. He taught you how to play a few of his songs as well, and how to sing them. Because of Elvis, you found this new love for music you never had before.
Then came the days when you two spoke about what his unfinished business was, and how he could finish it. He thought maybe it was to do good to those he did wrong. Then again, he was a very generous man. Donating money to Saint Jude... donating in general to foundations he believed in. Giving away cars and buying gifts for his closest friends and family. It was a mystery this man had unfinished business.
Well... that was until...
When you couldn't find him... you knew what happened, and you knew you would never see him again. Time and time again you told yourself not to let this happen. Not to fall for someone while in the inbetween... It never ended well for you... and you knew that. You were going to be stuck here, and the other would get to move on
"So I spend all my nights in the dark and afraid. 'Cause I've tried to forget you. But these things just don't go away, away... I hate that you're perfect, perfect for me. If I didn't know better, then I would believe. We were made for each other. But I'd know the truth. You're no good for me, I'm no good for you. And I hate that you're perfect. You're perfect for me. I hate that you're perfect... you're perfect for me..." You sang out quietly.
Your hands clasped your shirt tightly. You knew this was going to happen... God, you thought about it every night you laid awake on your old bed. Part of you knew he would leave... It wasn't like it was his fault... God just decided it was his time to join his mama up in heaven... And once again you were stuck. Stuck in a place you didn't want to be. A place where you continued to rot for years. You were getting bored... You were running out of things to learn...
You learned to sing... play piano, guitar, bass, drums... every possible instrument out there. You learned to draw and paint... You learned how to roller skate... how to ride a skateboard. You learned how to dance... Just about everything possible you could learn how to do... you learned. You were tired... You wanted it to end... but yet... you were already dead.
You helped those around you who died and still... you were stuck... and the one thing that made this place easier was gone... He was probably in heaven now with his mama... and here you were... forever and always... stuck in the inbetween.
Want to join my taglist? // Let me know If I spelt any wrong! I have updated my form for my taglist. You will be tagged under everything now in that selected fandom/person. Just makes my life easier.
Taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s, @mommy-maia, @yagirlalexx, @slutforblueeyes, @alligator-person, @diorxmimi, @anangelwhodidntfall, @pumkiinpasties, @djconde58, @starryhazee, @21bruhs, @girlblogger2002, @dollfaceyourfear, @smbonilla2002, @homebodybirkin2003, @apparently-sunshine, @dark-as-love, @pandora-journey, @hsstylesrings, @jeonggukschris, @4everrmore, @bewitched-tales, @thelaziest10, @butlersluvbot, @curatedbyemily, @lovingly-unlovingme, @starlight-jpg, @omegellenlouise, @gyomei-tiddies, @Chlobug07, @wandawiccan60, @re3kin, @Itzjira18, @passengerjett, @neepo, @vane28282, @emilykolchivans, @gothantoinette, @gruffle1, @ilovemuppets, @hangmanswhore, @theinvibislecapricorn, @hariestyles1, @annamarie16, @holliemahady, @misacc08, @Brighteyesscum, @marchingicenotes7, @callthedarknessdown, @domaniquessidehoe, @gay-af-satan, @skinnypantsmcgee, @sassyblazecloud, @lovelyney, @lordandmistress, @Sharkslayersblog, @billysway, @nuo0n, @coldonexx, @adoreyouusugar, @aliciaelle47, @kh1898, @danitheedanimal, @raefoxiegirl, @cobra-kaii, @rylee-durhxm, @bob-the-tomato, @crabat-the-queen, @naveyelise, @austinbutlersgirlfriend, @iluvnerds69, @hopefulinlove, @aradevil, @Tylerdurdenisme, @laperceval, @xcallmetaniax, @londonalozzy, @mslizziesblog, @rosemochaaesthetic-blog, @bxbylexi23, @gloomynigvts, @persephones-blood-iris, @milaa24, @randompointlessbeauty, @auds02, @BubblyYork, @nora-nexus-34, @jazmin2211, @kittenlittle24, @Rqseycheeks, @moonbird1507, @bobthefishiesworld, @cevans-winchester, @luckyevansstan, @noorreads, @idc123sworld, @normatural, @hauntedarchivesx, @Luna4mnoon, @imagineslut01, @Kayleealicej, @thatcrazyfangirl22, @amiets2, @loveisalover, @myguiltypleasures21, @poppet05, @xcallmetaniax, @fullmetal-falcon, @kaitaesupremacy, @rainydayz101, @asd-n-adhd-fox
#austin butler elvis#elvis x reader#elvis imagine#elvis#elvis 2022#elvis film#elvis fic#elvis fanfiction#elvis fanfic#austin butler#austin butler x reader#austin!elvis x reader#austin butler fanfic#austin!elvis#elvis movie#elvis presley x reader#elvis presley#elvis presley imagine
188 notes
·
View notes
Text
Suop of memories
Sirius Black x reader
Words: about 1.0k words
Warnings: none, just some sad-happy memories of Siri
Author’s note: Hi everybody! Finally I managed to write something after the crazy week I had, hope you enjoy! With love your witch Becky.
Requests are open I Ask
My masterlist
Join the Taglist
Buy me a coffee - Patreon submission
🎃Halloween party 🎃
DAY 4: “Eat some more soup, it will make you feel better. This is my James mother’s recipe.”
I sneeze for the umpteenth time in the space of five minutes, as I settle of among the flood of blankets and pillows arranged on my and my husband's bed. Below I hear him humming the latest Queen song, and I can't help but look out the windows smiling.
Ordinarily he and I would have spent this rainy October day playing some silly board game or watching some movie, but unfortunately the flu I caught a few days ago won't even allow me to think, so the only thing left for me to do is to remain like a motionless vegetable on the bed, comfortable among all those soft, warm things, watching life outside the window.
Actually looking out the window is one of my favorite pastimes, since it gives me a lot of ideas about what to write about. I love observing people and their behavior, especially in situations like rain. I think the best way to get to know human beings, in fact, is to put on a good song in the background and watch them live, see their souls moving in sync, communicating and talking to each other as they dance through the raindrops.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Sirius enter the rooms with a tray in his hand. I look at him confused, not understanding where the steaming bowl that is resting on top comes from.
He does not answer the question written in my eyes and continues to do what he was doing.
He lays the tray on the bed before also sitting down and taking the bowl in his hand, along with a spoon.
"Did Lily come by?" I finally say, bracing myself, my voice hoarse from coughing.
"Love we already said you must not talk, or your throat will hurt more and more." My husband comments, as he picks up some soup on the spoon. "And anyway, I made this soup, you ungrateful little thing. Now open your mouth, you have to eat something to get your strength back."
I look at him more and more skeptically, but finally accept his offer, actually being very hungry, and open my mouth. As soon as I taste that deliciousness I feel my taste buds jump for joy, not believing themselves to the goodness of that meal. My eyes go wide, and I see him do that usual smirk of his, which so many times I wanted to slap away during my school years, but which I now find myself loving more and more each time.
"Eat some more soup, it will make you feel better. This is my James mother's recipe." He says taking another ladle, but I am now too shocked by the news that he can cook.
"Fuck, love this is delicious, it's amazing that you cooked it." I say as I feel the warm liquid run down my throat, and already I feel better.
"Thank you very much love, I love you too anyway." He replies sarcastically, but continuing to feed me.
"No Siri, it really is the best soup I've ever tasted, the only thing is that I didn't know you knew how to cook something without charring it." I continue, looking him in the eyes accusingly.
"It happened only once." He tries to defend himself, but is unable to hold back a smile.
"Three. The firemen threatened us that next time they will let the house burn down." I say laughing, but is immediately stopped by a few coughs.
We spend a few moments in silence while he feeds me with soup. Once he finishes he gets up to take the bowl back to the kitchen, but once he gets out of bed I freeze him, asking him a question.
"Siri, when did you learn how to make this soup?" I ask curiously, and I see him smile as his eyes focus on a past memory that is now, like an old film, playing out before his eyes again.
"Reg and I had recently run away from our home and had been at the Potters' for a few days. Reggy had gotten quite a cold from all the rain we had caught running away, and so Effie decided one night to make him this soup to make him feel better. I still couldn't sleep because of the fear that at any moment our parents would knock on the door, so I asked if I could help her. She said yes, and so she began to explain everything to me. Thus was born the tradition that every so often, when I couldn't sleep, she and I would go to the kitchen and she would teach me some of her recipes. I sometimes miss those nights spent with her cooking." He finishes his story in a whisper, as I see a few tears have formed in his eyes, but he is too proud to give it away. I smile, while deep in my heart I feel a deep sadness make its way inside me, wanting to help the man I love feel better, but immediately the answer arises before my eyes.
"Well when I'm better you could teach me how to make this soup, at least I'll know how to cure you next time you're sick." I try to say, hinting a smile. He immediately looks up and I see in his bright eyes a childlike happiness. He smiles at me showing all his white teeth.
"Sure, I can't wait to show you all the recipes I know." He tells me as he approaches the door, but still looking me in the eye.
"Me too." I reply, smiling, as I hear him coming down the stairs humming Queen's "Crazy little thing called love", thanking Merlin for have sent to me this perfect man that I call husband.
#marauders x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black fluff#becky's halloween party#halloween party
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
i desperately need to know what "troll the respawn jeremy" is and also hi i love you and everything you've written 🤍 (i regularly go reread the classics because they make me Feel Things)
Okay, so, "Troll the Respawn, Jeremy," is 1) a quote from Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and b) the fic I've been trying to finish in time for Halloween for like.... years now. I cleverly only remember it exists in September, add a few thousand words, subtract about a thousand even, and then inevitably fail to finish in time. It's a great system, like, absolutely no notes on that, obviously. You're killing it, brain!
I'm honestly not sure how the thought originated in my head now but I do know the prompt for it was nothing more than 'zombie!Stiles' essentially. Stiles dies and the gang brings him back and he's... not quite right. The memories are there but his emotions aren't so he's rebuilding relationships, morality, and the everyday in this new framework where the only thing to stop him being awful is essentially if it's more work or not.
When it's not dark humor, it's actively silly. There's a lot of Stiles building bonds with Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, since he wasn't very close to them before he died meaning they have the least expectations for how he should be behaving. It's a lot of Pack, figuring out how his relationship with Scott is going to evolve and Jackson coming back and Peter's curiosity naturally being piqued by this less self-righteous version of Stiles and he and Stiles and Boyd watching soap operas together because of course they would.
It's a fun one and a humorous one, even with Derek pining in the background and Stiles having to decide what his emotional responsibility for this person is and if he should be the one to police his choices or not. Because, well, there has to be twisted psychology in there, right? It's a resurrection fic, dammit!
It's also a lot of making Derek do the work too, which I like - especially when I have a good reason for it, because Stiles is all path of least resistance, so these people want him, care for him, would like him around and so he would like to be around and preferably in a way where no one's commenting on his behavior so everyone's trying to help him build boundaries, want the right things, do the appropriate action, etc. So Derek's figuring out in real time what Stiles' motivations are and learning to work within them and having exchanges like:
D: "We can’t keep fucking if I die.”
S: “Unless I bring you back. You might be more fun that way. Less with the frowny face probably.”
D: “Sounds like a lot of work for you.”
Same kind of thing with making monogamy something Stiles might want by framing it in a way that's appealing specifically to him. It's interrogating in a lot of ways what's necessary to make a relationship work. My little ace brain has questions and this is the only way I know to get answers, okay, LOL
Snippet(s):
“You gonna get all deep and philosophical on me?”
The church is a tiny one and Stiles had only ducked inside to avoid, well, everyone. He hadn’t expected Boyd would follow. Truthfully, he doesn’t expect a lot of what Boyd does. He hadn’t thought about him much before he died and even less after.
Follow he does though, settles into the pew ahead of and at a diagonal angle to him. Feet up on the wood next to him, arm stretched out over the back so he’s facing Stiles rather than the front. Like he’s expecting Stiles to offer the sermon tonight.
Stiles blinks at him. “No, I don’t think so,” he says, when it dawns on him: “Should I?” He doesn’t know a lot about being dead, having only done it for a short time, but if he’s meant to start spewing revelations, or even Revelations, he’s willing to give it a try.
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Boyd says in his lazy tone of voice that seems indifferent to most everything around him. Stiles likes that; it sounds like he feels. “What are you doing here then?”
“Isaac was around here.” It’s close to where he works, this little abandoned site of holy ground. And Stiles had kind of wanted to see if he’d taken on any vampiric dead-guy traits and couldn’t cross the threshold. He doesn’t know what the new rules are, and is starting to suspect there aren’t any. Which is about the most horrible thing he can think of. “Then his boss called, and he wasn’t, and I was bored. What are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye out.” The way Boyd says it, it sounds like, ‘figuring out how many things are wrong with you.’
“Think I’ll start eating brains?” Stiles is genuinely curious as to what the theories are. Wants to see if any match up to his own.
Boyd shrugs. “Do you want to?” He sounds genuinely curious too.
Stiles shrugs back. “I don’t have any moral qualms about it. But it seems like a lot of work and there’s just pretty much no way they’re as good as Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, right? It’s a bone-saw and blood and innards versus opening a plastic bag.” He weighs them in his hands. “That’s not even a hard decision to make. If I am a zombie, which I’m not conceding by the way, then I’m a zombie with some serious dietary deficiencies. I require processed foods, stat.”
Boyd seems to consider this, then decides, “Cheetos would be good.” After a second, he adds, “I have Runts in my pocket.”
Stiles jumps over the back of Boyd’s pew and lands hard near him, says, “Then break ‘em the fuck out, man.” Stiles steals all the banana pieces spread out on the bench between them, and relinquishes the cherry ones as penance.
They don’t talk. It’s not half-bad.
(Angstier) Snippet #2:
“You’re not you,” Derek says gruffly, not meeting Stiles’ eyes when Stiles lowers his head and looks at him straight on. Derek and Stiles’ dad, they just can’t ever seem to get there. Derek says it like he thinks this is why Stiles is here and wants it out of the way. So Stiles won’t be here any longer.
“Not entirely,” Stiles agrees, tapping his fingers along the counter, the island a buffer between them. “But the basics are all there, I’m just having a hard time accessing my,” he does a half-assed robot dance, “bleep-blorp-beep morality center. I kind of think maybe because it just doesn’t exist anymore?” He grins widely. “Fucking cool, right?”
Derek stares at Stiles’ adam’s apple, glassy-eyed and blank, says without inflection, “What.”
Stiles slides into the stool at the counter enthusiastically and talks as much with his hands as with his mouth. “I mean, okay, there’s action and consequence, right? And arguably the biggest action and consequence: life and death, I defied it and now it’s like, I don’t know, I can’t appreciate that there are consequences.” He rubs a hand over his buzzed hair, back and forth, back and forth, jolting himself back into the present moment with the spiky side, losing himself in his head when he’s not fighting its natural direction and his hand hydroplanes smoothly over it. “I just don’t feel things the way I used to and that’s my best guess for why.”
