#or i will pop like a kernel in the microwave
Text
Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~1.7k
cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby)
Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated.
Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.
You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button.
Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”
It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you.
The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face.
You never told me your name.
Why do you want to know my name?
Because I want to know who I’m looking at.
This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth.
It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”
“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.
He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room.
Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom.
Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you.
“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”
He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”
You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”
“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”
You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm.
You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”
“Can I get a kiss now?”
He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”
“Aw man! Really?”
You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”
You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now.
“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”
“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling.
“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.
“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation.
You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you.
You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him.
“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”
Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”
“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more.
“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs.
“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric.
“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.
He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?”
You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth.
He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”
Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it.
Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”
You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”
After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives.
As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”
You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace.
“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”
You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."
He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”
You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.
#takuma ino#ino takuma#takuma ino x reader#takuma ino smut#ino takuma smut#ino takuma x reader#takuma ino x you#ino takuma x you#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Movie Night - Yunho x Reader
“If you can’t stay awake, I’ll give you a reason to stay awake.”
•pairing: softdom!yunho x fem!reader
•word count: 1.9k
•tags: mdni, golden retriever Yunho turns soft dom, vertically challenged reader, reader has never seen the Spider-Man movies, Yunho is a MASSIVE ass guy, teasing, butt foundling, reader falls asleep, somnophilia if you squint, cockwarming, ...did I miss anything? probably
Summary: Having a movie date night with Yunho, but you find yourself falling asleep, so Yunho does the only thing he can think of to keep you awake
A/N: Inspired by my Thighs, Tits, or Ass man Ateez edition post! Sorry to anyone who has seen the Spider-Man movies (I have not). Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───
It was movie date night with Yunho! You were so excited to have the whole evening with just the two of you. Your objective was to watch the entire Spider-Man movie series, cause you had never seen them before and he was dying to share them with you. Were superhero movies your favorite thing in the world? No, but you agreed to watch them because Yunho loves them. You could never turn down any request he had, especially when he gave you those soft eyes. It makes your heart melt every time.
Yunho was busy preparing the living room for the movie night while you took it upon yourself to make the popcorn. A huge bowl of it to make it through all the movies. You had to stand on your tippy toes to put the first bag into the microwave. Balancing yourself against the counter and stretching your calves and arms as far as they would go to get the bag in. You heard a soft chuckle from behind and felt Yunho’s body pushing against you. You tilted your head back and looked up at him, and he looked down at you. He closed the door to the microwave and pushed the buttons for you, with a smile on his face the whole time.
“Figured you needed some help.”
“I could have managed!” He softly chuckles at your retaliation.
"Right, right, sorry.” He gently rubbed up and down your sides with his frame still pushed against you. Resting his head on top of yours and staying close to you for a few minutes. He gently kissed the top of your head before tracing his hands down to your butt. Gently squeezing both cheeks and massaging. You felt your face get warm.
“Yuyu!” You drew out his name in a playful manner.
“Sorry baby! I just couldn’t help it.” It also didn’t help that you were wearing pajama shorts that just covered your cheeks, and the fabric was a little thin. You could feel him from behind you, but it wasn't hard. The timer for the popcorn bag went off, and Yunho took one hand off your butt and opened the door for you. He grabbed the bag and set it on the counter in front of you.
“Thank you~!” He softly patted your head and gave you a smile before making his way back to the living room to wait for you. You took the bag, carefully opening it to not burn yourself, and poured it into a big bowl for you two to share, taking out all of the kernels that did not get popped. You carried the bowl into the living room and smiled when you saw Yunho sitting there, all sprawled out on the couch, looking comfortable. Setting the bowl down on the table in a spot that would be easy for both of you to reach. The atmosphere was perfect to watch movies together at home. The lights were dimmed, but not enough to affect navigating your way around the furniture. The room temperature was perfect—warm enough that you would not need a blanket while also allowing the extra warmth from cuddling up together.
You walked around the table to sit down on the couch next to Yunho. In the meantime, he propped his feet up on the table at an angle to allow you to curl in underneath his arms. Before you could sit down, he gave you this cocky smirk and used his toes to kick the remote off the table, landing behind you. You placed your hands on your hips and scoffed playfully.
“Really?”
“My foot slipped.” He said nonchalantly, still keeping that smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes and smirked back at him. Turning around, you bent over at the waist to pick up the remote. While bent over, you could just feel Yunho’s eyes drilling into you. You took your time picking up the remote, just to tease him even further. As you came back up, you turned around quickly, hoping to catch Yunho lacking, but he was staring straight ahead. He must have directed his gaze away just before you turned around.
“I know you were staring.”
“Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn’t. You’ll never know~.” Still staring straight ahead. You lightly slapped his shoulder before sitting down next to him and getting comfortable. He extended his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. You handed the remote to him and let him pick the first movie you were going to watch.
“This is important, so you have to pay attention.” He said enthusiastically, excited to share his interests. The golden retriever energy was strong at this moment. You swore that if he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now.
“Hard to do that when you’re here too.” He just smiled at your sly comment, and you nuzzled up against him.
The movie started to play, and you watched intently. Your eyes were trying to follow everything that was happening on screen, which proved to be difficult at times because there was so much happening, but you managed. Yunho would occasionally speak up during a quiet part to tell you something really awesome was coming up. About halfway through the movie, you noticed your eyes were getting heavy, so you tried to blink away the tiredness, but it just kept coming back to haunt you. You wanted to stay awake and watch the movies with Yunho. You tapped Yunho on the leg two times to indicate you were going to change positions. You opted for laying your head in his lap and laying sideways, still facing the TV. He softly placed his hand on your side and gently rubbed. More minutes of the movie go by, and you are still fighting tiredness. You find your eyes closing, only to immediately open them back up wide to focus back on the movie. You have missed most of the last quarter of the movie by now, considering how many times your eyes have opened and closed. Yunho noticed this, and one time when you didn’t open your eyes right away, he slightly flicked your side.
“Ya, pay attention Y/N. You keep falling asleep.”
“I know Yunho; I’m sorry. It is interesting; I just can’t keep my eyes open.”
“Well here, sit up and come over here.” Yunho shifts in his spot a little and invites you to sit up in his lap. You picked yourself up and moved to sit on his lap, still facing the TV. He placed his hands back at your side to support you sitting on him. You looked back and looked at Yunho’s face. He was smirking at you softly and rubbing your sides while he looked at you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, and you turned your attention back to the movie. You then felt Yunho lean a bit closer to you and felt his breath near your ear.
“If you can’t stay awake, I’ll give you a reason to stay awake.” His tone was low, and it made your face heat up a little. You continued to stay focused on the movie, and soon after, the credits began to roll. Just because this movie was over did not mean you were done; no, you had all the other movies in the series to get through. He picked up the remote and started the next movie in the series.
Tiredness began to take over you again, but you swore to stay awake for Yunho. Hiding your subtle yawns and slow blinks the best you could. Eventually, you find your head bobbing to the side and your eyes closing. This time, you did not wake up as quickly as before. Yunho took notice of your sleeping figure and decided to do something about it. He took one hand and shifted his hips to pull his sweatpants and underwear down. Then, he grabbed your face harshly, which caused you to jolt awake. He turned his hand to turn your face toward him. You stared at him with a shocked expression.
“I told you if you couldn’t stay awake, I’d give you a reason to stay awake. Take your shorts and underwear off.” He sounded annoyed, so you didn’t want to piss him off any further. You obeyed him and lifted yourself up by your knees, slid off your shorts and underwear, with his help, of course, then sat back down on his lap. To your surprise, you felt his bare skin touching yours. You felt something slightly poking your behind as well.
“Lift your hips back up baby.” He whispered to you, and you lifted your hips slightly, removing his hand from your face to help you out. Yunho took that opportunity to guide his semi-hard dick to your entrance. “Alright, sit back down slowly.” Yunho placed his hands back on your side as you slowly sat yourself back on his lap. You whimpered softly as his thick dick stretched out your opening. You softly bit your lip and felt Yunho push your hips down to put all your weight on him. “You’re going to pay attention now, yes?” You nodded your head softly, your brain becoming clouded by how big Yunho is inside you.
You were having a slightly hard time focusing on the movie, but for a different reason. It was not because you were tired; it was because you could feel your boyfriend’s cock inside you getting harder, and he would twitch every so often. Your heart rate was so harsh and heavy that you could feel it in your pussy. You were almost certain Yunho could feel it too, because he would grunt or groan with pleasure every time you felt it. Yunho wiggled in his seat a little, but really to try to push himself further inside you. You softly moaned, and you felt one of Yunho’s hands leave your side and come up to cover your mouth. He leaned closer to your body, which only pushed his cock into you in a different direction, causing you to moan again and flutter your eyes.
“No talking during the movie love~.” You felt his warm breath near your ear. “You need to focus~.”
“I-I can’t-.” You tried to say it quietly, but Yunho’s hand over your mouth muffled your words.
“What? Couldn’t hear you baby. Could you say that again?” He moved his hand off your mouth a little to allow you to speak.
“I can’t-!” Before you could finish your sentence, Yunho rammed his hips up into you, causing your words to get cut off and you to let out a loud moan. He leaned his body back up against your back and whispered in your ear again.
“I’m giving you one more chance to stay quiet before I completely ruin you; do you understand?” Nodding your head quickly and breathing heavily, you directed your attention back to the movie once again, but Yunho was too far in his head now. He knew you didn’t really care for the movie and just wanted to sit on his dick for the rest of the night, so he lazily rolled his hips up and down to push himself around. Smirking to himself as he could hear just the faintest of whimpers coming from you as you stayed focused on the screen. You could not grasp onto anything that was happening, but to trick Yunho into thinking you were watching, you stayed facing forward and fixed your eyes on the screen.
This was going to be a long night.
Tags: @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982 @yeosangsbbg @10nantscompanion @v-lvs-yungi @dawn-iscozy @certifiedmoa @tinyqaa @sleepyw1tch @pancake-freckle @mysteriousrainsworld @xuchiya
#yunho x reader#jeong yunho x reader#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#yunho imagines#yunho smut#ateez smut#kpop writers#ateez#ateez fic#ateez imagine#kpop#yunho fic#jeong yunho fic#yunho x y/n#yunho#jeong yunho#ateez yunho#kpop fanfic#sugarnspice630
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
REQUEST FROM THE SLEEP HEADCANON!!!¡
💤💤💤💤
peter and reader are the closest best friends can be, even having the biggest crush on each other they keep pretending they don’t.
one day, they fall asleep together at peters bed after a movie night, and reader ends up having a wet dream with him.
peters wakes up spooning asleep reader while she’s quietly moaning and rubbing herself against him…….. BE CREATIVE I LOVE ALL YOUR CONTENT 💞💘💕💖💓💕💗💖💘
UHM YES?!?!
A:N- Sorry this took so long to get out, i wasn’t liking how dragged out it was so i had to edit a lot of this!! I hope you like it though🩷🤍🩷
Wet Dream 🔥
Peter Maximoff x fem!reader SMUT
Summary: Reader has quite the raunchy dream about Peter one night. Spoiler alert; he’s right there to see it 👀
Warnings: switch!Peter, slow burn, kissing, grinding, humping, oral sex(fem receiving), unprotected P in V, fingering, hand job, porn with plot, Peter comes like 3 times before p in v even happens.. THE WHOLE PACKAGE PEOPLE!!!
Word Count: 6914 (had to shorten it sos!!)
Taglist: @kaismanwich @evpeters87 (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!!)
After a long week at the mansion, softened by your regular visits to the record store with Peter, you were finally free for a long weekend with your best friend and you had decided to celebrate with a movie marathon in your dorm room.
A glance at your phone read 11:06 PM.
Your roommate, Jean, was bunking with Scott tonight; and you had grasped the opportunity for a several hour long marathon- complete with bowls of sugary snacks and two-litre bottles of soda.
“You ready?” you asked Peter as he stumbled into your living room with a variety of cake snacks in his grasp.
“Hol’ on-” he grumbled, brows furrowing in concentration as he dumped the plethora of cake snacks onto the coffee table in front of you.
Fwip.
Your eyes trained on your best friend, who was now in your kitchen jabbing numbers into your microwave.
You watch, amused, as Peter impatiently taps his foot against the tiles, closely observing the popcorn in the microwave rotate. With every pop of a kernel came Peter’s childish explosion mimic in response. Sighing, you lean back into your seat.
You were sitting on an old, yellow 70's style vintage leather couch. Its material was ripped in various places, allowing bits of white fluff to peak through the tears. These fissures in the leather scraped across your bare legs, leaving little red marks each time you moved.
Peter was the one to ‘buy’ the couch for you when you first moved into the mansion, arguing to your horrified self that the piece of furniture had ‘character and personality’ to it.
The couch was tatty and torn apart, but you couldn’t find yourself able to get rid of it, despite Charles’ frequent offers to replace it free of charge.
It was by no means comfortable, but you found that you were able to sit back and relax soon enough.
As you heard the finishing beep of the microwave and Peter’s elated exclamation of delight, you got up to rifle through a box of DvD’s, searching for the first movie of the night.
Peter, busy with squirting a sickly amount of caramel sauce on his popcorn, gave you a bit of time to get ahead and choose the movie before he could pipe in with something like E.T. You swore you could recite that film backwards from the sheer amount of times Peter forced you to watch it.
Kneeling in front of the cabinet you began to sift through your collection.
The shining? You cringed at the thought. Granted, you absolutely adored the film, but watching it with Peter was something you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy. You were jumpy enough without Peter’s sudden ‘BOO!’ yelled down your ear just before a scare.
Pretending to be scared and cuddling into your best friend was pretty nice though; that boy had enough body heat to put Lucifer to shame.
You grab a pile, rifling through them in quick succession. Ghostbusters? You had watched that last week. Grease? No one wants to see Peter’s Danny Zuko impression. E.T? Think again, motherfucker.
By the time Peter had proudly walked in with his creation, you had narrowed it down to 2 films. You turned to smile at him, and he flashed you a broad grin as he tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth before appearing next to you.
Fwip.
The speedster peered over your shoulder at your movie picks and cocked a silver brow.
“Can’t we jus’ watch E.T?” Crunch.
You shudder. Whether it was due to the abominable mention of that ghastly excuse for a film, or the obnoxious chewing in your ear, you weren’t sure.
You gaped up at him. “Whaddaya mean? Carry on films are classics! Better than a film we’ve seen 12 times already.”
You weren't even lying.
“I dunno, it’s jus’ the same sex-crazed people recitin’ the same half-arsed scripts for 30 films straight. Don't even get me started on the laughin’ tracks, babe.”
You shoot up and point an accusing finger at his pajama-clad chest. “This film deserves way more respect than the utta bullshit you’re tryna spew!”
Peter presses his lips into a line to avoid a snicker, smirking knowingly at you and holding up a caramel coated finger to your own chest.
“One word. Emmannuelle.” Crunch.
You whine and Peter smirks at catching you out, raising his eyebrows and walking backwards onto the couch, licking his finger and closing his eyes to relish in the sugary goodness.
“That’s not fair!” Your voice raises a few octaves as you eye his adam’s apple in motion, before continuing to search through your stack, “There’s 30 films and you picked the worst rated one!”
“Princess, don’t hate the player, hate the game.” Peter responds nonchalantly, hand reaching into the popcorn bowl that he had already ingested three-quarters of. “Once yer’ve seen one, yer’ve seen them all, really.” He shrugged.
You couldn’t really fight his reasoning, instead settling with a short huff. Finally, after a quick eeny-meeny-miny-mo, you picked one of the films and popped the disc into the DVD-player.
“Buuut it is yer turn to choose. And i guess yer did sit through the last one.”
You turn to him. “‘Sit through’? I liked it!”
“Yer eyes were glazed over not even 10 minutes in!” Peter chuckled, “It’s alrigh’, babe. It’s not to everyone’s taste.” Crunch.
“Well atleast i’m not the one geekin’ out the whole way through!” You scoffed, plopping yourself on the couch and knocking knees with your bestfriend “You fuckin’ clapped when RD-23 came on the screen!”
“R2-D2.” He corrected under his breath, his unoccupied large hand moving to rest on your lower thigh.
Peter loooved Star wars and it clearly showed. In this moment he was adorned in a plain black t-shirt and stormtrooper pajama pants, of which hung deliciously on his hips, showing off his V-line which had you watering at the mouth. God, he had such a slutty waist.
He ‘bought’ you a matching pair like ‘all best buds do!’ except yours were little shorts and a smaller black t-shirt.
“We could just watch Revenge of The Sith instead yunno?” You offer, eyeing the slither of skin where his shirt had ridden up.
Peter shook his head, his soft silver locks moving with it. He was still hung up on when you “fainted” at the sight of Harrison Ford. You wouldn’t shut up about how good he looked for his age.
For his age? Pfft! He’s got nothin’ on a mutant with his slow-agin’ genetics!
Clicking play on the remote, you settle back into the cushions with an eager smile as you subconsciously snuggle into your best friend’s right side, easing him into a lying position.
You grin up at him and nuzzle your nose in his cheek. He tickled your side in response, making you erupt in small giggles at the feeling.
Peter happily grabbed another handful of popcorn as he watched the film, looking for a piece drizzled with extra caramel.
“Oi, not gonna share?” You jokingly pout, tugging on his wrist to take it out of the bowl.
Peter froze as he realized he had just grabbed the last of the popcorn.
Whenever you had movie nights in either of your dorms, Peter always fought you for the last of the popcorn. You always acted upset, but he knew you always saved the last bite for him.
He hadn’t thought twice, assuming you left it for him, but what if you were actually angry?
But when he tore his eyes from the comedy and peeked over at you, you were grinning teasingly at him. Peter relaxed, and threw the popcorn into his mouth. When he bit down, he winced as his tooth nearly cracked on an unpopped kernel. Curse that goddamn microwave.
“Serves you right!” You snort, sticking your tongue out at him and laughing at the speedsters' screwed up expression.
“Go ahead, princess, laugh at my pain!” Peter groaned, rolling the kernel around in his mouth until he had positioned it just right so he could spit it out at you.
You shriek as it catapults onto your cheek and bounced off somewhere in the sofa. You grab the decorative pillow you had been hugging and hit him over the head with all the strength you could muster.
When you aimed another blow to his chest, Peter caught it, and easily tugged it out of your unsuspecting grasp. You huff and lay down on the armrest, snatching a quilt laying over the back of the couch and smothering yourself with it.
Peter dove down into the back of the couch beside you and pulled the quilt over his legs, his sock-clad feet sticking out of the material and over the other side of the furniture.
His mood changed quickly: energetic and playful, and in mere moments, calm and collected.
It was helpful, sure, as he could match your energy easily and keep a conversation going.
But it’s not that great having to take over as tour guide for new students when their prior escort falls asleep whilst showcasing the professor’s english lectures. Or perhaps that was a fault of Charles’ monotonous presentations?
“Ready?” You ask, spreading the comforter over the two of you.
“Ready,” Peter affirmed with squinting eyes, and you chuckled at his tone. You knew how he took movie marathons, claiming it to be an ‘olympic sport’.
Clicking play on the remote, you settled back again, this time into his chest as he wraps a strong arm around your waist.
It still made your heart all fluttery when he did so, and you thanked the lords above you weren’t facing him, revealing your cheeks dusted with crimson.
Peter tilted his head. “What’s this one?”
“One’a my favourites.” You answered quietly.
By 20 minutes in, all soda bottles had been drained (courtesy of Peter) and abandoned in the middle of the coffee table. You had intertwined your legs with him, and Peter’s arm was now slung over your hips.
A yawn slipped past your lips, which you thought was a miracle that it had taken this long for your first sign of weariness, and your best friend glanced over at you with a knowing smile.
“I thought yer said that yer weren’t tired.” He teased, tongue in cheek.
“I never said that,” you yawned again, “I said I wanted to do movie night.”
“We can do this another time–”
“I wanna do this.” You placed your hand on his arm along your body to stop him from talking. “I’ll stay awake.”
Peter gave you another knowing look and you stared right back at him. After a few moments, he sighed and gave in.
“Alrigh’, alrigh’.” He put his hand up in mock defense. After a moment more of looking at your heavy blinks, he sighed softly. “Oh, c’mere.”
As if you weren’t already impossibly close, Peter slid his left arm under your body, moving you further towards him with a grunt and practically cradling you. You rest your head against his shoulder, melting into the familiar position with ease.
Anyone who walked in on you would think you were in your honeymoon phase, but you knew better than that. What you had didn’t need a label. You didn’t even know what label you could put on yourselves. But it didn’t matter. You were best buds. And that was enough for you.
You weren't entirely sure when you had closed your eyes. The movie was like white noise in the background, unintentionally lulling you off into sleep. You heard a soft chuckle and knew Peter had finally noticed that you hadn’t kept up your end of the bargain.
“Jus’ restin’ my eyes…” you mumbled as an excuse, yet failing to open them.
“Mhm.” Peter hummed, clearly unconvinced.
You were right on the cusp of conscious and unconscious, and right as you were about to topple over, you felt his lips on the top of your head. They lingered for 5, 10, 30 seconds. Your smile didn’t fade the entire time his lips were touching your head, nor did it fade when he moved away.
‘I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me in other places.’ You thought to yourself with a sigh.
You were aware of Peter shuffling to get comfortable and pressing into your side, lingering a light boop to your nose with his finger and observing your features as you teetered off the brink of consciousness.
——————————————————————————
Soft, supple lips fluttered down the side of your neck.
You smiled and squirmed at the pleasure brought on by the teeth that slowly scraped along your collar bone and gently nipped across the front of your throat.
The hot breaths that caressed your skin with each sensual kiss and nip set your blood on fire and forced moisture to pool between your legs.
Looking up, you saw twinkling chocolate brown eyes behind sections of silvery hair staring down at you. Your eyes widened with embarrassment when you realized who was on top of you, grinding into you slowly.
Peter ran his hand through your hair and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. He ran his lips down the sides of your crimson cheeks and down the front of your neck, biting the sensitive flesh where the neck and shoulders meet. You tilted your head to the side and sighed.
The speedster ferociously claimed your lips once again. He pressed himself between your legs and teased your center with a purposeful, slow grind. You moan, wrap your arms around him and rake your fingernails up and down his back, deep and hard enough to leave proof of the sinful pleasure building inside you.
