#she is still....sorta....sorta round | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eilidh-eternal · 2 months

Text

You learn the truth

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist | Ao3 |

Thank you @gemmahale for reading this monstrosity and helping me fine-tune it <3

“Sergeant. How copy?”

Simon looms over Johnny in the team room, sidled up to a sagging couch that’s seen better days, and when he lifts his derelict gaze from the battle-worn photo in his hands he’s met with pinched brows, sloped granite, and folded arms. Worry, in the staid manner he’s come to expect from Simon.

“Solid, Lt,” he answers dutifully, devoid of his usual ebullience, and with a tenor forged from damascus and flint.

Simon rounds with a languid gait to the opposite cushion, stained with something dark, iron-rich and oxidizing in the loose weave, and lowers himself down beside him. Holds out a gloved hand. Johnny obeys his silent command and relinquishes what might just be the most valuable thing he owns. Deposits it gingerly in his waiting palm.

“How’s she doin’?” he asks, smoothing out a crease in the portrait.

“Started school this past year. Whole head taller than last ye saw her. Still carries that damn bear ‘round the house, too.” Takes his tea the same as Simon, according to Isobel.

“Better that than the bloody mask.”

“Aye. Better, that,” he agrees, and a ragged breath saws out of his lungs when he sinks back into the sun-bleached nylon.

“And your pet?” Simon passes the photo back and Johnny tucks it reverently back into his breast pocket, folded neatly and pressed close to his heart—where it belongs.

“Isnae ‘mine’,” he drawls, somnolence roughening his voice despite the afternoon sun pouring in through the concrete window. “Stubborn thing, too. Hasnae been answerin’ her phone.”

“That what’s got you mithered?”

“Worried,” Johnny corrects, and Simon folds his hands across his midsection, settling back alongside him with a throaty grunt and the echo of artillery fire in his bones, popping and cracking beneath the weight of his battle-worn body.

“All the same, innit?”

“Not with her. Not when she…” He toys with a clip on a canvas belt loop, rough fingers tracing the burnished amalgam of iron and carbon, and for a moment, he feels your skin. Metallic beneath his touch, chilled by the wind, precious and perfect in his hands. “You an’ her are cut from the same cloth. Dinnae care much for sharin’.” Even when you should.

You keep him up at night, itinerant thoughts always finding their way through the morass of post-operative lassitude back to you. Wondering what you fill your days with. If you still linger by the window in the placid hours of the morning with a steaming, ceramic mug warming your hands, marking the passage of time by the melting of the ice. If the final snow of spring has laced the wild cherry trees along the row with pearl-drop blossoms and an almond sillage. If you’ve seen the picture he managed to take from the ramp mid-flight, on transport to Laswell’s station, mareel lea of clouds undulating beneath a star-flecked velarium.

Thinking about all the things he said, and the things he didn’t, before he left. Burning with the memory of you, pressed flush against him; soft and warm and safe in the lambent halo of his arms. You felt like his in that moment, and he lies awake, breathing in char and soot from the moreish conflagration ravaging his chest, staining his throat a fuliginous shade of black with each serrated exhale.

He might have told Simon—if the big bastard weren’t rattling the ballistic glass in his sleep.

You’re standing in the pasta aisle, staring at the selection of boxed macaroni, and you’re drifting further and further into an endless, atramentous night.

Funny, you think, when the sun and stars live next door. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. None of it was supposed to be this way. Stars don't fall from the sky. But meteors do. And now… now you have to crawl out of the crater at the bottom of a pitiless ocean, navigate the upheaval of silt and abysmal detritus, and search for the surface without the gilded hand of the sun to guide you.

You should have stayed away.

Isobel would choose the box with the cartoonish bear. Johnny would make a joke about bears liking porridge, not cheesy noodles. You toss it in your basket with the rest of your ready meals, soggy cardboard already weeping condensation, and battle the undertow to the queue at the till.

You should have left them alone.

“Beautiful day, today is.” They don't know that the stars have gone nova. That the ossified remains of the Earth creak and settle in the brumal gloaming, caliginous and desolate. They can’t hear you, pounding on the ice, desperate for apricity in a nuclear winter.

Now you’re the one who’s alone.

“It is,” you lie, and the effluvium of ozone burns your lungs. Cauterizes the hemorrhaging, pulpy mess you call a heart, languishing in the frangible cage of your ribs.

Free divers can hold their breath for 10 minutes at a time. You wonder how long you’ll last trapped beneath a frozen mantle.

It snowed again, the morning Johnny left—pillowed the earth in anticipation of your fall—but several weeks of sleet and freezing rain has turned the pavement into a patchwork of slush and ice that mimics the glacial floes in your veins. Your wellies don’t have the same grip as proper snow boots. Crampons are better suited for the climb ahead. Neither are very practical for a quick trip to Tesco, though. Would look quite odd, standing on ice cleats in the pasta aisle.

The same can’t be said of the car park. With your canvas tote clutched close to your side, you pick your way through fissures of lingering snow. Opt for trickling streams of runoff rather than attempting to balance on the slick pavement. It’s slow going. Tedious. The lingering wind of last week's squall whips at your exposed skin. Lashes and bites, pumping a gelid venom into your veins, and the blackening, gangrenous bits of your mangled heart feel numb. Numb enough that you don’t immediately recognize the car parked next to yours. Twin sets of eyes, stratified ice, rich with moraine, watching from the windows. You don’t realize how the world suddenly feels too bright, staring up through a polynya, until you glimpse an aureate complexion and charcoal hair, silver-streaked with ash and tied up in a loose pony, emerging from the driver's seat.

Fenella MacTavish is a star in her own right. Has a gravity to her that demands to be felt and heard. The pull of your name on her lips drags you through the hole in the ice and dangles you there. Bait for something bigger. Hungrier. And she does it all with a friendly face, a cordon of coronal light woven into a beaming smile—aimed at the fallstreak hole that’s been punched through your sternum.

“Ye’re a fair way from home, lass.” The divisional line of the Baltic and North Sea, from the feel of it. Or maybe somewhere off the coast of Shetland. It doesn’t really matter. Dread still percolates down your spine and you blink against the sudden shock of the sun emerging from the clouds, lurid rays burrowing into your retinas.

“Better prices for produce on this side of town,” you hedge, and she looks pointedly at the sharp protrusions of box corners against canvas, faultline of her brow erupting with skepticism.

“Thought Tesco’s all have the same prices, more or less,” she reasons, and you watch the way she leans against the D pillar, arms folded and braced against a hiemal wind that tousles loose strands of hair about her face. A similar image of Johnny from several weeks ago effervesces to the surface of your memory and you shove it down. Drown it in the brine that spumes on roiling white caps.

You answer with an indolent shrug and make to step around her, slipping your hand in a fleece-lined coat pocket in search of your keys, but like the other MacTavishes you’ve come to know, Fenella has a propensity for prying questions.

“Have ye heard from Joh—”

“No,” you say before she can speak his name, gloved fingers curling around the worn canvas strap across your shoulder like it’s a lifeline. Trying to pull yourself away from the hole in the ice, procellous waves lapping hungrily at your feet where she dangles you from artfully strung words. It’s not technically a lie. Even if there’s a novel's worth of texts from him that have gone unopened and unanswered. “I have—”

“Come have dinner wi’ us,” she volleys back. Guts the wretched desiderium curled at the back of your throat, backed into a corner and hissing at anything that comes near. Coaxes the dolorous, indignant want festering in your chest into the light.

You want Johnny and his ribald jokes. Want him to look at you the way he looks at Isobel when they walk together. To hold your hand inside the pocket of his coat when you both forget your gloves on the way to pick her up from school. Remind you to leave work at the door. Shut your laptop and close the manuscript. Give yourself a break and come watch some mind rotting show with him and Isobel on the couch. Curl up in a tartan blanket, woven with his family's colors, and pretend you aren't falling asleep with your cheek pressed to his shoulder. Want to bake with Isobel and chase Johnny from the kitchen. Read to her on the nights he’s away, out at the pub on Main with friends from work. Be there, sleeping on the couch with Isobel, waiting for him to come home from assignment.

You want, and the teratoid it’s become circles with the porbeagles. Has teeth and a consciousness all it’s own, shredding through sinewy trepidation and tearing through every layer of adamantine flesh that you wear like armor. Stripping you down to the bone and sucking on the treacly marrow.

There’s no reason why you can’t. Johnny’s said as much. Made it patently clear when he all but tucked you into his jacket with him and let the warmth of sun-chapped lips bleed into your algid skin that night on your stoop. But there’s a picture in the livingroom of the townhouse next to yours that clamors each time you pass it. A ghost, bound to this plane by molecules of ink on photo paper, materializing at your back and whispering words of doubt from the umbrage. Telling you to leave. They aren’t yours to have.