It’s better than his second-best guess: that there’s still a part of him that’s dead, that the only part that ever gave a shit about any of these death-prone people/supernatural whoosie-whatsits didn’t come back with him.
Derek stares down into the depths of his cup, asks it, “Why are you hanging around Isaac?”
Stiles shrugs, staring more intently at Derek the longer Derek avoids his gaze. He can see Derek’s pulse thudding in his throat, fluttering like it’s trying to escape confinement entirely. There’s a heaviness to him that Stiles doesn’t think has anything to do with the sleep that’s still clinging to him. He looks like the weight between his hands, cradling his mug, is as draining as holding up a bowling ball with just his pinky fingers. “I’m fixing him,” Stiles answers succinctly.
Derek raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
Stiles shrugs some more. His gaze drifts down to the folds of the tank top over Derek’s stomach, he wants to flatten his palm there, smooth it out. Derek looks so warm and defenseless, leaning against his counter, barefoot and weary, defeated and just waiting for someone to finish him off. “Something to do. Plus,” Stiles adds, sly and low, “I fix him, I know how to break him.”
“You want to… break him.” It’s not a question, more like a naked declaration that wishes it were uncertain in the least. Derek’s eyes are downcast and sad.
Stiles sighs, places his elbow on the counter, drops his chin into his hand and stares at the stubble on Derek’s cheeks, can practically feel the rasp of it against his mouth. “I don’t know. Something to do.” He’s really not malicious, he doesn’t think, just easily bored and inherently curious about how other people work. Since he doesn’t seem to.
Derek drops his chin against his neck and Stiles watches a slow breath move the weight of him. He doesn’t ask for anything else, has no more comments to make, almost seems to be rejecting Stiles’ presence simply by virtue of ignoring it.
Stiles stares down at the island, lifts up his other hand. It hasn’t left behind an outline of perspiration. He rubs his dry fingers against a dry palm. Stiles’ hands sweat; they’ve always sweat.
They don’t now. Now. Now everything is scorching, burning up sweat and tears before they can even make an appearance on his skin.
He lets out a gusty breath and says quietly, but without judgment, “You shouldn’t have done this.”
Derek’s eyes close, rim of the cup against his lip, expression pained. “It was my turn,” he says softly into the steam. Stiles watches him and Derek’s head drifts to the side before he wrenches it back, jaw tight, looking in Stiles’ direction but down at his chest now, where the scar tissue is resting under the cotton of his t-shirt. “To save you.”
“But you didn’t,” Stiles tells him blankly, but not meanly.
Anyone watching would’ve thought it was an upper-cut though, the way Derek’s whole body rocks with the impact. His eyes are closed again and he doesn’t look inclined to open them, not while Stiles is still there. His hand slowly curls around the lip of the counter behind him, holds on tightly. He still answers though, through some weird sense of debt or something else Stiles doesn’t understand, but he answers, says, “I know.”
Wip list is here!
#omgosh thank you so much for the KIND THINGS#they made me giddy#i cannot explain to you how much this fic should be done and would be if it didn't only exist for me#in this one section of the calendar year lol#that is not helping it. there's also.... i don't want to fix stiles at the end#i'm much less of a 'let's make it so this never happened' person and more of a 'let's live with it' person#and i just don't know how appealing that would be to anyone but me#i already have the last scene dialogue skeletoned - like they're endgame for sure - but they're also not... perfect y'know?#because love isn't the framework for stiles anymore and i KNOW that's not gonna be easy for anyone to deal with lol#i love it but i am also a weirdo so#sterek#teen wolf#!ask#wips#my writing
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
happy halloween sweet girl💜
any thoughts on how our favorite couples are celebrating today?🥺🥺 is anyone dressing up or are they making sweet treats and enjoying each other🤭💕
happy halloween faythie💜
🎃🎃🎃🎃
omg yes 🥺 I have some :
ever since Torres set the idea of throwing a Halloween party in motion, Lumby has been obsessed with the thought of doing a couple's costume and has been trying to convince you to follow through with one of his many ideas... mainly silly duos from his favorite franchises– Sam and Frodo, Shaggy and Scooby, Mario and Luigi– while they sound like fun, you were really hoping for something that wasn't predictable, wasn't something someone else could possibly show up dressed as, too. but fuck, it was almost impossible to deny him anything when he gets all pouty with a "pleaseee bun, you'd look too damn cute with a cloak wrapped around you." but bunny has a surprise she's been scheming up for weeks now after a feigned comment of annoyance from Sam about that very distracting incident a few months back involving you sending pictures to Bucky while he was at work forcing him to drop everything and leave immediately something along the lines of having that giant of a man skillfully wrapped around "his Bunny's finger"... so your hush hush plan involves Bucky leaving the house to go help a very smug and knowing Sam set up before anyone arrives while you get ready. Sam can only shrug with a cocky grin when Bucky pesters him all day for what his bunny is going dressed as– it involves you dressed in Bucky's most beloved flannel, a pair of thigh highs that replicate his thick wool socks, a pair of boots, his favorite ax Sam snatched for you from his office in the lumberyard, and a simple pair of bunny ears nestled high on your head. you know the ears are a bit ridiculous, but no one would be going as Bucky's little lumberbunny. and that was enough for you to know he'd lose both of his lungs freak out just a teeny tiny bit. sam is smart enough to alert all other guests early on to stay out of Bucky's way
--
lee and princess don't do too much for the holiday. the sheriff always got stuck on duty for the 'most goddamn annoyin' night of the year'. but this year you asked him to take the night off, to just picture snuggling toasty warm under some blankets on the couch watching whatever horror films channel 18 was playing while warm pies baked in the oven... didn't take too much more convincing the stubborn softy of a man after that, after rubbing his belly so gently and whispering the bliss of a well deserved night of heaven like that so sweetly against his ear. he had the room all lit up in your favorite candles, pillows and giant blankets scattered all over the living room, a matching sheriff's hat for his princess to wear, and bags of his your favorite candy next to him on the floor before you even got in from work. Lee might just have to take off october 31st every year– a set personal day spent with kissing and his princess' joyous giggles for the rest of his life.
#these are so silly#thank you faythie#beefy lumby and bunny#sheriff and his princess#happy halloween
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stede POV - 11.1
“So let me get this straight,” Lucius said as they buckled their seatbelts on the plane “In the less than three days we were in town, you asked him out, had some intense sex - don’t deny it.” Lucius added before Stede could tell him to shut up. “Went to some hotshot halloween party where the host was one of your childhood bullies, Blackbeard punched said bully in the face, you went back to the hotel, decided you were boyfriends despite not going on a single date, then you woke up to find out the internet was mad at you again because there were photos of you and Blackbeard together, then Izzy Hands orders Blackbeard to break up with you, and now the two of you have decided to pretend to be broken up while still dating in secret and I’m the only one who knows?”
“Anne knows as well, he said he would tell her.” Stede said. “But that’s it in a nutshell, yes.”
“Stede, respectfully, what the fuck?”
It did sound insane when it was repeated back to him in Lucius’ tidy little summary. Stede hadn’t even considered how short a time it had been, and yet so much had happened and he was completely besotted with Ed.
Who was he kidding? He’d been besotted with Ed since the start.
Maybe it was crazy, but for the first time in his life, Stede was actively trying not to overthink things and he was happy. Even if other people thought it was stupid and fast, Ed clearly didn’t. Ed had seemed thrilled about the two of them being boyfriends, and Stede fully intended to make good on his promise of that official date, as soon as they could.
There was the matter of Ed being on tour and not being able to be seen in public together, but Stede would figure something out.
“I know how crazy it all sounds, Lucius, but it’s the truth.”
“Oh, I believe you. As shocking as it is that my boss apparently has the sexual magnetism capable of not just landing Blackbeard in bed, but getting him to agree to be in a relationship as well. And the sex is good too?” Lucius looked at him pointedly and Stede pretended to be very invested in his fold-down tray. “And all this with you being a baby gay. I’m so impressed.”
It was just a silly, offhand comment, but it meant the world to Stede that he’d impressed Lucius. Despite being younger than him, Lucius gave off the energy of a world-wise and savvy man who knew more than Stede could forget. To impress him was a feather in his cap indeed.
“God, the crew aren’t going to believe this.”
Stede smacked his arm. “The crew are not to know! I told you in the strictest confidence!”
“You’ve got a rockstar wrapped around your dick and you don’t want to brag about it to your closest friends?”
Stede fought the urge to slap him again. “What we have is private, and not to be trotted out for anyone else’s amusement. He’s my boyfriend, not a trophy.”
It was the first time he’d said it to anyone but Ed. His boyfriend. Stede could call Ed his boyfriend. Part of him wanted to tell the crew just so he could have the pleasure of saying it over and over again. But no, he couldn’t. The crew meant well, but they would never stop pestering him with questions, they’d only be able to think of Ed as Blackbeard. Stede couldn’t even tell them Ed’s real name. If he didn’t have Ed’s explicit permission, then he was keeping that information to himself. He’d only confided in Lucius about them dating because he and Ed had both agreed it was ok to tell their closest friends about their plan (for assistance from both of them, should it be required) as long as they kept it to themselves.
Stede knew that Anne was a steel trap - you told her something in confidence and she’d take it to her grave. Lucius on the other hand…
Stede could see his hand twitching for his phone. “Lucius! I mean it! Even if you’re bad at keeping secrets, this is one that I am begging you to keep to yourself. No one can know.” Lucius opened his mouth and Stede cut him off. “Not even Pete. He’s worse at keeping secrets than you.”
Lucius huffed and slumped down in his seat. “Yeah that’s true. Plus he’d probably try to ask for a threeway.”
Stede frowned. “Wouldn’t that be a fourway? You, Pete, Blackbeard and myself?”
Lucius laughed loudly enough that he got a few irritated stares in his direction. “Oh, sweetie. I love you, but that’s never gonna happen. I think Pete would rather die.”
Stede folded his arms across his chest and tried not to be insulted. It wasn’t like he’d actually been entertaining the idea, and he most definitely was not attracted to Lucius or Pete, but it was a tad insensitive for Lucius to cackle like a witch at the idea.
“No, Pete would try to get you to convince Blackbeard to be a third with me and him.”
“Not a chance.” Stede’s frown slipped into a smile. “He’s all mine.”
“Ew, clingy.” Lucius tugged an eye mask out of his pocket and snapped the band over his head. “But your secret is safe with me. If Anne knows then she’ll cut my balls off if she hears I’ve told anyone else, so that’s enough motivation for me to keep my trap shut. But good luck explaining to the crew that you and Blackbeard are just friends after those photos that cropped up online.” He slipped the mask over his eyes and nestled down in his seat. “I’m taking a nap.”
First Post
Previous Post
Next Post
0 notes
Text
Abandoned Part 2
MarkxReader
Word Count: 7.4k+
Summary/Warnings: You can try to pretend that the monster you met on halloween night didn’t actually exist, and you can definitely pretend that he didn’t do what he did. You can pretend all you want but that doesn’t change anything, and it also doesn’t change the fact that you cant stop thinking about him every night. Monster!Mark
PART 1 HERE
It took you about three full weeks before you could return to the warehouse again. It wasn’t that you weren’t thinking about it, you thought about it every single day in fact. The building itself stood tall right in the center of town, looming over you and everyone else who was blissfully unaware of what lived in its walls, and you were forced to pass it every single day of your life.
So no, its not that you weren’t thinking about it, or him more specifically, but the fear of facing the truth of what had happened that night, what you had done and let him do to you, made you avoid the building like the plague. Just the cringe you got from remembering the unconvincing lie you had to conjure to explain to your friend why you returned with wrinkled clothes stained with black liquid made you wish the building would just disappear.
You’d drop your eyes whenever you had to pass by the building, a queasy and unsure bile stinging your throat, and every time your friend would bring up your little halloween adventure to impress someone irrelevant, you’d brush it off with a comment of, ‘nothing really interesting happened, just an old gross building.’
But your avoidance or denial did nothing to erase him from your mind. He plagued your dreams, lived freely in your thoughts and every minuscule space in your bones. The things your mind subjected you to in your unconscious state, for any other person, would be things of nightmares.
Everything was all sharp teeth, a thick dripping black liquid, and a grinning boy whose tongue was longer than your forearm danced in your fantasies like the building blocks for your own personal fucked up prince charming.
But regardless, the idea of seeing and experiencing him again, and maybe even stealing a few answers in the process, pulled you to the building like a magnet. The whistling air the ran through the rooms, the broken glass, and crumbling walls called to you like a siren, and after three weeks of denying it, you were getting dressed and sneaking out in the middle of the night to go find him.
It was colder than it was on halloween, the biting cold of a dark November night greeting you as you escaped the walls of your home. Every step you took as you walked to your fate was followed by a harsh bite pressed deeply against your bottom lip, and the moment you were faced with the same decrepit door way that you and your friend had snuck into that night, you knew that it was the point of no return.
Trekking through the rubble of the old building was different now that you were alone. Every room devoid of light felt darker, the creaking of wood louder, and it felt like every step you took was seen by millions of invisible eyes. The only thing that stopped you from letting out a yelp in surprise when a couple of large rats ran directly in front of you, was the fear that something other than the creature you were searching for would hear and find you before he could.
It took you about half an hour to find the room again, but your lack of company and the fact that you kept your arms wound tightly around yourself stopping you from reaching for your phone made it feel like an eternity. You silently scold yourself for not remembering better, or leaving some form of marker to remind you where to go, but as you finally stand in front of the glass filled room, the only feelings that truly remain in your chest is the dread of unknowing and a silent wish that your search had taken just a little longer.
The door to the room lets out a jarring scream that echoes down the halls and makes you flinch as you push it open. The heavy metal has become uneven with age and scraps along the floor loudly, and you find yourself conflicted in hoping that the sounds you cause tipped the creature off to your presence and praying that he didn’t hear it at all.
You cringe as your breath and heartbeat are the only noises that drum against your ears after the door slams shuts behind you. And as you stand frozen in the hallow room, a small part of you is disappointed that he’d isn’t standing there waiting like your knight in shining armor.
The glass still glitters just as beautifully as it had so many nights before, and you almost curse it for being the thing that got you into your position in the first place.
But as you stand scowling at the inanimate pieces, it’s at this moment you realize you have no idea how to get him to know you’re there, as well as realizing that you’re not sure if you want him to know as it would mean you’d have to face something that you hadn’t even fully decided was real.
Your mind was still struggling to wrap itself around the events that had happened in the room that you stand in, and even with proof that the room at least exists, you can feel your mind trying to convince you that you had completely fabricated the creature. Something about the air that whips around you makes you feel like your losing your sense of reality, and with a last push of courage you decide there’s only one way to learn whether or not your mind is turning against you.
With a timid tone and a slight crack to your voice, you whisper out a quiet ‘hello’ as you finally move further into the room, your shaky voice bouncing off the cement walls almost as if to mock you.
When you’re met with nothing but deafening silence, you try once again only slightly louder.
You finally untangle yourself from your own arms, the heat you had accumulated almost immediately spilling from the sleeves of your sweater as you move to pull your phone from the band of your skirt and bush the button that will illuminate the room with its flashlight.