Suddenly, Peter tore his puffed lips away from you. You gazed into his eyes and watched him smile a surprisingly effective seductive smile, nothing like the attempted smolders he had sent your way before. He slid down your body and stopped by your feet. He spread your legs wide before him.
"...Peter, what...?" you began, but your words caught in your throat.
Peter arched your leg over his shoulder and began to softly place deliberate kisses up your leg. Each graze of his wet lips scorched your skin and left a trail of endless fire burning in their wake.
You laid beneath Peter's touch, flushed and writhed in torturous pleasure. Bolts of what felt like lightning shot down your spine. Heavy pants escaped your body, chest heaving, as he kissed higher and ran his tongue along the inside of your thigh until he reached the apex of your trembling limbs.
“Peter.. Ngaah- wai-!”
Without warning, Peter latched onto your swollen clit and pulled it between his lips.
You arched off the sweat slicked couch and shoved your hands deep into his ruffled, untidy hair. You cried out and yanked his hair each time you felt him wrap his powerful tongue around your clit. The pleasure he built inside you was intoxicating and frankly, dangerous. You felt as if you might burst into heavenly fire.
Peter looked up at you through heavy lidded eyes. He gently removed your leg from his shoulder and slid up your body once more. He trailed kisses up your stomach and pinched a hard nipple between his fingers. You quietly moaned, silently hoping this would never stop.
Breathing heavily and licking his lips, Peter settled himself on top of you. He kissed your bare shoulder and ran his teeth up your throat as he did prior. He pressed a soft kiss behind your ear.
"Princess..." he whispered. You could feel hot breath caressing your neck.
You squirmed beneath him, reveling at the feel of his hardness pressed against your center. You felt his dick twitch when it came in contact with the slick dripping from your core.
"Babe..." soft moaning graced your ears. He tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.
He reached between your thighs. You bucked against his hand as you felt him slide his long finger inside you.
"C'mon," Peter begged, pleading for your sweet noises.
He slid in a second finger. You arched your back and moaned when his fingers began teasing the spot that would send you over the edge. He used his thumb to push down on your clit, vibrating it delicately. You closed your eyes as you threw your head against the rough couch, Peter wrapping his hot mouth around your swollen breast.
“..-up” You furrowed your brows at his inaudible whispers, mumbled against your supple skin.
“Wake up..” heh?
"C’mon. Wake up!"
Your eyes snapped open, alarmed and chest heaving. Your body was flushed, covered in sweat. Hair was plastered to the back of your neck and your hands were fisted in your lap. Sitting up onto your elbows, you look around the room with wide and confused eyes.
"Nice dream, princess?" Peter asked, cheeks flushed, yet smirking knowingly.
Oh. OH.
—--------------
Sharing a room with you was normal. It was. Peter knew that. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a thing that platonic friends would partake in, especially comfying up on the couch together, but whats the harm in it?
So okay, it wasn’t normal by definition. But he wasn’t going to make it weird . Just because he had a small crush on you did not mean that he would let it be weird. You were colleagues, Xmen, and you even spent time together outside of work too! Peter would come to your room to watch old movies, and you would go to his so you could cook and listen to music with him. So he knew he could spend time with you alone, that wasn’t the problem.
It was the sleeping that was potentially the issue.
His little crush had been invading his subconscious almost constantly nowadays, and peter was notoriously known to talk in his sleep. He was so scared he would say something wrong whilst snorin’ away next to you. If you overheard something like that, he knew your friendship would never recover. How can you act normal around someone who said your name in their sleep?
Good thing you did it before him then.
Peter was just doing his own thing, flicking through channels on the 70’s style television on low volume so as to not wake you. Dynasty, Seinfeld, Star Trek… not tonight.
He yelped quietly as Return of The Jedi appears on the screen, changing the channel in quick succession. You had yet to watch the film with him, and Peter didn’t want to ruin it for you by watching it beforehand.
He sighed, shoving the remote down the side of the sofa, nothing seeming to catch his attention.
Nothing, before you let out a low whimper and shuffle back into the heat of his chest.
“Babe?” Peter called quietly into the dark.
You were sleeping soundly, the muted reflection of light streaming in from the TV casting thin slivers of white across your face.
Peter rarely had the opportunity to watch you as you slept, normally being out like a light long before you and not waking up until hours into the afternoon, so he took a moment to indulge himself.
Your hair was an utter mess, with it falling into your forehead and sticking out from where it was smooshed against the pillow. Your lips were slightly parted and dry, and Peter shivered as he finally attuned himself to the soft whisper of your breath hitting his shoulder.
You were beautiful, and his heart clenched with adoration for you. This wasn’t at all what he had expected when he began his job with the Xmen, but he was not complaining in the slightest. Free food, permitted to use Charles’ credit card whenever he pleases, and a smokin’ hot, funny girl cuddling up to him every night; what's not to like?
On second thought, scratch the former two benefits. Peter was quickly banned from using Charles’ card, ever since he took advantage and bought enough cake snacks to put Hostess out of stock for three weeks. He had the best four hours of his life that night.
Peter sighed contentedly, and unthinkingly reached back to brush a few strands of hair from your forehead. Your hair was so soft and smooth and he wanted to run his fingers through it, but even the gentlest touch of him moving your hair from your face had stirred you.
Peter reluctantly curled up on his side with his stomach facing your own, in an attempt to bury his desire to keep touching you. You snuffled out a breath and shifted around, and Peter held his breath, hoping you would fall back to sleep. He was pleasantly surprised when you continued shuffling until your sleep-heated body came into contact, flush with his.
You exhaled deeply and nestled your face into Peter’s neck as his arm came up to drape across your hip. He smiled into his own pillow, pleased with this development, and he relaxed back into your embrace…
…And then nearly rolled out of it again when your pelvis brushed something between his hips. Holy fuck!
Peter immediately thrust his hips forward and away from your jutting, not wanting to take advantage of you in your sleep-induced state, but you grunted in dissatisfaction and thrust your hips closer to him until the burning heat through your shorts was trapped right against Peter’s length again.
As if just feeling that you were horny and dreaming about somethin’ naughty wasn’t enough, you then began to rock your hips into his. Fuckin’ hell!
“-agh-.. princess?” Peter whispered, panic-stricken, feeling his cheeks flame in a combination of embarrassment and excitement. He groaned as his dick twitched in interest in an attempt to reach your alluring heat.
You let out a soft sigh, and the rocking of your hips slowed. Peter wasn’t sure if he was grateful or disappointed, however he ultimately decided it was for the best; he’d rather you to be conscious if you were about to make a massive jump in your platonic relationship to physical.
Despite the already raging boner that was growing and painfully restricted by the confines of his stormtrooper pajamas, Peter let his eyes slip closed, content to cradle you in his arms and go back to sleep. However the solid pressure of your heat on his thigh kept the speedster wide awake.
Then you began moving again.
You pressed your pelvis forward, rubbing your clothed core onto the muscled thigh of Peter’s mid-thigh. Then, you let out a shuddering moan that made all of his wild fantasies about the way you sounded seem entirely tame in comparison.
Your hips were no longer rocking, but they were actively grinding and stuttering against him. Peter could feel the exact shape of your pussy through the scant layers of fabric separating you from him.
Your hand moved to curl around his bicep, firmly anchoring yourself to your best friend. You were breathing raggedly and the motion of your hips was getting faster and deeper, more sensual than ever.
Peter’s own noises failed to be kept silent, as he whimpered in response and rested his forehead into your hair as you frantically humped his thigh.
Jesus fuck, how were you still asleep? And what were you dreaming about that got you this riled up?
Even if he wanted to move, Peter was effectively trapped between your weight and the back of the couch, your motions making the old thing squeak and groan in answer.
Warm, wet heat throbbed between your legs, and Peter desperately wanted to flip you onto your back, rip off your tiny shorts, and fuck you until you both passed out from exhaustion.
You were making the most devastating noises as you rutted your heat against him harder and faster, whining in desire as you worked for your release.
Peter had half a mind to reach down and give you a hand, but he instead gripped on tight to the couch cushions, eyes wide and lips parted in astonishment.
Ohh, he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be lying here, practically taking advantage of you whilst you rubbed yourself upon him. If you were awake you’d be mortified, ohh-, but you sound so good and feel so good and, really, it would be cruel to stop you. Especially when you were enjoying yourself sooo much…
Peter lay there for a few more moments, swallowing the lump in his throat and trying to ignore the burning want in his rock hard cock.
Then, you moaned something that had him spluttering in surprise .
“Nghnaa- Peterr,” you whimpered.
Peter came instantly, covering a guttural moan with his hand.
Holy. Fuck.
You were dreaming about him? Your best bud since forever?
You whined in pleasure as you felt the surge of heat from Peter’s load. Frantically, you arch your hips into his again, once, twice, three more times, before you let out a wrenching moan and stilled behind him.
Peter shivered as he felt his cock throbbing against your core, and as he felt a wet warmth seep through your pajamas and onto his clothed thigh.
Holy-
Peter panted harshly for a few moments as he stayed tightly pressed against you, large hands coming to grip on your arms. Him, really? Of all people you decided to get off to, you chose him! Frankly, he was flattered; and clearly so was his dick.
The fuckin’ thing seemed to have a mind of its own! The sticky, burning mess that had erupted in his Pj’s made him grimace uncomfortably, knowing it would soon dry into a crusty disaster. But the thing seemed to get hard and stay hard whenever he was around you. How embarrassin’!
A glance towards the clock; 12:43. Peter hummed, turning back towards you and lightly squeezing your arm. As you stirred he put on a lazy smirk, hoping the flaming blush in his cheeks had subsided enough by now.
As your eyes snapped open, disoriented, Peter propped himself up on his elbow and wiggled his eyebrows.
"Nice dream, princess?"
Ooh, he is gonna ruin you.
—-----------------------------
Trying to collect yourself after being awoken, your eyes landed on your best friend, inches away from your own face and wiggling his brows. For mere moments you were puzzled, wondering why his cheeks had more of a reddish tone than normal, then you came to a conclusion.
Oh fuck.
You nearly jumped out of your skin as you realized what you had done, placing a hand over your chest and taking a deep, panicked breath. It took a few pounding heartbeats to get the courage to look at Peter. You prayed your demeanor wouldn't give anything away.
"H-Huh?" You replied, braving a glance at him. Oh wow, real smooth.
"I asked, 'nice dream’?" Peter repeated, nonchalantly. His fingers tickled down your arm, only aiding in the nervous sweat that dripped down from your hairline.
"What makes you think that?" You stuttered.
"Well, yer were talkin’ quite a bit, babe. There was a moan a’ two thrown in there. Oh! And a 'Don't stop, Peter!' happened, too." He winked. “I must’ve given you a hella good time, princess.”
Ok sure, maybe he was exaggerating a little. But he reallyyy wanted to know exactly what happened in your dream..
Your cheeks flamed beyond recognition. You were fucked. Or rather, about to be.
"Hmm..." He looked at you with a piercing stare as a dimpled, wry grin split across his face. Before you could react, Peter laughed.
"Oi, shut up!" you giggled, slightly relieved at the humor that came out of this.
Your giggles came to an abrupt stop, however, as Peter shuffled impossible closer to you, his lengthy erection threatening to tear his pajamas. You fought with the Gods themselves not to look down, knowing the tent in the material would expose something you have thought of everytime you’d touch yourself.
A grumble erupted from Peter’s throat, his cocky facade crumbling away with every involuntary rut of your hips.
"How ‘bout yer show me what happened in yer dream?" he suggested, hand snaking around the small of your back as Peter sat up, pulling you into his lap.
You squeaked, nibbling your lip nervously. Peter pressed himself flush to you, his cock pressing against your pelvis angrily. A familiar aching tingle took up residence low in your belly, and you huffed out a shaky sigh as you pressed the ache closer to him.
“I’m gonna kiss you now.” He whispered, his breath fanning over your lips as he said it, albeit very shakily. Before you could even nod, his lips pressed to yours.
You instantly relaxed into his lap. Peter’s lips were soft and urgent, catching your bottom lip between them.
Your hands pulled him closer by the neck, and he let his hands mold against your waist, urging you closer. Your hands roamed into his hair, pushing it off his forehead and carding your fingers smoothly through it, causing him to let out a muffled moan into your mouth. You hummed.
Experimenting, you clumsily tugged at his silvery strands with fevor. With a whimper that had your walls clenching around air, Peter’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he let his hands drop to your ass.
He squeezed and pulled you down onto him, letting his lips find your neck. You let out a loud groan as he sucked a mark into your pulse point, but you pushed him away with both hands on his cheeks.
“Not above the collar,” You reminded meekly. He smirked at the idea of everyone on the team knowing what you had done. And everyone knowing that someone like you wanted to do this with someone like him. Take that, Scotty.
“But.. what if I want people to know yer mine?” Peter asked, pressing a quick kiss to your lobe as he said so, nibbling it carefully. You grinned.
“I think you’ve got this whole thing wrong then.”
“Hm?” You smiled as you felt Peter’s brows furrow against the side of your head.
“You belong to me.”
He whimpered. Your eyes lit up, and you simply smirked at him.
“Good boy.” You whispered, and pressed down hard with your hips, rolling them once.
Peter came in his pants. Again.
With a loud groan and a thrust upward, he shot into his pajamas. You chuckled through flushed cheeks as he shuddered through his orgasm, and leaned down to kiss him. As soon as he came down from the high, embarrassment overtook him.
He had a chance with his dream girl, and he literally blew it not five minutes in. Literally and figuratively. And all because you called him a Good boy?
Peter brought his hands up to cover his face, but you caught his wrists before he could reach. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, breathing heavily, not ready for the ridicule that was sure to follow.
“Awh, did I make you cum?” You rolled your hips a few times, and he hissed at the oversensitivity. “That’s so fuckin’ hot.”
“Yer- W-What?” Peter asked, turning back towards you slowly. You were beaming at him.
“The cutest boy, all worked up, jus’ for me.” You arched your back so your clothed tits were shoved closer to the poor boy’s face, yunno, just for good measure.
He blushed again, and swallowed as he grinned back at you. “But what ‘bout yer?”
“What about me?” You asked. Peter’s hands danced along your sides, cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples through your shirt.
“Wanna make yer feel good.” He whispered while you gasped.
“What’s stopping you?” You asked with a whisper. Peter surged upwards and began kissing you again, only stopping to finally rip your shirt off and get his hands on your bare breasts.
Peter’s tongue flicked against your own as you moaned against his lips, the feeling of him kneading your tits too much to bare.
“You’re so fuckin’ hot. Such a good, good boy.” You praised, stroking his hair.
He whines, playing with the hem of your shorts and his hips rut, seeking for friction. You take the hint, shimmying your pajamas down off your legs whilst helping Peter with his own.
You salivate at the sight of his lengthy cock, slapping up to hit his abs and glistening from the pearly white release running down it. Thick veins traveled upwards, buzzing from the speedster gene and throbbing with anticipation. His angry red tip leaked, twitching and begging for your warmth.
You use a hand to grip the base of your best friend's cock, his fluid running over your knuckles and providing you with a natural lube. Peter hissed with gritted teeth, watching as you slowly jerked him off with a tight embrace, circling the tip of his dick with your other hand.
“He-hey! Too much!” Peter yelped, bucking his hips up despite his protests.
You complied, stopping your actions briefly before sitting up, aligning your dripping wet entrance with his tip.
Schweeeett.
You laid a hesitant hand over his chest, and gooseflesh sizzled across his skin, sending another bolt of heat to his already overheated cock. He bit his lip to keep himself grounded and to keep from dropping his hand to his pants and rubbing himself to relive the pressure.
He felt so shaky and on edge and so, so horny.
Your lips pressed lightly against his, and while Peter’s brain seemed to short out, his body and his hormones knew exactly what to do and took over. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, anchoring you to him as he flipped over so he was laying on top of you.
You made a breathy little noise, and Peter’s brain finally started up again.
“This okay?” he panted between the gentle little kisses he was peppering across her jaw.
“Almost,” you teased.
Before he could ask what you meant, you looped your leg around his Peter’s and tugged so that he was fully nestled in the cradle of your thighs. He groaned as he felt his aching erection settled against your heat.
He could feel the heat radiating out from your center, and Peter grew impossibly harder.
“Princess” he whimpered, rutting restlessly against you. “Please… fuck, yer feel so good…”
You arched up into him, grinding yourself equally as wantonly against him.
“So do you,” you hissed, tightening your hold around his hips for more leverage.
Your hands wandered aimlessly, but Peter was too lost in the feel of you beneath him, so soft and warm and beautiful. The pressure in his abdomen deepened until it almost hurt.
“I need… I want… Please, babe.. I’m gonna…”
He was well aware he was babbling, but his brain was a little more occupied by the delicious friction his cock was getting against your hot and damp center.
Peter tucked his face into your neck as he focused on the pleasure burning through him, soaring higher and higher until he could barely take it anymore.
You arched up hard against him as your fingers raked through his hair once more, and he was lost.
Deciding he had enough, Peter aligned himself with your entrance and slammed into your wet cunt with one thrust, eliciting a moan from you that threatened the coil in his lower stomach to snap already.
He kissed you once more, this time taking control as his tongue glided across your lips passionately, far from the blubbering mess you made him previously. The taste of caramel and sugar invaded your mouth, trickling down your throat with the same side effect as an aphrodisiac.
With every kiss Peter sped up his frantic motions, rendering you brainless on his dick as you could only focus on the slapping of skin and wet noises of your soaking pussy.
You were about to open your mouth to tell him to hurry up when Peter’s fingers reach between your folds, circling your clit with a steady pace. A loud, shuddering moan echoes around the room.
You don't even realize the noise came from yourself until you feel Peter’s shoulders move against your own because due to his cocky laughs. Airhead.
He was going so fast you couldn’t tell whether he was thrusting in or out, you could only feel an overwhelming pleasure consuming your mind and body.
Just when you thought you were on the brink of feeling the epitome of heaven itself, a buzzing vibration echoed deep within your walls, sending you into a frenzy.
You writhed and clawed at Peter’s back, a wordless plea for him to continue. Faster, Faster. Please.
He mumbled incoherently, which would’ve made you chuckle if you had the ability to do so, as his hips stuttered against your own, hitting a spot that had you clenching his buzzing cock like a vice.
With the remaining piece of consciousness you had left, you reached up to yank on Peter’s hair, forcing his head back as the building pleasure inside you exploded.
Peter let out a wordless cry as the hot coil of tension in his belly snapped, and white hot pleasure took its place.
He was dimly aware that you let out the most beautiful, sexy noise he’d ever heard as you tightened your hold around him, but he was more preoccupied by his cock filling you to the brim of cum that splattered your pulsing walls.
His skin prickled pleasantly, his ears ringing and his vision blurred, and he felt completely weightless. His vision darkened and he held you tight and panted his release into your neck.
“Shiiit,” he gasped, lifting his hips away from you as his cock softened and became too sensitive to be touched.
His arm muscles shook as he hoisted himself away from you, and collapsed onto the couch beside you.
Staring up at the ceiling, Peter let an exhausted grin cross his face as a few aftershocks rolled through him. Gaze shifted, He admired you as you came down from your high, moving to the bathroom to wash your hands and get a rag to clean yourselves up.
When you came back you went to wipe you down, but Peter took the rag from you.
“Sit. I get to take care of yer now. I owe it to yer, babe.” Concentrated, he wiped your dripping cunt with the rag, then making his way to the bathroom to get rid of the dirty towel.
When he came back you were still sitting on the edge of the bed. You smiled meekly up at him and reached out a hand, which Peter eagerly took, gladly letting you pull him in for a hug, with him standing between your knees.
“I really like you, you know.” You said, head resting on Peter’s chest as he stared down at you.
“I know. I really like yer too, babe.”
In answer, you shifted slightly and tilted your head up to face Peter’s flushed cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your nose. You couldn’t help but giggle softly, and you felt his smile as he pulled away. You could feel his breath as he moved to the side of your face, and placed a kiss on what you were sure was a very rosy apple of your cheek.
As you settled down together for the remaining hours of the night, the tense air between you and Peter had diminished, morphing into one of that had you giddy and excited.
You needed to bring out the movie nights more often.
~~~~
When morning rose and you walked into the briefing room the next morning, you were wearing a scarf, despite the hot Westchester heat. You hadn’t quite caught Peter in time, and he had in fact left a mark.
Of course the whole team noticed.
“Hey, twinkle toes, did you guys have another movie night?” Scott asked from his seat at the back of the room. Luckily Peter was facing away from him, so Scott didn’t see how his immediate reaction was to blanche at the memories from the night before. He gathered himself quickly.
“Yer, of course, what’s it to you?” Peter asked shortly as he turned around, stirring a coffee with six sugars mixed into it.
Scott’s attention was on you, as you were talking to Kurt on the other side of the room.
“That scarf is only there to hide something, I think our lovely lady might’ve got some last night.” Scott said with a smug smirk. “Don’t let it break your heart, you still have a chance!” He turned to Peter and clapped him on the shoulder, who was blushing intensely at the tease. You had, in fact, ‘got some’, and he was the some you got with.
Scott soon noticed Peter was off, as normally he would be granted with some teasing retort or slap against the back of the head.
“C’mon, I’m just teasing. She probably didn’t get a chance to-” While he was talking, Peter caught your eye from across the room.
You smirked at him and waved, and he smiled and waved back.
Scott cut himself off when he saw Peter’s wave, turning to see just as your face turned back to Kurt. “Oh my god. You crazy man, you actually did it!” Scott exclaimed, shaking Peter by the shoulders. Peter pursed his lips to try and contain his smile as he nodded. “My man!” Scott exclaimed, pulling him into an awkward hug.
Peter caught your eye again over Scott’s shoulder, and the smile you gave him made him smile right back.
#peter maximoff#quicksilver#evan peters#xmen#evan peters masterlist#peter maximoff fluff#peter maximoff x y/n#peter maximoff x you#peter maximoff x reader#xmen peter maximoff#peter maximoff smut#evan peters x reader#evan peters headcannons
690 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, fuck it Friday! Thanks for the tags @forthewolves @lover-of-mine @devirnis @rewritetheending @daffi-990! Here is a silly little fic I’m adding to the soft prompts collection!
Eddie pats down his jacket, making sure his wallet hasn’t magically teleported out of it in the hour or two since he took it off.