You feel rime creeping up your legs, briny sea spray turning denim stiff in the darkening carpark. The sun is sinking, varicolored sky unfurling against the plumage of clouds and an austere snowscape, and it casts shadows across the city, long as the list of reasons you shouldn’t.

“Tomorrow night,” she presses, “roads ‘round here get a tad dodgy after dark wi’ the ice an’ all.” Her eyes drift to the ice surrounding your feet. Stare for a moment, like there are memories trapped there.

You’ve found your keys. Found them several minutes ago, and have been toying with pressing the panic button. Manufacturing some way out of this conversation. Your toes are numb, too. Whether it’s from standing in a river of runoff or Fenella’s snare, swaying precariously and staring down into the gaping maw of repressed desire, you don’t know. But you do know that you can’t stay here. Can’t keep staring at this woman who looks like Johnny and pretend you don’t want to know everything about her. Him. Them. That you don’t want to go to dinner with her and Isobel because you miss them.

“Tomorrow,” you begin, “I have a meeting. Have to stay late.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” she counters. “Bell stays up late to watch Still Game wi’ me. Sure she wouldnae mind waitin’ an hour tae have a friend join us fer some stovies.” You can see Isobel in the car behind her, twisted around in her car seat to watch the two of you, and your heart lurches in your chest. Gnashes and snarls at the web of lies you’ve woven around it, glittering trip wires disguised as a safety net.

Don’t get too close. Don’t get attached. They’re not yours. This will never be your family.

‘Go!’ it wails, and her eyes beg you to stay.

When you finally find your footing again, you take a step towards your car. “I’ll think about it.” Move carefully between cracks in the ice. “See if I can get the meeting moved up. Isobel should keep to her schedule.” Keep your eyes up. Don’t look at the monster she’s dragged out of you.

Fenella nods like you’ve agreed. Either chooses to ignore your feeble attempt at a polite refusal or twists your words into reluctant acceptance as she fishes her phone from her vest. Hums as she taps away at the screen, and you feel the echo of it when your own phone vibrates in your pocket beside your keys.

“We’ll see ye tomorrow night, then.” She smiles, wide and machiavellian, before she severs the snare and watches you plummet. Slips into the warmth of her car as you plunge through the hole in the ice and it freezes over once more. Chum in the water.

Staring at Fenella’s address on your phone screen effects a sinking feeling in your stomach. Drags you down to that abyss again, only this time, you aren’t alone. You weren’t alone before—not really. You’d just denied the truth of what was clawing its way through your chest. Couldn’t face what its existence means.

You stare until the screen goes dark, and then stare some more, until the oven timer chimes and you wade through your kitchen to silence it. Produce a hot pad from an adjacent drawer to pull a cardboard tray of lasagne from the rack, and nearly drop it when the chiming starts again.

Your phone vibrates on the table behind you, Johnny’s name lit up across the screen. Calling.

‘Won’t be able to use my phone a lot, but I’ll call when I can.’

The awful thing in your chest shudders in answer.

Every muscle in your body tenses. Aches to open the line. Grab it with both hands and pull. Drag yourself from the depths of your self inflicted misery and bathe in the ardent warmth of his smile. You want to talk to him. Want to hear that gravel rich timbre and your name rolling off the escarpment of his tongue.

But should you?

Should you even try to be something you aren’t? Something you never thought you could be. Would want to be. Should you—?

“Bonnie? Ye there?”

Oh, fuck…

“Yeah… I’m here,” you breathe, and it’s not salt water but kerosene that fills your lungs. Burns with self-loathing and penitence as it commingles with ozone. “Johnny, I—” Your voice pitches, teeters on the precipice of trepidation and want, and crumbles away with the marl.

You’ve been ignoring him. Ignoring how you feel. Absconding yourself in your abnegation and rotting on the ocean floor, too afraid to swim. To look for the light. Afraid of falling even further.

And all of that want comes pouring out of you now. Out of the hole punched through your chest when he left. In a briny deluge down the berm of your cheeks when he shushes you. From puncture wounds, perfect impressions of serrated teeth, sunk to the bone. Not letting go.

“I know, sweet girl. I know,” he soothes, palliating and emollient, but the breath you take scrapes against your throat, coarse with sand and silt. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Johnny.” You thought it would hurt, admitting it. That the jaws would clamp down and you would scream and kick and fight. You were so heavy, full to the brim with want, that you mistook it for that leaden, sinking feeling. Thought it was drowning you.

“Bell said she saw ye today. That ye’re goin’ to visit her tomorrow?” There’s hope in his voice, nestled in the colluvium that tumbles from his lips and settles at your feet.

“Yeah,” you decide then and there. “I am.”

The MacTavish home isn’t what you thought it would be, limewashed stone tucked at the end of a winding, gravel lane, cradled by the tussock and sedge of a heathland and perched on the slope of a shallow vale. Double paned windows cast a genial glow onto the drifts around it, tenuous peaks capped in flakes of gold, and a scintillant lamp floods the walkway, salted cobble, free of the ice your tires struggled to navigate on the narrow streets of Old Kilpatrick. The door is a bathic blue, nearly the same depth as the lacuna between stars on a moonless night, and a boar-head knocker greets you, impeccably polished silver despite its exposure to the elements. Your hand halts halfway to the ring that dangles from gleaming ivory tusks and hangs surprised between yourself and the refulgent star across the threshold. Everything about Fenella and her home is bright.

She ushers you inside, pulling you by a handful of billowing cashmere into the foyer, and promptly defoliates you of the flailing garment and congruent scarf wound around your neck, taking your bag and hanging it from a brass hook beside your coat. “Bell, come an’ look who’s here!” she calls down the passageway, and a brontide reverberates through the hardwood and soles of your shoes. A storm rattling the foliage of a coppice in the thick of Summer.

Isobel shrieks, effusive in the manner of her excitement, when she rounds the corner from the doorway to the left and catches sight of you, teddy forgotten and swiftly discarded in favor of launching herself down the wide hall. You rock back when she connects with your leg, sinking her hands into layers of chiffon, pleated at your waist and cascading to the buckles of your flats around your ankles.

“Ye made it!” She wears a t-shirt many sizes too big, sleeves billowing around her and the hem rolled and tucked up inside with a knot that presses against your shin. The cracked, peeling numerals 141 are barely visible, on her left side just below her breastbone, and her surname is printed just below, peaks and plateau of the M and T rising above the cloud of your skirt bunched up in her arms. Her hair is loose, curls tumbling just over her shoulders in an unruly race to the wide crew-collar of her shirt, and the smile she beams up at you is blinding. Disorienting. Burrowing into your brain in search of a home. Looking for its carbon copy, etched in a memory of Johnny, sitting on a wooden chair in a kitchen that mirrors yours.

A timer chimes, echoing off smooth plaster painted with a whisper of green, sage and seafoam, and an eclectic collection of frames maps a rich family history from the front door down the length of the passageway,

“That’ll be dinner,” Fenella announces, a hand coming to rest between your shoulders and another delving into her granddaughter's curls. “Bell, show ‘er where tae wash up.” She herds you both forward, and your stomach knots with budding nerves.

“Can I help with anything? Setting the table?” you offer, attempt to make yourself useful, and she tuts her disapproval.

“Nae, jus’ wash up wi’ Bell. Dinner’ll be on the table when yer done.” She slips by the two of you, disappearing down the passageway and to the right while Isobel fits her hand into yours and leads you through the door she came from.

There’s a sideboard adjacent to the washroom, and while Isobel scrubs the days mire from her nails you cast your attention to the portraiture above it. Echoes of a convivial home, filled with family during the holidays, outings in the city, and school portraits. Johnny’s service portrait hangs front and center above a shadow box, pin board nearly full with brassy medals and gaudy ribbons. Years younger and clean shaven, he looks boyish and bright-eyed, even with the army drab and neutral expression. But there's a familiar tilt to his mouth, permanently skewed in an inveterate smile, and a whisper of laughter in the gentle slope of his shoulders, not yet filled out with the corded muscle that’s become so familiar. Several inches to the right and many years later, he appears as you know him now. Dark shadow of stubble, interrupted by the stitchwork that created the twisting scar on his chin, and—

The bulk of his body is curled around a young woman, dark cloud of curls concealing her face, buried in the hollow space beneath his jaw, but the swell of her belly is obvious in her profile. Isobel’s mum.

“Yer turn!” Isobel lilts from behind you, but you remain rooted to the polished hardwood, staring at a ghost, and wait for the rebuttal.

They aren’t yours. This isn’t your family.