You let out a few more calls, the tension slipping from your shoulders each time before you find yourself pushing around the glass with your shoe as if you were kicking rocks. You almost cover the entire surface area of the desolate room and start to even slip into boredom before you have to face the fact that you are most definitely avoiding any space within three feet of the pitch black doorway of the closet that the creature had emerged from the first time you saw him.
With a deep breath that rattles your chest, you move closer to what feels like the visual representation of your personal demise. Glass loudly crunches under your shoes as you get closer and closer to the doorway and it feels like your heart has made residence in your throat.
You feel like your getting closer to a forbidden world as you now stand less than a foot away from the space who’s only hint of life had been the boy you had seen weeks ago, your flashlight close enough now to illuminate it a bit, but the only thing the article light exposes is a blank wall that mocks you.
The voice that resides in the back of your mind screams at you to turn around and leave, but your body moves with a mind of its own as you take your first step into the closet.
Without thinking, you lean forward, your hand pressing gently against the cinder wall that acts as the back of the small closet. You’ve convinced yourself that maybe it’s a false wall, that it will collapse and reveal the boy that’s lived in your dreams for so many nights. You feel slightly silly letting your mind wander to something that’s only been done in mystery novels, but considering you’re looking for a boy with a shark teeth and a demon’s tongue nothing seems imposible now.
With a harder shove and a deep huff from your chest, you start to cave into yourself for being foolish enough to let yourself believe in a secret passageway. You’re ready to tuck your tail between your legs and run out of the building in shame, when you feel something softly brush your shoulder.
Just the same as last time you jump, your phone slipping from your fingers and falling to the floor. A muffled crackling noise telling you that the crack that ran from one corner to the dead center of your screen had just been made bigger and even possibly had gained a few acquaintances. The sound of the loud yelp that leaves you being the only sound to join it other than the quiet gasp that comes from beside you.
He’s close enough that you can make out his features regardless of the dark, his mouth hanging in a soft o shape and his eyebrows lifted towards his hairline in shock from your reaction. You both stand there for a moment, a heavy silence between you showing that he was just as shaken by your presence as you were with his. And as realization and reality begin to bleed back into both of your brains, you feel your muscles relax as you lean back against the wall and the black liquid starts to drip out of his mouth again in excitement.
His eyes dance with happiness at seeing you again, the sight endearing enough that you’re weirdly unaffected by the liquid that begins to splash on the floor between his feet. With the images that had filled your mind for the past weeks, you find yourself pleasantly surprised by how cute he is, also slightly disappointed in yourself for letting yourself forget.
“Hi,” you speak first, your voice airy with relief. He’s not even half as scary as you had convinced yourself, and you could feel your heart start to beat rapidly at the sight of his excited grin, sharp teeth and all.
“I didn’t think you’d come back!” he speaks louder than you expected, his giddiness making you smile but his words slightly breaking your heart.
You only get a moment to sulk over the idea of him thinking he’d never see you again, before he’s all but jumping on you and latching his dripping mouth to your neck.
You freeze for a moment, the shock of his eagerness and the tingle that runs up your spine at the scrape of his teeth making you mind skip a beat. You almost allow him to continue on, greedily accepting the feeling of his warm tongue lapping at your skin, but your consciousness returns to you quickly enough that you can will yourself to lift your arms and gently push him away.
There’s a wet pop as he reluctantly pulls away, his mouth leaving a trail of liquid behind to drip down your skin. You’re ashamed of yourself for the way your heart clenches at his look of confusion and disappointment, but you tell yourself you can’t let anything happen again without talking to him and getting answers.
“You don’t have to do that,” you whisper gently, your hands sliding up to hold the sides of his face.
You’re both slightly panting already, your breath puffing from the feeling of his mouth, but his seems to come from his confusion and worry.
“Sorry,” he quickly apologizes, his eyes widening as his words spill out, “you seemed to enjoy it last time so I thought… you did like it last time didn’t you?”
You smile softly at his concern, “I did,” your head bobbing slightly to reassure him, “I did a lot. I just- we can talk first. Like what’s your name?’’
His eyebrows thread together, his head tilting to the side reminding you of a confused puppy, “name?”
Just the one word asked with a questioning tone threw you off, and it takes you a moment to collect your thoughts enough to understand you’ll have to explain what a name is.
“You know…” your hands move away from his face as they flail slightly as you think, his own hands compensating for the lack of physical contact by landing on the bend of your back, “like is there something specific that people call only you. Y’know to get your attention and stuff.”
“Oh!” he says, excited to understand slightly better, “well…. my friends call me Mark!”
“Mark…” you test out the weirdly normal name on your tongue, a small spike of shame running through you at the fact that you assumed it would be anything different, “cool…”
You offer your own name, the way his eyes light up at the syllables making your chest swell. There’s a beat of silence after he takes his turn in repeating your name, and you can feel yourself melting into the moment.
“I wanted to talk to you more,” he speaks up again, his fingers flexing against your back as his tongue dips out to wet his lips, “but I had to run off, and you took longer to come back then I thought so like…. but we can talk now!”
Your chest feels hallow when he mentions the time it took you to return, and you start to stutter to defend yourself, “well I.. what happened I had… I had never had someone do what you did so quickly after meeting so like, I’ll admit I was a little freaked out by the whole thing.”
“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he steps closer, his body heat crowding you and blocking you from the cold air, “you just smelled and tasted so good… I wished you had said something.”
“No no no,” you rush to correct him, the idea of him thinking any different from how you actually felt stressing you out, “maybe freaked out was the wrong word. Um, it did throw me off a little, but I liked it. I feel like you could probably tell how much I liked it.”
“Yeah..” you both huff out a breath of air after the word lingers around you, “towards the end though you… what was that?”
“The end? I mean um, I came if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Came?”
“Oh you know, an orgasm?”
“Orgasm?”
You huff, your mind reeling at the idea of having to explain another word that came so naturally to you. You shake your head softly in disbelief, before taking a deep breath.
“Yeah, you know,” you start trying to string the right words together to describe such a thing, “you know when you did what you did. And you know what happened at the end. It felt good the whole time, but at the end it felt really really good. I’m sorry I’ve never explained this before.”
He laughs at your exasperated expression, before leaning his forehead against yours, “that sounds weird,” his bluntness makes you choke a bit on your breath before he continues, “can I do that?”
“Do it…?” you feel like your brain is working a million miles a minute as you stand with him in the pitch black, “I mean yeah, probably.”
“Probably?” his laugh almost taunts you, and you start to believe that he may be messing with you slightly, “do you think we could try?”
“You mean you want me to,” you gesture to his crotch, your eyes darting between his eyes and the space between his thighs, “like we have sex.”
“Okay,” he reasons, his head shaking as he pulls you even closer, “I’m clearly not getting this, but if sex will make an orgasm happen then yeah, I want to have sex.”
“Right,” you say, your face warming in embarrassment as you start to remember that whatever the boy that’s in front of you is, the last thing he is is a child. He knew enough to do what he did to you the first time, there’s no real reason for you to be beating around the bush like you are, “cool.”
“Cool.”
Any anxiety that still lingers in your chest, you swallow down, your hands lifting to return to the sides of his face in the process. With a soft sigh, you tilt your chin up, your forehead brushing against his as you move to press your mouth against his.
If it wasn’t for the first time you met him, you probably would have never dared to put your mouth against the mouth of a boy who drools a thick black slime. But with his slightly chapped lips brushing eagerly against yours, and the fact that the liquid slips into your mouth warm and smooth pushes any questions you may have out of your mind.
His lips are sloppy, his lips covering yours as he tries to follow your movements. He seems to be very aware of how sharp his teeth are, as they scrape gently across your bottom lip just enough that they won't break the skin. Your eyes slide shut and a soft moan rolls from your chest as he presses you flush against the wall.
It’s not hard to dip your tongue experimentally into his mouth as if hangs open in awe of the situation. You greedily lick across the roof of his mouth, reveling in the way it makes him shiver against you, and it's only a moment before you realise how much you're enjoying the taste of the liquid that spills from his mouth into yours.
It’s a soft sweetness, a dull taste that only hits you when you’ve had enough of it spill onto your tongue that it's dripping from the corners of your lips. The after taste of cotton candy after a long day at the fair, the smell of fresh strawberries so strong that you can taste it like a memory on the back of your tongue, licking your thumb to get rid of a smudge on your friend’s cheek only to taste the remains of the piece of candy she gave you hours ago. And as he pushes himself in the space between your legs in the cramped space, you can feel yourself fall into an addiction with the way he tastes.
He follows in your steps, his own tongue hesitantly dipping itself into your mouth along with the sticky substance, and when you feel the sharp tapered end of his tongue lick at the back of your teeth, you waste no time in sucking harshly on the muscle and pulling it deeper in your mouth.
The way the liquid coats your tongue makes you feel like you're swimming in syrup. Your body relaxed and lax to the extent that even when you feel his long tongue prod at the back of yours, your gag reflex is non existent, and you start to question if it just tastes good, or if it's truly making you lose yourself against his lips.
When he moves slowly away from your mouth to travel across your cheek, is when you finally get a moment to think. His tongue drags out of your mouth at a snail’s pace, the tip curling and tugging at the corner of your lips making you let out the first sound that’s not muffled by the space of his mouth, and you feel him grin against your jaw.
“Mark,” you try his name out once again as your hands move against him. One hand curls around the back of his head to thread your fingers through his wild hair, as you use your other to push the moment along.
You drag your nails slowly down his arm, your lip tucking between your teeth with a grin when he shudders again. When your hand finally reaches behind you, you wrap your fingers around his wrist. It doesn’t take much strength to tug his hand away from you back, and even less effort is needed when you guide his twitching fingers to slip under your sweater to press against your chest through the thin bra you wear underneath.
After flexing your own hand over his a few times, he picks up immediately. His own fingers kneading softly at the flesh, as your hand falls to leave him to his own devices and reach underneath your skirt.
It only takes a few tugs at the fabric of your underwear for them to pool around your ankles, and with a few steps and a small kick, the fabric is forgotten on the dirty floor a few feet away.
His tongue is back to showing its full potential, the thick muscle curling around your neck as he mouths at the skin below your jaw, and your traveling hand now dips into the band of his pants to tug him closer to you, your hips softly canting against his.
“Mark, please,” you quietly plead. He hums curiously as his body curls tighter against yours and you’re reminded that it’s better to be blunt with the boy against you, “can I take this off?”
“Yes,” he mutters against your neck, treating the sensitive skin protecting your jugular as if it’s his source of life and refusing to move away, “please.”
You tilt your head the best to your ability with the way his tucked against you, your own teeth desperately biting like a rabid animal to get as many bites at his soft skin as you can, your hand moving to push the fabric of his bottoms down his hips until you can feel his length release from the restraints.
You waste no time to wrap your hand around the base of him, and as you move your palm and fingers to drag up the length of him, you can’t help the quiet gasp you let out.
He’s bigger than you’d imagine he’d be with how slight his frame is, and even as you remind yourself that your sense of touch is probably tricking you a bit into thinking it's larger than reality, you know it’s not tricking you with the fact that something is slightly different.
It’s not abnormal in any sense, which isn’t surprising since, aside from the tongue and teeth, Mark just looks like a normal human guy, but some nagging in your mind tells you there’s something that’s unique.
You chance a glance down, rolling your eyes at yourself for letting your curiosity override your full knowledge that it’s probably too dark to see anything, but to you’re very pleasant surprise, you see that regardless of the busted screen, the flashlight of your phone still shines brightly enough to light up the space around your feet.
There’s still shadows dancing across you as you slowly begin to stroke him as he’s pressed against your hip, but you take what you can get in the moment.
Your hand had tricked you a bit, he wasn’t as large as your fingers had told you, but he’s still larger than expected. Though, your eyebrow raises slightly at the rest of the visual information you see. The swollen tip leaks a similar black as his lips, and you silently wish you were more shocked by the fact. And truthfully the small dusting of a royal blue color that covers the tip of him doesn’t fully surprise you either, but you admit the two bulbs that you can only describe as knot-like that rest above his base does give you a weird combination of confusions and excitement in your chest.
You shake your head, silently deciding you had come too far to act surprised now, so instead you brush your thumb against the liquid that now spills from his tip, and start to guide him closer by wrapping one leg around his hip.
His hand that’s not busied by groping at your chest jumps immediately to wrap around your lifted knee, his body pressing tighter against yours and a groan rattling against your neck in response.
You hesitate before you go any further, everything feeling suddenly too fast, and in an attempt to drag it out just a little longer, you let go of him. Regardless of the way it makes you feel, you ignore the quiet sound of disappointment he lets out against your skin, and instead run your hand up your body and across both yours and his neck to collect as much of the liquid on your fingers as possible.
It’s only when you feel like you’ve dipped your hand in thinned honey, do you return to the space between you where both of your bodies are begging for attention. You coat his skin in his own mess, the quiet noises he makes filling your ear again.
You pull him closer with your leg, finally allowing yourself some relief as you begin to drag his head against your dampened skin, the warm tip bumping against your clit in a way that makes your hips twitch.
The liquid worked as well as you had hoped as you slowly guide him to press into you, his slicked skin making the intrusion perfect and smooth. It doesn’t take any time at all before he’s seated fully inside you, and the way he stretches you out makes your head tilt back until it knocks against the cinder of the wall and your fingers harshly tug at the strands of hair caught between them.
You hold him against you for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being completely full and the small hums in content he lets out along your own. You feel your body flutter around him as you try to adjust to the foreign feeling of him, the widened bulbs around his base stretching your farther than you had ever imagined. His body reacts to you clenching with stuttering hips that aid in the air being knocked from your lungs and his monstrous tongue flexes around your throat tighter, slowing the blood flow to your head and making you feel like you’re floating in the dark space.
“You feel so good,” he speaks truthfully, his voice muffled and strained as he speaks around his extended tongue, his sharp teeth scraping against your skin as he slurs.
“Okay,” you find your voice finally as you start to calm down. One hand falls from his hair, trailing slowly down his body making him shiver against you, and finally gripping at his hip, “you can move.”
With your words, you push him slightly away from you. Your body clenches in protest at losing even the few inches of him that slips from him, the space that he slips from already becoming greedy for the heavy weight of him inside you.
He must agree with your hungry body, as even though he stays pressed against you everywhere else, he lets out a small whine at the feeling of you pushing him away.
The sounds of protest quickly die when you slip your hand under his shirt to press into the small of his back. Your nails dig slightly into his soft skin as you pull him to fuck into you again, every inch of him dragging against the nerves inside you perfectly making your teeth clench. He in return lets out a pleased purr that makes a goofy grin stretch across your lips.
“Just like that,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, before you let your own tongue slip out to lick at the sensitive skin. His hips stutter again as he chokes slightly, but thankfully the action doesn’t affect him enough to distract him from being a quick learner.
He pulls out about the same amount you had shown him, the widest parts of him tugging at your opening slightly from how snugly you’re wrapped around him, something about him moving on his own this time making your eyes flutter and roll.