“The mint kind, dad, remember.”
“I got it.”
There’s the sound of glass clattering in the kitchen, ringing as loud as the laughter that accompanies it. In the living room there’s sudden cheering as one of the kids gets ahead of another in whatever video game they’ve set up. Beside him, Chimney is counting on his fingers.
“It’s-Its, mint kind. Drumsticks. Rocket pops. Bobby wants neapolitan. Those caramel chocolate bar things for Hen and Karen.”
“Are you going to have room in your freezer for all this?” Eddie wonders, thinking about how packed his own freezer is. He should really clean it out. Maybe Buck’ll come over next day off and help. He loves leftovers, and organizing.
“I’m fully expecting everyone to eat themselves sick so it won’t be a problem,” Chim shrugs. “Rocky road for you, yeah?”
“Mhmm.”
“Okay.” Chimney squints. “I can’t remember what Buck said.” He squints more specifically in Eddie’s direction, clearly waiting for a response.
And Eddie could say Well, Buck cycles through ice cream favorites every few weeks because he likes to try new things. It’s been white chocolate raspberry recently, but he might be ready to switch it up, it’s been long enough, and the kind he likes is sort of expensive so he would never ask you to get it for him, but that feels like the kind of statement that would get him that sort of raised eyebrow flat mouth look he doesn’t understand so he goes with “Uh, I’ll ask.”
Buck is leaning on the counter sandwiched between Hen and Bobby, half full drink in his hand entirely forgotten and listing a little dangerously to the left as he listens to Karen talk about a new project at work. He’s smiling like he doesn’t know he’s doing it, and his eyes are wide in the way they get when he’s absorbed in a story, and Eddie doesn’t want to interrupt but his son has no such qualms.
“Buck, are you gonna come take your turn on mario kart? Nobody can beat May.”
Buck’s smile turns into his Christopher smile, wide and eyes crinkly. “I’ll be there in a minute, bud. Save rainbow road for me.”
“Buck, what ice cream did you want?”
Buck’s attention flicks over to him. “Oh, I’ll just take one of the drumsticks or something.” A beat or two passes while Eddie makes an unimpressed face and Buck laughs, ducking his head. “Fine, I’ll- uh, if they have something coffee flavored that looks good I’ll take that.”
“Alright-“
“Oh, Eddie, while you’re there will you pick up more Doritos?” Maddie asks, waving cheesy fingers over an empty bowl.
“Sure.”
“Ooh, and barbecue chips?” Hen asks, head tilted to the side imploringly.
“Yeah, okay-“
“If you get an avocado or two I think there’s everything to make guacamole,” Bobby says thoughtfully.
“Uh-“
Buck grins at him. “I’ll text you a list.”
“Thank you,” Eddie grins back, and then turns to Chris. “Alright mijo, we’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay,” Chris says. “And can you get butter popcorn?”
“They’ve got the kernel kind, and a popper and everything.”
“I like the microwave kind,” Chris says, pouting a little. “It’s a party, dad.”
Eddie snorts, but also immediately gives in. “Fine. See you in a minute with your nasty popcorn, sir.”
He leans down to kiss Chris' forehead, leans up to kiss Buck, pats his pocket one more time (wallet still there) and then heads down the hallway. Chimney is standing there frozen, so Eddie steps around him towards the door. He’s probably trying to think of his own chip preference, like he’s not as big of a Doritos fan as Maddie is. Eddie wonders if the corner store they’re going to will have the salt and vinegar chips Buck likes-
Buck-
Eddie feels a strange sensation like all his muscles locking up for a moment, before he slowly turns around.
“What did I… just… do?”
Chimney — who, there it is, he’s making the face, eyebrows raised and mouth flat, though it looks slightly more hysterical than usual — shakes his head and throws up his hands in a shrug. Helpful. Eddie stumbles the few steps back towards the kitchen. Buck is talking to Karen now, though everyone else in the room is also making the face with varying levels of giddy intensity. When Bobby sees Eddie come back in the room he has to hide his expression behind his glass of orange juice.
“-never knew that worms played such an important part in-“ Buck’s voice suddenly squeaks to a halt mid sentence, and he whips around to stare open mouthed at Eddie in the doorway. “Did- did you?”
“Uh huh,” Eddie nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Is that- uh. Is that okay?”
“Y- yeah, Eddie- yeah.”
Buck moves towards him and Eddie is pulled in his direction like a magnet. They meet in the middle of the kitchen and grab each other’s hands. Eddie is vaguely aware of Maddie’s muffled giggling somewhere to his right, but it doesn’t seem to matter very much at the moment.
“Should-" Buck looks and sounds absolutely confused, and is clinging tight to his hands. "Should we get married?”
“What?” Eddie laughs, remembering the time he’d held Julia Stanton’s hand in kindergarten and she’d told him that meant they were husband and wife. “I- we only just-“ but, suddenly, he imagines it. Being married to Buck. Waking up to him every day, and doing taxes together. It’s all he wants, it’s what he wants more than anything. “Okay,” he says, nodding his head in a frantic yes. “Yeah. Alright.”
“Oh, lord,” Bobby laughs in the background, setting his glass on the counter so he can rest his hands on his knees. Hen rubs his back, other hand covering her face as she tries not to lose it.
“Yeah?” Buck asks, looking stunned, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
“Yes, I’d- I want- you’re beautiful.” Eddie lets go of one of Buck’s hands — oh, he thinks he’d like to hold his hand forever, why did they never do this before — and puts his palm on Buck’s cheek, tracing under his eye with his thumb. “I gotta go get ice cream first though.”
“Oh my god,” says Karen, voice strangled.
“I’ll go with you,” Buck decides, but then Chimney is there with his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.
“Oh no,” he says, “We let the two of you go and we’ll lose you in the night, and then there will be no ice cream and the children will riot.”
“You’re the one who was demanding drumsticks in the first place,” Eddie points out, not even looking away from Buck’s face.
“And I will join the mob with the pitchforks. Let’s go, lover boy.” Chimney leans over to pat Buck's arm. "I promise I'll get your- jesus, are we accepting that as an actual proposal- yeah? Okay- I'll get your fiancé back swiftly and in one piece."
Eddie can do nothing but grin dumbly back at Buck as Chimney all but drags him outside. There are stars out, sort of, as many as you ever get in a city as big as Los Angeles, and Eddie feels a strange urge to write poetry about them.
"Did you know I was in love with him?"
"Had a pretty good idea," Chim says, voice strained.
"Why didn't I know that?"
Chimney hacks a cough into his elbow. "I- I really couldn't possibly answer that."
It's taking Eddie a tremendous amount of effort to put one foot in front of the other in the right order. "I feel like I'm drunk."
Chimney claps him on the shoulder. "You're going through a lot of change."
Eddie thinks about it for a moment. "No, I'm not."
“Hm?”
Chimney spins around to face Eddie as he stops walking all together. “It’s… I mean, we might get to kiss now,” Eddie says, pulse suddenly feverish as he considers that for a few seconds. He shakes his head to get back on track. “But… It’s Buck. Haven’t… I mean… It’s always been like this. My life is his already.”
Chimney is making a new face now, still a smile but it’s twisted up sideways and his eyes are a little watery. He throws his head back with a wet scoffing sound and hooks his arm through Eddie’s, tugging him along again. “Well, what the fuck, I’m stupidly happy for you. Unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” Eddie laughs, leaning into him a little. “Oh shit, I- I have to get a ring.”
Chimney cackles into his shoulder. “Might be a difficult find at the corner store, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
When they stagger through the doors of the 24 hour market a few blocks from Maddie and Chimney’s place the bored clerk looks at them like they are drunk, and Eddie tries to take a few steadying breaths. “I’ll get ice cream, you grab snacks?”
Chimney nods, and they split up. Eddie stares down at the freezer and tries to remember any list of anything he’s ever learned in his life before his phone buzzes in his pocket.
Buck 8:43 PM Mint It’s-Its, drumsticks, rocket pops, neapolitan, caramel bars, rocky road, coffee ice cream?, Doritos, barbecue chips, avocados (and tortilla chips please), microwave popcorn
Buck 8:44 PM also I didn’t say it but I love you Eddie
Buck 8:44 PM sorry I should have waited for you to get back to say it maybe but
Buck 8:45 PM I just wanted you to know it. I didn’t want there to be any more time where you didn’t know it.
Eddie’s breath catches somewhere between lungs and throat. He’s standing close enough to the freezer box that he can feel it’s hum in his knees, or maybe that’s just Buck.
“Hey, Diaz.”
Eddie turns in time to catch the small package Chimney tosses at him. Peach rings. Eddie laughs a little helplessly.
Eddie 8:47 PM i am going to be back so soon and tell you in person but me too buck
Eddie grabs all the ice cream in record time if anyone ever recorded the time for such things, and the rest of the trip feels like a race. He taps his foot as the poor clerk scans everything while shooting him vaguely unimpressed looks, and he’s at least a few feet ahead of Chimney the whole walk back. Finally, the door, finally the hallway, finally Eddie is bursting back into the kitchen. Buck is standing with Bobby’s arm around his shoulders and Chris leaning against his side and he looks lit up with happiness, smile practically glowing. Eddie feels an answering one on his own face.
“Here,” he says, holding the ice cream bag out sideways and hoping someone will take it. Karen does, with a snort. “Oh, uh, wait-“ Eddie leans over to dig for the bag of gummies, grabbing his prize and grinning at her. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” she laughs, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before starting to dig out the ice cream for distribution.
When Eddie looks up Buck has moved to stand in front of him. “Hi.”
Buck ducks his head like his smile is too heavy to hold it up anymore. “Hi, Eds.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, taking the half step necessary to press close to him all over. “Hey, I love you. I love you, too. I didn’t realize, but I absolutely do.”
Buck laughs, what a wonderful sound, and wipes his eyes with one hand. “I love you so much, Eddie.”
“Okay!” Laughter goes up around them. “Okay, I have-“ Eddie tears open the plastic, fishes out a single peach ring. “It’s the best I could do short notice.”
“What…” Buck looks down at the candy, and then starts laughing and crying harder as Eddie grabs his hand and does his best to roll the gummy circle onto his ring finger. “Wait, I- I was the one who proposed.”
“There’s a whole bag of them,” Eddie says, waving it around. “You wanna-“
“Yeah, uh huh-“ Buck takes a peach ring of his own, slides it onto Eddie’s finger, and it’s truly ridiculous but even in this Buck treats him so gently, cradling Eddie’s hand like it’s a precious thing. It makes Eddie feel a little lightheaded. The sugar of the gummy is gritty against his skin, and he has to hold his fingers weird to accommodate the bulk of it, but Buck is looking at them like they’d just exchanged diamonds, and Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever been in a more perfect moment. But then Buck leans down and Eddie moves forward and they’re kissing, really kissing, Buck’s arms sliding around his waist like they’re meant to fit there and Eddie cradling his face between his hands, and Chris shouts in delighted disgust and there’s cheering and more laughter around them, and Eddie thinks, stunned, that he might get a life of perfect moments with this man.
They are surrounded by friends and family, so Buck pulls back before either of them can really get lost in each other. “You’re sure?” He whispers. “You don’t have to- I was just- you actually want to get married?”
“Yes,” Eddie says immediately. “And also come home, please. Every day, like- move in with me. You don’t have to use the couch.”
Chimney snorts behind them. Buck nods, and they’re close enough that his nose almost pokes Eddie in the eye. “Yeah, yeah- I wanna come home.”
Eddie kisses him again — perfect, the way their lips fit together is perfect — and then looks for Chris. “Hey, mijo, you wanna have a sleepover?”
“Sure,” Chris says, “With who?”
“Uh.” Eddie cranes to look around Buck at anyone else in the room.
“We’ll take him,” Hen says, raising a hand and looking extremely amused and entirely fond.
“With Denny,” Eddie says to Chris.
“Okay,” Chris says, crunching his face up. “I don’t want to be there if you’re going home to make out.”
“We absolutely are,” Eddie says, as Buck sputters a little. He disentangles himself from Eddie and crouches in front of Chris.
“Chris… I just want to make sure this is okay with you. I- I love your dad very much, and I love you so much, and if it makes you uncomfortable-“
“Buck,” Chris says, slightly exasperated, as he wraps his arms around his shoulders in a hug. “I love you, too. And I kind of thought you were married for awhile when I was little, so you’re just catching up.”
“Oh,” Buck says, watery. “Yeah?”
“You take care of us,” Chris says, leaning back to look at him. “And you’re at our house all the time.”
Buck laughs, and Eddie’s lungs stutter along with him. “Well, okay then. I’ll keep doing both of those things. Sounds good?”
“Sounds good,” Chris says, already looking towards the living room. “Are you going to play Mario kart, now?”
“Uh,” Buck says, looking up at Eddie. “Is it okay if I take a rain check on that?”
Chris heaves a sigh. “Fine, but you better practice for next time. May still hasn’t lost.”
“And I’m not going to!” She calls from the other room. “Also, congratulations!”
“Thank you,” Buck and Eddie call together. Buck gives Chris another hug, and Eddie squeezes him tight as he makes his way to the living room.
“Bye, Superman. We’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”
“Love you too, dad.”
Buck takes his hand again. Eddie wants to kiss him again, but he thinks once he starts he might never stop. “Anybody mind if we duck out early?” He asks the room at large, fully planning on backing out the door no matter what the answer is.
Chimney pats his arm. “Please for the love of god leave my home.”
“Got it,” Eddie says, pulling a giggling Buck towards the door.
“Paperwork!” Bobby calls. “Monday! And don’t get married until I can get everyone the day off!”
“I-“ Eddie looks into Buck’s eyes, kisses him once on the cheek because they’re in the hallway and no one can see them anymore probably. “I’m not gonna make any promises about that.”
“Wait-“
“Bye!” Buck calls, cheerfully, and then they’re out on the front porch.
And, well, they’re really out of sight of the others now, so Eddie pulls him down for another kiss, intent on finding out what his molars taste like, but then the door is opening again.
“Gross,” Chimney says. “Take your ice cream with you.”
Rocky road and coffee, still cold but getting warmer, land not entirely gracefully in Eddie’s arms. The door closes again. “I told him he wouldn’t have freezer room. These are gonna melt.”
Buck takes his tub, grinning a mile wide. “We better get home quick, then.”
“For the ice cream,” Eddie nods, cheeks hurting with his smile.
“Yep.” Buck says. “The ice cream.”
They clasp their free hands together, and then, breathless and laughing, run to the car.
It’s kind of late but if anyone is still around and has stuff to post (you could also consider this as being tagged for inspiration Saturday if you want) @callaplums @shortsighted-owl @buckactuallys @shitouttabuck @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @bigfootsmom @henswilsons @homerforsure
404 notes
·
View notes
Text
—"lemme swallow your pride" [2/7]
Part 2 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist
🗓️ pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader
🗓️ au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut,
🗓️ rating: M
🗓️ wc: 3,629
🗓️ warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, jealousy, using sex to deflect, explicit sexual content: oral (m receiving), spitting, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, light degradation (cum slut), praise, shaft riding, mutual orgasm
🗓️ an: part 2 is here! And yes, based on the title alone, I am sure you are able to figure out exactly what type of sex this story focuses on.
🗓️ summary: “Open up say ahhh, Come here, baby, let me swallow your pride…” Jungkook comes over for an impromptu movie night that triggers some internal angst. You share a little, and he shares a lot... and your angst turns a little green. To change the topic when it gets a little too deep, you deepthroat him.
Taglist:
@sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)
“I need butter for my popcorn!” Jungkook is his usual whiny self as he stands in the kitchen, taking up space in the most unhelpful way as you prepare snacks for a movie night he planned in his own head and decided to carry out in your living room.
“Go finish the blanket fort, or whatever you were building in the living room,” you order with a small shove to his back, “I will put ample butter on the popcorn—this is not my first Jungkook Movie Night rodeo.”
Jungkook turns to shoot a glare at you over his shoulder, but he shuffles out of the kitchen to the living room without additional fuss. You resume your task, opening another packet of popcorn to cook in the microwave, then search the fridge for a stick of salted butter. Once it sounds like most of the kernels have metamorphosed into fluffy crunch balls of love, you swap the packet for the bowl of butter and let it melt.
Over the hum of the microwave, you can hear Jungkook whistling the main track to the movie he picked, his body appearing in your line of sight every few seconds as he shifts around the room to finish his task.
The beeps signaling the melted butter is ready cause you to jump a little, with how engrossed you are in watching him move. As a male nurse, he’s quite fit. You’re well acquainted with how fit he is, and you can’t help but admire his body when he’s wearing a white, sleeveless, ribbed tank top and black Nike shorts.
Wistfully, you look down at your own comfy outfit, sleep shorts and a shirt Jungkook left at your place eons ago, wishing you could look as hot as he does without effort. Switching focus, you turn your eyes to the microwave and top off the large bowl full of popped corn with waterfalls of butter for your savory snack. (Whether the savory snack is the popcorn or Jungkook, you’ll never tell!)
“Hurry up! I’m wasting away here!” he’s over-the-top dramatic right now, something you’ve experienced with him before. Whenever he’s lost a patient at work, he doesn’t like to talk about what happened and often can’t because of patient confidentiality, but he seeks out comfort in ways like this: creating a soft place to hideout, comfort foods and movies, and begging for all of your attention. You never ask him about it, and you’re sure it has to do with the last patient he saw before arriving late last night. You think the theatrics are his way of lightening his soul from the sadness, and you’re unable to resist.
“Oh dear, what will Ggukkie do without this small snack?” you ask as you carry the large bowl into the dim room.
“Fuck, yes!” He reaches for the bowl so you can settle onto the couch, ducking your head under the blanket he’s strategically strewn across the top of the couch with well-positioned pillows and dining room chairs.
Pressing play on your smart TV remote, you both settle in with a blanket over your laps as the opening scene reveals people trapped in traffic and then Jungkook’s melodious voice quietly sings along to ‘Another Day of Sun’.
Leaning your head onto his shoulder, you sink into the show tunes—made better by Jungkook’s voice—and let yourself become immersed in the characters’ problems, forgetting your own.
“I hate this movie, Jungkook, and you always make us watch it,” you sniffle, rubbing at your eyes. “It’s just so real, you know?”
“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons I love it. I think it’s a true take on the real world—tragic—but realistic.”
You fiddle with the frayed edges of the throw blanket on your lap as Jungkook begins clearing the empty bowl and mostly empty glasses of apple juice from the coffee table.
“Sometimes I like to escape real life, though, you know? I—never mind. What’s next on the movie agenda?” you question, but Jungkook returns to plop down next to you, practically sitting on top of your lap, and won’t let you deflect.
“No, no, talk to me. What’s on your mind? You’ve been thinking a lot lately. Almost couldn’t sleep last night because of it.”
“Hey, I was sleeping, but someone decided to tire us both out even more, if I remember correctly.”
“Apples and oranges, babe. I even made it to work for my meeting before shift started. So tell me what you were about to say, or I’ll tickle it out of you.”
He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, his face set in determined seriousness, and you know from your own experiences that once he starts tickling, he won’t stop until you’re screaming for sweet release from the painful pleasure that is his fingers dancing across the soles of your feet, your neck, or your tummy and ribs.
“Fine. I hate La La Land, because they went through all of that, supporting one another through pursuing their dreams, just for them to not end up together in the end? It’s not the escape from reality that I want in a movie.” You keep your eyes down on the blanket, top teeth worrying your bottom lip.
He says your name softly as he takes one of your fidgeting hands into his larger one. “I feel like there’s more to it. Talk to me, babe.” He stresses the second sentence, and you can tell his doe eyes are searching—no—yearning to make contact with yours.
“I know you probably aren’t even like…thinking about this kind of shit yet, but Yoongi is getting married. This weekend. And of course, my mom has been hounding me now,” you raise your voice an octave higher to mimic your mom, “saying ‘When are you next? Your younger brother is getting married, and you can’t even give me grandchildren yet.’ I hate it.
“And this movie just makes me scared that I’ll end up in something like it, in a relationship that serves as nothing but a chapter in my life, instead of being the whole book. That I’ll waste time with someone who’s not going to be there a few weeks, months, or years from now.”
Jungkook settles back against the couch with a hum, strong arms folded across his chest. “That’s tough, babe. I can imagine this feeling has gotten worse now too, what with Yoongi’s wedding looming. You know what’s crazy—you’re not the first person to say something similar.”
“Really? Who else do you know has a younger sibling getting married and is feeling the pressure?”
“Actually, you remember SoHee?” Jungkook asks timidly. You do. SoHee is another nurse who used to work with Jungkook at the hospital, but Yoongi helped her get hired at the high school you work at as the school nurse. It’s summer break, so you haven’t seen her in weeks, but of course you remember her.
“Yeah, we work together, duh.”
Jungkook tries and fails to hide the smile building on his face, small dimples appearing to frame his chiseled jawline as he begins to talk about her.
“Well, she’s picked up a few shifts here and there at the hospital, since it’s summer break and all, and we’ve been texting again. She’s actually a lot like you…But we were just talking the other night, and she was saying how she’s been worried about turning 30 next year, and not being married with kids yet.”
“Do I talk about this a lot?” you ponder.
“I mean, not like a lot, but it seems to be a theme or something for all the ladies in my life who are a little older than me.”
“Ladies in your life?” You try to keep your tone level, but your face always gives you away. You can feel the way your energy shifts as you tilt your head and raise an eyebrow (or attempt to raise just one eyebrow) to look back at him.
“Yeah, you, SoHee, some of the other nurses and doctors I talk to at work.” Jungkook spreads his legs wider, and his arms drape along the back of the couch as he settles deeper into the cushions. “SoHee just said she wasn’t interested in, like, playing games, or whatever. She’s said she’s done sleeping around and going out clubbing because she wants to develop something real. It’s something all of you say, all of the older women.”
You internally cringe at the way he refers to you as an ‘older woman’, and your chest tightens at being lumped together with others. You’re his best friend, hell, you take better care of his dick than you take care of your car—what with you topping off his fluids more than your Hyundai and all. To shake the uncomfortable feeling away and climb back out of the hole of deep feelings, you do what you do best. Turn it into something humorous, sexual, or both. In this instance, you go for both.
“Why are we talking about deep feelings instead of deep throating?”