Budding nerves blossom in the loamy pit of your stomach, creeping along spiculated vines towards the moldering gaps between your ribs, and your heart stutters in its crumbling cage alongside the starving, pacing creature you call want.

Forget them. Leave.

You wait, and wait, and wait—and it never comes. The ink doesn't wail, the frames don’t rattle, and there is no voice whispering over your shoulder.

There is a darling girl, tugging at the fabric of your skirt and the mess of snarled threads around your heart, picking apart the tangled web you’ve been lost in, and she guides you through the fray to the washroom basin.

“Ah spoke wi’ Johnny this morn’,” Fenella begins, reaching across the table to wipe at the broth dribbling down Isobel’s chin. “Said ye finally had a chance tae talk.”

“Oh. Yes, we did.” You don’t tell her how Johnny did most of the talking, took your sniveled apologies for avoiding his messages and buried them in the colluvium. Caught you, from a world away, and lowered you gently to the earth when you fell apart in your kitchen. “He sounds well.”

“Aye, he does. Havnae heard ‘im like that since Kirsten died.” She leans back in her chair, half-finished bowl of stew all but forgotten. “Those two… och, they were a right pain in my arse. Where one went the other followed, an’ made twice the trouble for their Mam.”

The revelation glues to your brain, tenebrous and viscid.

“Has he told ye about ‘er, his sister?”

“She saw the picture in the passageway,” Isobel chimes in, babbling around a mouthful of roast potato.

Their Mam. The picture in the hall. Johnny’s sister. The ghost next door.

“He’s mentioned her once before.” You drag your spoon through cooling beef and potato, breaking up the congealed, starchy mass, and try to do the same with the memories that tangle themselves together in your head. “He told me about his wife; that she passed two years ago. I— He never said his sister passed as well. I’m so—”

“His wife?” Quicksilver brows fly towards the inky peak of her hairline, bewilderment etched in the incredulous slash of her mouth, lips drawn tight. “Johnny’s ne’er wed, lass.”

Your hand stills but your heart rattles, throwing itself against baleen bars, and the pinpricks of teeth, gnawing at the fallstreak hole in your sternum, threatens to crack your ribs open at the dinner table. “Isobel’s mother—”

“Is his sister,” Fenella finishes for you.

“Then, Johnny… Why didn’t Isobel’s father raise her?”

Fenella casts a furtive glance in Isobels direction and finds cordierite eyes staring back at her over an empty bowl, gleaming with a startling discernment. “Stay here,” she motions towards you, and plucks Isobel from the chair between you, balancing her on a broad hip. “All done, Bell? Let’s get ye settled in the den, hm? With Ghost?” Isobel clutches at her shirt for balance, dips her chin in agreement, and Fenella takes her from the dining room, leaving you alone with the savage things in your chest.

Sister. Never married. Niece.

It percolates through gray matter. Drips from the roof of your mouth, nauseating and saccharine, and when you swallow you feel the drop in your stomach like an iron weight. Wilted petals and desiccated vines withering. A febrile joy laced with bile bubbling up your throat; sickly cocktail of absolution and compunction.

There was never a ghost trapped in a picture frame. No headstone inscribed with the MacTavish name and the words ‘Loving Wife and Mother.’ Every poisonous word whispered in your ear came from the devil on your shoulder, sowing demurral and rooting it in reproval, and the roaring in your chest, thundering pulse in your ears, screams yes.

The muted playing of fanfare from the TV cuts through the cacophony in your head, and Fenella’s voice allays the discordance. “She knows more than she lets on.” A sigh filters through her nose with a ‘hum’ and she slides into the chair Isobel occupied previously. “She misses him. Misses him like a wean misses their Da.” Misses him the same as her Mum. Gone somewhere she can’t follow, a place kept secret from her, with no way to know when he’ll be back. If he’ll come back.

The unpleasant realization of that very real possibility scrapes down your spine, whetted talons screeching against corrugated bone.

“Johnny’s the closest thing Bell’s ever had tae a Da,” she elucidates. “They used tae work together, ‘fore Johnny joined up wi’ the Task Force. Passed selection the same year.”

“She—Kirsten—met him through Johnny?” She nods, smiling, but the curve of her mouth has a mournful edge.

“She did. Johnny brought some lads round for Hogmanay one year. Took his sister out wi’ ‘em tae the pubs. Said she took one look at Aaron MacAndrew handin’ ‘er brother his own arse at darts and knew she’d marry ‘im. Did so, the following year. Hardly made it another ‘fore she told us she was havin’ Bell.” The memory of her daughter brightens Fenella’s eyes. Bottled lightning, bouncing off maldivian blue glass. “We were all excited. ‘Specially Johnny; couldnae wait tae meet his niece. Brought home gifts for Kirsten and the wean from every tour and couldnae go to ASDA wi’out buyin’ another teddy or romper.”

“Did Johnny and Aaron tour together?” She nods solemnly.

“Few weeks after Kirsten had Bell they left. Got their orders a month earlier, an’ Aaron… He didnae let Johnny tell Kirstin ‘til after she had the wean. Didnae want her tae stress.

“They were tae be gone three months, so Kirsten stayed here an’ I helped wi’ Bell. Went a while ‘fore we heard anythin’ from Johnny. Said things got hairy. Had tae go dark. Stay hidden. We didnae know why ‘til he called again an’ said he was comin’ home early, but naw Aaron. Naw ‘til he was the only one tae come off the plane.”

Laughter trickles in from the den, pooling in the hollow silence that yawns between you and Fenella. “I…” you try, but every word you string together with the next frays around the knot in your throat.

“She was angry wi’ him for some time. Aaron had died weeks before he called, an’ he kept it from ‘er. Didnae want tae tell her on the phone. Wanted tae be there when she found out.” She shifts her weight in the chair. Leans forward to fold one arm over the other on the table. “Johnny took it hard, too. Losin’ his mate an’ then his sister. None of us saw her for the better part of a year after he died, an’ Johnny took the blame for it. She wouldnae see him. Didnae come ‘round for holidays. He thought if he made ‘imself scarce she might come out her shell, so when he heard from a Captain he used tae serve under, ‘bout the Task Force an’ the longer assignments that came wi’ it… He packed ‘imself up an’ off he went. Was another year ‘fore they finally saw one another. Never knew what was said between the two of ‘em, but they were close as ever afterwards. Right up ‘til she passed.”

“And she listed Johnny as Isobel's next of kin.” Fenella nods, bottled lightning limned with a silvery tide. “I… I’m so sorry. About Kirsten, Aaron, bringing it up— I shouldn’t—”

Despite the tears tracking down her cheeks, Fenella shakes her head. Smiles, and reaches across the table to clasp your hand in hers. “Ye dinna need tae apologize, lass. I should be thankin’ ye, really.” You try to pull away but her hand tightens around yours.

“Thank me? I haven’t—”

“Done anythin’? Lass, ye’ve done more than ye know. He talks about ye. Every time we go tae lunch. It’s ye, an’ Bell, an’ how excited she always is tae see ye. How he thinks she might fancy ye even more than he does. And he smiles. You brought that back.”

And fuck, if that isn’t everything you hoped for. To know that he smiles for you. Because of you. It alchemizes the iron in your stomach to lead, bathed in acid and leeching an acrimonious guilt into your bloodstream.

You ignored him.

Pulled away, just like his sister did.

And Fenella is thanking you.

Midnight settles over the MacTavish home in a mantle of crushed velvet and embroidered stars. Fenella insisted that you stay after dinner. Spend some time with Isobel in the den.

That was several hours ago.

Curled in the corner of a chenille couch, you sit with Isobel pressed to your side, head pillowed by the masked bear she clutches in her sleep.

“Someone’s finally tuckered out,” you muse, brushing an errant curl away from her face. “I should head home. Let the two of you rest.” Fenella stands from her chair beside the couch and maneuvers around the coffee table in the dim light of the TV.

“It’s late,” she rebukes. “I’ll naw have ye out at this hour. Stay the night. Ye can take yer rest in Johnny’s old room.” Fenella croons as she peels Isobel out of her cocoon of blankets and hoists her up into the cradle of her arms. “C’mon Bell, let’s show the lass where she’s stayin’ the night.”

“The roads really aren’t that bad, I— I should be able to make the drive just fine,” you insist, but the admonition in the gaze she levels you with quashes any further argument.

You follow, albeit hesitantly, from the den up a narrow flight of stairs, and hope that she can’t hear the tremulous rattling of your breath behind her. She deposits Isobel, teddy and all, in a colorful room, shelves overflowing with picture books and bins piled high with teddies and toys, tucks her snug beneath a hand-sewn quilt and leaves her with a peck on the cheek to guide you into the room across from hers.