Though he retreated gently, his excitement seems to take over his senses, as when he thrusts back into you, it's rough. Any air you had collected since he first filled you escapes again, a surprised yelp joining it.
Once he gets a taste of controlling the motions, it's as if something snaps inside of him. As if he’s become slightly wild, he starts to move faster and faster with each thrust. His hips are sloppy and erratic, his drool almost doubling in volume as its pools and drips around your neck, and for a moment you silently ask yourself what you’ve gotten yourself into.
Your hand remains on his back, your nails now digging harshly into the skin of his back in a desperate attempt to have something solid to cling on to. Your head knocks into the wall behind you with his thrusts, but the feeling of him drilling into you as your combined fluids drip around him turns your brain to mush and any pain is drowned out by the pleasure that bites at your stomach.
Broken syllables and slurs of his name and pleads slip through your teeth as you start to lose yourself to his rapid movements, and you're only vaguely aware of the way your own hips start to rock against him.
The way his body twists and presses against you makes it almost impossible to hold on to him, this and the small voice inside your head that tells you that this probably won’t be lasting as long as you may hope makes your hand move up and away. Instead of holding onto his back, you desperately grope to find the hand that still presses against your chest.
Slipping your fingers under your shirt along with his, you tug his stubborn hand away from your chest. His fingers are stiff with confusion as you pull his hand down your body until it’s tucked between your legs, but when you press the tips of them against your dampened skin he relaxes.
“Here,” you whisper again, your voice almost too timid to raise in the crowded space. Your fingers begin to move in slow circles guiding his to do the same as they press softly against your neglected clit, “touch me here please.”
After the words leave you, you remove your hand to rejoin the other that’s still tucked into his messy hair. Mark shows to be a quick and eager learner, as his digits swipe against your buzzing nerves perfectly, the feeling pushing you closer and closer to your finish.
You fist his soft hair between your fingers, making both of your feet shuffle around the floor as his hips pulse quicker from the pain. You guide him again, his tongue dragging against the center of your throat and making you groan as you lead his mouth back to yours.
“Somethings happening,” he mutters before your mouth pushes against his, your lips greedily sucking at his warm tongue as you finally admit you’ve become obsessed with the taste of him, “feels so good.”
“Don’t stop,” both of your words are muffled and slurred as you refuse to move too far from the others tongues. You know he’s close, and the way he focuses on rolling smooth circles against you, you know you are too, “want you so bad Mark.”
The sound of his name sputtering out of your messy lips is his trigger, the sound of it hitting him in the chest and his lower belly, and soon he’s feeling washes of pleasure all over his form.
Regardless of the noises that slip from him and the way his hips become even sloppier than what they were before, his determined fingers never let up. This and the feeling of him coming deep inside you, a feeling that feels almost unending as he fills you with an inhuman amount of his come, has you reeling.
As if it was even possible, you cling to him even more. A tight knot snapping in your belly as you clench and shiver around him. Every moan and whine you let out matching his perfectly as they swirl together in the minuscule space between your mouths.
He doesn’t stop moving as he carries you through your finish, wet noises surrounding you as the evidence of his orgasm starts to push and drip out of your from the speed of his thrusts. The muscles in your back begin to go lax as you let him get in his last pushes as you anticipate him stopping soon, but after a moment you realize he’s not slowing down or even going soft inside you.
“Mark?” your head tilts as you break the sloppy kiss you share, but any other words that could follow up die on your tongue as his fingers continue to move and make sparks of almost painful pleasure shock your body
“Feels so good,” he repeats, his head falling until his forehead rests on your shoulder, and with a strained and shaky moan you realize he has no intention of stopping, “wanna make you feel good.”
“You did Mark, you-“ your words are cut off again by an overwhelmed moan leaving you at the feeling of him nudging against a spot inside you that makes your vision blur and your jaw drop.
“I could do this forever,” he promises, and for your sanity, you pray he’s exaggerating.
It feels as if your own body betrays you when you feel even more of your own arousal gush around him, or maybe you are losing your sanity and it’s only more of his come being forcibly pushed from your body by his hips. Either way, you feel a terrible promise of another overwhelming orgasm creeping down your spine.
His hand abandones it’s hold on your leg, as he wraps it around your waist again. His arm holds a surprising amount of strength as it squeezes relentlessly around you, and as he pulls you against him enough that your lower body is pulled away from the wall, the way he pushes into can only be described as animalistic.
Any hope of keeping quiet flies out the broken windows as the way he pulls you apart with his fingers and thrusts has inhuman sounds ripping their way out of your throat. Your nails claw harshly into his scalp, and your entire body thrashes in his hold, and for a moment you start to think he’s turning you into a monster just like himself.
The second orgasm is almost painful in the way it makes you fall apart. Your eyes ache from how far they roll back into your skull, and your back arches at the exact spot his arm is wrapped around you. You fear that the muscles in your abdomen may cramp from how rapidly they flex, and the arches of your feet join in from the way your toes curl.
Mark revels in the way you let go, he’s enthralled by the way you feel and look against him as you lose every ounce of your shame and guard. He’s sure however you’re feeling is different than the way he feels with his finish, and he loves nothing more than the idea that it’s him making such a beautiful creature fall apart by just fucking in to you.
The now familiar tightened feeling returns to his gut as he watches you. His hips pick up again as he chases the finish. He’s unsure what leaves his body when the pleasure overcomes him, but he’s for certain that he loves the feeling of it filling you completely to the brim and he wants nothing more than to witness it again.
He doesn’t mean to bite you as hard as he does when he starts to orgasm again. It’s as if his mind blanks completely and his mouth is moving towards your shoulder before he can stop it. He feels his dagger like teeth sinking into the soft skin of your shoulder, and for a moment he panics. But the way it feels to empty himself in you, and the pleasured scream that you let out from somewhere deep in your belly makes him clamp down harder.
You breath out the remaining air left in your lungs in relief when you feel his hips stuttering to a stop, his own breath panting hot and damp against your shoulder as he slowly pulls his teeth from the shallow wounds he’s made in your flesh.
You cling to him, your hands slipping out of his hair to let your arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug, and his tongue makes a final appearance to lave over your shoulder to collect the beads of blood that form.
He pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting harder than you had thought it would and making one last shiver wrack your body. It almost feels like you’ve had a pile of bricks lifted off you as you become aware of the weakness of your limbs, but Mark seems more than willing to support your weight as you lean against him, both of your breathing calming to a normal pace as his come starts to slowly trickle down the insides of your thighs.
“No words could have described that feeling,” he speaks, breaking the small lull of silence that had fallen over you, and you can’t help the endeared laugh you let out in response.
“Yeah it's pretty cool,” you retort awkwardly, not completely sure of how to respond.
You reluctantly let go of his shoulders, your hands falling to your sides as you lean back into the wall. The weird energy that surrounded you when you first saw him returns, and you’re unsure how to interact with him again, but regardless he either doesn’t seem to mind or doesn’t notice at all.
He makes no effort to hide his distaste for the sudden distance, and after he moves his hands away to tuck himself back into his pants, they move in search for some kind of contact again. He reaches down to take a hold of your hands and pulls them up until they sit wrapped in his, on his shoulders.
“I think you’re cool,” he puts bluntly, and his sparkling eyes as he speaks makes your heart thud against your chest, “what just happened was really cool, so please don’t take so long coming back next time because I want to talk to you more and do more of that okay?”
His rushed words make you breath out a laugh as your head bobs in agreement, “I promise, I’ll come back sooner.”
“And you can come in the daylight if you’re not busy,” he assures, his head nodding in determination, “I know this place can be freaky at night and I don’t want to think you’re uncomfortable when you’re with me.”
It’s so easy to slip into the idea that you’re just talking to some simple sweet boy when his wide eyes dance across your face, but the tapered end of his tongue slipping out to lick at his lips is all you need to remind you that he isn’t at all.
“I‘ll try, but even at night, I’m not uncomfortable with you Mark,” you speak truthfully, the fact even surprising you a bit, “but… can I ask you something?’’
“Anything. Anything at all,” he nods quickly, and you silently question why you were ever apprehensive of the boy who stands in front of you, no matter what he is.
“You… you’re not like me,” you say making his eyebrows knit together in thought. You almost want to kick yourself at his reaction, because obviously he’s not like you. You quickly stutter to explain yourself, “I mean like not human right? So if it’s not too much… what are you?”
You shrink slightly in apprehension as his face falls blank in thought. The gears in his head turn as he turns your question over in his mind, before a soft, shy smile pulls a little too wide across his face.
“I’m me,” he shrugs, “I mean I know I’m different from you. You’re the first person i’ve been this close to, but i’ve seen people before. Like there’s these men that come every once in a while to look at the building and write stuff on papers and some kids that run through, so I know enough to know that we aren’t the same. But my friends always kind of blow me off when I ask about it. They say that what humans are to us is what a dog is to a wolf, but I don’t really know what they’re trying to get at if I’m being honest.”
The analogy he offers rolls through your mind, but for your own sanity, you put the implications of it to the side and decide maybe it’s better if you don’t know.
“Hmm, yeah I don’t really understand what that means either but,” you sigh deeply, your hands flexing to squeeze at his fingers, “I guess it doesn’t matter too much. I was just curious, as long as you’re here that’s all that matters.”
Even in the dark, you see a warm blush flood his face at your words, and a boyish giggle slips from his lips. He shakes his head again before letting your joined hands fall to the side.
“As long as you’re here too,” there’s a heavy silence that falls between you, but unlike earlier it's softer, not awkward and cold.
“It’s late though,” he says with an air of disappointment around him, “I might not be human, but I’m also not nocturnal so I do have to go unfortunately.”
“Oh,” you speak softly, your own disappointment joining the air around you, “I know I should have come earlier, I’m sorry.”
“No no no, don’t be,” he leans his forehead against yours as he reassures you, the action being more intimate than you had anticipated and makes a cheesy smile tug on your lips, “just come earlier next time. We can talk and do what we just did as long as we want.”
“Or as long as I can handle it,” you huff, making him grin, “that’s another very inhuman thing about you Mark, I’ve never met someone with stamina like that in my life.”
“Is that a good thing…?” he asks with a ting of concern in his tone.
“Oh yeah definitely,” you nod, your lip tucking between your teeth momentarily before you continue, “definitely a good thing. It was a little overwhelming, but it felt amazing.”
“That’s so cool,” the word comes out one last time as his eyes sparkle in pride, “I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Me too,” you speak one last time before he moves away.
As he retreats to the pitch black that is the hall of the false closet in front of you, you become very aware of the fact that you’re alone again. The cold air takes its claim back on your skin, and the sticky liquid that dries against your thighs makes you shiver.
A sudden need to be out of the building rushes over you. Regardless of how sweet Mark turned out to be, the building itself feels hollow and mean when he’s not distracting you from it.
You're relieved when you see your phone still holds enough charge that the light still shines, at least making it easier to find. You bend quickly to grab it, a slight shiver running up your spine when you catch the state your lower half is in, the black liquid from his mouth mixing with the evidence of his orgasms that still drips from you that is the exact same black void color. Your fingers scrape against the floor as you grab for your phone and you silently hope you can find a way to clean up before you get home.
A gasp flies from you when you turn your phone over in your hand. The cracking noise proved true in that the screen is more destroyed than when you arrived, but as a cherry on top of the most confusing sundae, you find that on the way to the floor, somehow your phone’s camera had turned on. And from the blinking time stamp on the top of the screen, you see that it had recorded your entire encounter with Mark.
You quickly stop the filming, your thumb pressing harder against the screen than normal and it feels like your heart is lodged in your throat. You can’t even fathom the idea of having video evidence of what you had done together, and what Mark was capable of, but there’s a small devious voice in the back of your mind that taunts you. With a smug arrogance it whispers, ‘at least you can’t convince yourself nothing happened this time.’
#nct smut#mark smut#nct imagine#mark imagine#mark lee smut#mark lee imagine#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut
495 notes
·
View notes
Note
What if Debbie made them have a Halloween party with costumes. What would they all be?
In retrospect, they should have known it was a bad idea to go along with Debbie’s plan.
“Come on guys,” she had begged them. “Franny wants to do a family costume, and it won’t work if it’s just the two of us!”
“No way,” Mickey said, but Ian was already speaking over him.
“Sure, whatever,” Ian agreed, and Mickey smacked him on the arm.
“What?” Ian asked innocently. “It’s for Franny.”
Mickey relented almost immediately, even if he did keep scowling.
“Fucking fine, then,” he grumbled. “But only cause it’s for little red.”
“Thank you Mickey!” Debbie said, trying to hug him, but he hid behind Ian’s larger frame.
“Didn’t mean you,” he muttered into Ian’s back, gripping Ian’s shoulders and spinning him bodily to keep a barrier between himself and Debbie.
“You would have done it for her, too, Mick,” Ian laughed, and Mickey whacked the back of his head as Debbie beamed.
“Keep your thoughts to your self, asshole,” Mickey ordered, then sighed as both redheads snickered at him.
---
Now, standing in the living room of the Gallagher house and looking at the costumes Debbie had laid out for them, Mickey wished he wasn’t such a sucker for red haired Gallaghers. Because right there in front of him was the gaudiest outfit he had ever seen.
It was a deep blue, at least, but the color was the only thing Mickey could get behind. The rest of it was a complete travesty, with three-dimensional silver piping, shiny buttons, and leggings—fucking leggings—meant to be tucked into the silver boots currently laying on the floor.
“No,” he stated immediately. “Nuh-uh, not wearing that.”
“Mickey, it’s just for one night,” Ian tried to reason with him.
That was all well and good for him. Ian was the lucky one—his costume was mostly grey and black, with cool patterning and thin plastic bits meant to make it look like armor. It even had a helmet, and, best of all, a plastic sword.
“Why do you get to be the knight?” Mickey complained. “I could beat your ass any day, man.”
Ian just raised his eyebrows.
“Will you shut up and get dressed already?” Debbie demanded, wandering into the room with Franny. She was holding up an outfit similar in taste to Mickey’s, but pink and glittery and child-sized.
“Franny won’t wear her princess dress unless you guys do it with her, come on," Debbie pressed, and Mickey scowled at her.
“Should’ve known you were up to something,” Mickey groused. “No way the kid picked this shit out.”
Debbie sighed.
“Will you please just wear the damn costume?” she asked. “It’s too late to find another one, Lip and Tami will be here any minute.”
Ian took one look at Mickey’s sour face, and decided to try a more diplomatic approach.
“Don’t you want your me to be your prince?” Ian asked, kneeling down next to Franny and tugging on a lock of her red hair. “We could match, how about that?”
Franny pulled back, stomping her foot.
“No!” she insisted. “I can’t marry you silly, it has to be Uncle Mickey!”
“You can’t marry Uncle Mickey either…” Ian tried to reason, but one look from his niece stopped the words in his throat and he coughed.
“Yeah, okay, sound logic,” he agreed instead. “Sorry Mick, guess you gotta be royalty tonight.”