Jungkook’s boisterous laugh fills your living room, and fills the holes in your heart.
“I don’t know, but I think I’d like to talk more about deep throating.”
Sliding off the couch and positioning yourself between Jungkook’s spread knees, you place your palms on each of his thighs. He reflexively flexes his quads at the touch, and you see him visibly gulp in anticipation.
“Me too.” Though, you have no plans of talking—just doing; showing. You do love to perform for him.
Your hands slowly traverse to the waistband of his black shorts, the soft fabric allowing your fingers to slide up with ease, and the stretchy waistband allowing them to slide down around his muscular thighs without resistance. You release them to pool around his slippered feet, eyes only focusing on the way his proud appendage takes on a darkening, blush-colored hue as his hands grip the edge of his tight tank and pull it up to reveal his six-pack. You take note that he’s shaved his happy trail, leaving an unblemished view that directs you to his pride and joy.
Licking your lips, you shuffle closer and rise up higher on your knees so that you can greet his cock with your moistened mouth—tiny pecks that tease Jungkook so he’ll make your favorite sounds. Your eyes shift to his—brown and dilated in desire.
Gathering your spit, your hand holds his shaft still so that you can slowly drip the clear secretion to meet his tip, watching him watch you slather it from top to bottom as you begin to ready him for what’s to come. (Hint: it’s him). Dropping lower, you take the blushing head into your mouth, tongue swirling around as you get a good taste of the pearlescent pre-cum that accumulated from your strokes. Jungkook squirms minimally each time your tongue brushes the bottom of his cock, sensitive to your ministrations.
“Fucking tease, you know that?” he asks you, and you just smile—or smile as best you can with his cock in your mouth.
Taking him deeper into your mouth, you break eye contact so that you can add some vigor to your movements, lips wrapping around your teeth to protect his shaft from any accidental nips. He reaches the back of your throat, leading you to gag, which was your goal. Your mouth fills with more spit, the fluid allowing faster movement as you ease back to the first half of his cock, your hand working from the base to meet your lips.
It’s sloppy, and the sounds of your hydrous cock-sucking mix with curses and strangled iterations of your name. Jungkook’s hands move from clenching the fabric of the abandoned blanket and couch to your face—he loves to hold your cheeks and feel the way they hollow out as you blow him, his eyes never moving from the view.
Your eyelashes, wet from choking on him, make you look so innocent when you peek up at him through them—but the way your pouty lips envelop him, bobble-heading in his lap, remind him that you are anything but. Your spit is everywhere. It dribbles down from the base of his shaft, runs in small rivers between your fingers, caresses his heavy sack that’s waiting to spill its load and cover your tongue. It even begins to slip towards his puckered hole, and thoughts spin in his head of the things he would ask you to do if—but you’re not.
“How?” he probes with a rasp, knowing you can’t answer. “How can you look like an angel, but—shit, babe—” He throws his head back into the couch unwillingly. “You fuck me and suck me like the devil.”
Your following chuckle makes his hips thrust up, and you gag around him as the tip enters your throat. A hand slips into your hair, messy and falling around your face, but feeling your throat embrace his head in a warm and wet squeeze has him gripping your hair. It’s just the right amount of pain, he’s not pulling your hair up, just tugging some strands into his fist held close to your scalp.
Your clit throbs between your thighs, aching and untouched, but this? Making a strong, virile man turn into figurative putty in your literal hands? Nothing makes you feel more confident, more beautiful, and empowered. And if there is, you haven’t experienced it yet.
“Fuck, baby—I—shit!” Jungkook doesn’t know whether you want him to pull out or not, his hands attempting to both pull you off and bring your nose closer to his pelvis, but you don’t stop. Sucking and allowing the spit to run as you speed up, both hands adding friction and pressure—one to the shaft and one to his balls—lewd sounds a cacophony as he feels that spot inside him tighten before he’s weeping rivers of cum into your waiting mouth.
You press your palms flat to the tops of his thighs, holding your balance as his body writhes on the couch. Your mouth keeps a tight grip on his cock as you glide up and down to milk him, breathing controlled as you inhale and exhale through your nose.
“Baby, you’re so fucking good at that…my own little cumslut, hungry for my cock,” Jungkook speaks once he’s able to form words, letting you know you could sit back on your heels. His praise touches you more than either of you know and are willing to share, your inner goddess preening under his heated gaze and soft caresses. “Show me.”
Opening your mouth, you allow him to see the aqueous ejaculate coating your tongue. His tattooed hand grips your chin as he peers inside. He radiates a post-orgasm haze, his smile loose and wide.
“Swallow.” You instantly snap your mouth shut and his hand moves to wrap his fingers around your throat so he can feel you physically swallow him down. You smile in response, and like the hazard to your health that he is, he connects his lips to yours, tongue forging ahead to taste the remnants of himself in your mouth. He groans, his hands tugging at your waist until you’re straddling him.
“Use me however you need.”
You know what he’s saying, knows he can’t do much with his cock after the Gawk Gawk 7000 you delivered, but he’s trusting you. His body is at your disposal for however you need to get off. It won’t take long; the throbbing between your legs is echoed with the rushing of blood in your veins, begging for you to find your release through pleasure.
Hands push Jungkook’s taught pectorals until he’s laying on the couch. Pulling your sleep shorts to the side, you steer your legs to straddle his waist so that you can slide your dripping pussy along his softening shaft. You take up a stirring motion, allowing a delicious friction to your clit on his spit-covered rod, you reach for Jungkook’s hands where they’re resting above him and bring them to your chest.
Whining, you realize it’s not enough, not what you actually want, but Jungkook knows you and knows your body even better. Your body talks to him about its wants and needs the way he wishes you would open up to him; the same way his cock is able to split you open like a blooming flower and penetrate to the deepest parts. He lowers his hands to the hem of his shirt (it looks better on you) and sneaks underneath. He holds your breasts, fingers tightening and releasing in time to your hips and you cry out, your own hands laying on top of his as if clutching him to your chest as you rock on his sensitive length with growing urgency.
“C’mon baby, swallow your pride and let go. It’s okay if it’s fast, it’s hot,” Jungkook shares, “means I was able to take care of my baby the same way you took care of me.”
“Say it again?”
“What part?” he goads, once again loving that when he has you like this, so desperately wet and delirious off of his cum, you’re honest and open.
“Your baby,” your tone reflects a neediness that has his cock hardening quickly in combination with your frantic ruts. His hands tighten on your boobs again briefly before he glides them to your back and pulls you down so your chest to chest. He knows exactly how to speak to you, how to lower his voice and soothe your ego into cumming for him, on him, so he can soothe his ego.
“Cum for me, wanna see my baby feel good.” His right hand curls a loose strand of hair around your left ear, an endearing touch to make you feel safe and loved and willing to allow your pussy to make a mess of him. “Fuck—baby, my baby, your pussy feels so good, gonna make me cum again? You want me to cum with you, princess?”
Hearing him call you princess—well, it does something to you. You let out a high, throaty whine, a keening call that sings to his soul. And when you call for him, say his name in that whine, syllables broken up in the same pattern of your hips oscillating—fuck. Jungkook hears the extra release of your orgasm, feels the way your unfilled hole clenches at the base of his cock, and he watches as your body freezes.
You want him close, but he pushes your shoulder firmly, but gently, so he can see the way his rosy cock is cupped against his lower abdomen thanks to your pretty, puffy pussy.
“Look, princess, look what you do to me.”
You pry your eyes open with sheer will as the aftershocks continue to cause you to tremble from your throne atop him. Looking down where Jungkook holds your shirt taut so you can see his fat, peeking head between your thighs, you watch as cum dribbles out slowly from the slit, his perfect and glorious steel cock exuding the proof that he thinks you’re too blind to realize.
In actuality, you’re so fucked out by him, that you don’t think it means anything more than what he says. You do this to him. You make him feel so euphoric that he’s unable to refrain from covering himself in lust and desire for you. There’s a part of you that wishes others could see this evidence of your fucking, proof that you make each other feel so good that your cum collectively coats his abs—a messy visual art piece worth framing…
Reaching for the coffee table, you grab Jungkook’s phone as it’s nearest to you, and swiping open the camera, you take several naughty photos of your position: close-ups of your pussy wrapped around his cock, a wider angle that captures the view of his abs and cum running into the dips between them—proof that you did that to him.
Jungkook lies under you, watching in awe as you document one of the best sessions he thinks you’ve had together, or ever, and surprise paints his features when you switch to video, recording without a second thought.
“Look what your baby did to you,” you giggle, fingers drawing dirty lines, “made you make a fucking mess.” You aim the camera so that it can take in the pornographic view and resulting mess. “Anything you’d like to say to defend yourself?” Jungkook just laughs as you aim the camera at his face—he knows this is something just for his eyes only, and yours if you want to watch it with him again, maybe while he fucks you from behind.
“Nothing to defend, princess. I told you to use me, and said if my baby cums like a good girl, I’ll cum again with you. Just following through with it.” Jungkook grabs the phone, turning the camera on you, and you try to shy away, but he doesn’t let you get far. Gripping the front of the shirt, he tugs you to his chest, both of you making sounds at the way your pussy rubs him, and then you’re both in the camera view, his hand in your hair as you rest right below his chin.
“Best throat and pussy on the planet right here,” Jungkook tells his future self, memorializing today forever.
“Yeah, gave him that gawk gawk—he has the prettiest cock…it deserved to cum twice.”
Jungkook can’t handle hearing you talk like that without wanting to bury himself deep inside you. Locking his phone, he tosses it onto the carpeted floor and pulls you closer, his lips fervently kissing you as he waits out the refractory period until he’s able to do just that.
stay tuned for “it’s the way that you can ride” coming 8-?-2023!
↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.
#bangtansorciere#bangtanbathhouse#clubzerooclock#bangtanwhq#btscreaturescoven#btsafterdarknet#bangtantheatrenet#thebtswritersclub#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook au#jungkook writings#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfiction#bts imagines#bts#bts reactions#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts scenarios#bts x reader#bts smut#bts au#bts angst#bts fluff#hisunshiine writings
379 notes
·
View notes
Text
jamie tartt | if somebody hurts you, i wanna fight
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
words: 2.2k
warnings: 18+
domestic abuse, violence, trauma, the aftermath of an abusive relationship in which jamie finds out your boyfriend, his teammate, is abusing you. takes place when he's playing for manchester city.
prompt: Hey there! I would love to send a prompt request in for Jamie tartt:) number 29, I don’t know why but to me it fits him well! Nothing specific, thank you! 🥰
Jamie sees the bruises and knows. He’s never had a good feeling about your relationship with Tom, his teammate, but you’ve ignored his warnings despite being friends since childhood.
And now you’re hiding bruises. Anger flares in him, and it’s an effort not to reach out as you get up from the couch to grab popcorn, the staple of any movie night. He thought it strange you turned up on his doorstep after months of barely seeing you, but now he thinks he understands. Your T-shirt rode up for only a moment at your hip before you tugged it down, but he saw the purple welt. His jaw ticks as he listens to you shuffle about, but he can only wait so long. Fingers flexing at his side, he heads in to hear popcorn popping in the microwave.
“Do you want a beer?” you ask, oblivious. When he doesn’t reply, your brows furrow and you look up from the kitchen counter. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Has he been hurting you?” he questions steadily.
“What?” You’re a terrible actor, but you try nonetheless, eyes widening in feigned confusion.
Jamie takes a deep breath. “Don’t lie to me. I saw the bruises just now. There’s only reason why you wouldn’t tell me about them.”
It makes him sick as he realises the truth of those words; you’d hide it because you know Jamie would react badly, perhaps even sacrificing his spot on the team. Tom’s more popular with the fans, Man City’s star player. If Jamie confronted him… He knew it would be game over. That’s why you’d kept your distance.
And yet he still wanted to. He was already imagining it, shoving Tom against the lockers and beating him the way he’d beaten you. He’d teach him a lesson; nobody would ever hurt you again.
He wouldn’t let them.
You pale, tugging at the hem of your shirt again self-consciously. “I fell.”
Jamie shakes his head, barely even listening now. Lost to his fury. “I’ll teach that wanker a lesson. I’ll fucking kill ‘im. I knew he was trouble. I knew he was no fucking good for you—”
“Jamie, please.” You grab his arm, eyes flooding with tears as you look at him. It’s enough for him to halt, still glaring. “Don’t. Please. I’m handling it.”
“Are you still with ‘im?”
You hesitate at that, a look of shame darkening your features.
“Then you’re not fucking handling it,” he snaps.
“He won’t let me leave,” you whisper, chin wobbling. “I tried. That’s why he… I tried.”
His shoulders heaved with a sigh, but he softened, sympathy swirling in his eyes. “I can help you, love. You should have told me. You used to tell me everythin’.”
Tears slip down your cheeks as he cups your jaw, catching them.
“Hey,” he breathes gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe ‘ere. You know that, don’t you?”
A nod. He pulls you into his chest, and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering as it all comes spilling out. “I’m sorry. I thought he loved me. The first time… He was drunk. I thought he was just drunk. But then he kept… I’m just sorry.”
“No need to apologise, babe.” He plants a kiss in your hair. The microwave dings, the last remaining kernels popping behind the glass, but neither of you move to get it. “It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault.” He closes his eyes, pain searing through him. He can’t bare to think of you hurting like this. He should have realised sooner. Should have known. “How long’s it been going on?”
“A couple of months.”
Too long, then. It’s always going to be too long. “Stay ‘ere with me, yeah?” he asks. “He won’t get to you ‘ere.”
“I don’t want you involved in this—”
“You’re my best fucking friend, and I’m not letting him do this to you again. Never.” He pulls away and forces you to meet his gaze. “He won’t fuckin’ touch you again.”
“I’m begging you. Don’t confront him. Don’t do anything to risk your career. Please. Please promise me.”
His nostrils flare, but he nods. It isn’t quite a promise, though — not one he’s willing to keep, at least.
***
He does his best. He survives practices with the fucker all week while you hide away in his house, rarely getting out of your pyjamas. He has to force you to eat most nights, though you always have a home-cooked meal on the table. He can’t enjoy them, too busy wondering if it’s a forced habit — if maybe you were punished if you didn’t have dinner waiting for Tom.
And then Tom struts into the locker room before a Sunday match in Man City’s home stadium, his gaze already narrowed on Jamie. Wordlessly, he nudges past the other players, and the hair on the back of Jamie’s back prickles as he stops lacing his boot to look up at him.
“I bet you think you’re a right hero, eh?” Tom sneers. “Hiding her away from me. What’d she tell you?”
Jamie’s knuckles whiten, entire body tensing, but then he thinks of his promise to you. “You dunno what you’re talking about, mate,” he replies stiffly, drawing his lace tight.
Tom scoffs. “I know you’re the first person she’d run to.”
This time, Jamie bites, standing up to match his eye level and squaring his shoulders. “And you hate that, don’t you? It must make your fuckin' blood boil. Does it make you feel good, being an abusive twat, or are you that far gone that you don’t care either way?”
Tom slams Jamie’s locker shut, the picture of aggression. Jamie thinks of you facing him, alone in his big old house where no one is there to step in. He thinks of the way you must have flinched at that scorn, and resolves not to on your behalf. He might be breaking one promise, but he’ll keep another: Tom’ll never touch you again.
“You gonna beat me up as well?” he asks, and that anger he’d been suppressing so well is bubbling now; he’s a volcano ready to erupt.
“Oi!” The team manager steps in, drawing everyone’s attention. “We’ve got a job to do today. Whatever the issue is, you save it ‘til later. Am I clear?”
Jamie doesn’t back down, his eyes flaring with dangerous defiance. Tom is the first to nod, but not before offering a smarmy smirk — as though he’s won. “Yes, boss.”
“Jamie?”
“Yeah,” Jamie mutters finally — for you, he thinks. Anything for you.
*
It doesn’t stop there, though. Tom carries his bitterness onto the pitch, ignoring Jamie through the game so that he’s never passed the ball, never able to score. He’s tackled him more than a few times as though they’re on different teams, and Jamie knows then that he can’t play this game anymore. He won’t. He’ll quit on Monday, find another club to sign him. Maybe even grovel to Ted and go back to Richmond. Anything to get you both out of this.
He tries to be the bigger man, but he’s never been any good at it, so when Tom trips him in another fight for the ball, Jamie can’t do it anymore. His vision blurs into angry red lines as he stands, shins throbbing from the fall, and fists Tom’s sweaty shirt in his hands.
“Someone needs to put you in your fucking place,” he spits, and when Tom only grins again, he launches. His fist meets Tom’s hard jaw, and pain flashes through Jamie’s knuckles. Tom sniffs, spits, and the crowd in the stadium falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop. And then Tom lunges back, and Jamie feels the blow through every bone in his body.
It doesn’t stop him from punching him again. “See how you fuckin’ like it!” he’s screaming, again and again and again, all scrambling limbs and fierce hits between them. His knuckles and mouth turn bloody, and so do Tom's. Finally, they’re yanked away from one another.
Even as Jamie is pulled off the pitch, he’s bellowing across the field: “You’re nothing, you! A piece of fucking shit!”
“And who are you?” Tom calls. “Her knight in shining armour? You’re useless. You’re nobody!”
Jamie’s heard that more than a few times now. He no longer sees Tom’s face, but his own father’s. That’s why he couldn’t let this go, he realises. He could never stand up to his own bully, so he’s stood up to yours instead.
Spitting blood from his mouth, he leaves the pitch — knowing it might be for the last time. Knowing that if it is, it was worth it.
*
You saw it all on TV, and you’ve been waiting for the door to swing open ever since. Finally, it does — and you don’t even know what to say. Jamie’s mouth is swollen and his nose bloody, and you want to shout at him for being so stupid, for doing the one thing you asked him not to — in front of everyone. But in the end, you can only sigh, wiping the tears from your eyes.
“I know I fucked it up,” he rasps. “Maybe I should be sorry, but'm not. He fuckin’ deserved it.”
“And what about your job?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. You still wear your pyjamas, too afraid to go home and get fresh clothes. Too depressed to even try.
Jamie shrugs, throwing down his bag. “Don’t know yet. Doesn’t matter. I’m not playing on the same team as a dickhead like that.”
“But where will you play now?” Panic rises in you as you think about this means. You’ve never known Jamie without football, and to imagine him losing it now, because of you… It’s almost worse than what Tom did to you, maybe because you care more about your best friend than you ever could yourself. It’s wrong, but it’s true.
“I dunno. It doesn’t matter.” He sniffs, and you sigh, softening as you move towards him to examine his injuries.
Without a word, you head into the kitchen to wrap some ice in a towel. He follows slowly, sluggishly, as though he has no fight left in him. He used it all on the pitch. A stadium of fucking people. God, you’re angry. With Tom, with Jamie, with everyone. You shove the ice pack into his chest, blood pumping in your ears.
“It fucking matters,” you snap. “This is your life. I asked you not to ruin it because of me—”
“My life was ruined the minute you started dating that fucking prick!” he shouts.
You frown, confused. “What?” Your voice trembles.
Jamie purses his lip, shaking his head as he presses the ice to his bruised jaw. “Forget it. I did what I needed to. It wasn’t just for you, either. You’re not the only one who’s been bullied before. I’m sick of pushing it aside. Sick of 'em getting away with it. I can’t fight back for myself, but I can at least do it for you.”
You understand then. His dad. Tears sting your eyes. “Jamie…” You make to reach out, but he draws back as though your touch is venom. It hurts. You stumble back, feeling heavy and wrong. This is your fault. All of it.
“I shouldn’t have come to you. I shouldn’t have put you in this position," you say.
“Stop it. I told you it isn’t your fault.”
“It is.” You close your eyes, cheeks growing damp.
“Babe…” He’s there in a heartbeat, cupping your face with bloody hands. “Don’t. Please, don’t. Just look at me a minute.”
You do.
“I don’t give a shit about what this means for me. I don’t care if I’m never signed again. I only care that you’re safe. The dick was taunting me, and everyone will see that, but either way… you’re what matters. Nothin’ else.”
You can’t speak, your throat thick with emotion.
“I know you didn’t tell me because you knew this would happen, but I need you to understand that it’s happened because I love you. Because I always have and I always will. And if somebody hurts you, I’m not letting them get away with it.
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I know that. I don’t wanna be like ‘im, I don’t want you to see me like that. But I wasn’t going to let him keep doing it. Not to me or to you.”
You hate it. Of course you do. But you love him, and you know that if the roles were reversed, you’d choose him over anything. You know that this wasn’t an act of violence, but of love and pent-up anger.
“You’re not like him,” you say gently. “You could never be like him.”
He kisses your forehead, and your eyes flutter shut again as you lean into him.
“You’re worth it,” he whispers. “You’re worth all of it. I just wish I could’ve been there for you sooner.”
You tuck yourself into his chest as he squeezes you tightly, smelling of grass and sweat and dirt. You haven’t felt safe in a long time. You haven’t felt loved in a long time, either. “You’re here now,” you say.
He nods, chin brushing the crown of your head. “‘S gonna be okay now. I’ve got you.”
You finally believe him.
#imagines#multifandom imagines#multifandom#x reader#x reader imagines#jamie tartt one shot#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt#jamie tartt fic#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt fluff#jamie tartt x y/n#jaime tartt#fanfiction#ted lasso x reader#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfiction#ted lasso series#jamie tartt angst#ted lasso one shot#ted lasso fic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Cute Aggression With Your Bleach Man Headcanons
author's note: this all started bc i wanted to bite kensei. also all of the banners you see in this post were created by the wonderful @actuallysaiyan!!! please give bacon lots of love, as she deserves every bit of it 🩷🩷🩷
pairings: kensei muguruma x gn!reader, grimmjow jeagerjaquez x gn!reader, renji abarai x gn!reader, byakuya kuchiki x gn!reader, kūgo ginjō x gn!reader
warnings: biting, grimmjow, mentions of alcohol, overall it's just fluff
Kensei is no stranger to receiving bites from partners. His big, muscled, veiny arms are just about the perfect target for anybody’s cute aggression!
So, surprisingly, it doesn't really bother him
This doesn't mean he understands, however
“Why are you like this?” He murmurs as you bite his bicep, having come up out of nowhere as he innocently reads in his armchair
It's not like you can be blamed!! He's the one wearing a compression tank top that makes him look a thousand times more delicious than he already is!!!