She rifles through a chest of drawers, scratched pine and chipped lacquer, stood up against the wall opposite a wrought iron bed, draped in purples and greens that bring thistle to mind. “Ye can wear some of Johnny’s old things. I’d give ye somethin’ of mine but, well… I think ye’d be more comfortable in this.” Tracksuit bottoms and a pullover. She leaves it on the bed as she moves to where you hover near the doorway. “Washroom is just down there, on the right,” she directs, pointing to the far end of the hall. “An’ I’m just across the way if ye need anythin’. See ye at breakfast.”

With you and Isobel settled in your respective rooms, she ambles off to her own, door clicking shut softly behind her, and you’re left staring at Johnny’s clothes. On Johnny’s bed. In the bedroom where he grew up. Wondering how—if at all—you’ll be able to sleep tonight.

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

434 notes · View notes

sp0o0kylights · 10 months

Text

Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part.

Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two

First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of!

It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here. All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders.

The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know.

As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right.

Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack.

Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast.

Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on.

Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.

Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson."

Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea.

"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--"

"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice.

"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor.

"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart."

"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face.

"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though."

He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it.

Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.

The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky.

"Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt.

Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself.

"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"

They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him.

Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes.

A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it.

Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.

"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise.

Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement.

He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose.

“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.”

Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest.

The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time.

“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it.

One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands.

“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.”

Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm. “You can touch mine if you want.”

Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second.

He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up.

Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red.

“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?”

Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face.

“Did he do that?” He asked.

Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?”

Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up.

“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.”

It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something.

Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy.

As always, it turned out to be the wrong move.

"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room.

“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds.

The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!"

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him.

“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp.

The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things.

“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back.

This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces.

"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently. “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”

"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway.

Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady.

Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both.

Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with.

Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently.

“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here."

Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise.

“No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children.

"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare.

As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.

"He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.

"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”

"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!"

Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together.

"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step.

"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back.

“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.”

He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was.

“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.

One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it.

The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him.

It was fake as hell, but it worked.

“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.

Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that.

xXx

Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list.

He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt.

It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them.

It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on.

They really were looking for someone.

Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.

Them.

Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards.

“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy.

She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke.

His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.

“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel.

Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide.

Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy.

Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself.

"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell.

"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels.

He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet.

Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.

Food workers.

Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes.

"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it.

Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”

‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held.

“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways.

Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another.

"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.”

Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees.

Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down.

Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head.

Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them.

What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent.

Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale.

‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’

Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed.

Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful.

Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong.

Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat.

It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)

Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high.

Worse?

This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look.

Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.

Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.

What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls.

“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that.

The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order.

#fun fic facts I kept writing Orange Julius as King Julian #so thats my new fake 80s store #Tagline can be “yay I’m a sacrifice!”#Pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth emerson #platonic stobin #gareth is eddies robin #gareth is steves cousin #gareth and steve cousin au #Poor Dustin is mad jelly steve has a cousin that isnt him #we will dig into that later #tw drugs #tw vomit #tw guns #tw panic attack #Steve and robin have already had their scene I just moved it back so he is aware she is a lesbian #I will make it clearer in the next part #Drugged steve has no personal boundaries and homeboy would not at this point consider the stuff wit heddie flirting with Robin ALSO #digs into later #that was gay steve #HELLA gay #the more robin gets to know steve the more shes convinced half the basketball team is queer af #0o0 fanfics #denial is a river in Egypt that Gareth is struggling to swim down

1K notes · View notes

mochie85 · 4 months

Text

I'll Follow You

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You came back to the compound, a year later after you left to make your own career, and you are worried about meeting Loki with how things ended when you left. Pairing: Romantic!Loki x OC Female Reader (Foxglove is her Superhero alias.) Word Count: Over 5.3k Warnings: Explicit. Fluff. Angst. Smut. Oral (female receiving). Shadowplay. Hallucinations.

Loki flipped through the magazine at a hurried pace, not looking at the photos or any of the articles. His hands needed something tactile to do. Or else, he feared, he might choke someone with them.

He paused when he saw an advertisement for a watch you were modeling for. There you were—a close-up of your beautiful face. Your eyes were bright and round. Your lips were dewy and sensual. Norns, he missed those lips. Especially when they were wrapped around his…

Ugh. Why can’t I stop thinking of her?! Loki snarled under his breath as he threw the magazine halfway across the room. It landed on the floor right by Sam’s feet. “You dropped this!” Sam said picking it up from the floor. He held it up in the air, not even looking, his attention fully absorbed on the TV screen.

Everyone had gathered to watch the talk show you were appearing on tonight. They couldn’t wait to see you come out and gossip about your life or inconsequential things. The entire team supported you in your decision to leave and start your acting career—everyone, except him.

Loki wanted to leave the room. He should’ve left and not agreed to come and watch the show with the others. He was about to stand up when-

“Shh. Shh. Guys quiet down. Here she is!” Wanda said shushing the entire room. Loki watched the enormous television, enraptured. The camera panned over to the audience, their loud applause and cheers were deafening. Signs and pictures were held up from a time when you were an Avenger. He couldn’t help but sink further into his chair and get caught up with your grace once again.

“So, Foxglove- can I still call you Foxglove?” The host asked as you sat down.

“Of course, you can,” you beamed at the man behind the desk.

“I- I don’t know the protocol for these things. Do you get to keep the name even though you’re not an Avenger anymore?”

Your practiced laugh showed through your gritted teeth. “It doesn’t work exactly like that. Foxglove is the name I gave myself. I had it with me when I started with the Avengers and took it with me when I left. It wasn’t a title or anything.”

“And did they just let you leave? I would think it was like being in the mafia. ‘You know too many of our secrets. We can’t let you out alive!’ sorta thing,” the host said, thinking he was being clever.

“My friends and colleagues have all been supportive. And I remain in close contact with most of them.”

‘Most of them.’ That statement swirled the emotions Loki was feeling inside. He was not one of those who supported you and was very vocal about it. The fact that you still keep in contact with almost everyone here left him envious.

“And that’s actually part of the reason why I’m here tonight,” you continued. “My dear friend Tony, whom many of you know as Ironman- again, not a title…” you chuckled. “…Is throwing his annual charity gala this spring. This year he decided to make it a month-long occasion with different charities and events happening once a week culminating in the yearly gala at the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful! That’s all he does when he’s not out saving the world, is party, huh?” the host said looking straight into the camera.

“Asshole!” Tony sassed under his breath, earning a few chuckles from the team.

“And what exactly is your part in this month-long event?” The host asked you.

“Well, I plan to raise money for The Nature Conservancy here in New York. I ask everyone to come and help us plant new trees or donate. Every dollar will be matched, and we can help restore some of the forests, in other parts of the country.”

“The Nature Conservancy is a special organization for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s where I first worked. It’s where I first started noticing my powers.”

“Your powers are amazing! You can talk to plants!”

“Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” you said with restraint. “Chlorokinesis allows me to excel a plant’s growth to a thousand times what they normally can. I can also enhance their natural defenses and abilities. And like my namesake, Foxglove, I can give you hallucinations when touched.”

“Can we get a demonstration?” the host asked to the cheers of his audience. You reached out to touch him “No, no, no!” he said nervously. “I don’t need any more hallucinations right now!” you both chuckled. “Thank you. But maybe you can make a flower grow?” he suggested, and the audience cheered you on.

“Sure, of course,” you smiled, happily. You rotated your wrists and flicked them around, gesturing for a plant to grow from the host’s wooden desk. The branches wrapped around itself forming a steady trunk. Soon the branches grew out further and further. Blooming wisterias in varying colors began to sprout, amazing the audience.

You used to be unstoppable. You used to tear down enemies left and right, numbing them with your visions before you cut them down and made them regret opposing you. Now you do party tricks for the camera so you can get a laugh from people who don’t care about you. Who didn’t even love you! Loki was furious.

Once again, Loki made to get up. He was almost through the exit of the room when he heard the next question that made him stop.

“So, Foxglove, will you be attending these events alone?” The audience ‘ooh’d’ at the question when the host decided to get a little more personal. “I heard you were cozying up to a certain superhero. Do you like those types? Do you have a type? What does Foxglove look for in a partner?”

You laughed embarrassedly. “These rumors! I swear they pair me up with someone new each week.”

“Oh, but you were seen leaving a nightclub with your costar, Superman himself, Henry Cavil.” The photo was put up on the screen. A picture of the two of you laughing in front of a busy club as Henry gingerly put his arm around your shoulders. The entire room of Avengers whooped and hollered cheering you on.

“We were celebrating. We had just wrapped our movie and it was my first time in London. So, Henry just wanted to show me around. Very friendly. All platonic.” You smiled, blushing. Loki noted that blush. I’ll break him like a twig!

“Ok. Ok. What about your former colleague, Loki of Asgard?” The host asked as a picture of the two of you replaced the one on the screen.