Mickey wants to argue some more. Franny never even liked this shit, why should he have to play along? If she was gonna be a princess, her mom could have at least let her be Xena or somethin'. Now that was royalty he could get behind.
But Debbie was glaring at him, and Ian and Franny were both watching him with their damned big eyes, blue and green and faintly wet.
"Whatever," he finally said, and grabbed the offending outfit from off the sofa. "But if I get a single comment about this tonight, we're leavin', got that?"
"Sure Mickey," Ian and Debbie both agreed, and he frowned harder.
Liars, the both of them.
---
An hour later, Mickey was crammed into the corner of a booth at the Alibi, nursing his third beer of the night. If one more person had anything to say about his costume--Tommy had called him a fucking pillow prince, that fucker--he was gonna take Ian's fake sword and stab them with it.
"Doin' okay over here?" Ian asked as he sat down beside him. Mickey just grunted in response, and took another sip.
"It's not that bad," Ian tried to say, but Mickey's glare cut him off short.
"At least you're not the jester?" he tried again, nodding his head toward Carl, whose multicolored, belled hat could be heard across the room.
"Fuck off," Mickey told him, flipping him off with the hand not holding his beer. "Never thought I'd be wishing I was with your asshole brother instead of you."
"What, Carl?" Ian asked, confused, but Mickey shuddered.
"Fuck no," he asserted. "The one with the badass family costume, you moron."
Ian looked around, still unsure, then spotted Lip and Tami a few tables over. Lip had on homemade Mandalorian regalia, complete with a helmet that Mickey had earlier said was a brilliant choice for hiding his ugly-ass face. Tami was dressed as a blonde Cara Dune, the fake tat on her arm on prominent display as she held Fred in his little Grogu costume.
"What," Ian asked with a smile, "you wanted to dress up like a woman?"
Mickey snorted. "A fucking badass woman," he corrected, "but no. I coulda been Boba Fett or something, man. Instead of this...," he paused to wave down at himself, almost spilling his beer in the process.
"This gay-ass thing," he finished, and Ian smirked and scooted closer.
"But you are gay," he pointed out, forcing an arm around Mickey's shoulders and ignoring the responding eye-roll.
“And besides,” Ian murmured in his ear, “your gay ass looks amazing in those tights.”
Mickey flushed.
"Yeah, well," he muttered back. "Better stay close, Mr. knight in plastic armor." He leaned closer to Ian, letting his husband tighten his hold.
"Nobody better look at my fine ass but you."
#hope you don't mind super silly lol#daily speedwrite#gallavich#franny gallagher#debbie gallagher#ian gallagher#mickey gallagher#silly and random
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
Afterglow - Part 7
A/N: Honey Bee and Frankie as neighbors? It’s more likely than you think! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5.8k
Warnings: drug and alcohol mentions
AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST
MASTERLIST
»»————- ♡ ————-««
You rushed back to your house and practically slammed the door as you dashed inside, making sure it was locked. You didn’t think he would try and come over and do anything, but it was for your own peace of mind. Daisy poked her head in from the outside and gave you a small look of confusion as you just gave her a soft smile, reaching into one of the treat bags on the counter and offering her a treat.
“It’s okay,” you promised her, “I’m just worrying about nothing. Being a silly old worrywart.”
She took the treat gingerly from your hand and went to lie down on her bed near the couch. You leaned against the counter and let out a long sigh, trying to gather your thoughts and calm your racing mind. Of all the places in the world you’d moved to, if course you’d moved right next door to your first and former love. It could have been anyone, anything, anywhere, but no - it had too be Francisco Morales. The world was a wicked and wondrous place at the same time.
You were sure there was something out to get you. You were sure you had been through enough for the last couple of weeks, but apparently you weren’t out of the woods yet.
But it didn’t matter, you quickly decided. It didn’t matter that you had moved to a new place to have Frankie be your neighbor. That’s exactly what it would be - he would be just your neighbor. There was no reason that the two of you couldn’t just simply coexist; you never had to see one another or speak to each other. This would be fine. It would be completely fine. Besides, you were both much older than you had been when you were wild and reckless, surely you were mature enough to move past all of that.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
With your mind made up and resolve strong, or so you hoped, you would work on it if you needed, you went to bed and kept repeating to yourself that you were fine.
When you woke up the following morning, admittedly, after a night of tossing and turning, you went through your normal routine, and got everything ready to go to work, including Daisy.
As you headed out to your car to load it up, you chanced one quick glance over Frankie’s house, noticing that there was now an older pickup in the driveway. He was home, you realized as your heart skipped a few beats, but that didn’t matter.
“Come on, Miss Daisy,” you opened the door so she could jump in, which she eagerly did with a little graceful little hop. Slinking into the driver’s seat, you turned on the car without so much as another look at Frankie’s house. This was fine. It was all fine.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
The next several weeks feel into a quiet, relatively normal routine. By now, Daisy was settled into your home and heart, becoming even friendlier and sweeter with each passing day. Your house had quickly become home, all decked out for Autumn and Halloween, and often filled with the laughter from the few friends, namely Ally and Anna, and the occasional neighbor that you had coming over. You were happier now, you realized, single and more or less alone, than you had been in years. It was a serene feeling that you enjoyed.
The fact that Frankie was right next door didn’t phase nearly as much as you thought it would. You rarely saw him for more than a second when he was walking in or you were walking out or vice versa. His truck was gone more often than still, and you figured he probably had a demanding job of some sorts.
The only real indication of anything you had from him was when he returned your container that had formerly contained cookies, dropping it off on your front steps, cleaned and with a simple thank you post it on it.
You had taken it and stored it safely away in your cabinet, tucked in the back.
Things were utterly...normal. And you were thriving in it. Everything else that you still wanted would fall into place when they needed to.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
It was a Friday night, nearing Halloween, and you were coming later home later than normal. Your last client had taken up more of your time than expected, not that you minded, you were happy to help, but on top of that you had a few calls you still had to make, and by the time it was all said and done, it was late and dark.
Daisy was slower in her gait as she got out of the car and headed to the house, eager to be let in and find one of her many beds.
You were getting ready to come in after here and lock the door when you found yourself glancing next door. Frankie’s truck was in the driveway, but his front steps were covered with various copies of the newspapers, a few packages, and his small mailbox seemed stuff. Odd, you thought to yourself, who wouldn’t get their packages from the front door? Now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t seen him come out or go in a few days...
Something in your gut panged slightly and you turned back to Daisy. Something was off, you couldn’t place it exactly, but you could feel it.
“Stay inside for now,” you told Daisy, “I’ll be back in a little bit.
A small sound of acquiescence met your ears as you shut the unlocked door and walked over to Frankie’s, treading slowly and quietly.
Bending down and picking up a few of the newspapers, you could see that they were all from various throughout the week. Dropping them back and moving the packages out of the way, you knocked heavily on his door, “Frankie?”
You stood there and waited for him to answer the door for a few moments, but heard nothing from inside, not a creak or even the lightest of footsteps. Groaning to yourself, you walked to the side of the house, trying to peer in through the kitchen window. You could see a faint light in the house somewhere, casting an almost eerie glow within.
“Shit,” you sighed as you ran to the door, this time pounding on it to get his attention if he was inside, “Frankie! Frankie, it’s me! Open the door!”
But despite your frantic shouts of his name or your noise making, he still didn’t come to the door. Quickly deciding to abandon that plan, you ran to the backyard and tried his back door. This one, through sheer luck or whatever reason was unlocked and you barreled inside,
“Frankie!” you called his name as you walked through his laundry room, eyes scanning over everything as you walked throughout his house. You checked the kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms, and hallway and didn’t find anything. Just before making it into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks as you came across a picture, one among many hanging on his wall. Your heart felt like it caught in your throat as you reached up and touched it, staring at the eighteen year versions of you and Frankie frozen in time. You were sitting outside, still clad in school uniforms, his arm was around you and you were kissing his cheek, both of you with giant grins on your faces. You’d forgotten about the picture but the memory was still vivid and clear in your mind. It had been a good day. You couldn’t believe that he still had the photograph and more over that it was openly displayed in his house.
Just as you felt a few warm tears well up in your eyes, you heard a groan from the living room, and snapped back into attention. Walking into the space, you looked around and saw nothing - nothing that was until you looked down and found Frankie lying on the floor next to the couch.
“Frankie,” you dashed over to him and dropped to your knees, shaking him to make sure he was awake and still breathing. You could see his chest rising and falling in a semi steady rhythm and let out a small sigh of relief. You gently grabbed his face in your hands, willing him to open his eyes as you stroked a finger over his cheek, “Frankie. Wake up, Frankie. Come on, bub.”
It took a little more prodding and poking before he slowly, painstakingly so opened his eyes and he found your face. His eyes were bloodshot and they seemed so heavy as he struggled to keep them open. A small smile tugged on his features as he realized you were there.
“Sweet honey bee,” he said so softly that you almost didn’t hear, “am I dead? Or am I dreaming?”
“Frankie,” you said gently, getting worried about his current state, “Frankie, I need you to wake up, okay? It’s me, I’m here...I’ve got you.”
“Look at you,” he said softly, “still as beautiful today as you always were.”
“Frankie,” you decided to ignore what he said, “come on, we’re gonna get up and you’re gonna get into bed. I’m going to get you water, okay? Do you know what happened?”
You didn’t smell alcohol or anything on his breath so you wondered what was going on.
“I know,” he said as he slowly scooted up and took the hand you offered to help hoist him to his feet, “how did you...I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
“Frankie, don’t,” you said softly, pulling him along to what you presumed to be his bedroom, “I wanted to make sure you were okay and you didn’t answer the door.”
“I-I fucked up,” he whispered as he trailed after you and all but collapsed into the bed as soon as he got into the room, “‘m sorry. ‘M sorry for everything.”
“I need you to sit up, bub,” you told him as he slowly complied with your request, “I’m going to get you water, okay? Did you hit your head at all?”
“No,” he answered, “didn’t fall…”
“Oh...kay,” you gave him a curious look, “stay there and I’ll be right back.”
Your first thought was that he had taken a tumble and hit his head, resulting in a concussion, but you didn’t see any evidence to suggest that. He seemed coherent enough...and you didn’t see or smell alcohol to suggest drunkenness.
Wandering into the kitchen, you rummaged through his cabinets in search of a glass in order to get him a cold cup of water. You weren’t quite sure where to begin to treat him, not being that kind of doctor, but you knew enough to try and make sure he was okay. After you managed to secure a glass and filled it with cold tap water. As you waited for the glass to fill up, you tapped your foot and looked around the counter. The place was clean and simple, nothing extraordinary or too exciting, exactly what you would imagine for what you presumed was a bachelor of your age.
But as you turned the tap off, set the glass down to find a rag to wipe it off with since you sloshed the water over the sides. You looked around the counter, spotting one near the sink and reached for it, but stopped when you noticed something next to it. You made a small sound of surprise as you looked at the offending item, picking it up and studying it intently. It was a small, clear plastic baggie, almost completely empty except for the little bits of white powder you could see clinging onto the top. It didn't take more than a moment to put two and two together and realize immediately what it was. A small gasp escaped your lips as you tossed the baggie back onto the counter. Surely this had to be a mistake...it couldn’t be...no. Your Frankie would never - never. But this...this wasn’t your Frankie.
Your breath hitched in your throat, causing your chest to rise and fall in a rapid stutter. Without thinking, you opened all the drawers in the kitchen, searching for anything more, any further proof of what somehow wasn’t true. Maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.
But you came across nothing else in the kitchen, curiosity getting the better of you and causing you to wander into the living room and take a quick look around. Much to your chagrin, there were a few more empty little baggies laying around the living room. In your haste earlier to make sure he was okay you hadn’t noticed any of them. You sighed deeply as you realized he must have been on a several day bender, judging by the state of things. Your heart broke, crying for him that moment. Several of the patients you were currently working with were recovering addicts, dealing with overcoming their own issues. You’d just never thought someone from your own life would be counted among them.
You set everything back down and returned to the kitchen in order to bring him the water. At least he was going to be okay, for now. If he’s suffered from an overdose or something equally as horrible it would have taken hold already. For now, you’d focus on getting him through this - the rest would come later.
Grabbing the glass you wandered back into his bedroom, finding that he had kicked his shoes off and was staring at the ceiling, struggling to keep his eyes open. You felt bad for him in that moment, but you also wanted to scream and shout at him, to tell him he was a complete fool for doing this.
“Francisco,” you tried to get his attention as his head lulled forward and he watched you thrust the glass at him. He reached out and gently took it, “drink.”
He almost down the glass in one go, making a contented sigh when he was finished. He moved to set the glass down on the bedside table but you grabbed it and shook your head, going to refill it and make him drink more. When you returned with another full glass, he took it wordlessly, drinking it as you hovered near the door.
“You only used to get that tone when you were mad at me,” he commented quietly as he set the glass down and let out a weary sigh. You raised an eyebrow at him as he tugged his outer flannel shirt off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.
“What?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral and flat.
“Francisco,” he said repeatedly it quietly as you looked at your feet and nodded. He was right...you’d called him Frankie from the start, usually only resorting to his full name when you were annoyed or in a serious mood. You just nodded and shrugged, letting an awkward silence fall between the two of you.
“Right…” you said after a moment, “well, I’m going to get going. I just...I wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you going to be alright if I leave?”
The question held more weight than you could have imagined as the two of you stared silently at each other. Those eyes, those soft, honeyed eyes were the same as the Frankie of your youth, except for the weariness.
“Yeah…” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat, “thanks…”
“No problem…” you turned on your heel to leave, knowing that you couldn’t stay. You shouldn’t stay.
“Why did you come?”
“Pardon?”
“You came inside...looked for me...why?”
“I dunno,” you answered honestly, giving him a noncommittal shrug, “I just saw all the mail and everything and you didn’t answer the door...I got worried. I just...I had a feeling and just wanted to check. It was the right thing to do.”
“Oh.”
“Even if we aren’t...anything, I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you that could have been prevented,” you explained, wishing this was easier, wishing that none of this had ever happened. You never would have thought...of all the people in the world, it would be someone like Frankie, “I found....”
“You know,” he stated simply as you nodded, unable to meet his eyes as you thought about all the empty little baggies. You’d even seen any in person before, and it was a sobering reminder about how it could affect anyone, no matter what their lot in life was.
“Yeah,” you finally said after a few moments, “I do.”
“It’s not-” he immediately felt the need to explain, feeling like he needed to get you to understand that he wasn’t...he wasn’t like this normally. But wasn’t he? Wasn’t he this what he had resorted on multiple occasions? Where was the line between recreational use and addiction?
“Save it, Francisco,” you held up your hand to silence him, “I don’t need any explanations and you don’t owe me any. We’re not...friends or anything. Don’t worry...just please take care of yourself.”
Not letting him get another word in, you walked out of the room, feeling tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to get this image of Frankie out of your mind. You hated it - hated seeing him like this.