“‘ike ‘at?” Your teeth are still firmly latched into his flesh, but he does find the fact you're trying to still make conversation with him cute, and he kisses your temple before resuming his reading
Kensei Muguruma is soft and it's all your fault
And what's all his fault is being sleeveless all the time, thus provoking you!
He won't admit it, but he actually really loves when you bite him
You think he's cute :3
Admittedly, you don't often get cute aggression when you're with Grimmjow
Biting is often reserved for… Different feelings
But sometimes he's just the most adorable thing in this entire world, particularly when he's minding his own business, the demon on his shoulder having a nap and your teeth just itch for him
He's watching a movie, twirling a toothpick between his lips and is fully invested in the plot
You, however, are fully tuned into just how good his forearms look
You pounce right on him, your sharp teeth catching right onto one of those leanly muscled forearms
Your bite is rather strong, though it isn't as if Grimm doesn't deserve it
“Oi!” Grimm leaves the toothpick between his teeth as he uses his strong fingers to push your lower jaw together and release the bite. “Take me to dinner first!”
You're forced off of him quickly, and your boyfriend quickly tackles you to the floor
His bites can't exactly be chalked up to ‘cute’ aggression, though they’re certainly belligerent
Not that you mind these different feelings from him
As much as Renji tries to be cool and collected, he fails at it
The man is a bit of a klutz, and when he gets embarrassed he turns an adorable shade of pink!
So he sees more than his fair share of cute aggression from you
And goodness he doesn't get it. Which only spurs you on further!
It's movie night, and Renji’s decided to get fancy and make the popcorn on the stovetop rather than do the usual microwave popcorn
He's humming to himself, the kernels popping as if to his beat and he can't help but shimmy his hips a bit
He has got to spend less time on TikTok; he's had the same song in his head for days!
“Twin? Where have you been?” He sings, swinging his hips like they don't lie
There's a giggle from the doorway and Renji swings around, eyes wide and he knocks the lid from the pot in his haste
Popcorn begins to fly everywhere, and Renji’s socked foot slips on a bit of oil he spilled and subsequently forgot about, slamming right onto the floor
Your chest fills with love and you curl your fists before jumping on him, squeezing his face into your chest as hard as you can while layering kiss after kiss on him
The sore butt isn't very nice, but he decides he can make peace with it!
Cute isn't the first thing that comes to mind when you see your darling husband. Handsome, certainly. Refined, even. A big dork, absolutely!
Though it's during an evening tea time on the terrace when you first look at him and feel such… positive emotions that it makes your teeth clench and hands ache to pinch and squish his cheeks
He's beside you on the swing, having a sip from his teacup as the warm sun sets. His hair is silky and long, his lashes practically kissing his pale skin as he enjoys the warm tea
Your hands are already clasped together, fingers laced tightly. Byakuya can't help but run his thumb over your wedding band; it's a Kuchiki family heirloom and it's never looked better than right on your finger
And you'll swear on your life that when you brought his hand to your lips, it was just for a kiss to his knuckles
But your jaw had other plans, and that's when you oh so gently bite his hand. It isn't for long, and you do place an apologetic kiss after!
And then you realize yourself right after, and look up to find steel blue eyes staring at you with quizzical undertones
“What on earth are you doing?”
Laughing nervously, heat flushes the back of your neck. “I… I don't know. You looked so… so cute and sweet that I couldn't help myself.”
“Hm. Consider yourself, should this urge rise again. Such behavior is unbecoming of a Kuchiki, as you are aware.”
An attempt to hide how flustered and perhaps even pleased he is behind his next draw of tea is fruitless versus the pastel pink on the bridge of his nose
Despite living in a constant state of bastard, you find that Kūgo is often quite adorable!
He pouts rather habitually, though he doesn't always mean to
Whether he's rolling out pasta dough or working on his latest charcoal drawing, his lips press together in his bout of concentration, and sometimes the little pink tip of his tongue peeks out too
He loves to be on the receiving end of your overwhelming positive feelings so much that you almost think he does these things intentionally
But he's a bad actor, so it can't ever be anything but genuine
You hear some rustling downstairs and check the time: Kūgo must be home from his night out with his friends
You round the corner to see him sitting halfway up the stairs, his long body stretching out as he reaches towards you with a dopey smile on his face; he's plastered
And you want to be angry! He promised not to get drunk; you're set to have brunch with your parents tomorrow, and he's quite the bitch when he's hungover!
But then he makes the grabby hands and that pout comes to his lips, and his big brown eyes are so sad now too
“You're so cute, I wanna die.” You hop down to his level and crush him in a hug, swaying side to side as you coo, blowing a raspberry on his cheek too
Kūgo giggles at that, his cheeks turning red as he begs you to stop!
Which, of course, only continues the cycle! It takes ten minutes before you can finally get up to bed!
He's not quite as cute when he's hungover, but there's still enough of something precious in the man's pathetic, self-inflicted misery to earn him a kiss on the cheek
#kensei muguruma x you#kensei muguruma x reader#grimmjow jaegerjaquez x you#grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader#renji abarai x reader#renji abarai x you#byakuya kuchiki x you#byakuya kuchiki x reader#kugo ginjo x reader#kugo ginjo x you#bleach imagine#bleach x reader#x reader#reader insert
130 notes
·
View notes
Note
https://www.tumblr.com/grvyrd-drms/728382423313924096/hey-followers-do-i-write-some-lame-toby
YESS PLS. I NEED LOSER TOBY CONTENT ☹️
toby rogers being a loser (himself)
------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: my boy !!!
CW: nothing much tbh??? murder??? a little angst.
------------------------------------------------------------
-gets nervous around women. like yeah on the outside he's all numb and secretive and scary or whatever but lock him in a small room with like nina or kate or something and he's just,,,
-toby wants to be in a relationship sooooo bad but refuses to let himself admit it. tries to focus on his work or go out on a walk when he starts getting all sad and mopey.
-i feel like he's really tall and lanky and has huge feet. constantly walking into stuff and stepping on things. doesn't help when his motor tics swing his arms around either.
-stepped on one of sally's crayons and broke it once. bad things ensued.
-he just looks so DORKY doing ANYTHING. like yeah he's a fucked up deranged serial killer. but also look at him brush his teeth or tie his shoes. dork.
-speaking of tying shoes, toby constantly has to redo his laces. he can't tie shoes correctly. he resorts to just tucking them inside of the shoe most of the time at this point.
-listens to midwest emo..,,,,,, 😧😧😧
-midwest emo or any 'loser music' in general tbh. car seat headrest, modern baseball, the front bottoms, lincoln, american football, pet symmetry, microwave, michael cera palin, merchant ships, tigers jaw, list goes on.
-trips going up staircases too fast
-can't make popcorn cause the kernels popping gives him anxiety. not in a sad traumatic way more like a time traveling cave man way.
-is friendlier to animals than he is to humans.
-will immediately go from heavy breathing, covered in blood hacking someone up to going "psst psst" to the nearest raccoon.
-thinks about lyra a lot. sees her in the sun, the wildflowers. hears her in running streams and girls laughing. toby misses his sister.
-has a lopsided smile!!!!
-has a chipped front tooth from getting the shit beat out of him a while ago. it's not really noticeable but he's self conscious about it.
-when toby yells his voice cracks. i think about this every time i see @crushedsweets drawing of toby and tim arguing and toby yells "get the fuck off me". that. one. piece. specifically.
-gets crushes way too easily. 100% has thought that he's had a shot with every girl his age in the manor. also gets easily obsessed with girls he sees/meets on his missions.
-nothing ever works out though (unless you count the shit show that was his relationship w/ natalie) (im a natalie lover i just feel like it went bad lol)
-and the funniest thing is toby thinks that its top secret that he has no game. everyone knows he's a loser. they all just feel too bad to say it (except jeff).
------------------------------------------------------------
hrbtngmrjhwahdnrn i am So Normal About Him (lie)
#creepypasta#ticci toby#creepypasta fandom#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta x reader#toby rogers#ticci toby hcs#ticci toby headcanons#specifically toby#toby rogers hcs#toby rogers headcanons#midwest emo#creepypasta proxy#natalie ouellette#clockwork#clockwork creepypasta
396 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Spooks
Word Count: 4.5K
Genre: Lee Minho x reader, fluff, established relationship
Summary: You make a bet with Seungmin that you'll watch an entire horror movie this Halloween, the only problem is....you hate horror.
Author note: Hey guys, I'm so sorry this came out so late. I started an internship at the beginning of this year that has kept me super busy and I'm a perfectionist so it took me longer to edit this than I would have liked. Thanks for still sticking around and reading my stuff. Much love!
Your feet stomp across the kitchen tiles as you grumble, "I'm coming. I’m coming.”
Opening the microwave door, you silence the obnoxious ringing as the sweet smell of popcorn wafts into the kitchen. Grabbing the bag by the edges, you gently set it onto the counter. As you stand on your tiptoes, you open the wooden cupboard beside you and scan through the different colored bowls neatly stacked inside. Picking out your favorite one, you pull out a teal bowl painted with little susuwataries Hyunjin made for Felix’s birthday last year.
You find yourself smiling at the fond memory. That night had definitely been a highlight of 2022 for everyone. You’d all grown a little closer while you sat around the bonfire at the beach that night. The nine of you sharing heartfelt feelings, embarrassing stories and laughter with flushed, rosy cheeks from the alcohol. You wished you could go back to the good ol days when your only worries were school assignments and monthly dance and singing evaluations.
Tugging the bag open, you watch the steam form wispy clouds that swirl about before dispersing into thin air. A small smile tugs at your lips as you peek inside the bag. Perfectly white, crisped kernels look up at you before you dump the contents into the bowl, proudly making your way back into the living room.
You find Minho sitting on the edge of the couch leaning forward with his arms propped onto his knees. The remote practically dangles from his fingers as he lets out a dramatic sigh. Ruffling his black hair, he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he continues to scroll through the endless list of movies on Netflix.
“Sooo,” you start, throwing some popcorn into your mouth as you plop down beside him. “What are we going to watch tonight?"
Turning to face you, the deep furrow in Minho’s eyebrows softens into a warm smile as he falls back onto the couch. Casually slinging his arm around you, his other hand grabs a handful of popcorn. In between chews he says, "I was thinking we could watch a horror movie in honor of it being Halloween."
He redirects his gaze towards the TV screen as he finds the horror section. You nearly choke on your popcorn, forcefully gulping down the popped kernel. The ends claw its way down the sides of your throat as if it were desperately trying to escape the clutches of your stomach. Just like you suddenly wanted to find a way out of this situation. Clearing your throat, you grab the water bottle you’d left on the coffee table and take a small sip.
"Horror?" you meekly whisper as you set it back down.
"Yeah," he says, turning to face you. "Is that okay?"
"Um, you know what," you say as you place the popcorn bowl beside your water. “I’m feeling pretty tired.” Feigning a yawn you stretch out your arms. “I think I should start heading home. Sorry Min, we'll have to do this tomo—.”
But before you can even properly stand up, Minho grabs you by the waist and pulls you back down beside him. Curse Minho and his quick reflexes.
"Yah," he playfully scolds, his tone sending a shiver down your spine as his hands hold your arms in place. "You can’t be tired. You were just dancing and belting the lyrics to ‘Pop!’ as the popcorn cooked and then you started the full ‘Super’ choreo. You said you had so much energy you didn’t know what to do with yourself.”
You blink in surprise back at Minho. So he had been paying attention to you earlier despite his nonchalance. Shaking away the swooning thoughts plaguing your mind, you redirect your attention back to the conversation. “Well,” you huff, recomposing yourself. “I figured out where to put my energy and now I’m drained.”
“What about your bet with Kim Seungmin? What was all that talk four hours ago when you told him you were going to prove him wrong and sit through an entire horror film this Halloween?”
You were about to correct him that it was the only way to make Seungmin stop calling you a chicken but you swallow your pride as Minho’s eyes pin you in place. “Secondly,” his gaze softens as he looks between your eyes, a sharp contrast to the firm hands still securely wrapped around both your arms. “I wanted to spend this Halloween with you, not by myself."
Your heart can't help but flutter at his words before erratically beating in fear as you glance back at the screen. "Uh, well. I mean. I guess since it's Halloween we could—.”
Minho cocks his head. ”Are you scared?" he mocks you as a teasing smile spreads across his lips.
"Me? Scared?" you scoff. "I don’t get scared that easily,” you retort before slowly sinking further into the couch, regretting what was yet to come.
"If you say so," Minho chuckles. "In that case, I'll make sure to pick the scariest movie" he adds as his eyes study yours intently.
Biting your lip, you stubbornly reply, "Y-you don't have to pick the scariest movie. Just scary is fine too."
His eyes twinkle in amusement as he cocks up an eyebrow. "Okay. How about…," he pauses as he continues to scroll through the list of movies, the images becoming even more terrifying than the ones before.
You start to look around the room, avoiding the screen.
"Ah! How about this one?" Minho says excitedly, pointing to the TV.
"The Medium?" you squint as you try to read the title without looking at the overall image.
He turns to face you, the skin around his eyes crinkling as a wide bunny smile emerges. "I haven't watched it yet.”
You swallow hard as you force yourself to look at the ominous woman smiling on the screen before redirecting your gaze towards Minho. If that was something he really wanted to watch, you couldn't ruin his Halloween just because you were slightly scared. Sucking up your fear, you reluctantly agree to his proposition.
"Yeaaahhh!" Minho cheers as he stuffs his mouth with more popcorn before jumping up from the couch. "I'll go turn off the lights," he smiles with puffed cheeks as he practically skips over to the light switch.
"Yeah, let's turn off the lights too. As if the movie isn't scary enough," you mutter in annoyance as you quickly get up to grab a soft, fluffy blanket stored in a small basket near the couch.
Curling up onto the sofa, you make sure the soft blanket covers every bit of your body so that none of your limbs get left out in the open. You didn't want to risk being vulnerable to any sneak attacks of otherworldly creatures during the duration of the film. Minho comes back and sits beside you. "You look like a burrito," he comments.
"Yah!" you slap his chest, breaking free from the perfect cocoon you had created.
Letting out a lighthearted chuckle, he adds, "a cute burrito," before affectionately placing a kiss onto your forehead.
"Whatever," you playfully roll your eyes as you feel a familiar warmth spread across your cheeks.
Snuggling up into his chest, he drapes his arm over your back as his hand comfortably rests against your waist. As soon as the opening starts, a loud clash from the orchestra playing in the background makes you jump. Cursing your jittery state, you pray Minho didn't notice. But of course, he always seemed to catch you in your most vulnerable moments.
"The movie hasn't even started yet and you're already jumpy?" he teases, pulling you closer.
"Shut up," you huff, adjusting your head onto his chest as you mentally prepare your palpitating heart for whatever else this movie was about to throw your way. The popcorn could wait.
As the storyline progresses, you subtly begin to pull the blanket higher and higher up your chest. Once you were about twenty minutes into the film, the blanket was practically resting underneath your eyes. When you can’t handle it any longer, you pull the blanket entirely over your head. It didn’t matter if Minho never let you live this down. If staying under the blanket meant you had a chance at sleeping through half the night, then it was worth every teasing remark he’d throw your way for the next few months.
Oddly enough, he remained silent. The only sound from outside your little safe haven being the worried voices whispering back and forth on the TV.
You slowly peek your head out from beneath the blanket, expecting Minho to be smirking down at you. However, to your surprise, he’s completely engrossed in the film. His eyes widen at the images flashing about the screen as his lips slowly part in shock.
Momentarily forgetting why you were hiding underneath the blanket in the first place, you find it difficult to look away from Minho's cute, dazed state. You can’t help but be reminded of how handsome your boyfriend truly is. Your eyes slowly trace his features as you admire the way his bangs fall over his eyes, the way his nose cutely scrunches up in disapproval at what you could only assume was a character doing something stupid and the adorable way his lips protruded into a slight frown.
Feeling your gaze, his eyes slowly meet yours. You feel your breath softly hitch in your throat. An endearing smile tugs at Minho’s lips as he watches your cheeks flush a bright red. “Why aren’t you watching the movie?” he teases. “Can’t get enough of me?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“You make me feel safe,” you blurt out honestly.
Minho’s eyes slightly widen as he feels his ears grow warm, however, as always, he’s quick to recover his composure. His signature playful smile tugs at his lips. “If you think that’s going to get you out of watching the movie, you’ll have to try a little harder.”
“I’m not trying to—,” an unexpected scream from the film makes you jump.
Without a second thought, you crawl onto his lap and bury your face into the crook of his neck. The thought of defending your pride flying out the window. Minho, surprised at your sudden reaction, looks down at your shaking figure as you tightly clutch onto his shirt. As the music grows even more eerie, your arms find their way around his torso begging to be held and protected from the horrifying images behind you.
"What happened to not being scared?" he whispers into your hair, a playful smile adorning his lips.
Looking up at him, you push back the sudden tears stinging your eyes as you muster up all the courage you can. "I'm not...SCARED!" your voice hitches as another loud screech emits from the TV causing you to find comfort in his chest once again.
Minho chuckles to himself as he tightly wraps his strong arms around you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he leans down, his soft lips brushing against your cheek. "I'll protect you 자기야 (baby)," he whispers.
The unexpected deep tone of his voice sends your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies as your already alarmingly quick heart rate speeds up. And Minho is true to his word. As the film continues, his grip never loosens around your waist as he mindlessly draws shapes across your lower back. His actions lull you into a sleepy state as Minho’s steady heartbeat pats a familiar lullaby against your ear.
An hour and a half later, you don’t stir until Minho whispers in a sweet tone, “Y/N."
"Hmm," you respond, not bothering to open your eyes in fear that you might see your new nightmares within the dark shadows of the house.
“Did you enjoy your little nap?”
You let out a soft scoff. “It’s hard to fall asleep with a soundtrack like that,” you mutter bitterly.
"Well, now that you’ve had your beauty rest, why don’t you let me turn on the lights," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.
That’s when you finally open your eyes. The house is completely immersed in darkness and you mentally curse your curiosity as your eyes begin to form disturbing shapes within the shadows of the room. You vigorously shake your head, refusing to move.
Minho lets out a sigh before effortlessly picking you up with him as he slowly walks around the couch. One hand fumbles about the wall in search of the light switch as the other firmly grasps you wrapped around his waist. Flipping it on, the room is engulfed with a bright light. You finally lift your head up, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you gently slide down to the ground. You keep your arms loosely around his waist, refusing to give up the protection of his body.
“You’ll have to let go of me eventually, Y/N,” Minho says with a smug grin.
“Well, eventually is not right now,” you stubbornly reply back.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
The color immediately drains from your face as you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. “Do you actually have to go?” you meekly ask.
“What if I did?” Minho bites back a smile, an amused glint in his eyes.
You let out a deep sigh as you reluctantly take a step back. “I guess I’ll be brave then.”
“That’s not what Kim Seungmin is going to think.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” your eyebrows furrow in offense.
“Oh,” Minho leans down so that you’re both eye level with one another. “But I would,” he devilishly grins.
Crossing your arms, you glare back at him. “I hate you.”
Straightening up, Minho gives you a knowing smile.
“What?” you grumble. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Minho teasingly shrugs. “It’s just that, that’s not what it looked like on the couch earlier,” he says, a smug grin tugging at his lips.
You bite back a smile as you roll your eyes. “Whatever. I’m not doing this anymore. Are you going to go to the bathroom or not?”
Minho dramatically taps his chin in thought. “I think I’ve changed my mind.” Pulling out his phone from his back pocket he continues, “I think I’m going to let Kim Seungmin know how it went instead.”
Before you can even protest, Minho's phone buzzes. “Speak of the devil. He’s asking for an update.”
Panic settles in as he dangles the phone in front of you. You reach out to grab it but Minho’s one step ahead of you, easily avoiding your grasp as you begin to chase him around the room.
“Min, get back here,” you laugh as he sprints to the other side of the couch.
“What was all that talk of ‘just you wait, Seungmin. I’m going to watch my first horror movie this year and prove you wrong’?” he mocks you as you throw a pillow his way. Dodging behind the couch, he re-emerges as he bursts into a fit of giggles.
“Yah!” you protest. “I said I wasn’t scared!” you add, knowing full well that this was in no way helping your argument.
“Really? ‘Cause the ‘I’m not…SCARED’,” Minho imitates you in a high-pitched voice, “was so convincing.” He bursts into laughter as your shocked expression turns into an irritated scowl.
“I wasn’t that scared,” you argue, unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face.
He had done a pretty impressive job imitating you, although, you’d never openly admit that. Just as Minho is about to comment on your choice of words, you run around the couch to try and snatch the phone out of his hand. But, once again, Minho is quick on his feet as he dodges you.
“Come on, Min,” you sigh, tired of chasing him around the room. “Please don’t tell him.”
“And why’s that?” Minho snickers. “Are you finally admitting you lost the bet?”
You close your eyes as you muster up the will to swallow your pride. “Yes. I am.”
Minho’s lips part in surprise as he leans against the wall clearly amused with the turn of events.
“It would hurt my pride even more if he heard it from you. So let me tell Seungmin myself.”
Minho’s eyes look up as he thinks the proposition over. “콜(deal).”
You sigh in relief.
“You think you can handle losing though?” he cocks an eyebrow at you.
His choice of words jab at your pride even more. Minho knows how competitive you are, he’s the exact same way. He’d do anything to avoid giving Seungmin the satisfaction of having bragging rights over him for a month. So he can’t help but be piqued by the way you give in so easily.
“A bet’s a bet. I lost so I’ll own up to it,” you nod, determined.
“Oohhh, that’s my baby,” Minho winks at you.
You feel your cheeks flush at the pet name, but your expression quickly sours as Minho sing-songs, “Can’t wait for later tonight.”
You roll your eyes as Minho lets out a light-hearted chuckle. Putting his phone away, he walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. The change in demeanor completely catches you off guard as Minho leans down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “알았어 (Okay), 알았어 (okay),” he smiles. “I’ll stop with the teasing.”
You finally wrap your arms around him, allowing him to gently sway you back and forth.
“But genuinely, Y/N,” he says against your head. “I’m proud of you. God knows I could never swallow my pride that easily.”