It was a photo taken when the two of you had gotten back from a mission. You had failed and cried about it on the flight back. Loki was wiping the tears from your face, trying to cheer you up. You didn’t know the PR department was there taking shots as all of you disembarked off the jet.

The camera cut back to you and you blushed harder. Once again, Loki noted that blush. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding and swallowed. Does she miss me too?

“Loki and I have remained good friends. I look forward to seeing him again,” you told the host.

Lies. Not a single word was exchanged between the two of you since you left. The last words you said to him were “I hate you! I never want to see you again!” Loki couldn’t detect any falsehood when you screamed those words at him. That hurt the most.

Everyone turned to where Loki was standing. Some, like Thor, were smiling. Mostly everyone else was shocked.

“What?!” Loki snapped back at them, making everyone turn back to the television.

“Oh! Did you hear that? She wants to see him again.” The host embarrassed you. Your powers grew erratic as a new sprout of branches grew from the tree.

The whole audience was eating it up, clapping. You tried to hide behind your hand, but the different cameras provided different angles of your mortification.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Foxglove, everybody!” The host said pointing towards you clapping. You laughed and waved at the audience as Wisteria petals fell from the ceiling.

Weeks later, you sat in the back of a Maybach that Tony hired to chauffer you to the gala. This year it would be held at the compound which garnered more donations because everyone wanted to see inside the heavily guarded facility. Your intricate beaded dress fit you snuggly and covered you from shoulders to toe. It ensured that no one would accidentally come in contact with your skin. Especially with how crowded Tony’s parties got. The only wrinkle was from all the times you’ve grabbed it in anxiousness and wrung the fabric.

Why did I let Tony talk me into this?! I should’ve faked sick or something! What if Loki’s there? Of course, he’s there. Where else would he be? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if he has a date?! Maybe I should’ve invited Henry? No, no. He’d get the wrong idea. Just drop in, say your hellos, then leave. I don’t have to stay. I’m a grown adult. I can do what I want! FUCK! What if Loki comes and talks to me?

Once past the gates, the car crawled through a winding road with lanterns adorning the pathway. The car stopped at the front steps of the Avenger’s compound and you could hear the heavy bass of the music pounding through the car windows as bright lights and lasers littered the night sky.

You made your way through security to the massive, yet highly decorated, quinjet hangar and a sweeping staircase that descended to an impressive room below. You smiled, reminiscing about all the parties and events you attended as an Avenger- sweet memories that erased the worry you had when you were in the car. Picking up your gown, you gracefully descended the staircase. Keeping your eyes trained on the steps below, you tried not to look around, to look for him.

“Fox! I can’t believe you’re here!” Wanda shrieked as she ran up to you. She squeezed your sleeved arm and pressed her cheek on your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Wanda!” you said kissing the top of her hair.

“Come on. Everyone’s here- well, almost everyone,” she corrected herself. “We haven’t seen you in so long. Everyone wants to catch up.” She led you along to the bar where you were greeted by your former teammates. You were grateful that Loki wasn’t among them. He always loved these parties. You actively refused invites the past year just to avoid him. Awkward hugs and pleasantries were shared. Drinks were offered along with your first few dances promised to Sam and Wanda.

After hours of conversations with the team, and some drinks with Tony, you fell back into a sense of belonging and family. You didn’t realize how much you missed your friends here. How much you missed being an Avenger. It got so lonely most nights not having anyone to talk to. At least here, you would have had Nat or Bucky to train with in the middle of the night.

Or Loki to keep you company.

You groaned internally. You couldn’t help but be on edge all night, thinking about him and wondering if Loki was ever going to show up.

Before leaving for the night, you excused yourself to get some fresh air. There was a greenhouse in the back glades of the compound that you frequented most nights just to be alone. You used to make the hedges grow all around, giving you a private garden away from the rest of the world.

Inside, it was as if you had never left. The plants stood tall as if to greet you. Bright flowers bloomed in different colors as if in competition to win your adoration. And in the back corner, hidden behind large monstera plants, was a cove of plush blankets and chairs that you hid from anyone ever finding. Everyone except, “Loki?”

Loki sat in the rattan chair; his legs crossed reading a magazine with your picture on the cover. He looked as breathtaking as the first time you saw him, like trouble and a promise all wrapped up in his pressed monochromatic black suit. His mischievous smile appeared, tempting you closer.

“Hello, Foxglove,” he greeted you. His voice sending shivers down your spine. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? You kept repeating in your head.

“I…didn’t know this spot was taken. I won’t bother you. Goodnight,” you hastily said as you turned to leave.

“Wait!” he cried standing up. You could feel him grab hold of your wrist. You looked down to see his shadow holding on to you like a dear friend, shadow to skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. It’s been so hard to be intimate with anyone because of your body’s defense mechanism. And here was Loki, the only man who figured out a loophole to your little enigma.

“I just wanted to say…” Loki paused, staring only into your eyes. “Y-you look beautiful tonight.” You pulled your hand away from his shadow and stayed quiet. “I saw you. We… the team… saw you on the talk show. You’ve done amazing things this past year. One movie, a television show, countless endorsements.”

“Still don’t think I can make it?” you challenged.

“Fox, it was never about that!” he argued. His sudden outburst propelled him like a predator. He stalked his way closer to you, making you back into the glass wall of the greenhouse. You caught whiffs of his cologne mixed with the tropical scent of the flowers all around you. He stopped when he realized he had alarmed you. “I should not have advanced on you so quickly. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. Just habit, I guess.” You were always conscious of people touching you and getting too close. You never wanted to be the cause of their hallucinations. Loki felt relieved that he hadn’t scared you off. His shadow stood ahead of him, rubbing your arm with the back of his fingertips, trying to mollify your anxiousness.

Loki watched and waited as you settled. Jealousy festered in his body at the sight of his shadow being able to comfort you and he couldn’t. “You look… breathtaking, by the way.” He tried to soothe.

“You already said that,” you said curtly, blushing. Loki loved your blush. He loved getting under your skin and teasing you.

“Is your new lover here with you tonight? Got sick of the real superheroes, had to get yourself a pretend one?” he tried deflecting. Loki smirked looking through the glass and out to the party to see if he could spot Cavill.

“As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with me once I stepped foot out of your room,” you said quoting him from the last time you spoke. “So, it’s none of your business whether or not Henry and I are together.”

“But you are…together?” he asked. His stare was unwavering, demanding an answer to his desperate question.

“I don’t need this right now!” You were angry and speechless. He doesn’t have the right to question your life’s choices especially when he wanted no part of them in the first place.

You moved to get away from his shadow’s hold and out of the greenhouse. Loki followed you close. “Fox, please. Stop.”

“Why are you even here, Loki?” you called back, briskly walking towards the exit. “You knew this was- This was my spot. MY SPOT!” you yelled, turning abruptly towards him.

“Because I wanted a chance to talk to you in private! Without the cameras or the paparazzi. Without some life-or-death mission hanging over our heads. I needed to see your face again, without all these people trying to steal your attention away from me.” He stopped and watched you reach for the door to go outside. “I’m sorry, Vixen.”

Vixen.

Feelings you thought you had buried deep down inside of you started to resurface. All because of that name he used. The one he would whisper as he called for you in his arms late at night. The name he used when he made you laugh so hard the only way to stop you was to kiss you.

The one name he knew would stop you in your tracks… because it was the one name he used when he was about to touch you himself.

“I am sorry if I ever made you feel…”

“Unworthy? Incapable? Useless?!” you turned as you accused him.

“Unwanted,” he finished.

Real tears fell down your face now. Loki cupped your cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. You could feel the heat in his touch. The energy. You’ve felt it with his shadow, but there was always something electrifying and passionate when Loki touched you himself.

It was a luxury to feel this connection with someone. To feel the warmth from his fingers. The callouses in his palms. You imagined feeling his soft lips on you once again until you stopped yourself. It was a dangerous path to have such expectations right now. You opened your teary eyes to find Loki watching you.

His eyes darted around to your surroundings before he closed them and tried to focus back on you. “You are very much wanted, Vixen. I just couldn’t admit to myself how much I wanted you back then.”

He opened his eyes to yours. The swirl of emotion in them was breathtaking. It was then that you saw his true face for the first time. His emotions. His thoughts. He was stripped of his armor and his pretenses. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in that time and space. As if he were holding his life, right there cupped in between his hands.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he continued his confession. “I am a jealous god. You know this. I didn’t want to share you with anybody. I wanted to keep you to myself. To keep you from the world. I was afraid that you would tire of me like you did with being an Avenger. Cast me out after seeing what the world out there could offer you.”

Loki placed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. He bared it all for you tonight. He admitted something you knew was difficult for him to confess.