But then again, you also didn’t...you didn’t want to see him again. It was a strange, and almost horrible juxtaposition of feelings. You jammed out of his house, keeping your gaze straight to avoid looking at anything that might cause you to break down in a sobbing mess. You were angry, so angry at him for letting this happen, angry that something in life had caused him to resort to this, angry that life had thrown you in this position. You almost felt bad for leaving him on his own, especially when he probably needed a friend more than anything else, but you also couldn’t stay. He was in a spot to where he was conscious enough to know what was going on and could take care of himself.
Slowly shutting the door, you finally letting the tears fall down your face as you slowly made your way back to your own house. You hoped, desperately so, that he would never do this again, that he would be okay.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
Frankie groaned as he laid back against the pillows and watched you leave. A few tears of anger and frustration rolled down his cheeks as he stared at the space you had occupied. The lightest bits of your perfume hung in the air, sweetly scenting it as he realized it was the same kind you had always worn. That alone was enough to make the tears fall harder as he chided himself for messing everything up. He never, never, wanted you to see him like this; hell, he didn’t want to see himself like. Frankie had been sure he had kicked his little habit, but despite the little voice in his telling him to get rid of it and flush it, he didn’t. He had hung onto it.
And used it.
Again.
He rolled out of and stripped the rest of his clothes, the ones he’d been wearing for the last few days on his little bender, and tossed them on the floor as he headed to the bathroom and turned on water and let it get as hot as possible. Once he was satisfied that it was scalding, he stepped in and let the steaming water wash all over his tired body.
Scrubbing at every inch of his body, he didn’t stop until he felt raw and clean, every last bit of his skin cleansed. He washed his hair, chiding his unruly, dark locks as he made sure every single strand was cleansed.
Frankie was in the shower what seemed like hours before he stepped out, his stomach grumbled with hunger and mouth parched. But before he would allow himself to stop and go into the kitchen, he went into the living room, and picked up all of the trash and remnants of the time he already wanted to forget. He never wanted to do it, never...especially not after seeing the look on your face as you had discovered his little problem.
The look in your eyes was enough to break his heart all over again. He hoped he would never have to see it again.
If you were even willing to look in his direction again. He couldn’t even believe his luck that some way, somehow you had come into his life again. Not only that but you were right next to door to him. And single. Or so he presumed from your lack of engagement ring and sudden move. But that was a worry for a different time. Not that it was even a worry for him...you had made that very clear when you had told him on several occasions that you never wanted to see him again.
But this - this sudden coming back into each other’s life had to mean something...right? It couldn’t just all be coincidence.
No.
It had to mean something. He knew it had to.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
The next week passed relatively quietly compared to the little fiasco with Frankie. You made it a point to avoid him and keep your eyes away from anywhere near his house whenever you went outside. You busied yourself with putting up Halloween decorations all around the inside and outside of your house and baking cookies to take to your neighbors. You were stocked up on all different kinds of candy to make sure all of your trick or treaters would be taken care of and had gotten Daisy a little costume. When you had some downtown time at work, you found yourself scrolling online and doing some window shopping when you’d come across the perfect little pirate outfit. You’d bought it instantly and tried it on her the second it came. She wasn’t as thrilled as you, but at least she didn’t fight you. You’d taken a few snaps and posted them to your IG, deciding that if she never wanted to wear it again, at least you’d have the memories.
You’d thrown together a last minute little costume for yourself, consisting of black leggings and a long sleeved t-shirt, hand painted with a skeletal frame. Admittedly it wasn’t your best costume ever, but it was something and you’d been so busy with work and other things you’d almost completely forgotten about getting something for yourself. It would do for a night of handing out candy and watching scary movies by yourself. You’d even decided to go all out and ordered pizza for yourself (and Daisy of course).
It had started out as a relatively quiet evening, with a few families from coming around, excitedly greeting you and Daisy as they excitedly took the candy you offered them, which were apparently the best in the whole neighborhood according to one little boy dressed as Darth Vader. You’d complimented each and every one them, making sure they knew how great their costumes were.
One in particular, a little girl with dark, curly hair, soft brown eyes and a shy little smile, dressed as a little bumble bee had won your heart over in less than a second. In the moment it even caused you to envision yourself with a little girl just like her...but you quickly snapped out of that and pulled yourself together as you held out the big bowl for her to pick some candy from. She sweetly thanked you and waved, walking away as she held onto her father’s hand.
After that it was quiet for some time, and you had a chance to get thoroughly invested in the movie that had started playing on Netflix, some b list horror film from the 80s. You had a piece of pizza about halfway to your mouth when you heard more knocking on your door. You shoved the bite into your mouth as you quickly swallowed it down and stood up to go to the door, straightening your shirt. The knocking became louder and more frantic and you raised an eyebrow at Daisy as you wondered who the mysterious trick or treater could be.
“Coming,” you called out as you hurried to the door and yanked it open, almost nervous to see what was on the other side. To your surprise, causing your jaw to drop open, you found Frankie leaning against the door frame, his face looking sallow and gaunt, a pathetic little smile tugging on his features when he saw you. His eyes were red and this time you couldn’t tell if it was from crying or the drugs, “Frank...Francisco. What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” he said after a quiet moment, tension hanging in the air between the two of you. You kept your hand on the knob as you waited for him to explain a little more. He met your eyes and you could see that his lower lip was trembling with the effort trying not to cry, “I’m so sorry.”
“W-what are you sorry for?” you asked as you gnawed on your lower lip and tried not to lose it completely and keep yourself together, “you have nothing to be sorry for, Frankie. It’s...whatever we had is in the past. It’s done with, just like us.”
“I fucked up everything,” he insisted as he tried to straighten up and almost stumbled over his feet. You reached and helped to straighten him up, hands around his waist to keep him steady. This time the tears running down his cheeks were evident, “I’m so sorry for all of it. B-but I-I need help. I’m an idiot…”
You remained silent as you helped inside your house and shut the door, locking it behind you. Daisy watched the two of you curiously as you shook your head at her and led him down to your bedroom, as he softly murmured senseless apologies into your ear. When you reached your room, you practically pushed him onto your bed, looking at him with a confused expression. You were angry, gods you were angry, but you were sad too. Sad that he apparently made it a habit to resorting to this, sad that he felt the need to inflict this upon you too.
“You’re high,” you stated the obvious as he nodded slowly. You ran a hand over your face as you let out a long, deep breath, “Frankie...I…”
You couldn’t even finish your sentence as you looked at him, staring back at you with the most forlorn expression on his face. Tears were welled up in his eyes which threatened to spill over and you could tell he was struggling. You didn’t have it in your heart to get mad or yell at him, despite how much you wanted you.
“Oh Frankie,” you got on your knees in front of him, touching his face and wiping away the tears that had spilled over. He nuzzled slightly into your touch, almost like a cat keening for a good scratch as he made a small sound in his throat.
You moved your hands to his shoulders and slowly pulled off his jacket, tossing it on the chair in the corner before repeating the action with his shoes. He didn’t argue or try and fit you or anything, sniffling quietly to himself.
When you were finished, you held up a finger, silently telling him that you would be right back. Walking to the front door, you grabbed the bowls of candy you still had felt and placed them outside, quickly scrolling a note that people could help themselves, and made sure the light was turned on. You gave Daisy a treat and the okay to go into your bedroom and she silently slinked off, no doubt to check on Frankie and give him whatever reassurances he needed.
You stood in the kitchen for a moment, fanning at your eyes so you didn’t end up crying as well. One of you needed to be strong right now, and it was apparently going to be up to you. The fact that you were still so conflicted with your own feelings for him didn’t change the fact that he needed someone right now. He needed someone to support him and knock some sense into him at the same time.
You grabbed a big glass and in a repeat of the other day filled it up and treaded back to the bedroom. The sight that met your eyes was enough to make your heart melt and you stopped and watched for a moment. Daisy was standing up, her paws on Frankie’s thighs as she offered him a slew of wet nosed kisses and he just held her lightly, petting her with the gentlest of touches.
“This is Daisy,” you told him softly as you walked in and sat down next to him, keeping the tiniest of spaces between the two of you, “I adopted her a little bit after I moved in. She’s very sweet...obviously.”
“You always wanted a Pittie,” he said as she calmed down from her initial excitement and laid down on the floor next to you. Your brow narrowed for a moment as you tried to think back on it and then you realized - he was right. It was one of the first things you had told him: you’d always wanted a Pittie or Staffy because they were beautiful and seemed sweet and you wanted to show people that they were amazing dogs. You were incredulous at the fact that he remembered such a small detail, “looks like your wish came true.”
“Y-you remembered…”
“Of course I did,” he quietly said as you just huffed lightly, an almost laugh as you sat there quietly for a moment, reaching down and giving Daisy a gentle touch. He reached for the glass and quickly downed it in one go.
“Frankie,” his name was soft and gentle off of your lips, causing a shiver to run up his spine at the sound. He hadn’t heard his name like that in a long, long��time. There were a million questions and things that you wanted to say, but none of them seemed important in that moment. Before you could stop yourself, you put your hand on his and gave it a delicate squeeze, “w-what’s going on? This is the second time in three weeks this happened. Are you…”
Your question hung and lingered in the air for a few moments as he sighed and hung his head, his shoulders slumping. Before you knew it, a sob, a heartbreaking sob racked his body and he started to cry quietly. Without thinking about it, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders and pulled him into your chest, letting him get it all out.
“Shhhh,” you whispered softly, rubbing a hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him as best as you could. His arms snaked around your waist as he held onto you for dear life, almost as if he was afraid that if he let go you would disappear. You held him for a while as he got it all out, mumbling a few incoherent sentences in between his sobs. Eventually your hand went to the back of his head as you dragged it though his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, just like you knew he used to like, “shhh...it’s okay, Frankie. Just let it go. Let it all out.”
It was something that you had discovered your years as a therapist that sometimes it was best to just let the person get it all out and then talk them through it. Even if it took a while, you would let him get it all out first.
“‘M sorry,” he whispered into the now soaked fabric of your shirt. What was he sorry for? Coming to your doorstep, high and unsure of what he was doing? For getting high and continuously struggling with his addiction? For basically following you to the small coffee shop for weeks to try and get your attention? For breaking off all the plans you had made as lovestruck teenagers to move to California? For going into the military and leaving you hanging on and waiting around for him for almost two years? For what he had just done in his mysterious absence? Perhaps all of it?
“It’s okay Frankie,” you whispered softly, kissing the top of his head gently, “you don’t have to say anything right now. Just let it all out right.”
“I ruined everything,” he insisted, his voice cracking and breaking as he burrowed his face further into your chest, “everything. I should have never left. It should have been us, it was always meant to be us.”
“Don’t do this,” you cooed against the side of his head, trying to maintain your composure, “not right now. Just let it out, okay?”
“You must hate me,” he ignored your pleading as you shook your head. You wanted to, gods knew you did, but you could never. You don’t think you could have ever hated Frankie Morales, even if you tried, “you have every reason to hate me. I’m a horrible person…”
“Frankie,” you said sharply, pulling him away from your chest and forcing him to look at you, “please stop doing this to yourself. It’s not helping you and you don’t deserve all of this negative talk. Right now you just need to let go, and stop beating yourself up for what you can’t change.”
“But-”
“No,” you insisted firmly, “no more talking, okay? Just rest now, please just rest for a little while and try to get out of your…”
“High?”
“Yeah…” you said quietly, “just lay down and sleep now, okay? Just rest...the sheets were washed today so they’re clean.”
“What about you....”
“I’ll take the couch,” you held up a hand before he could say anything else, “it’s fine. Really. Just sleep for now, okay? Everything else can wait.”
“Okay…”
“Okay,” you repeated, turning on the small bedside table lamp and turning off the main light. You looked at Daisy and pointed at the bed, and she understood what you were saying as she jumped up onto the bed and curled up next to Frankie’s form, “we’ll talk tomorrow.”
You reached for the door handle and turned to walk away, to give him some space and privacy. You heard Daisy make a small sound before Frankie sniffled again, “good night, honey bee.”
“Good night, Frankie,” and with you shut the door and walked away feeling more confused and conflicted than ever.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog @sheridans-dynamos @rogerfxckingtaylor @queenbbarnes @persephonesnebula @spacedustmazzello @queenlover05 @ah-callie @blushingwueen @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander @rosetophighlander @rae-gar-targaryen @hiscyarika @readsalot73 @huliabitch @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd @beepbeepsephy @gooddaykate @scarlettwitcher @nerdyknightwritersblog @choicesarcade @arrowswithwifi @everythingaboutnothingstuff @24kgoldentip @suckerfor-fanfics @bestintheparsec @pedrosdoll @winters-buck @javihoney @aeryntheofficial @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial @asgardianvamp21 @keithseabrook27 @karmezii @dearspacepirates @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou @shameless-pope @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @lv7867
Frankie Taglist: @misslolasworld @annathewitch @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mrscrain-x7 @jaime1110 @lokiaddicted @prettylittlegoldfish @heythere-mel @mrsparknuts @mrpascals @agingerindenial @knittingqueen13 @wickedfrsgrl @rogueonestan @i-ship-it-ironically @lv7867 @heyitmelexie @lordmotherofcats @godohammers @stitchers-in-stitches @none-of-your-bullshit @ghostwiththemostbitch @computeringturtle @hayley-the-comet
#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#triple frontier#afterglow#catfish morales#catfish morales x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader
373 notes
·
View notes
Text
Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 06
Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader
Content: Language, possible errors, music snob!Remus,
Author’s notes: song used: Come Together by The Beatles
BTW: I always try to use little to no physical descriptions for the reader insert but I did add that the reader has some sort of hair. I didn't mention hair texture or length (Sorry if ur bald). My taller readers, I only mentioned that you were shorter than Remus (no height was given)
Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Chapter 6: ABBA vs. The Beatles
❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉
“Merlin’s beard! Binns is a sadist; torturing students must be his only pastime,” James yawned, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.
Nothing could ever compare to the History of Magic. Today, lessons were dreadful and muddy. Professor Binns’ monotone voice filtered throughout the class, rambling on and on about various dates in history. Hardly anyone paid attention before he started calling on students. Annoyed, Binns would continue to reiterate his inquiry until the student(s) got the correct answer, no matter how long it took.
A sadist indeed.
Although Binns wasn’t the sole reason why the class was pathetic, but rather the lack of any practical work was simply a joke. The class only reminded Y/N of her short time in public school. Geometry? Utterly useless for any daily life interactions. To make matters worse, Binns surprised the class with a pop-quiz and two chapters of reading. Luckily, he had an ounce of mercy in his ghostly body and dismissed the class early for lunch.
James continued, “I would rather fight a dragon than — Woah! Your hair! “
She glanced to look at herself through the reflection in James’ glasses. Her hair, which originally was emerald green, was now turning into a golden yellow. The different colours clashed together boldly.
“You look like the banner for the Holyhead Harpies,” Peter said, striding up to James’ side.
“The Holyhead Harpies,” James said dreamily, “They’re probably one of my favourite teams.
Remus, who had been trailing behind Peter jumps in, “You only like them because they’re all women, you wanker.” He turns to Peter, his hand shooting up to the side of his head, massaging small circles into his temples, “Why’d you get him going?”