You erupt into laughter against Minho’s chest and the sound is enough to bring the biggest, foolish grin onto his face. Pulling away from you, Minho unabashedly admires the way your entire face has lit up.
“True,” you say as you look up at him, giving his torso a playful squeeze. But when your eyes meet Minho’s, you freeze.
You can feel the heat rising up to your cheeks as you watch his eyes begin to slowly trail over each of your features. Minho looks at you with such fondness, it feels like he’s embedding every little detail about you into his brain.
“What?” you shyly whisper.
Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, Minho’s hand lingers by your chin as he shakes his head. “Nothing. I just want to look at you.”
You bite your lip to hold back a nervous laugh. This was both the cutest and most mortifying interaction you’d ever shared. As much as you wish you could just be present in the moment, you can’t help but grow self-conscious. Noticing the little furrow forming between your eyebrows, Minho is quick to piece your internal dilemma together.
“Y/N?” he softly calls.
“Hmm?” you hum as you try to calm your pounding heart.
“I know it’s hard, but…let me love you as you are.”
Your eyes widen as your cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. His words weren’t just addressing your current situation, they were hinting at the first time you’d shared with him how difficult it was for you to allow yourself to be loved. When Minho had first heard that, instead of running away, he did everything in his power to show you little by little how worthy you were of being loved.
Even now, when you wanted to laugh off his words and shy away, he gently pulled you closer. Minho wanted to show you that the lies you told yourself every day were just that, lies. He wanted to help you discover what he saw in you every day–the way your eyes would light up when he taught you a new dance move, the way you bit your lips whenever you were concentrating, or the fact that every time he heard you laugh, he couldn’t help but laugh along with you.
You look up at him, trying to find some hint of teasing in his eyes but there was none. “You can trust me, Y/N,” he smiles as his thumb gently caresses your cheek.
Leaning into his touch, you look back and forth between his eyes as you process the weight of his words. Mustering up the little courage inside of you, you softly mutter, “Okay.”
An endearing smile spreads across Minho’s face as he slowly leans in and plants the gentlest of kisses against your lips. You can’t help but melt into his touch as your hands bunch up his shirt by his hips. Minho slowly tilts his head to deepen the kiss as his other hand comes up to cup the other side of your cheek. Minho knows kissing is still fairly new to you so he gently guides you, his lips confidently moving across your tentative ones. As he gently pulls away, Minho can’t help but chuckle at your dazed expression as your eyes linger on his lips. Leaving his hands cupped around your cheeks, Minho whispers, “I love you.”
A shy smile spreads across your lips as you stand on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck. “I love you too.”
The wide toothy grin that spreads across Minho’s face from those three special words and the way his eyes gaze at you with such adoration leaves you breathless. Minho really loved you. Despite your inexperience with love, despite still struggling to love yourself, and despite your insecurities, Minho was still happily and willingly choosing to love you, choosing you, every day. He wasn’t running away.
As you look back and forth between Minho’s eyes, you can’t help but mirror the same wide smile on his face. You felt so seen and so loved by him, you hoped you could make Minho feel the same.
“Come on, let’s go eat some candy,” Minho tilts his head towards the kitchen.
“You bought candy?” you ask excitedly.
“Of course I did,” Minho laughs. “What would Halloween be without it?”
“True,” you nod. “I just didn’t know if we were already getting too old to be eating candy on Halloween.”
“No one’s ever too old for candy,” he smiles as he holds out his hand to you.
You gladly take it as you practically skip beside him towards the kitchen. All your fears from the horror movie had been completely forgotten. You were too high off of Minho’s kiss and declaration of love to let anything bring you down.
As you make your way into the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of a figure glimmering in the moonlight from the corner of your eye. It seeps in through the large window over the sink inside the dark room. Suddenly everything from the movie rushes to the forefront of your mind.
You hastily prod Minho with one hand while the other squeezes his other hand tighter. "W-who’s t-that?" you quietly stammer.
Minho looks up to see what you were talking about as his eyes catch sight of the mysterious form. Protectively, he stands in front of you, one hand firmly placed out in front of you while the other holds you closely behind him. Just as he's about to tackle the ominous looking figure, the lights flicker on leaving a wide eyed Seungmin and a stunned Minho.
Minho stares back at his frozen 남동생 (younger brother), a bowl full of candy tightly clutched against Seungmin’s chest. Seungmin lets out a guilty smile as he slowly hides it behind his back. "Trick or treat," he chuckles nervously, flashing them a puppy smile.
"Yah! Seungmin! You gave us a heart attack!" Minho huffs, crossing his arms. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a laugh. So you weren't the only one who was scared.
Seungmin chuckles as he goes up to Minho, squeezing his cheeks. "Awe, was our little bunny scared?"
"No!" Minho lies, swatting his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
Seungmin re-directs his attention towards you. “And you, did you keep your end of the bet?”
You look between Minho and Seungmin before finally giving in. “No,” you sigh.
“Ha! I told you you wouldn’t be able to sit through a whole movie!” Seungmin taunts. “And you said that–.”
“I mean technically I did…just in Minho’s arms,” you whip back quietly.
“...you’d prove me–.” Seungmin stops mid-sentence as his eyes widen. “Wait wait wait,” he says, looking between both Minho and you. “설마 (no way), you two were cuddling on the couch?” A teasing smirk pulls at Seungmin’s lips as Minho and you turn a darker shade of red.
“We weren’t like cuddling cuddling,” Minho starts as you vigorously shake your head in support.
“Ohmygosh, you guys totally were,” Seungmin laughs, enjoying the embarrassed expressions painted across Minho’s and your face. “Is that why you were so adamant about making that bet, Y/N? You wanted an excuse to cuddle with Minho?”
Minho clears his throat. “Anyways, why are you home?”
"What do you mean?” Seungmin remarks. “I told you I'd be back by ten," he points to the clock on the microwave. “Didn’t you see my text?”
"Oh. I must have missed it," he admits.
A smug grin pulls at Seungmin’s lips but before Minho can scold him any further, a disturbing realization suddenly sinks in. "Wait, Seungmin, if you were in here," he pauses, a loud gulp emitting from his throat. "Who turned on the lights?"
At those words, you feel a sinking feeling form at the pit of your stomach as the three of you slowly direct your attention towards the light switch. As your eyes reach the source, you find a beaming Jeongin waving his fingers at you.
"Aiisshh I.N-ah!” Minho says, placing his hand over his heart as you jump back, your side colliding with the edge of the counter. Wincing in pain, you force out a small smile at Jeongin as you try to calm your pounding heart and throbbing hip.
"Awe our little lovers are jumpy tonight," Jeongin laughs as he winks at you before poking Minho's side. “I was wondering when you guys were going to notice.”
As Jeongin makes his way towards the pantry, Minho lets out an exasperated sigh. "You too?" he asks, ruffling his hair. "When did you get back?"
"About ten minutes ago with Seungmin and Yongbok," Jeongin replies as he looks back and forth between the two packages of ramen he now held in his hands.
"Really? Yongbok is here too?" Minho asks in disbelief. As if on cue you hear Yongbok skip into the kitchen. “Oh, hello hyung! I didn’t know you were home?”
As soon as Yongbok’s round, bright eyes meet yours, a wide smile spreads across his lips. “Y/N! It’s been a while! How have you been?” he asks as he embraces you into a tight hug.
“It has! I’ve been good, how about you?”
Seungmin decides to use Yongbok as a distraction as he silently sidesteps his way out of the kitchen, the bowl of candy tightly clutched within his right hand.
Jeongin, who was still pondering over his ramen in the corner, finally smiles as his eyes light up at the beef flavored packet. "You," he whispers as he throws the chicken flavored pack back into the pantry.
Shaking his head, Minho pushes aside his confusion as he refocuses on the task at hand. "Okay, well we were just going to get some candy," Minho says as he opens up the pantry again. Looking for the bag of sweets, he ponders out loud, "where did it—. KIM SEUNGMIN!" Minho yells as Seungmin runs toward his room, giggling aloud to himself. "Yah! You have to share!" Minho sprints after him.
You watch in amusement as Minho charges after Seungmin.
Pulling out a pot, Jeongins says,"It might take a while before you get some candy.”
"Care for some ramen while we wait?" Yongbok asks as he goes to get himself a ramen packet as well.
You let out a soft giggle. "I would love that."
#stray kids#leeminho#leeknow skz#leeknow x reader#minho x reader#skzsnapshot#skz imagines#skz fluff#leeknow#stray kids fluff
121 notes
·
View notes
Text
warning: none, just somethn' cute :)
Hello..
You shelter my soul
You're my fire when I'm cold
I want you to know
You had me at hello..
"Oh my," my breath hitched as he strolled into the room. The clothing he had chosen was so simple: a plain grey T-shirt and a pair of black sweats, but they clung to him so well, accentuating every muscle of his athletic frame. His hair was in a messy bun, slightly frizzed at the top, yet it added to his effortless charm. My heart still managed to skip a beat at the sight of him. It was odd enough that even in what seemed to be his most comfortable state, this man could still draw me in. I could only imagine what he looked like when he was well put together.
I couldn't help but notice the bright smile he wore on his face as he took a seat on the couch next to his cousins Josh and Jon. I mirrored him, softly smiling myself while looking away, trying to conceal the sudden rush of emotions.
My best friend, Desiree, and I sat on the bar stools at the island of Jon's kitchen. We nibbled on a shared bag of popcorn that she had thrown in the microwave for us before the food for our small gathering arrived. The warm buttery aroma filled the room, mingling with the excitement of the evening.
Desiree had met Jon a few months ago, drawn in by the wrestler. Their connection was palpable, Jon always invited her as his plus one to all of the WWE events. Their budding relationship had them attached at the hip.
Meanwhile, I found myself unintentionally becoming the third wheel in their dynamic duo. It wasn't by choice; Desiree often insisted on bringing me along, claiming it was the only way she could enjoy the company of her two favorite people. However, for me, it often felt like a form of torture.
Sometimes, Jon would invite his brother Josh to attempt to keep me company. However, our interactions weren't always smooth. Maybe it was Josh's smart-ass remarks or the constant smirk he wore, even when delivering jokes that fell flat. Whatever the reason, I couldn't shake the feeling of irritation whenever we were together. Gosh, I couldn't stand him.
"What's wrong?" Desiree asked, pushing a small piece of her hair behind her ear, she had noticed my sudden change in demeanor. I bit my bottom lip, subtly nodding my head in the direction of the beautiful stranger.
She followed my gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
"Ohh...," she chuckled. "That's Joe."
"He's fine as hell," I admitted, stealing another glance in his direction. My acrylic nail found its way between my teeth, a telltale sign of my nervousness.
Raising her brow, Desiree popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth, thoroughly entertained by my reaction.
"You into Joe the giant?" she teased.
Blushing furiously, I brought my head down to stare at my French-tipped toes, feeling slightly called out. My shoulders lifted into a small shrug, unable to hide the fact that I resembled nothing short of a lovestruck teenager at that moment.
"You want me to call him over here?" My head shot up quickly.
The idea of that man coming over here seemed somewhat terrifying. He had such a commanding presence; it was almost intimidating even sharing this space with him.
"What? No!" I whispered loudly, almost choking on a popcorn kernel as my heart raced in panic.
"Girl, hush," Desiree shushed me, waving me off before boldly calling out, "Yo, Joey!"
His neck turned sharply, his gaze locking onto us before he playfully rolled his eyes. As he stood from the couch, a ripple of nerves shot through me, tingling my skin. He sauntered over, his movements oozing confidence, licking his lips in a gesture that my me hot.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, his arms flexed tantalizingly, drawing my eyes to the intricate patterns of the sleeve tattoo that adorned his skin. It was hypnotic, and despite my embarrassment, I found myself unable to tear my gaze away from him.
"I told you to stop calling me that," his voice was a rich baritone that took me by surprise. The combination of his rugged appearance and velvety voice had me at a loss of words.
They shared a fake angry glance before erupting into laughter, embracing each other in a side hug.
"How have you been, Joe? I haven't seen you since I kicked your ass in Uno," Desiree gloated, her competitive side taking over even in casual conversation. She had a knack for card games that bordered on uncanny, leaving most opponents, including myself, in the dust.
He chuckled, the sound resonating through the room and sending vibrations to my knees. Thankfully, I was already seated; otherwise, I would have found myself on the floor or on my knees.
"I wasn't ready that day. I was still suffering from a little bit of jet lag, but I'm ready now," he explained, his tone laced with playful defensiveness.
She shook her head, dismissing his excuse with a playful smirk. "Nah, you ain't ready for this work, Joey boy."
A small laugh escaped my lips as I watched their banter, but as Joe's gaze flickered to me, his lips curved into a small smile, and I felt a blush creeping up my brown cheeks.
"And who is the beautiful young lady?" he inquired, his eyes lingering on me with an intensity that almost made me shy away.
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say a word, Desiree, ever the chatterbox, beat me to it.
"This is my beautiful, very single, amazing best friend, Evie. Bye!"
Before I could even muster a glare in her direction, she had already hopped off the stool, joining Jon and Josh on the couch, leaving Joe and me alone in a charged silence.
"Hi..." I whispered, my voice betraying me as I struggled to maintain composure under the penetration of his pretty brown eyes. Every inch of me felt submissive in his presence, any bit of confidence left evaporating like mist in the morning sun.
I hadn't known him for more than five minutes, yet his smile, his laugh, his voice — everything about him — had me melting on the inside. How was he doing this to me?
"Hello, Evie" he smiled, and as soon as he said that, I knew he had my heart.
---------------
Something soft and sweet for my girls who love cute shit :)
Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
it’s always the boyfriend | peter parker x male reader
a/n — i needed to write this omfg gahhh i meant to post this on halloween
summary — Peter devises the perfect plan to spice up sex just in time for the colder season.
warnings — smut 18+! mask kink, some light degrading and knife play
words — 2.4k
~~~
When Peter asked you to meet at his house around seven for another tender movie night spent in the vulnerability of his room, you expected him to be on time. Now, you tapped your foot in time with the kernels popping in the microwave. The kitchen was quiet save for the sizzling and eventual pop of each seed. At any second, the billowing brown bag would burst. You took it out before it could and set it on the brown counter by the knife rack to cool.
Faintly, in the moonlight, came a thud on the roof, and then the phone rang. You brushed off the first noise and turned to the phone on the wall. It was a landline—black and spiral-corded, rattling to the point where it would have slipped off if you were not there to catch it. There was a low chance that it could have been Peter calling to tell you about his latest Spider-Man kerfuffle, how it made him late and that he was endlessly sorry for keeping you waiting. You placed the speaker to your ear, taking the greater chance that it was a telemarketer or something else. "Parker residence."
A strange voice, rasped and warped, spoke a single word over the line, "Hello?"
It was a blatant attempt to signal that whoever he was trying to reach was probably off doing something better than waiting around by the phone all day. Of course, you were the exception, waiting for a buzz to come from the phone in your pocket or the now-occupied landline.
"Why would you be home alone on Saturday night?"
"Why would you be home alone on Saturday night?"
The question struck you as an odd retort to your own aversion to the stranger, but you evaded his question with a question of your own, "Why would you call someone on a Saturday night?"
"I call when I feel like having some fun."
"This is fun?" You asked. A new idea started forming in your head, an idea that was a lot less fun than this guy suggested. Maybe this was about Peter's crime-fighting, slowly bleeding into a surreal nightmare—his next spandexed villain finally targeting the thing he cared about the most: you.
"Sure it is! We're about to get to my favorite part. It's almost like a movie."
"Really? What happens next?" You pried and turned to peer past the tilted blinds and recessed windows that left you exposed to the dark, looking for light. The light cast from the kitchen spanned a few inches out into the darkness, letting you see the plant life sway in the breeze and not much else. Your eyes darted upward, praying the windows themselves were, at the very least, locked.
"I would never spoil it. You know me better than that."
"Do I know who you are?" You fired at him, praying that he was some Joe Schmoe who worked for a landscaping company and not some evil supervillain.
"I don't know who you are."
Your panic ceased, your thumping heart slowing its tempo back to the pace of the night you expected to have. He had no idea who you were, so you grew softer, more vulnerable, "You sure you want to? I don't even think my boyfriend likes knowing who I am."
"See? We're learning so much about each other already! Let's play a game. You asked the first question, so I'll go next. What's your boyfriend's name?"
"Peter."
"Peter." He repeated satisfactorily. "I bet you love to moan his name."
You were ready to tear the phone from the wall; if only that were the way to hurt this prank-caller. Instead, you readied to lay the phone on its side after ending the call, "Look, whoever this is, it's been fun. But this is obviously a prank. Go do something with your life, Flash, or whoever you are."
Turning away from it, you heard the phone ring again. Surely that guy couldn't be dense, could he? He had to have known the effects of what he said, and you concluded that it was deliberate. Purposefully, you let it ring until it ran out of motivation to pull your attention.
You planned to shoot a text to Peter, but just as you fished out your phone from your pocket. . .
"Stop calling."
"You hung up on me."
"I had a good reason to. What do you want?"
You were already rounding the house as he took his sweet time answering your question. The front door was still locked from when you initially came over, but the long strip of glass embedded in the door seemed like a vulnerability you didn't have time to fix. If the man on the phone were to break the glass, at least it would be impossible not to draw attention to the noise.
"To finish our game. You asked your second question, so I'll ask mine. Do you watch movies with Peter?"
"Sometimes, why?"
"Because I want to know, what's your favorite scary movie?"
"The one where the creep on the phone dies."
"That's harsh. I'm just biding time."
"For what?"
"The next scene. When the creep on the phone arrives."
There was a knock above you, closer this time, on the second floor instead of the roof. It came from Peter's room; you were sure of it. His bedframe was never the quietest, so you had to get creative with not disturbing anyone in your position. That's how you knew which rooms were above the ones on the ground floor, but it proved too difficult. Eventually, Peter settled on using the ceiling for your more intimate times. Now, you used it to your advantage and bolted up the stairs with the intent of trapping or attacking the intruder, though you weren't sure how. The final step on the set of stairs harshly whined when you reached it.
Loose clothing and stacks of books occupied the space between his messily made twin bed, disorganized desk, and the small, overstuffed bookshelf by the window. Amid all the clutter, you had an eye for the missing things; Peter's backpack, phone, and a few gadgets from his desk—all missing, but none stolen. There was a camera propped on three metal legs to get an angle of his bed. That wasn't there before, so you trusted your suspicion that Peter was responsible for all of this.
"Nice try, asshole. I'm not looking outside for you to get me."
"Who said I was outside?"
Reluctantly, you approached the open window, stepping over anything covering the hardwood floor, and ignored the camera, speaking to the breeze, "Come on, Peter. Just come in and apologize for being late."
The man on the phone refused to let up his game, "This isn't Peter."
Yet, you were ready to give up and leave. "Yeah? And I'm not waiting anymore. Get in, or I'm getting out."
"You don't want to do that! I'm already in the house. If you leave, you won't make it far."
He spoke to no one as you dropped the phone from your ear and hung up, turning to face the doorway. Your stomach dropped, as did the phone in your hand. A figure dressed in all black blocked the entrance. The only other color present on him was the white of his mask, pulled into a long face of anguish. He looked ready to scream—possibly a battle cry, the preparation for a charge toward you with the silvery steel knife in his right hand angled precisely to hit only your most vital arteries. At least, that was what you expected him to do. But he raised his left hand, revealing the tattered ends of his loose robe and drawing attention to the white box receiver he held. It met his long mouth, and the same modulated voice came through.
"Next question. Do you trust me?" His cotton-gloved finger lifted off the trigger, and the pinprick of red light on the modulator disappeared. He kept it to his mouth, waiting for a response. The only noise filling the silent room was the soft collision of his breath to the inside of the mask. You nodded.
"Good. Wouldn't want to make this a horror," he taunted.
"This was your idea of movie night?" You didn't bother to wait for a response, proposing your next question less than a second later, "What kind of movie are we making, Pete?"
The figure dropped his voice modulator to the floor, freeing his hand to reach for a part of the robe at his stomach—the waistband, you guessed. He used the other that carried a knife to motion to the bed. You followed its direction, crawling onto his bed and treating the man as if he were Peter looming behind you, keeping yourself on all fours. The already messy comforter became even more ruined upon first contact, creasing where your elbows and knees held your weight. In a swift moment, you felt the bed shift, Peter's cheap springboard creaking expectedly. You looked back to see the ghost-like man on both knees. His gloves were gone, and the bottom half of his robe was missing, too.
In fact, you noted that his underwear was absent from his body as well, and he passed the favor to you. His hands tore the fabric of your pants and underwear in a way that only Peter could replicate. Everything told you this was him, down to the contour of his thighs and abdomen, but you winced at the brief thought that it wasn't. Or maybe, it was the hard press against your ass that caused the feeling. An abruptly tepid heat burned against your bare skin, and the cold breeze crept where his touch couldn't cover.
It was intimate and you were exposed, but that didn't take away from the fact that he tooled around with the knife in his hand. With deliberate slowness, the marble-like blade scraped up your thigh and rounded one of your fleecy mounds. One cut of the thread and you would come undone, vulnerable, and reliant on the stranger's intent to keep you unharmed. The heavy breathing emitting from behind the mask was the only noise that filled the room and a constant reminder of your possible demise.
His entry was fast but still painfully much more noticeable. The stranger was smooth—no foreskin from what you could tell of it—the rest, indiscernible. It took a good minute before he finally bottomed out, leaving a pit in your stomach at how stretching he was. He had to have been as long as he was wide, hitting all the right places while widening your hole and its tight entrance.
His hips started to swing back and forth in either direction, taking everything with him and pushing himself back in with a loud smack.
The stranger's continuous rut into one end of you urged moans from the other. You struggled to form words, to perform for the camera looking over your exposed body.
"Say it for the camera, babe." The Ghost let out, his hand holding the knife creeping toward your neck to give you a reason to say it.
"Fuck me, please, Mr.Ghostface."
Without any warning, he did the opposite and pulled out of you, and you felt hollow without him.
Then, suddenly, his arms were wrapped around you and twisted you on your back with the impossible strength you knew of all too well. He fetched the camera and returned to his pace, pumping himself inside you. He made sure to keep the action in frame, neither of your heads visible in the shot, only your body and the lower half of his torso as he rocked his hips back and forth so that it would appear as if the viewer was taking your place. Usually, Peter was one for capturing the most intense moment in vivid detail on his digital camera, but he knew that the sound alone would be enough.