But could it erase what he made you feel for wanting to follow your dreams? Horrible and selfish. Untalented. Unwanted.

“I love you.” Your eyes grew wide at his expression. “I loved you then. I’ve loved you since. I am still deeply in love with you. Even now, when you’re about to run away from me, my heart won’t let me forget you. I was afraid that I would have no place in the world that you were creating for yourself. So, for that, I am sorry.” You closed your eyes and lingered in his touch a while longer.

“I wanted to apologize. I never got a chance to see you again after our fight, and I regret that I never made amends to you. You had every right to follow your path. I shouldn’t have stopped you. I should’ve supported you.” His thumb caressed your cheeks back and forth. You always did have the softest skin, unblemished by anyone else’s touch, he thought. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything at all. And if you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. Never again. But I just needed you to know how I felt.”

Do you love him? You asked yourself as you looked into his variegated eyes. Did you spend every night thinking about him? Did you ignore the compound, and your friends, this past year just to avoid seeing him again? Afraid that he would have someone new in his life? Did you miss his voice when he says your name? His kisses? His touch?

“Yes,” you answered yourself. Loki’s brows knitted in confusion. “Loki, I understand now. Thank you… what I said to you back then, I was angry, but...” you tried to start.

Loki smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “We were both angry and said things we didn’t mean. Me more than you. Please don’t apologize. Least of all to me.” He exhaled as his eyes darted around again. You nodded your head, accepting his grace- forgiving you without having to apologize.

You looked up at his eyes, filled with wonder, “What do you see? When you touch me?” you asked gently. All this time you never thought to ask him.

“I see what I always see. Since the very first time I touched you. Do you remember?” You shook your head no. “They showed a picture of it on the talk show.” Realization sunk in. “I was wiping your tears just like now.”

Loki looked around again and smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I see home. I see the woods that used to grow behind the castle walls. Thor and I used to sneak out when we were children and climb the trees. The same woods we used as hunting grounds when we got older. Would you like to see it?”

No one had ever asked you that before. No one had ever had the power to do that before! You nodded and faint green smoke rose from his fingers. Your vision got blurry as the greenhouse was replaced by a dense forest. The trees were tall and luscious. Strands of warm light filtered through the canopy above shining down on the emerald grass below.

“Come with me.” Loki held your hand as he walked further into the woods. Dead leaves and twigs crunched at your feet as a soft breeze blew through the lace of your dress giving you goosebumps. “There’s a glade up ahead where we can just lay on the grass. I used to spend my free time there, letting the hours idle away.” The thought made you smile.

Sure enough, a clearing began to form up ahead. Long, soft grass weaved itself as it grew amongst large wildflowers. The filtered light from the canopy above made the blooms shine like jewels on a bed of velvet.

“I have yet to see anywhere comparable to this place on Midgard,” Loki said circling the glade, a look of homesickness in his eyes. “That metropolis has nothing compared to the splendor of these woods.”

“It’s beautiful.” You said walking towards him. A path of small wildflowers blooming with every step you made.

“Thank you. It is beautiful. But still an illusion. We are still very much in the greenhouse by the compound. You’re just seeing what I’m seeing at the moment.” You reached out towards a tree and felt cold glass instead of bark.

“You see this every time you’ve touched me? Every time we’ve…”

“Hmm,” Loki nodded solemnly. “Sometimes it's these woods. Other times it's my bedchambers in the palace. Yet, every time I’m with you, I see this- my childhood home. I haven’t been back since you left.” Loki bent down and picked up a wildflower that had grown in your stride. “I try to conjure it myself, but it never feels the same. The colors aren’t as vibrant. Not as much warmth.” He placed the flower on your ear, pushing your stray hair back. His hands ventured further down, tracing the beads of your sleeves.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted.

“You’ve missed me? Or you’ve missed my powers and that they can bring you home?” you asked slightly jilted.

Loki looked deeply into your eyes as he turned you into his embrace. Your hands fell onto his arms and the look he gave you stole your breath away. “You are my home,” he confessed with a passion and honesty you’ve never heard from him before.

He wasted no time. He gave you no warning as he conceded to his urges and kissed you fervidly. The soft lips you were fantasizing about earlier painted a poor picture of his actual kiss. Soft yet demanding. Giving, yet always ravenous. It was as if no time had passed between you two. You were back in his arms kissing him and it felt like he described it. Home.

“All I ever wanted was to have you here in my arms,” he breathed in between kisses. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him back to you for another kiss. His arms wrapped selfishly around you, holding you tighter to him.

The heat was too much. It’s been so long since you’ve been held so intimately. But with Loki’s lips devoted to your neck, you would burn gladly. You would die happily on this pyre- as the last thing you would hear would be Loki moaning in your ears.

You were lost in his haze, caught up in the moment with the feel of his body against yours. He pushed you against the tree and you felt the cold glass of the greenhouse against your back.

Loki towered over you, “Tell me you want this,” he whispered onto your noxious skin. “Tell me you’ve missed this and want this with me.” He looked into your eyes, imploring something deep and vulnerable inside you.

“I do, Loki. I want this with you” You moaned holding tight against his grip. You felt his hands gather your dress skirt. Slowly his hands wandered, savoring the feel of your soft skin. His hallucinations were getting more and more vivid. Believable. Or perhaps it was just his kiss, sending you into slight delirium yourself.

Loki hurriedly took off his suit jacket and flung it across the room. He knelt in front of you, in between your parted legs as he raised your left knee above his shoulders- kissing his way up to your inner thighs. “Loki is this real?” you asked looking around you.

“Gods, I hope so,” he prayed, leaving a mark on your thigh. He kissed his way up to your core and licked you through the fabric of your panties. You heard the sheer cotton tear as his fingers brushed up against your eager clit.

Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling when he licked a wide stripe in between your folds. Your knees buckled at the sensation and soon you were reaching around yourself for something to hold. Something to keep you up as Loki lost himself in your wet arousal.

The cold glass of the greenhouse was replaced by the feeling of something warm and sturdy behind you. You looked up to see that Loki’s shadow had positioned himself to where his chest was flushed against your back- his dark hands roaming your body. His arms reached forward to hold your dress up above your waist, aiding Loki in his endeavors.

You felt a kiss on your neck, a quick peck as if he was asking for permission or giving you a warning. You yelped as his shadow quickly lifted you by your hips and Loki pushed both your knees up for his shadow to hold.

“Loki!”

“Yes, my love?” he asked as he continued to latch his mouth and draw on your aching cunt. Loki’s shadow spread your legs. You were splayed open and exposed. Leaving Loki to devote his tongue to you. You reached up and ran your hands through his shadow's hair, pulling as he sweetly kissed your neck.

You couldn’t help the moans and loud whimpers escaping your lips. You bucked your hips onto Loki’s face as your head reared back onto his shadow’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Fox. Let me hear you,” he commanded as he continued his consumption of you. “Let me taste you again. Give me what I’ve been missing. What I’ve been craving.” He said the last words to your tormented clit. You shuddered violently as moans and whimpers of his name fell from your lips. “That’s it. There you go, Vixen,” he cooed as he drank your arousal and lapped around your thighs.

His shadow laid you down gently and you felt the plush pillows and cold blankets from the greenhouse corner underneath you. A warring sensation against the heat of Loki’s body pressed on top of you. A bit of reality mixed in with the illusion Loki was scarcely hanging on to.

His hands fondled your every curve and every soft line. You cupped his face and led him to your kiss. His soft lips quivered when you reached in between your bodies and stroked his clothed erection. So hard and so tight. He breathed a sigh of relief when you unzipped his pants and stroked him.

“Fuck,” he moaned. Your name followed next as he bucked his hips into your hand. “Vixen…tell me you’re mine,” he panted. He kissed you hard, not letting you reply, afraid of your answer. You lined him up next to your expecting cunt and pulled him inside you.

You bit your lip and moaned as the look of pure pleasure radiated through your face. “Tell me…” he tried again as he pushed his hips into you repeatedly.

“I love you, Loki,” you moaned. His eyebrows slanted skeptically, stilling his movements and letting your words sink into his thoughts. “I’ve always been yours.” You admitted.

His kiss was magic. It was passion and life. Remorse and reconciliation all at once. He began his movements again at a steady pace, savoring your tight walls around him. You could feel the ridges on his shaft with every euphoric pull and thrust. His head bowed at the sheer power of your declaration. “Say it again…” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you moaned.

“…say it…” he bit his lips. “…ag-again…please…” His eyes were closed as he focused on the agonizingly drawn-out movements of his hips to yours.

“I love you, Loki,” you cried as he slammed against you. You squeezed around him finally pushing him off that edge. Loosening the tight hold he had on his pleasure and pouring it all into you. The wave of bliss hit you hard and you came onto his throbbing cock at the same time.