James became insufferable whenever someone or something mentioned Quidditch. Not only would he boast about his abilities as a Chaser, but he seemingly was a never-ending encyclopedia about Quidditch. It only worsened as November neared, the start of the new Quidditch season was approaching.
One time Y/N found herself stuck listening to him babble about Ireland winning the world cup for about thirty minutes. She didn’t have the heart to stop him, though. Nobody listened to his rants and he could hardly contain his excitement. How could she tell him she wasn’t interested?
A monstrous smirk etched its way onto his face, “Caught me.”
“Be anymore of a predator would ya, Prongs?”
“Hey! That’s not the only reason why I like them. Did you forget their victory in 1953 against the Heidelberg Harriers? Their strategy was blood-fucking-brilliant. They’re legendary! My father was there to see it in person. Lucky bastard. He told me…”
His voice fades into the background as Y/N catches Remus’ eyes. A glint of mischief shined through them before he forced a fake pitiful smile. He mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to her before looping his arm around Peter’s shoulder, discreetly leaving James’ side and out of the classroom.
That sly, slippery bastard.
"— and did I mention that their seeker was one of the most sought out —”
“Wait, James.”
He abruptly pauses, waiting patiently for her to continue. She leads them out into the corridor and towards the great hall. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off like that, but when is my hair going back to normal?”
Y/N instantly regretted mentioning her hair. There was no trace of a smile on James. His shoulders slumped a bit and his walking even staggered. “Godric, I know, I know and I’m sorry. I thought it would have returned back to normal by now. I’ve been creating reversal spells — even started asking Moony to help.”
“Moony?”
“Remus.”
“Another one of your nicknames?”
“It’s not a nickname! It’s a brotherhood — a pack!”
“Oh, sorry Prongs,” she drawled, a sarcastic smile on her face, “If I didn’t know you I would assume you were an asshole.”
“What? How?!”
“You go around calling yourself a marauder, the king of Quidditch and now Prongs. Seems pretty assholely.”
James’ mouth opens before closing again, repeating the process several times.
“Plus, you pull silly pranks every day.”
He chuckles, “Oi! You helped us with that itching idea!”
Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, “Touché.”
To this, James shakes his head, directing the conversation back to the Holyhead Harpies. Inwardly, Y/N wanted to whack him with a broomstick.
They were among the first students to reach the Great Hall, aside from students who had a free or were excused early by Professor Binns. None of the girls were there yet. Unfortunately, Marlene was held back by Binns, so Y/N was left to sit beside James who sat opposite to Remus, Peter and Sirius.
She had been trying her best to avoid Sirius whenever she could. It was clear he didn’t like her. He never laughed whenever she made a joke, he hardly noticed her, he never praised her, even if she tried to compliment him. He was just rude for no apparent reason. The rest of the marauders and girls knew this, although they preferred not to comment about the obvious, strained relationship (which they didn’t even know the reason for. Granted, Y/N wasn't quite sure herself. Was it the rejection, he just didn't like her or is just an ass?).
Although, ignoring and avoiding him proved to be extremely challenging. Y/N was glued to Lily’s hip ever since the Sorting Ceremony. It also didn’t help that if you were with one marauder, another one was sure to follow. She and James started to spend more time with each other, and by extension, she was obligated to be around at least one other marauder. With the addition of study sessions with Remus, it was inevitable.
Surprisingly, Sirius hadn’t made any snarky remarks, excluding dirty looks, he was being… nice — nicer to her. The action was a stark contrast from his previous behaviour and she speculated a few reasons why:
Most likely, James or Lily, she assumed the former, said something to him. Since his little spat with James at breakfast a few weeks ago, Sirius was tight-lipped ever since.
Maybe he was done being a prick, deciding to stop by himself after realizing he was a prick.
Went through something personal, it stopped, and his behaviour improved.
Minutes after the bell rang, students began to trickle in for lunch. The comfortable chatter rose as Y/N finished eating an apple. Everyone seemed pleased when James’ Quidditch lecture was interrupted as hundreds of owls streamed in, packages and letters dropping into the laps of students. She hadn’t expected anything considering her owl, Celeste, didn’t drop anything off since the first week of October. However, today she fluttered down between the bread and fruit bowls, dropping off several letters and a small parcel onto Y/N’s plate, pecking at the bread crumbs on the table. She tore the letter open, inside it said:
Dear Y/N,
Are you still having a hard time with Charms? If so, perhaps I find some textbooks and send them over.
Don’t slack off this year. Send me a letter whenever you have the chance. (Make sure to tell Celeste to be quieter next time. You know I can, and never will get used to the owls.)
Mom
Her mother finally wrote to her. A sense of joy flooded her body as she placed the letter back down on the oak table. A part of her wondered if Celeste was dropping off her letters to the wrong house, the one back in Toronto as her mother never wrote back. She opened the next letter, immediately recognizing the messy scrawl:
October 19, 1975
Y/N! I thought you replaced me with one of your brits, but a false alarm, your letters just take a while to arrive. Must be tiring for Celeste to travel to and from Scotland then America and back. You know, whenever people see her fly in, they still recognize her.
Are you doing anything for Halloween? We’re throwing another dance. Going to be alone this year now that I can’t force you to come. I guess I’ll just watch half the school dry hump each other while I smuggle in firewhiskey.
How’s it going over there? I heard from a few students, even read in the papers about the war. It’s getting pretty crazy over here. Teachers have been meeting and trying to prevent students and parents from losing their shit. My mom has been worried too, writing to me like a lunatic and I’m not even in the UK. The MACUSA have been keeping quiet but they were caught having meetings with counsellors from the Ministry of Magic. Even heard that Jenkins is stepping down. If it keeps getting out of hand here, I can’t imagine what it must be like at Hogwarts. I truly thought the war was dying down, I was wrong. Keep your wand close. Surely, you’ll get away with a hex or two.
Until next time
Matthew G.
So engrossed in her new environment, her old life slipped to the back of her mind. There was a detachment from her reality compared to the one at home. A pang of guilt hit her, swallowing her up from the inside out until another pang hit, loneliness. If she easily forgot everyone, would anyone remember her? None of her old friends, apart from Matthew, had made a move to contact her since she left.
Often thinking about writing them first, she had to remind herself if they wanted to, they would. Especially with the knowledge that people still recognized Celeste.
Was she forgettable and if so, was it karma for forgetting too?
It put a mechanical vice grip on her heart, applying just enough pressure to be a constant reminder. With every beat, it tightened more and more.
Looking around the table, she saw her peers huddle in groups, familiar laughter ringing throughout. So noisy, so taunting. She may have been friends with Lily, Dorcas, James or even Marlene, but they had their own friends. Friendships that had years to develop before she came. She had only known them for less than two months.
Forgettable.
How hilarious, she thought.
“Hey,” a gentle voice cooed into her ear, “Are you okay?”
She hummed back absentmindedly.
James wore a concerned expression, his eyes knitted together, one raised higher than the other like it always does when he was worried. The look he shot her suggested he wasn’t convinced, although he didn’t press; instead opting to stir the conversation. “So, who wrote to you?”
“A friend and my mom —”
A snort so loud that it caused the rest of the marauders, random onlookers and even Lily (who had a look of pure disgust on her face) turned towards them. “What did you say?”
“I got a few letters?”
“No!” He bellowed, “Who sent you them?”
“My friend and my mom —”
Nearly choking on his sandwich, James clutched his stomach laughing. Laughing so hard he has to grip the table to prevent falling off the hall bench. "Haha! Mom?! MOM?” He mocked in a poor American accent, “What the fuck is mom? It’s MUM. Bollocks!”
“We say vitamin.”
“It’s VIT-A-MIN! Who says VIGHT-A-MIN?” Without a pause, James presses his entire body onto her shoulder, smushing her before grabbing the letter her mother sent her. His eyes scanned across the pages before hitting a certain word. “Back home? Maple trees? Where did you use to live exactly?”
“Canada.”
“Canada?! You don’t mean those snowy gits?” At this, Peter and Remus snort under their breaths. Even Lily had to force down a smile.
Staring deadpanned at him, in an unamused voice, “Really?”
“You are a bundle of surprises! I thought you lived… I’m not sure. I assumed somewhere like New Hork.”
“York,” Lily corrects.
“Tomato, tomato,” he jokes, playfully batting his eyes at Lily before biting into his sandwich, “You do live in London, right?”
“Right.”
James takes a moment, letting the conversation die down before he quickly glances at Y/N again. An undecipherable expression crosses his face before it’s promptly replaced with elation, “I take back anything negative I’ve said about Canada. They have an amazing Quidditch rooster. Have you gone to any of their games?”
A low grumble of sighs follows at the mention of Quidditch from James. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus shake his head and sighed dejectedly.
“Nah, I’m a New-Maj, remember? My mom — “
“Mum —”
“ — sorry, Mum — hardly understands the wizarding world, let alone what Quidditch is.”
His eyes were wide, whimsical, as a hand flew to his chest dramatically, “Rubbish! Bloody ridiculous! You’ve never seen a real Quidditch game? One day, I swear I’ll bring you to one! Or you can bring me to Canada one day and we can watch a home game!”
As James continued to rant, Y/N’s mind slowly drifted back to the bitterness in her chest. Trying to distract herself, she borrowed Lily’s quill and a few sheets of parchment, scribbling down letters in response.
Mom,
I’m fine with Charms, you don’t need to send anything. And don’t worry, I’ve been studying for my OWLs.
Love you, write soon.
The next letter was addressed to Matthew:
Matty Matt,
Of course, I didn’t replace you… yet.
Another dance? You would think the students’ protest last year would have influenced the professors this time. I guess it’s time for you to get wasted. I didn’t tell you last time but I think I’m going to a party. A friend of mine is throwing it and I know he’s going to force me to come no matter what. He briefly mentioned costumes and drinks. Plus, there’s going to be some kind of prank that I may or may have not been a part of? Sounds cool right?
Yeah, I’d say it’s been bad up here. I don’t know much about what's going on outside of school, though. The professors are hiding it well. I didn’t even hear about Jenkins stepping down. Keep me updated.
Until next time
She sealed the letters before sending Celeste off again, “Be quieter when you drop off the letters, yeah?”
❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉
It must be her lucky day.
The ringing of the bell went off, signalling the end of class. Professor Flitwick asked the students to stay behind so he could hand out quizzes the students completed on Monday in preparation for their upcoming test on Growth and Reductor charms the following Tuesday.
It was never a good sign when a professor flips your test over to prevent other students from seeing their mark. Flipping it over at a downwards angle, Flitwick handed Y/N her quiz.
Turning it over nervously, a tight coil formed in the pit of her stomach. A large P was plastered on the top right corner in bold red ink. She studied hard for this too. Angrily, she shoved her work into her bag and left the class. This was the third poor she'd gotten in a row. She should have told her mother she needed those Charm books.
“I swear I’m going mad! Her brother is a complete cow! He even — are you listening?”
She looks at the girl beside her, Marlene. Her glossed over, doe eyes must have served as an answer before the blonde shook her head.
“Sorry, distracted,” she mumbles, before forcing out a fake-happy tone, “Continue your story! I wanna hear!”
“Hey,” Marlene says in a softer voice, “If something’s bothering you, you can talk about it.”
“No, it’s okay,” she replies instinctively. She felt bad spacing out during Marlene’s story but her mind was running through and under hoops. The last thing any fifth year student needed was to fall behind in their classes, let alone feeling like nobody cared about them.
At that moment, she wished she was wrapped away in red and gold blankets to wallow in her self-pity party, away from prying eyes. She could feel the burning sensations of tears building up.
Dammit.
Y/N looked out the window to her left. The sky was melting with the warm hues of reds and yellows while the other half was being slowly engulfed into a cloak of twilight. Even from here, she could feel the cool air seeping in from the windows making her tug on the sleeves of her robes.
She continued, “I’m just tired — been a long day. I’m going to take a nap before dinner. See you.”
Judging by the look on Marlene and Lily’s face, guilt riddles her body. They both look sympathetic. The pity only made Y/N feel disgusting. In all honesty, Y/N will care later. Right now wasn’t the time and she desperately needed some shut-eye.
Before she left the room, she overheard them talking.
“What’s up with her?”
“Dunno.”
Great.
❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉
Sleep did little to ease her thoughts.
The same uneasiness she felt on the train ride to Hogwarts settled deep into her bones again. She thought she was past this. The worrying about friends, missing home, feeling alone, failing class, stressing about her future. The rational part of her brain knew it was just one silly quiz (and old shitty friends), but knowing herself, if she were to continue to have this mindset, she would only fail in the end.
Dinner ended and Y/N belligerently climbed up the stairs towards the library to attend today’s study session. The Charms quiz threw her into a loop and it was better not to dwell on it, opting to rather use her time for something useful.
Her marks improved significantly since she attended her first session two weeks ago. The last couple of assignments and quizzes she handed in that she worked on during the groups were some of her best work, ever. Additionally, her ability to retain information was improving at astonishing rates and she found herself participating in lessons more often. Unfortunately, she started to doubt her abilities again.
There weren’t as many students as usual. Perhaps it was because of the Quidditch meeting for all teams tonight, or because nobody wanted to spend their time in a library Friday night. She assumed it was the latter.
Although, the same student with black hair from Slytherin was there; tucked away in his usual corner. He was always there. Whether it was the study sessions, another OWL or NEWT student or he simply just enjoyed the library, Y/N could always rely on him sitting there in his little nook.
In the far back, surrounded by tall bookshelves sat Remus. Another student, a first or second year, judging by their height, seemed to be asking him a question, rapidly writing down something on a piece of parchment whilst they walked away. Remus leaned back in the brown chair, his right leg was folded over the other as he stretched.
She spent over twelve hours minimum with Remus directly since the first session, minus the time he was around James and the girls. Perhaps she only started to notice afterwards but she swore Remus wasn’t around this much before. Now, he was everywhere.
In the past couple of weeks she’d gotten to know him, she made a mental list in her head of him:
1. Remus loves sweaters. They weren’t flashy, seemingly preferring to wear ones with small designs, stripes or a solid colour. He wore green the most. He also wore cardigans. Two, in particular, he wore the most; one was white and the other was a muted brown. They were big and hung off his loose frame, the pockets were often stuffed with books, rumpled parchment and his wand.
2. He’s a coffee addict. He drank it in the morning, the afternoon, at the study session and sometimes with meals at dinner. He loved to dump pounds of sugar, so if he only drank black coffee, it usually meant he was in a bad mood. James even joked that he became Sirius whenever he drank black coffee, because haha! Get it? It’s BLACK coffee!
3. He frequented the library whenever he wasn’t with the rest of the marauders. He enjoyed poetry, wrote post-it notes after post-it notes to annotate his favourite parts. He even slept there from time to time, not without having to persuade Pince to not give him detention.
As if Remus magically sensed her, he took a large inhale before he stopped stretching, opening his eyes to look at her. A small smile was plastered on each other’s faces. He stuck up a few fingers to wave at her, motioning her to come over.