You slipped your hand around the rounded end of the mask and pulled. Slowly, the black drape came around his head to reveal tufts of messy, dusky brown hair. The cloth fell into the concave mold of the mask and spilled out to the floor when you threw it.
There was Peter in only a thin veil of dark, tattered ends. His chocolate-brown eyes locked to yours as you stared up at him. His face creased with buried eyebrows and an agape mouth, elation taking form as he struggled to contain his inner feelings. His muffled moans became audible grunts, short awes, and conventions of disbelief slipping under his breath.
You watched his eyes melt at the peak of his travel, his mind spinning around stars in the night. He came, spilling hot white inside you that he was sure had seeped onto his sheets next to your own load. The bed stopped creaking. His arms gave in, and he collapsed on top of you with a few final thrusts coaxing out whatever remained.
You composedly spoke between Peter's deep breaths, "I should've known. It's always the boyfriend."
"Or the best friend," he heaved.
"Or the bitter ex," you retorted.
Peter rolled off you and onto his side, almost failing to stay on his tiny twin bed as he propped an elbow up for support, "Ouch. Are you saying you would break up with me?"
"After a stunt like that? Never," you admitted. The urge to fall into his arms and spend the rest of the night exactly like that tempted you, but the continual red pulse coming from Peter's camera lured you away from him. You managed to escape from your position on the bed and went to retrieve the tape in the camera, teasing Peter along the way, "Let's see if we just made a new hit. . ."
#marvel#peter parker#spiderman#peter parker x male reader#peter parker x reader#andrew!peter parker#ghostface x y/n#ghostface#ghostface!peter parker#spiderman x male reader#spiderman x you#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#spiderman x reader#ghostface!peter parker x reader#lgbt#marvel x reader#tasm!peter x y/n#tasm x male reader#tasm fanfiction#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter x you#tasm peter x reader#andrew!peter x you#andrew garfield x male reader#andrew!peter smut#peter parker x male!reader#peter parker x m!reader#spiderman x male!reader
953 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pinetober- Take One
(Pinetober is where I write down small drabbles themed around pining for the month of October to antagonize my friend @bigoltrashpile for shits and giggles. Hope you enjoy since they finally convinced me to post some of them)
Movie Night: Sans Undertale x Reader
Beep
beep beep
mmmm
Absentmindedly listening to the microwave buzz as you look at the fossilized marshmallow stuck on the inside of the microwave from the time you and Sans made peeps battle in the microwave, neither of you really liked peeps but they were expired from easter and had to have some purpose.
So they fought to the death for your entertainment, exploding in the microwave after getting stabbed by a toothpick by their fellow peep.
Good times. Messy microwaves.
You only halfway zone out through your memories to make sure you don't burn the pop corn, listening to the pops like a vulture. Sure Sans would eat burnt popcorn with enough ketchup added but you prefer non charcoal popcorn.
It's nice that you and Sans get to spend time together, ever since that machine he tried using as a generator when the power went out went haywire, things got hectic with the amount of alternate universe versions of him and his brother now lived in the house til the machine was fixed.
If it ever got fixed.
Taking the hot bag of corn out of the microwave before it burnt, you opened the bag to pour it out into a bowl, trying to pick out the unpopped kernels from the bag, Sans would probably try eating them.
Holding the bowl with one arm as you grab the bag of random assorted candies and a bottle of ketchup you and Sans picked out for cheap earlier, can't have a movie night without stomach ache inducing popcorn mixes after all.
"i did"
"got the snacks ready?" Sans peaks into the kitchen, offering to help you carry the snacks but you lightly smack his hands away. "c'mon bud, just wanted to help, can't butter ya up if i ain't helpin somehow"
"Glad you could pop in to offer assistance but it takes more than that to fool me into handing you the snacks before the movie starts" You playfully bump your hip against him as you pass by him, making sure not to spill popcorn as you do, starting to head into the living room and look at the blank couch. "Thought you said you were going to set up the pillows and blankets?"
"Where??" You look at him and he seems confused why you're looking at the couch, the living room was the only place with a tv?
"oh, not here, set them up in my room" Smiling at the confusion on your face, Sans takes the lead up the stairs, you following behind, opening the door to his room to reveal
A tv mounted on his wall across from the wall his bed is on, blankets and pillows put across the room and a towel on the foot of the bed to put the snacks on. When did he get a tv???
Chuckling at your confused expression, Sans sits down on the bed, scooting over to make room for you, patting the spot next to him. "i got it cause the others kept fighting over what to watch for movie nights and stuff, less arguments when i can watch the documentaries and comedy specials i want to when i got my own tv, y'know. plus means we can go back to hanging out, watching tv with just us two, bad commentary, puns, and all"
You join Sans on the bed, "You just don't wanna have to walk back to your room after a movie night" playfully nudging against him as you place the snacks down on the towel.
"that too." Noticing Sans had already put down two bottles of soda on the towel, in your rush to get snacks you forgot to get a drink for yourself.
"Oh, I forgot about that, thanks dude"
"no problem, figured you forgot again and didn't want to extend your little ritual of taking forever to settle down anywhere"
"Oh c'mon I'm not that bad" You say, still not fully settled down. Sans chuckles as he pulls you up to snuggle against him. Your head laying against his chest, a lazy arm thrown around your upper back as Sans rests his head on top of yours. Sans clicking at the remote as it pulls up the Halloween baking show you've both been binge watching together recently.
"Oh lord, here we go"
"yep, here we go, bad puns and you losing it over bitchy contestants and judges"
"I'm a fair ass towards them, they're all snobs" You can't help but relax against Sans as his hand starts to absentmindedly rub your back. It's been forever since you two got to hang out with just you two and you missed it.
Not to mention you had developed a little bit of a massive crush on him, but you knew Sans didn't like you that way.
But that's ok, you're fine just being friends.
Missing how Sans sends you loving looks each time you make a smartass remark towards someone messing something up on the show, hoping you noticed how his bed is cleaned and he picked out your favorite blankets from your room to make you comfier.
It isn't much but it's at least a little effort to try and impress you, anything to make him feel like he might be somewhat in your league.
#undertale#self insert#undertale x reader#sans undertale#sans x reader#sans undertale x reader#undertale imagines#skelsowrites#pinetober
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
☼ popcorn kernels (Johanna Mason) ☼
summary; Johanna takes you to the drive-in to spend more time with you.
warnings; swearing,
wc; 1.2k
notes: modern au!
–
“Johanna, you really are terrible at making popcorn.” You tell her, digging through the bag. The bottom has so many kernels that you wouldn’t even think she cooked it if it weren’t for the popcorn on top.
“(Y/n).” She swats at your hands, tired of your judgement. “That’s for the movie, knock it off!”
“How long did you put it in the microwave for? An hour?” You laugh, pulling out a burnt piece. “How did you manage to burn half and not cook the other?”
“If you’re going to complain, you don’t have to have any.”
You reach back in to grab a kernel, rolling it back and forth between your fingers. A bad idea comes to mind, and you can’t help the smile that comes over your face. You pop it in your mouth, and turn your body to face Johanna, shooting it at the side of her neck.
Johanna slams on the breaks, forcing you to catch yourself on the dash. You let out a choked noise, trying not to laugh at her reaction. She clenches her jaw, picking off the wet kernel from where it’s stuck to her neck, and rolls down the window. She slowly turns to glare at you, flicking it out the window.
You sputter out a laugh.
“Put the bag of popcorn away or I’m going to strangle you.”
“Fine.” You zip the bag up, placing it back with the other snacks she bought earlier.
“Thank you.” She eyes you, making sure you have nothing else planned.
She pulls the car forward to the booth, where you two need to buy tickets. She turns and gives the lady a smile. The lady smiles back, “Hi, what can I do for you two tonight?”
“Two tickets to Safe and Sound, please.” Johanna pulls her card out of her wallet, holding it out with two fingers.
It’s not often you and Johanna go on dates together, because of your conflicting interests and idea of fun. For her, she doesn’t necessarily like to go out and have a nice dinner. The whole point of dressing up to go out, just to take it off when you get home is a little beside her. As for you, it’s the time spent together, and not having to worry about cooking your own meal. Instead, you can devote that time to asking about what she’s been up to when you’re not there.
This doesn’t mean that she doesn’t like to go out and enjoy other activities, though. She just likes to make it an all-day trip, rather than just a few hours, to maximize time spent together. Which can be nice sometimes, but other times your social battery is sensitive, and there’s only so much you can handle.
She’ll take you anywhere you ask. You could plan a trip to a neighboring city for the day, and she’d try to clear her entire schedule to make it work for you. And to compromise, you have an open mind when she plans day dates, because you know she’s sacrificed her time, where she’d likely rather be doing anything else.
There’s nothing you haven’t done yet. You’ve gone to plenty of movies, whether it be drive-in or theaters. You’ve seen musical theater, too actually. You’ve gone to amusement parks, concerts and comedy shows. She’s taken you to the beach, park picnics, and window shopping.
This time, she’s decided to take you back to the drive-in theater because your guys’ favorite movie is being featured this week. You watch Safe and Sound at least once a week, and sometimes you’re watching it in the background while doing other things, but other times you’ll sit down and watch it.
It’s one of those movies that you can’t get sick of. You will say though, if you and Johanna ever do break up, you won’t be able to watch the movie ever again without thinking about her. You found this movie with her, which means it’ll be left with her.
“You two are all set!” The lady chirps, “You’ll be screen seven, and on the receipt is the station you’ll tune into. Enjoy!”
“Thank you.” Johanna smiles, beginning to drive away.
She rolls up her window, sitting up in the seat as she starts looking at the signs to make sure you’re heading in the right direction. This drive-in has nine screens, and it’s still fairly popular, despite an actual movie theater being preferred these days because of the air conditioning and the seats.
You and Johanna like it because it’s generally more intimate. You don’t have to worry about disturbing others when you speak during a quiet part of the movie. And you’re able to sit on your phone when you get to the slow part of the movie. With tickets being cheap, you don’t have to worry about wasted money.
“We should’ve come sooner.” Johanna murmurs, making a face, “It’s so dark already.”
“Yup.” You look out the window. “I guess I was right then, huh?”
“You did not tell me we should leave early.” She says.
“You said that last time, too.” You let out a laugh, “It’s okay Johanna, maybe we’ll come early next time so we’re not blinding the other cars when we back in.”
“(Y/n), stop.” Johanna shakes her head, “I forgot about that part.”
You smile to yourself. You have this argument every time, and every time she swears that it'll be the last time you show up after the daylight’s gone, because her headlights have a vendetta against others. They’re automatic, which means that sometimes, when you’re surrounded by darkness, they’ll turn on the brights to help out.
Johanna can’t figure out how to turn off the automatic setting. It never works.
Johanna follows the road to the seventh screen, where you’re able to see that the lot is half full. You sink in your seat, trying to hide from the windows. She briefly glares in your direction.
“Don’t do that.”
“It’s too late.” You tell her, taking off the seatbelt as you try to make home on the floor, “You’re on your own.”
“No, I need you to spot me.”
“It’s not happening.”
“I fucking hate you.” She sighs, you watch as her hands reach to mess with the headlights. You press your lips together. “I don’t understand.”
“I can pull out the manual.”
“We are definitely not doing that.” She tells you, “Just be quiet down there if you’re not going to be helpful.”
“That was helpful!” You laugh. “I have an idea, how about you just turn off your headlights entirely?”
Johanna’s fingers pause, “That might work.”
“Just don’t run over anyone.”
“If I do, I promise it won’t be on purpose.”
Johanna finds a nice space to pull into, and gives you the clear on when you can get up from the floor. You immediately start pulling the snacks and drinks from the backseat to the front. You drape a blanket over your lap, watching as Johanna sends her seat flying into the backward so she has more leg room.
“Give me the popcorn.” She holds out her hand.
You pull out both bags and drop them on her lap, “Sure.”
“You’re so ungrateful.”
“No, my standards are higher than yours.” You snort, “You know what, give me a bag, actually.”
She squints at you suspiciously, “No.”
#ilguna#johanna mason#johanna mason imagine#johanna mason fanfic#johanna mason oneshot#johanna mason x reader#johanna mason x yn#johanna mason x y/n#johanna mason x you#johanna imagine#johanna fanfic#johanna oneshot#johanna x reader#johanna x you#johanna x yn#johanna x y/n#thg#the hunger games#requested#fluff
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part I
Today was a Day unlike any other. Today was the Day Vic could finally rid himself of his Human Imperfections. Free of Bones, free of Muscles, free of a limited analogue biological Existence. Finally he would fuse with Exa forever.
But the Lab would not open for another few Hours. He had some Time to kill, so why not start this unusual Day like any other: with Breakfast.
The Oatmilk and the Maize Kernels rotated for a few Minutes in the Microwave, eventually they started Popping. Warm Milk and Cereal, the only Breakfast that could satisfy someone as picky as him.
Taste, the Thought of that amused Vic, as a Porygon it would not have Tastebuds in the usual Sense, instead there would be Nutrition Sensors that would detect the Value of each Bite and then send a Report to it's seccondary Input Stream... that would feel so much better than throwing chewed up wet biological Matter down your Throat right next to your Airtube where you hope that the small Meatflap that seperates the two Tubes doesn't act up and makes you almost suffocate from a small Droplet of Water.
He still had Time after finishing his Meal. Enough Time to look at himself in the Mirror one last Time. He looked like he usually did, round Face, short blue Hair, almost unnoticeable Stubble. Not enough to get a full Beard, but also not so little that he could get away without shaving. Should he shave one last Time? Did that even matter at this Point, it was just another Reminder of how little Control he had over his Body. Every Cell and every Follicle doing whatever it was made to do, with no Way to change or reprogram it. At least his Hair Color was somewhat variable, blue suited him, it looked somewhat artificial. Was that the Reason why he dyed his Hair that Way? He could not remember, it just felt right.
After getting dressed, in his usual Clothes(which he would not need anymore), and his Labcoat, which he never forget to wear when having Lab Duty, because 'Labcoats are cool'. It was finally Time to leave his Dorm.
The Halls were as wide as ever, with a Conveyor Belt on each Side for Accessibility. But Vic liked walking, at least a Bit more than standing and waiting. But soon enough he wouldn't do either, he could just fly anywhere. And for longer Distances he would just need a Port of the Network, and go instantly anywhere on the Planet.
Lost in Thought he almost ran into one of the Guys from Engineering, Vic would be able to remember his Name, if remembering Names wasn't one of his biggest Weaknesses. (another Thing that being a Porygon could fix) The Guy had blonde Hair and was currently typing up a storm on his two Wrist Computers, criss-cross.
Vic was trying to remember his Name, but all his Mind could come up with were "Chromaton, Chromedome, Chromillion, Chromard and Chromateur." none of which sounded like real Names to him.
"Victor, good to see you, i wanted to commend you on your impeccable job of creating an operating system for my newest invention." Chromos(?) said with his usual calm and collected Tone of Voice.
"well, i wouldn't call it impeccable. i was thinking about my own project while working on it, i made a few mistakes. like, if i was you i would wait with the testing phase until i got it's personality matrix to connect with it's mainframe properly." Vic rebutted, despite being somewhat scared of the Guy.
"But Victor, we are both researchers you should be able to see the value in praxis before theory. It passed all of the tests with flying neutrals. why don't you see for yourself."
The Researcher procured a Pokéball and threw it onto the Floor. A small artificial Pokémon materialized in front of Vic, it just barely reached his Knees, but only if you included those stylized Loudspeakers on the Side of it's Head. It activated it's typical Idle Mode, just scanning the Area without a greater Purpose.
Chromatorium(?) exuded an Aura of Superiority. "You can see that this little prototype is totally harmless right?"
"well not exactly. just because it hasn't harmed anyone yet won't mean it will be safe in the future. i'll make you an offer, deactivate it for now, and i'll look over the code one more time. like in the afternoon, after i'm done with my research?" Vic argued, trying to be diplomatic.
"I will consider it, i'll put V-22 on hold, and as long as temporarily fusing with a Z-Version doesn't mess up your brain you can debug it."
Vic wanted to say something, especially after that last Comment, but all he could muster was a pathetic "ok... later..." Vic hated it when he didn't know how to counter an Insult. he was so much better at this online.
Chromatasio(?) and his little Gremlin left the Scene by sidestepping onto the Conveyor Belt and riding to what Vic hopes is the Engineering Workshop where Chromoze(?) would hopefully put the Project on hold.
Vic decided that running was no longer worth it and he stepped on the other Conveyor. slowly riding into the Direction of the Computer Lab.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Let's Do The Time Warp Again
Steddie Season 3 time travel fic, Part 7
Ao3, Pt. 1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6
“Harrington! I’m gonna need a hazmat suit and some paper towel in here!” Steve hears Eddie call from the living room. He doesn’t remember leaving any sort of mess in there, but who knows what Eddie managed to accomplish during his thirty seconds of unsupervised time in Steve’s house. He shakes his head a little and waits for the popcorn to finish in the microwave, the steady trickle of pops easing his nerves away slightly from their conversation. The microwave blares a triumphant beep and Steve snatches the bag out of the microwave and shakes it into a bowl, the usual amount of unpopped kernels laying shamefully on top despite Steve’s belligerent use of the popcorn setting. Whatever. He grabs a roll of paper towel from under the sink and tucks it under his arm to bring both into the living room.
“I don’t know what you could have possibly done to need a hazmat suit, but I did manage to get your paper towel-” Steve rounds the doorway of the living room to see Eddie crumpled on the ground, his limbs convulsing and flexing in a way that seems inhuman. Steve has never seen or had a seizure before but by the way Eddie’s body is shaking and shuddering, Steve would bet this is it. The bowl and paper towel drop to the ground and kernels scatter across the floor in time to the jittering of Eddie’s limbs, Steve wasting no time to throw himself to his knees in front of Eddie and grab the sides of his face. He wills Eddie to meet his eyes somehow and snap out of it with a gentle shake. Nothing.
"Eddie!" He shrieks, voice crackling and raw. Eddie's eyes are rolled up into the back of his skull, the once red veins of his sclera turning into a muddy brown and then fading farther into black. Eddie's fingers rattle against the floor and Steve grabs the hand nearest him and entwines their fingers. Eddie’s skin is frostbitten and pale, the tips of his fingers darkening and staining his fingernails black. The veins in his hands carry the same unnatural muddy darkness that Steve saw in his eyes, his left hand still sputtering against some sort of blackness spilling over the floor.
Steve lets his eyes focus on the black puddle for a second, seeing the way it moves like snakes instead of water, rolling over itself and leaving behind a sickly trail of bluish-black in its wake. They're attached to Eddie's left hand still, the substance seemingly sucking itself under Eddie's fingernails and into his skin. They twist and writhe into rotting vines of slime and black, crawling towards Eddie with every movement. It's a terribly familiar sensation that sends a shot of venom down Steve's spine.
Steve moves to grab Eddie by the waist and drag him away from the goo, the tendrils wrapped around his hand ripping apart with a sick squelch. Steve drags him into the kitchen to get farther away from what he now knows is clearly upside down goo, Eddie still convulsing and quivering against Steve's hands. He props Eddie up to lean against the base of the island, his head rattling back every so often against the wood as he shakes. The sound makes Steve nauseous. He continues to call Eddie's name, but there's no response that Steve can see. He grabs Eddie's hands again only to find them even colder now, his veins a stark black against the fading colour of his skin. Steve tries to rub some warmth back into them, but still nothing.
His breaths are ragged as Steve tries to form some sort of his plan despite every chance of a thought being cut off by panic. He was never supposed to be the planner. He's not the one who figures out how to save people. He's just the one who drags them out of hell when it's already too late, and dammit if he's not going to try and do it again for Eddie. He forces his fractions of thoughts to fucking do something, and vaguely remembers '84 and Joyce burning the upside down out of Will with a sweat lodge. Fine.
Steve works quickly to compartmentalize his oncoming panic attack before grabbing the now cracked popcorn bowl from the edge of the living room and returning to the kitchen to scoop Eddie up and tuck him against Steve's chest. He takes the stairs two at a time with Eddie's arms still flinching against him and all but throws him into the bathtub in Steve's ensuite, cranking the faucet as hot as it goes. He doesn't think it'll be hot enough to burn, but it's a chance that has to be taken. With Eddie semi-safely in the tub, Steve bursts back into his room to snatch his cassette player off his desk and scrounge under his bed for the walkie-talkie Dustin had bestowed upon him in '84.
Eddie is still convulsing against the porcelain of the tub which at this point Steve is honestly glad to see as a sign of life, the water bubbling up to his hips and steaming up the mirror. Steve throws the player and the walkie onto the tile, slamming the play button and letting Journey flood the bathroom as Steve Perry belts Any Way You Want It. Steve's just glad he didn't have a pop tape in there, hopefully if this is Vecna, Eddie can at least find some solace in rock'n'roll (even if it’s a little pop-y). He cranks the volume dial all the way up as he scrambles for the walkie and yanks the antenna out.
"Code red! I repeat, code fucking red, I need help now. It’s Eddie, I need El-" Steve cuts himself off with a squeak as Eddie's head slams against the back of the tub with a crack, the rest of his body shaking with violent shudders. Steve lets the walkie drop and dives towards him, catching his head and giving it a gentle yet slightly frantic shake. "Eddie, please," Steve pulls down the edge of his eyelid but the veins in his eyes have only gotten darker, seemingly darker than black and pulsing with every twitch. Eddie's shaking violently, rings clacking against the porcelain and his neck still snapping back no matter how tight Steve holds the sides of his head. Steve's own shakiness is no match for Eddie's, but he feels on the edge of collapsing as he struggles to keep Eddie from shaking apart at the bone.
Eddie's hands are at least warmer to the touch now thanks to the scalding water. Steve lifts one out of the water as it convulses against his skin, keeping one hand behind Eddie's head at all times. Unlike his eyes, the veins in Eddie's hand have faded back into a dark gray and his fingertips are leaving light trails of darkness in the water. Steve checks the other hand and finds the same. "Fuck yes, you son of a bitch, just hold on a little longer," Steve grips the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck a little harder and tries to cushion another violent crack of Eddie's head into the wall.