Spent and panting next to you, Loki held you close. His kisses were endless. Your cheeks and jaw would be bruised tomorrow from the affection he was showering you with. His hands were always touching you. Your neck, your face. Your thigh that was wrapped around his legs. You lost all track of time being with the god of mischief and soon the bright sunlight that trickled down to the forest floor was replaced by the harsh glare of the greenhouse overhead lamp.

Loki had little strength left to keep the illusion up any longer. He seemed weary but content. You kissed him fleetingly as you sat up back to reality. “Stay,” he said softly. “The one thing I didn’t say last time…I’m saying it now. Don’t go. Stay.” His hands held yours tightly.

So many feelings were attached to that one word. The weight of it crushing your heart. “I’m not asking you to give up your life. I’m not asking you to stay just for the night either. I’m asking for you to just be,” he smiled at you. “Be who you want to be and I will support you like I should have.”

You crawled back to him, settling your head on your propped-up elbows, while your other hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And if I decide to go?”

“Then I’ll do the one thing I should’ve done last time but didn’t.” he smiled as you looked at him expectantly. “I’ll follow you.”

A/N: This was a request sent in and I'm sorry to say it took this long for me to finish it. I hope you like it my lovely @gruftiela. I tried to stick to the vibe of the song. But I also added lyrics from one of my other favorite Depeche Mode songs. See if you can spot it 😝.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

376 notes · View notes

faetreides · 5 days

Note

Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like

r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes

cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so 🤫, male masturbation

Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.

This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)

You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.

Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.

Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)

He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.

A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.

You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.

Your phone chimes again.

Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❤️

You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).

191 notes · View notes

raivenantcravings · 26 days

Text

Round 6 Reaction/Analysis

SDFFSDHFLSDHF ROUND 6 FSDHKFDSH ROUND 6 FSDKFSDHFDS ROUND 6

I woke up to twitter analysis saying that Till never even looked at Ivan until his final moments. And I made pre round 6 fanart titled "look at me." Couldn't manifest it. He never looked at him in the end,,,

broo dont look so happy. oh my god you lovesick fool.

reaction and analysis under the cut

First detail I noticed was that are the mics clear because both Ivan and Till are being vulnerable? They have nothing to hide anymore, so they'll show the world their whole being.

Anyways, to my main point,,

My interpretation of the ending was that Ivan was really trying to "cure" Till.

Till opens up with wanting to feel pain, to feel hurt.

"Please, leave me scars"

"Please, hurt me so that not a single drop of me remains"

Which, I realize he's talking to Mizi, but it's a cry for "help" either way.

Ivan's part goes:

"Notice my pain and mend me right now"

Again, he's talking about himself, but I think it could apply to what he does to Till.

So they kiss.

And, I've seen a lot of other people already say this, but I also do feel the kiss was not only meant to be for Ivan to selfishly show his love for Till.

Like bro don't go nonconsensually kissing your crush, what are you doing!?

When the scores came out, Ivan was much lower than Till than I expected. I thought it'd be a Mizi-Sua situation where the scores were close, but Mizi barely edged it out.

But Till almost had 20 points over Ivan.

And I know it's because Till is a rising star. And his new image change would really garner the attention of everyone. But it's not like Ivan is a nobody either. I didn't expect the scores to be so different.

I do think its because Ivan kissed Till. As a final nail in the coffin that guarantees his loss.

Alien Stage is commentary on the idol industry. One of the most prevalent issues in the idol industry is the romantic lives of the idols. Idols are not supposed to be in relationships, at least not outwardly. Their whole image is for the fans. Nothing they do should ruin that public image as an idol.

Much less in a in a queer relationship.

Now I don't believe the universe of Alien Stage cares about LGBTQ+ issues because there's bigger issues surrounding their human pets. But I think that it is an issue that Vivinos is trying to address because they certainly never shy away from queer issues in their other works.

And I feel the idea that idols/pets should not be swayed by their romantic emotions is still prevalent in their society.

So for the audience to see Ivan kiss Till, in one of the most outrageous and public displays possible, further pushes the votes in Till's favor.

And yeah, I also do believe that he kissed Till for him to finally look at him, but I also feel that it was a self-sacrifice too.

And then Ivan violently chokes Till.

Possibly, as another way to give Till votes. Since when Mizi started punching Luka, the audience was outraged at her actions.

Violence is definitely frowned upon on the stage.

More on the choking scene,,

I also saw some people saying that it's because Ivan wanted Till to die with him, which may be part of it. I don't think everything Ivan did was completely selfless.

But

Till accepts it. Earlier when he is at the bar (party? venue? the private show either way), he fights the alien who tries to punch him.

He did show him Mizi's missing image, so he is enraged in this moment, but he does have fight left in him even then.

He doesn't resist when Ivan chokes him just closes his eyes and awaits death. Perhaps if Mizi was already dead, he can just join her in the afterlife since he had no way of knowing she was still alive.

In this way, Ivan is his savior. The one who is finally freeing him from all this pain he felt after losing Mizi. This is his "cure."

And for Ivan, he sorta wants to be a savior to Till. He has freed him on multiple accounts from his shackles. Even helping him run away with him, so they can experience freedom together.

They both get what they want, but,,

Ivan lets go of Till and Till, with an expression that feels like shock, finally looks at Ivan.

Killing him would not give him the freedom that Till needs

that Ivan wants Till to have.

So, like the countless times Till has been chained around his neck, Ivan gives him his chains:

hurting him like he desires.

A scar around his neck.

(Where the scar from his name is)

And mending him,

by taking away the final chain that Ivan could release from Till.

His "cure."

It felt like his final desire was to get Till to snap out of it, to realize that he needs to find true freedom, to not get apathetic at the situation, to keep on going and to live.

He really, truly loves Till even if Till does and never will understand it.

Also final thoughts, is it not strange that Ivan is able to release Till's bindings so easily?

No one else is shown releasing the bindings, so maybe it is just as easy as a press of the button. Yet, I don't feel like it's just poorly designed if that's the case. Because you literally have a person like Ivan releasing a dangerous human like Till. Shouldn't a cautious society like the world of Alien Stage made sure it wouldn't be super easy to get out of.

If there is more to it, I wonder if that'll be a plot point later on. With Ivan leaving behind the secret to getting out of the bindings for Till. So, when a character maybe Till or even Hyuna or Mizi have been captured, they're able to escape since they know how to remove them.

Maybe, I'm just being delulu

And final final thoughts, the kiss was great and definitely made me almost scream. But the way Ivan nuzzled Till has got me acting up.

Like, it's just so soft and sweet and not a big show of it like when Ivan kisses Till on stage.

It feels so intimate, so personal, so full of love.

I just, I just can't. They'll be the death of me.

#alien stage #alnst #에이스테 #alnst ivan #alnst till #alien stage analysis #alnst analysis #rai's ramblings #ivantill #alien stage round 6 #alien stage cure #thinking about the one person who tagged my last art as they need to make out right now #glad you got your wish :')))))#i want to make fanart so bad #but ill be busy all day today #this is the best i can do for you ivantill #god they make me sick

266 notes · View notes

rebouks · 2 months

Text

Previous // Next

Hi Alex!

I don’t think it’s stupid or cheesy to miss someone, I miss you too! Going back to normal after being on holiday is always horrible, especially after this one, and especially having to go back to school, I’m not a big fan! Do you go to school too? I wanted to ask if you did but I couldn’t… it’s nothing personal, by the way, sometimes I just can’t speak to people and I don’t really know why. I thought it was my decision if I did or didn’t before I met you but maybe not. My parents n’ the teachers at school call it selective mutism but I won’t bore you with all that crap.

I can’t see your new teeth but they grow fast so maybe next time! If they don’t maybe you could get some gold one’s like your dad has, unless you don’t wanna look like a pirate lol.. my littlest sister has four teeth now, and I have all my big teeth! I haven’t counted the twins though cos they’d probably bite me if I tried haha!!

Ava is the tiny one with the blonde pigtails! She’s cute but she still sleeps and poops a lot haha, she’s sorta chill though and definitely doesn’t cry as much as Wren and Byrd used to (have you noticed we’re all named after birds yet? I guess my parents thought it was cute since our last name is Finch) Wren’s the ginger one with plaits! She’s pretty funny but she’s super grumpy sometimes and likes to bite and kick (not me though, she loves me) I think it’s cos she’s tired a lot cos she never sleeps at night, kinda like dad.. they’re twins but Byrd is way different, I couldn’t get a picture of him cos he kept running off, he’s crazy like that but he’s super snuggly and loves playing doctor! He likes to pretend to break my legs so I can’t go anywhere then fix them for me haha. Brothers and sisters are fun but they can be a pain in the butt sometimes! We have a cat called Lou too, his full name is Toulouse and he likes to bring us leaves from the garden and scream about ‘em, and he loves stealing food when you’re not looking.