“Hi Y/N. I thought you didn’t come on Fridays?”
“I don’t but I have a test, Charms, Tuesday.”
“Oh, well I’m happy to help.”
“Thanks for the offer, Professor Lupin, but just being down here will help me focus.”
A scarlet blush settled on his face at the mention of his tutoring. “Well come sit with me then.”
Pushing the chair out of the way, she sat down beside him, pulling out her cassette player and earbuds along with her notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus staring at the player curiously.
“Do you want to listen?”
“If you don't mind. I didn’t know you could use these here.” Picking it up, he turned the rectangular device.
“If record players work here, why not this?”
She hands him an earbud, alongside a small collection of other tapes she had on hand.
“Choose whatever you want to listen to.”
Without much thought, he pressed the play button. The upbeat tune of Waterloo by ABBA trickled into their ears. Y/N bobbed her head up and down before the song was suddenly stopped.
A sour grimace sat on Remus’ face before their eyes met, his nose upturned slightly.
“Why’d you stop it?”
“I hate ABBA.”
“What!?”
“I just don’t like their cheesy disco-pop-esk sound. They sound generic and random words are thrown in when they don’t add to the song.”
“Jeez— never met anyone who hated them that much.”
A ghost of a smile appeared before he flicked through her collection of tapes. He picked up Abbey Road by The Beatles. Opening the player up, he slid out Waterloo. With a click and the press of a button, Come Together played.
“So you hate ABBA but not The Beatles? Benny and Bjorn said they were influenced by them!”
“Keyword: Influenced; which is just another word for a shitty knock-off version.”
4. Remus Lupin is apparently a music snob.
“Well, I think both are good.”
“Respectfully, I disagree with you.”
“Whatever you say, professor.”
"I've been thinking a bit, why did you come to Hogwarts? Why not just stay at your old school?"
The sudden switch of topics threw her into a loop. “Wasn’t by choice. My mom’s a doctor and got a position here. It was too good to turn down. But it’s not bad. There’s less wizarding laws.”
He nods his head, "I'm assuming you have dual citizenship?"
"Mhm."
About a half an hour passed as she sighed for the umpteenth time before putting down her quill. Her chair scraped back noisily as Y/N’s hand balled up into a tight fist, feeling her fingernails bite into her palm. She’d been flicking through her notes, the words all blended.
At this rate, if History of Magic didn’t exist, Charms would surely be her least favourite class.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
She was at a loss, this was the third time Remus had offered to help and he was persistent. She felt horrible that she was taking up his time to help her on a stupid Charms test.
He continued, “If you think bothering me is an issue, it’s not. I run the sessions on Friday. It’s my job.”
“Fine, but there has to be something I can do in return.”
“Hmm,” Remus pondered for a second, “How about this, I tutor you in Charms and in return you give me your Potions notes? I'm dreadful at it.”
“Deal.”
“Great. Before we start, is there anything in particular that you have questions on?”
Silently tapping on the quiz she received today, Remus snatched it and quickly scanned over her answers and Professor Flitwick’s notes.
“I see what happened. You know, the curriculum taught at Ilvermorny is different. That’s probably why you can’t understand some of this shit.” He cleared his throat, “So as we know, the growth charm increases the size of your intended target…”
His voice, like a light switch, changed instantly. Instead of his softer deep, raspier voice, it became commanding and steady. He never stumbled over his words and articulated his points elegantly. She found herself enraptured by him, understanding why he was in charge of the study groups.
Eventually, Remus takes a pause, “Does that make sense?”
“Yes. You know, you’re really good at this. No matter how much I asked Flitwick or even Lily I could never get it.”
A large blush bloomed on the apples of his cheeks before he shyly rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I’m not that good.”
“No time for modesty, Professor Lupin!”
“Okay, okay! So here, do you see what went wrong? There would be a reaction with those two spells if —”
A boy, small, most likely a second year, stood at the foot of the shared table holding a large red and gold book. His hair, dark ginger, similar to Lily’s, was cut short. He fiddled with his fingers as he continued to stare at the two.
“... Um, hi. You're Remus — right?”
“Yup. Did you need help with something?”
“Yes! I’m having trouble with the Transfiguration spell, beetle into button.”
A look of understanding passed through his face before Remus turns to look at her, “Duty calls. It’ll be quick.”
“Of course, take your time.”
It was not quick. Understandably, very few were successful at the ginger’s age to perform the spell, but thirty minutes passed and the second year still didn’t understand the basic concepts. No matter how many times Remus had reiterated his point differently, the boy couldn’t retain it.
“I just don’t get it.”
“You learned this last year, it's a quick revision. I’m not sure what part you’re talking about. Look, do not wiggle or twirl your wand left, direct it towards the right. You have to picture the spell in your head before saying the incantation.”
He guided the boy's hand steadily before performing the spell himself.
“I don’t understand!” The boy whined.
He sighed, “Then we keep trying —”
“It’s too hard. Why are they teaching this crap anyway?”
“Could you stop complaining?” He snapped, closing his eyes before he realized what he’d just done. “I’m sorry about that. I’m… just tired. I can’t help you anymore, though. You should ask someone else,” Remus said brusquely, his eyes unnerving as he stared at the child. As a result, he yelped out a ‘thank you,’ rushing off in the opposite direction.
The muscles in his jaw tensed under the soft glow of the table lamps. There was a pale red tint rimming his eyes and he looked visibly paler than normal. Irritated, he bounced his knee rapidly, up and down, before looking out the large window beside them. The sky was mostly cloudy. Only the peak of the silvery moon appeared. A sliver was missing before it was fully complete.
He closed his eyes, before breathing in. His posture once stiffened, completely relaxed before a flimsy smile reappeared on his face, returning his attention to Y/N.
“Let’s continue, shall we?”
“If you’re tired we can stop.”
“No, s’okay. I’m fine — really.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek, adding to her list:
5. Remus was always so hard to read.
#sbtmas#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter marauders#hp marauders#hp imagine#hp series#hp angst#young marauders#marauders era#reader insert#Remus Lupin#remus lupin x reader#Sirius Black#sirius black x reader#Harry Potter#hp fluff#fanfiction#slow burn#the marauders#remus lupin imagine#Lily Evans#sirius x y/n#remus x y/n#reader#HP#love triangle#enemies to lovers#future smut
147 notes
·
View notes
Text
rating spirit halloween’s new animatronics for 2021
or at least what’s showing as New Arrivals on the site for me. looks like we got 15 new arrivals listed here and im HYPE about them so here we go
the caretaker
pretty standard reaper character with a Gravedigger theme to it. hes... fine? nothing about this particularly stands out to me, but i dont dislike it at all. i like his gravestone. would be good for a graveyard set. i guess ill give him... 6.5/10
mr. dark
at first glance he also just looks like a standard reaper character (or voldemort. he definitely looks like voldemort now that i think about it) but it turns out he SPRINGS UP RIDICULOUSLY TALL LIKE A CURSED WACKY INFLATABLE TUBE MAN and the spring motion in the video is actually really fucking fast so, while this isn’t a lot different from other jumpscare animatronics, i gotta give him credit bc i guarantee this would have scared the fuck outta me in person. according to the site he’s almost 9 feet tall at his full height
i expected him to jump out and scream but i did not expect. That. i feel like if you put him up on a stage or something to make him loom over people even more he’d be very menacing indeed. would also be really good if you put him behind something so you don’t see him until he's suddenly There
i like him, 8/10 springy spook man
click for more
grave grabber
pretty much just a zombie but he’s cute i like him. i like the green eyes. i dont know what it is about him in motion but the video makes him kind of endearing to me for some reason and i dont know why. 6/10
ophelia
at first for some reason i thought the monster’s name was ophelia but i think that’s supposed to be the name of the victim? i think the idea here is “girl haunted by a Nightmare” but the fact that the monster itself is so small and doesn’t actually have a body for the most part makes this unintentionally hilarious to me
like. it. it’s so small. it’s just a little shoulder demon. it’s so cute
psst. hey do we have any more cheetos
anyway i like how the girl’s eyes move back and forth but the sounds she makes are uncomfortable and she just looks so. stiff and solid and there doesn’t seem to be any movement at all other than her eyes and the monster peeking out so it’s just kind of weird to look at. it’s an interesting concept but the execution is just strange and unintentionally hilarious. 7/10 bc i still think its really funny
someone should buy this and mod it into chrona and ragnarok
harriet hustle
WE DID IT KIDS WE FINALLY GOT A FEMALE CLOWN ANIMATRONIC im so happy i could cry i wish my store had her set up i want to meet her
i love how they have her hanging upside down like this, it makes it so much more visually interesting than the figures that just kinda stand there looking spooky, even though she doesn’t really Do much (she just swings and her head moves around a little, just laughs, doesn’t have spoken lines)
i love her outfit i love her hair shes SO cute i love this little murder gremlin i love her i love her
im still waiting on spirit to give us a female clown figure that isn’t “creepy little girl” (ive commented before on how their only female figures tend to be either the Old Hag or the Creepy Little Girl and not a lot else) but i absolutely love this all the same 20/10
this one is fun too because we also have:
henry hustle
according to the description he’s actually harriet’s dad!! we have an evil clown father and daughter duo here and im LIVING for it
i dont think ive ever seen spirit do characters that are related to each other like this that’s so cute,
apparently his wife/harriet’s mother left them and ran off with the ringmaster. he’s a single father clown trying to raise his evil daughter clown and i support him wholeheartedly
there doesn’t seem to be any more animatronics on this storyline, we don’t have the mother here and the only ringmaster animatronic they have is the rotten ringmaster who was released previously, but i doubt he’s the homewrecker ringmaster in question. he Could Be. imagine if your wife left you for That. we dont even know if henry’s wife was also a clown or not. spirit halloween clown lore going on here
anyway i absolutely LOVE this clown, he does something INCREDIBLY STARTLING AND UNEXPECTED which i dont want to spoil for you. go watch his video and see what he does its great
my absolute favorite type of halloween animatronic is the “does something completely unexpected” category and this one is ALSO a clown and a GOOD clown at that
and he’s got this great vintage clown style i really like, i love scary clowns like this that actually look like they could believably be a real guy and not just some kind of mutant Clown Monster
and hes got cards!! card suit motif!!! i love it i love him this is a great clown 20/10 for him too
w. raith
we have this one at my local store and listen to me. im completely obsessed with this ghost
it’s pretty much just a ghost but it’s SUCH A GOOD ghost. especially in this photo here with proper spooky lighting and everything. i would absolutely LOVE to see this in a haunt attraction, it looks SO good even in bright store lighting. i feel like this under the right lights and in the right environment could look SO fuckign cool
the shredded rag look!!! the ethereal glow!! the weird jellyfishy movement!!! the classic wooOoO oO o o ooo noises!! this may perhaps be the ideal ghost. it is without flaw. a perfect specimen. i fuckign LOVE this ghost i want it so badly but i do not have the space or the money for this thing 15/10 w. raith my beloved. my true love. maybe one day
buzzsaw
at first i was slightly disappointed to see that this guy didn’t have an actual name, but then in the description apparently his name is Bill “Buzzsaw” Jackson and his backstory is he tried to be a wrestler but it didnt go very well so he grafted weapons in place of his hands. i guess. you know, to be better at wrestling. i dont really understand it and i definitely would not have gone with “disgraced former wrestler” as the concept for this guy
but anyway we have mr jackson at my store right now, he’s Big, i like him. he doesn’t really move very fast and doesn’t jump at you, he just kinda swings his saw around. for some reason he just seems friendly to me and i dont know why. makes me think of like an uncle dressed up for halloween rather than an actual murderer guy. i dont know i cant explain it but i like him hes my friend 8/10
wacky mole
this guy’s also at my store this year, i didn’t know his name was wacky mole fsdgjsdg
he’s listed as a new arrival, but i thought i remembered seeing him before, and the description says he’s a returning fan favorite, so. i guess this is a re-release
anyway pretty standard Scary Monster Clown. his teeth look like candy corn. i like it but i think they should just Be candy corn. i like his colorscheme and his silly giant buttons. light up eyes are always a nice touch. he doesnt really stand out but hes overall a pretty good clown. 7/10
grim
good ol’ classic skeleton. he’s pretty nicely modeled though and i highly recommend watching the video for this guy because he moves REALLY well for a spirit animatronic, he’s got a way wider range of movement than most of them do and his head moves really nicely. one of the benefits of a skeleton animatronic is you don’t have to deal with lip movement, so his jaw movements match with his lines a lot more realistically. i like the animated glowing eyes too, it really gives him a lot of personality. he’s really interesting to watch. like, it’s just a skeleton, but it’s a really really good skeleton, so, 8/10
BEETLEJUICE!!
i love love love franchise character animatronics and spirit has so much great beetlejuice stuff this seems well suited to them but looking at it............. hm. hm
he just looks so. stiff and his face comes across like, deer caught in the headlights to me. it Does Not look very natural but it looks slightly better in motion (he just swivels from side to side and says a few phrases but it somehow looks less. shellshocked when he’s moving)
maybe not the greatest execution but maybe he looks better in person and im still hype to see him so 8/10 regardless
night stalker
we have this guy at my store too, im still not really sure what’s going on with his arms (did he just rip loose from them and leave them behind? did someone do this to him? i dont know) but i love a good spooky scarecrow. love his Wiggles. hes a pretty good boy. 6.5/10
here we have another pennywise, it pretty much just pops out at you, but it’s still pretty good. i like the full size one they had before better, but this one’s slightly cheaper and would be easier to integrate into a haunted house attraction since he comes with a built in set piece. it looks good but doesn’t do much. 7.5/10 i guess
GHOSTFACE!!!!
FUCK YES I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS
please. please spirit halloween set him up in my store so i can see him
anyway hes got kind of the same issue beetlejuice has where the figure just. looks kind of stiff, and he looks more like a spooky ghost decoration than like, A Person. he doesnt seem to have any lines or anything either, he just kinda pops out. but then again i guess whenever we see ghostface in person in the movies he doesn’t usually talk anyway. i dont really know how id make this better but it seems a little underwhelming somehow. still hype to see it though. 7/10 i guess
now if we could just get a jack torrance and a bela lugosi dracula id be content
i would LOVE to see Red from Us but i doubt they’d do one. my other horror beloved is norman bates but i know if they made one of him it’d just be him in a dress waving a knife around (not that i wouldn’t still be hype to see him, but, y’know) (anyway. tangent. moving on)
mr. howle
it’s. a werewolf. he howls. that’s....... about it
it’s a very nice looking werewolf, it’s a well designed figure and definitely looks very imposing, but it’s... just a werewolf. there’s not really anything particularly interesting or creative here. its a perfectly good werewolf. i dont have anything to say about this. 6.5/10
i also just am not a werewolf person so maybe someone out there who has a greater appreciation for werewolves might like him more
47 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bobohunn
exo
im-a-broken-heart
broken heart
amrsarhan
رُكن
askmezzogiornofam
Team Family
odamsel
DAMSEL