Steve fumbles for the popcorn bowl behind him and drags it under the faucet for a few seconds before throwing the water over Eddie's face. He tries to detach himself and just focus on the task as he possibly waterboards the person he's doomed in time with, willing his hands to still and get through it, but each time Eddie's head snaps against his hand or his rings crash against the tub Steve feels his knees give out just a little more and his breath catch in his throat. He keeps throwing bowl after bowl of near-boiling water over Eddie's face, his voice growing raw with Eddie's name. The panic rings in his ears and blocks out the sound of Departure running through its songs mixed with the crackling of the walkie and what he thinks could be voices, but he can't focus enough to tell.
The water is sloshing around Eddie's shoulders now, mere inches from the lip of the tub. Steve pours another bowl over Eddie's head and watches his curls straighten slightly to cling to his forehead and the jut of his jaw. His cheeks are finally starting to flush pink, and Steve's hands shake as he brushes the hair away from his face. Eddie's convulsing ramps up into more of a vibration, his spine shooting rigid and straight as his hands rattle rapidly in the water. Steve jerks to hold Eddie's head above water as it pools over the edge and soaks Steve's shorts. He doesn't even register the heat.
"Eddie, come on-" Steve chokes, his voice coming out strangled and distorted as his fingertips press into Eddie's cheeks. The water is dark and sludgy now which Steve is choosing to take as a good sign, regardless of whether it is or not. His own shaking is creating a sick sort of polyrhythm with Eddie's shaking, a wretched mirror of panic between them. Steve's crying between shrieks of panic, Eddie's convulsing growing more rapid and violent by the second. Steve's only semblance of hope lies in the fact that Eddie's skin has a bit of his usual golden tone to it and his veins seem to be lightening at least a little. Between strangled shouts of Eddie's name, Steve uses a shaky thumb to pull at the edge of Eddie's eyelid again. He holds his breath as he reveals the veins in his eyes are starting to lighten as well. They're still a muddy gray and not as light as the veins in his hands, but they're not pulsing anymore. Steve manages to spring back into action mode despite barely being able to feel his body through the buzz of panic, pouring another bowl of water over Eddie's head.
Eddie gives a whole body jerk as the water hits his face, every part of him making a horrifying clack against the tub that deafens Steve. Eddie's still vibrating at a terrifyingly unnatural pace, but it's alternated but violent jerks as Steve pours more water over his head. The blood vessels in Eddie's eyes slowly fade back into a semi-normal colour, but it does nothing to stop the convulsing of his body.
"Please, Eddie, wake up please," Steve's voice comes out shattered as he pours more water, still cradling Eddie's head with one hand. Eddie's convulsing picks up the pace again after two more bowls of water, his head snapping violently side to side and thrashing backwards. His limbs slow as his head continues to thrash against Steve's hands, his arms still shaking but only slightly. Hope and fear tangle in Steve's chest.
The slap of water against the tile replaces the sound of Eddie's limbs convulsing as the water pours endlessly over the side and stains everything a hopeful shade of black. Steve is screaming Eddie's name into the space between them as he digs his thumbs into Eddie's cheeks, his head shaking and trembling with otherworldly force. A sludge of black starts to pour from Eddie's lips, staining his skin a heavy blue and mixing with the already black water. Steve wipes and smudges the darkness from Eddie's mouth, a continuous circle as more of the goo rips itself from Eddie's mouth. it dissipates as it touches the water and leaves a thick trail in its wake, Steve trying to wipe all of it away with tears and screams.
As suddenly as it started, the convulsing stops with a scream cut short at the tip of Steve’s tongue. The black from Eddie’s lips stops. He lies still in the tub, his hair floating around him in a halo of curls that blend into the tainted water, everything a solemn shade of black. An archangel sort of darkness.
Steve cranks the water off and brings his hand back to Eddie's face. "Eddie?" His voice is hushed and gritty, barely breathing the words across Eddie's cheeks. His hands tremble as he finds Eddie's pulse point on his neck. His heartbeat is a muffled drum, weak and lost but there nonetheless. Steve lets himself take a deep breath for the first time as he watches the faint rise and fall of Eddie's chest. He slides his hands down to under Eddie's shoulder to drag him out of the overflowing tub, praying he doesn't need CPR but running through the steps in his head anyways.
"C'mon Eddie, just open those eyes," His words sit heavy and quiet in the air as he lifts Eddie back to a sitting position and slides his fingers up to check his pulse again. The faint thrums are few and far between and Steve feels the panic rising in his chest again, hands still trembling from before. Come on. Wake up. His pulse stays low and quiet.
The drum beat kicks alive under Steve's fingers, a sudden gasp of air coming to life between them as Eddie thrashes out of the water, hands frantic and searching while they smack across the tiled walls. Eddie’s hands fly to his neck where Steve’s fingers are still pressed over his pulse, and Steve can feel the pounding change in rhythm as he grips onto Steve's arms. His hands are warm against Steve's skin. Their breaths shudder in tandem as Steve pulls Eddie closer to his chest.
"You fucking asshole, I thought you were dead," Steve chokes out a cry on the last syllable and buries his head in the crook of Eddie's neck. Eddie's hands flit across Steve's skin with a residual tremor, each fingertip pressing and searching across Steve's back.
"Fuck, me too," Eddie hooks his chin over Steve's shoulder, both their hands fisted in eachothers soaked shirts. Their warm tears are lost among already damp cheeks and Steve can only hear the ringing behind his ears and Eddie's pulse under his fingers. They stay tangled until both their heart rates even out, the ripples of water with Eddie's movement trilling in the background. Eddie's breaths tickle the hair curling around Steve's ear.
"It was all black in there, man. Just like that freaky fuckin' dream," Eddie moves a twitching hand up from Steve's shoulder to the back of his neck, the other still wrapped around Steve's wrist where his fingers lay over Eddie's pulse point. "I thought I could hear you yelling, or maybe music or voices, but those vines had me again and I couldn't move-" His voice breaks and Eddie drops his chin to muffle a sob in Steve's neck. It echoes across Steve's skin, and it's all instinct at this point to cup his hands around Eddie's face and pull him closer over the lip of the tub. He lifts Eddie’s face to meet his gaze, gently swiping the mixture of tears and murky water from Eddie’s cheeks and pulls a little to knock their foreheads together.
“You’re out now, that’s all that matters. Everything else can come later, but you’re here,” He barely has to whisper the words with their breaths so close to each other for it to reach Eddie. Eddie’s breaths are still shaky, but it’s an alive sort of shake that brings Steve comfort instead of the dread of clacking knuckles against porcelain. Steve feels the aliveness of it against his skin with every trembling breath.
The floor of Steve’s bathroom is soaked from the overflow of the tub with sludgy trails carving paths along the tiles -and he’s pretty sure some of it’s leaked into the carpet of his room, which is probably a biohazard and will be an absolute bitch to get out- but with both he and Eddie conscious and breathing he couldn’t give a shit.
What he could give a shit about however, is the garbled static coming from behind him. He pulls away from Eddie to turn around and tries not to miss the newfound warmth, instead finding the walkie lying in the wake of the overflowing tub and streaked with muck. Slightly behind it and knocked to the side is the forgotten boombox, likely also waterlogged given the lack of Journey filling the bathroom.
“Fuck-” Steve slides across the tile and over to the walkie, further staining his work shorts in the process and shakes the excess water off the walkie. It gives a muffled shriek as Steve smacks the side but does nothing to clarify the sound. Against probably better judgment, he jams his finger into the button on the side. “Hello? Dustin? Can anyone hear me? Hello?”
“Steve, as much as I love listening to you yell at a broken walkie talkie, I feel like verbally and physically abusing it isn’t going to do much,” Eddie says while Steve continues to call into the walkie and smack at the device. Steve huffs before clicking the button a couple more times and gingerly setting it on the sink counter. He doesn’t bother with the speaker, just unclicks the journey tape from its slot, shakes it off, and sets it next to the walkie. Eddie lets out a small laugh from the tub. “You were gonna bring me back to life with Journey?!”
Steve feels some of the tension lift from his shoulders at Eddie’s more steady voice. “It was either that or Wham, would you have preferred George Michael? Or would ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ have been too on the nose?” Eddie’s bark of laughter rings off the walls.
“Making jokes already, Stevie? Guess we’ve got that in common,” Eddie goes to lift himself out of the tub with only a slight tremor in his hands, shaking the rest of the water off his arms once he’s standing. Steve yanks a towel off the rack and passes it to Eddie, Eddie immediately throwing it over his head to scrunch out the gritty water. “For real though, I assumed all your players came locked and loaded with ‘Songs From the Big Chair,’” Eddie’s voice is muffled from under the towel, but it’s not enough to hide his words.
“What business do you have knowing a Tears for Fears album? And a new one at that, it’s barely been out long enough in this year for me to have one copy let alone, like, three,” Steve lets the amused shock shine through his voice and he hears the smile in Eddie’s laugh even from under the towel. Eddie loops the towel around his neck after squeezing out his shirt and fiddles with the hem as he talks.
“I’m a man of mystery, Harrington,” He quirks a sideways smirk at Steve and pulls one side of the towel to slide off his neck. “And I worked at a record store in the months following its release and had to stack endless amounts of them. But make no mistake,” Eddie chucks the towel in Steve’s direction, the edge of it catching Steve across the face as Eddie steps out of the tub and tracks more water over the floor. “Tell anyone I know the name of a Tears for Fears album, and every tape you own gets it,” They grin at each other for a second, the ridiculousness of the moment crowding the anxiety that was buzzing in the air a minute ago. Eddie’s hair drips onto the puddles on the tile despite just being dried, a steady rhythm easing away the residual ringing in Steve’s ears.
Eddie’s swaying into Steve’s space just the same as Steve’s swaying into Eddie’s, their mortal peril briefly forgotten in the way that Eddie’s face is flushed with warmth again. There’s still a smudge of dark just in front of his ear. Steve glances down at it and is almost surprised when he brings his hand up to brush it away. He keeps his touch gentle, just ghosting the surface of Eddie’s skin as the grime is replaced by the warm rose of Eddie’s blush. Steve trails his finger back and tucks a loose curl behind Eddie’s ear, stopping to notice the way Eddie’s eyes flutter shut for a fraction of a second. Steve’s hand is the most still it’s been all day.
“-teve!- I’m com- Is-?-El! And-” They startle apart at the sound of the walkie spurring to life- or at least at the sound of it making a clear noise every three seconds. Eddie clears his throat and toes at his wet socks as Steve pulls his hand back and reaches for the walkie.
“Dustin? Can you hear us? Eddie’s awake now but we still need to talk to El,” He waits for the crackling on the other side to spring back to life, feeling the buzzing return to his skin. Eddie’s alternating between staring a hole into the towel on the floor between them and flitting back up to Steve’s eyes.
“-ere soon- way- nd Max- ddie?- ing out- ver,” The walkie fizzles again as Dustin cuts out. ‘Max?’ Steve mouths at Eddie, whose brows are furrowed in a likely similar expression to Steve’s. The walkie garbles for another second in what might have been Dustin or might have just been static, but he’s heard enough between cut outs to get the jist.
“I’ll leave the door unlocked, let yourself in when you get here,” Steve hopes he’s not cutting out too much on their end, but he has at least a little faith in Dustin’s ability to get the general idea. He places the walkie back on the counter and motions for Eddie to follow as he steps from puddled tile to soaked carpet. He cringes at the squelch, Eddie making a dramatic gag as he steps over into Steve’s room.
“You’re gonna have to burn all of this flooring, or honestly just move at this point,” Eddie’s got his arms and his fingers squirming as he makes it over the last of the soaked carpet, shaking his hands out in a shiver. “That’s gotta be the worst thing I’ve ever felt and I’m pretty sure I almost died yesterday,” Steve tries to laugh around the nerves flooding his skin as he pulls open the closet door that squeaks in the same way it does a year from now. He pulls a couple pairs of sweatpants and a Van Halen shirt for Eddie that Tommy H. had gotten him in ‘81 that he thinks he’s only worn once, plus a faded light blue tee for himself. He throws the clothes at Eddie and gets him in the face as retaliation for the towel.
“I know it’s not Dio or that Ozzy guy, but Van Halen’s the closest I got to metal,” Eddie stares at the shirt in his hands and quirks a smile at Steve, thumbing the fabric across the print.
“Here I was thinking I’d be getting a Tears for Fears shirt with all that talk earlier,” He sets the clothes down on Steve’s desk next to him and starts pulling at his soaked shirt. “Or maybe you just save luxuries of that manor for the ladies,” Steve laughs as he turns to pull at his own soaked clothes, the thick polyester of the sailor costume tugging at his skin. He feels his cheeks flush and tells himself it’s from the thickness of the fabric suffocating him.
“Pretty sure that’s one of maybe two graphic tees I own,” Steve says as he pulls on the dry shirt, reveling in the softness of cotton blends untainted by upside down fuckery. “Not sure if you realized I’m more of a polo guy, but who could’ve seen that coming,” Eddie snorts from behind him.
“I’m sure whole empires would gawk at the preppy lengths you go to in order to look like every suburban girl’s wet dream, Stevie,” Steve chokes on Eddie’s words and has nothing to blame the rising heat in his face on this time, nearly tripping on the cuff of his sweats as he yanks them up.
“Oh please, I’m pretty sure the polos are not drawing people in. Robin has data to prove it, and even more in ‘86,” Steve tucks his hands in his pockets and fiddles with the threads on the seam as he waits for Eddie to change. He hears Eddie’s huff of laughter between the shuffling of clothes.
“Every highschool rumor says otherwise, not that I’m usually one for gossip. More of a fan of finding proof for myself,” Eddie comes around from behind Steve, squeezing his shoulder as he passes. His slightly damp hair is leaving imprints of black in the dark gray of the fabric, the shirt hanging slightly looser off his shoulders than it would on Steve. The sweats are cinched at the hips, and Eddie’s tucked the corner of the tee into the waistband. It’s a look so different from the two outfits Steve’s seen him in that he has to take a moment to recognize Eddie again. Even with the tattoos and his usual rings still adorning his fingers to compliment the guitar pick hanging from his neck, he still looks softer. More mundane than his usual otherworldly aura, but in a way that makes Steve want to see more.
There’s a bang from downstairs that echoes up the hall, both Steve and Eddie snapping their heads to the door to Steve’s room. They move to the top of the stairs to see the front door still rattling from being slammed open into the wall, Dustin staring frantically at it with El and Max standing farther back in the doorway. Steve melts at the sight of them, El with her hair in frizzed out curls just above her shoulders and wrapped in a flannel that he assumes is Hopper’s, Max with her usual wild hair that’s curled up at the ends from the summer humidity. She’s got her usual determined set to her face, chin turned up and eyes squinted, ready for a fight.
Steve feels his knees give out and catches himself with one hand on the banister. There’s an arm that’s snaked around his waist and he looks to see Eddie staring ahead at Max, face broken in two. She looks younger- they all do- but Max still looks like a child, as she rightfully should. She’s still got her signature sneer in place, but her shoulders aren’t hunched so high around her neck. There’s lightness in the way she moves farther into the house, and it’s confidence with every stride. It’s not any sort of difference that someone from the outside would notice, but it’s the fullness in the space she lets herself take up that gets Steve. It’s someone who hasn’t yet been struck by all encompassing grief and guilt.
“Steve! What’s going on?” Dustin’s voice is shrill and carries all the way up. Eddie’s hand slips off Steve’s waist as he stands, and he tries not to shake as he slowly makes his way down the stairs.
“Everyone’s okay for now. Eddie was in some sort of trance, almost like a seizure. I used heat to get it out but it was definitely from the upside down,” Eddie stays paused at the top of the stairs and simply nods at Steve’s words. A drop of water falls from his hair onto the banister and Eddie follows it with his eyes. “We both had a dream- we were in this dark space and then there was the vines, and some sort of voice-”
“Was it the Mindflayer? Or your Vecna?” Dustin’s starting his standard rapid fire question procedure, Max and El in quiet contemplation behind him. El nudges Max, the two sharing a look before El nods and turns back to face Steve. Steve eyes them and tunes back into Dustin’s rambling.
“I’m not sure, If it’s all controlled by Vecna then I guess it doesn’t really matter which one it was, right?” Dustin gives a comical shrug.
“Oh! Well if this big life threatening thing just doesn’t matter then who cares who it’s coming from! Right, Steve?-” El cuts Dustin off with a shove and pushes her way in front of him. Eddie’s creeped down a few more steps, but is still hanging back with a faraway expression glued on his face as he stares at the kids.
“I have felt it,” El starts, Dustin quieting at her voice. “This morning, something had changed. I did not know what for sure, but something bigger is here,” Her solemn nod feels like a death sentence, but Steve keeps his expression stoney. “Dustin told me you are not from here, you are from next year. You are not my Steve,” She looks at him in the same way that a doctor would, all cold examining stares at harsh angles. “But you came here and brought something worse with you, and I fear it is connected to you. I think, you have become like Will.”
Steve remembers Will’s possession in ‘84- and tries to force down the thought- but he remembers how closely it mirrors the ‘seizure’ Eddie just had. He looks over at Eddie, his eyes now turned down towards the floor and his arms wrapped around his middle. Steve tries not to choke on his breath. “What can we do?” El nods at Max again.
“Dustin says there is another gate. We have to send you back through, or else whatever you brought back will destroy us. I will need time to learn how to open it back to your time, but I believe it is possible,” Dustin is fidgeting behind El and keeps shooting worried glances between her and Steve. “I did not realize it was you who had caused it, or else I would have found you sooner.”
“Yeah, we were already gonna be at the mall and everything because of fucking Michael-”
“Language.”
“-Freaking Michael, but then El felt the change and passed out, and well, that’s not really the right time for a shopping spree,” Max shrugs as if all of this is very nonchalant news for everyone, the kind of thing she goes through every tuesday. It’s such a Max thing to do that Steve almost sobs. “And then you called, and then Dustin called, and now we’re back in the shit-show.”
“What did I just say about language,” Steve saves a small smile for her regardless, but can’t help his hands finding their way to his hips. “And anyways, you were going to be at the mall today? We could’ve figured this out sooner- Shit- I had my days wrong, I thought you guys showed up tomorrow,” Steve mentally runs through his timeline, but after a year it’s hard to pick out exactly what else he could have also gotten wrong. Max mouths ‘language’ at him, and he lightly cuffs her on the back of the head. “I’m an adult, I get to say it,” Steve doesn’t miss the sideways smile Max tries to suppress. “Really though, shit, we could’ve maybe avoided Eddie’s ‘episode’ if I had known something was off when you two didn’t show up.”
“Where did it happen?” Dustin butts back into the conversation, causing Eddie to perk up at his voice.
“Living room. I was cleaning up Harrington’s possibly eons old beer when it attacked me, and…” Eddie heaves out a trembling breath and runs a hand through his tangling hair as everyone turns to look at him. “Well, then I was back in the void. Then awake in Steve’s scalding bathtub,” El squints at him then turns heel and heads through the door to the living room. The popcorn is still scattered across the floor, the beer can laying nearly untouched by the foot of the couch. Also untouched is the floor around it, no sign of the blackened hell-goo that was previously drenching the wood. Steve eyes the can.
“That beer was from today, too,” Eddie furrows his brow at Steve, El crouching down with Dustin to inspect the can. “I opened it right before I passed out, forgot all about it,” Eddie’s eyes flick between the can and Steve, then between Max and Dustin.
“So your spooky vine dream got infused into the can?” Max says as she purposefully steps on the array of popcorn kernels surrounding her. “And then he touched it,” Crunch. “Got possessed,” Crunch. “And now it’s gone?” Crunch, crunch, crunch. Steve kicks her toe away from stepping on another kernel, Max scowling and stepping on two more anyways.
“Well, maybe not gone, I mean, could still be in them, right?” Dustin’s words chill Steve’s blood, and he looks in time to see the colour fade from Eddie’s face as well. Eddie stares holes into the side of the can and fists his hands tighter across the Van Halen logo.
“Fucking awesome,” Eddie whispers between them. El turns to face him, her eyes tracking his face in the same examining way that she did to Steve, settling on his eyes as she scrunches her nose.
“There is another thing,” El says, looking at no one but Eddie. “I searched for the thing you brought with you in my space, but I only found parts. I did not find Steve until later,” She glances towards Steve and takes a short breath. “But there were pieces of you everywhere.”
“Pieces? What do you mean, pieces?” Eddie’s digging his nails into his shirt, into his skin, and Steve sees the same panicked look he found in the boathouse. He reaches out to grab Eddie’s wrist, pulling his hand from its death grip around the fabric, and lets him cling to Steve’s hand instead.
“Like an echo. This thing is tied to you more than it is to Steve, and it is trying to pull you into the space completely,” Eddie’s pulse jumps in his palm, and Steve can hear his ragged breaths. “You were not supposed to be here.”
Eddie scoffs. “Well yeah, neither was Steve. We’re a whole year behind,” El grimaces and stares through Eddie.
“No. You are not supposed to be here. You are not supposed to be alive.”
_______
TAG LIST (reply to be added): @estrellami-1 @melodymeddler @songbird-garden @gregre369 @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @bestwifehaver @mediguro @goodolefashionedloverboi @huniiibee @rhyswritesreadsandcries @i-have-three-feelings @mightbeasleep @grtwdsmwhr @hirikka @starlight-archer @clumsiluni @celestialrebel1 @quarble @woolley-socks
#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie fanfic#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#shovel writes
39 notes
·
View notes
Note
You seem like you’d be really fun to smoke with -a girl who smokes a shit ton of weed
Goldie!! 🌟🏆🔑⭐️💛
I am a danger to get high with. You’ll have your hands full all night. I get frustrated when microwave popcorn doesn’t pop all the way so naturally once when I was high I put my bag of popcorn in the microwave for 10 whole minutes so each and every kernel would be popped. And I stared at the microwave the whole time thinking this is my best idea yet. It was not.
Fortunately I got a whirly pop for Christmas which does a much better job at popping all the kernels, however, it involves the stove and I’m not sure stoned bug can handle that responsibility!
TLDR—you’d have to make me popcorn.
18 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
supercarchannel
Supercar Channel
kudinoxixuto
Untitled
littleofthisthat
Little Of This Little Of That
rizzoli-and-isles-witchyoman2
Rizzoli & Isles