Dad’s been teaching mom how to cook cos she sucks at it (don’t tell her I said that though cos I always pretend it’s not THAT bad) she’s sorta getting better though so I suppose the whole practice makes perfect thing pays off eventually. I got a school project to make a lame volcano that I didn’t wanna do as well, but my parents made me do it anyway.. we all know that real volcanoes aren’t full of baking powder and vinegar though so I dunno if there was much point to it but they seemed to think it was important so I did it anyway, at least I got a picture of it “going off” I guess. No one likes homework, even if it’s supposed to be fun, right?!

It’s cool you set Amber free!! I’m sure she’s happier wherever she is now so I guess you could just think of that when you miss her? The rocks are way cooler anyway! My aunt Aspen has loads of crystals too, sometimes she even charges them in the sun or the full moon.. I keep forgetting to ask her why but I’ll try and remember so I can tell you next time!

Hahaa your poor dad with those birds! I’ll definitely keep the picture cos it’s hilarious, Wren found it the funniest but don’t worry, I’ll keep the picture safe from her sticky hands! I have a hiding spot in the attic for all the stuff I don’t want them touching. I guess birdwatching is sorta fun sometimes but you’ve gotta be quiet (easy for me I guess.. hah!) I’m not sure there’s any other birds round here other than seagulls since we live right next to the sea, those are the ones you can hear the most anyway cos they never shut up! My dad jokes that he used to be a seagull in a past life cos he’s loud and greedy like they are lol.. he’s been building me a treehouse too, I bet that’d be good for birdwatching!! It’ll be super cool once he’s finished but it’s taking ages cos he mostly does it all by himself, I try n’ help sometimes but I’m still too small to carry or lift most things.. I wanna be as strong as him one day, he can build and fix almost anything (he swears a lot during it though haha!) Do you ever think about what you wanna be when you grow up? I don’t really think about that sorta stuff cos working sounds boring, especially if it’s as lame as school!!

I’m ten, by the way! How old are you and when’s your birthday? Mine’s February 22nd. I don’t think I have a favourite food, anything my dad makes is amazing cos he’s a good cook and my mom makes the BEST pancakes! We’re always stuffed after dinner but dad says (lies) that pudding goes in a different part of your stomach so there’s always room for cake haha.. I think I like it best when he makes spicy food but Wren and Byrd hate it so he doesn’t make stuff like that too often. It’s fun to see how much you can eat before your mouth feels like it’s on fire and I’ve decided I’m gonna beat him one day so he better watch out!!!

I didn’t know what to write at first but I guess I sorta ended up writing quite a lot since I had some catching up to do! Are you and your dad on holiday in the tower or are you living there for now? It sorta sounded like you’ve been there a long time, where do you usually live? What kinda stuff does your dad dig up for work? It’d be cool if he dug up dinosaur bones!! I watched something like that recently and they were HUGE!

It’s hard to think of questions on the spot but you can talk about anything you want too! I probably owe you a million answers as well so you can ask anything you want too! I had fun reading your letter and I’m glad we can be pen-pals even if we don’t get to see each other! Maybe next time we meet in person I’ll be able to say something, but writing would still be fun too so I guess it doesn’t really matter, right?

Love Robin c:

ps. I’m keeping the funny photo of you yelling at your dad and there’s nothing you can do about it!!

pps!! I don’t have a way to print out photos yet otherwise I’d have sent some new ones. Dad gave me an old polaroid ages ago but it’s still broken, his friend said he might be able to fix it though so hopefully I can use that next time. Mom said you can have some of our old ones and the ones from her disposable camera whilst we were on holiday for now though so I’ll send those to you as soon as they come back!

224 notes · View notes

msgexymunson · 2 years

Text

Keep Up With Me

Sub!Eddie x Dom!Fem!Reader

Description: your boyfriend breaking up with you because you're too much for him to handle might be the best thing that's happened to you. It's certainly the best thing that's happened to Eddie!

A/N: bitta angst, mostly smut, best friends to lovers, not me and my horny ass projecting again promise, I'm English excuse my language tally ho what what

Warnings: use of pet names (baby girl, sweetheart etc) reader uses she/her pronouns, NSFW, minors DNI or I'll smack you with a wet fish, F!Masturbation, lap riding, M!Oral receiving, slight M! Orgasm denial, p in v protected sex

5k words

Masterlist

You perch on the corner of the checkout counter at Family Video, legs swinging, fingers tapping on the side.

"So, apparently that makes me some sort of slut." You looked at Robin, one of your closest friends, and shrugged.

"Shit, what an asshole! So he basically dumped you because he couldn't keep up with you?"

"Yup. Sad ain't it." You inspect your fingernails, trying to come off as more aloof than you actually felt. You weren't in pain as such, not from losing that asshole, it's just his words kept ringing in your head.

Why do you want to fuck all the time? Must be some sorta slut. Are you a freak or something? What's wrong with you?

The harsh, sobering words ran through your head on a loop, wearing you down even further.

"Hey, I know that look, stop thinking about that jerk he did NOT deserve you, seriously! You just gotta find someone else, you always do." Robin stares at you, hand hovering over yours.

"That's the problem aint it. I just do this over and over. Too fricking horny for my own good!" You laugh; Robin giggles with you. "Hey there's worse problems to have!" You both chuckle for a bit, but you're still upset about his words. Slut. Freak. "Maybe I am a freak." You sigh.

"Whose a freak?"

You jump, and look around. Eddie Munson, your other best friend and long time crush, had just walked in the door. He flashed you a lazy smile, brown doe eyes creased at the corners.

"We are not talking about you Edward if that's what you think."

Eddie mimes being shot in the chest. "Oh sweetheart you wound me! Don't call me that." He pouts at you.

"It's your name, isn't it?" You poke your tongue out at him.

"Urgh, yeah, government name, but it's so not metal." He picks you up off the counter and spins you round, whilst you squeal.

"Put me down Edward!"

"Whose Edward?" He grins, still holding you, lightly tickling your sides.

"Okay Eddie please!"

He places you on your feet with exaggerated care, brushing imaginary dust of your shoulders.

Robin's eyes flick between yours and Eddie, widening and gesturing her head at you. You know she's dying to say something, but you had told her a million times, Eddie was just a friend. Sure he did shit like that, but it's like you were his little sister or something. There's no way he felt the same way about you.

"Well if you two are done flirting, I've got a job to do." You open your mouth to protest but Robin smirks, grabs a few videos and runs off like a baby deer to shelve them. looking at Eddie, you see his face is flushed. Silence for a heartbeat.

"So aren't you seeing loverboy tonight?" Eddie waggles his eyebrows at you.

"Oh I've just come from EX loverboy's house. Here to pick a horror film and pretend all the victims have his face. Oh and eat ice cream until I'm sick."

"Oh shit sweetheart I didn't know, sorry."

"It's all good, just trying to get some stuff he said out of my head. He's a dick anyway."

Eddie frowns, his brow furrowing. He knows this is affecting you more than you are letting on but he doesn't question it.

"Look, I've got a deal to do, but do you want to come over? I can drop you at mine and I'll be like 20 minutes max. I'm up for horror movies, ice cream and a joint or two?"

"Sounds good Eddie. Thanks."

"No problem sweetheart."

You pick a movie each and summon Robin from her hiding space to check them out.

"Okay you kids have fun!" She beams at you both, waving over enthusiastically.

"Robin you are such a dork." You laugh and leave, turning back to make sure the door shuts and doesn't leave a draught. Robin's still staring at you two, gesturing and putting her thumbs up. You roll your eyes and make your way to Eddie's van.

*******************************

Eddie, true to his word, dropped you off at his trailer. You were standing in his room, all alone since his uncle was at work. It was odd; you'd been here before several times, but never alone. You sat on Eddie's bed, surrounded by his smell. Laying back against the pillows you grab one and drink in the scent. Okay you've definitely crossed over into freak territory. He wasn't even here and you were obsessed; surrounded and engulfed by his scent. You felt a familiar warmth between your legs, your desire growing for him with each passing second. You hadn't even realised you had unbuttoned your jeans until your fingers met your underwear.

What the hell are you doing he'll be back any second! Despite knowing this, it gave you a little thrill to think he might catch you with your hand down your pants. Maybe he'd finally give you what you've been craving. Working your hand into your underwear, you find your clit with a gasp. You already felt wetness creeping from your folds, desire being something that seemed to run hot within you, all the time. Teasing at your clit, you run your fingertips in soft circles, building up that tingling feeling in your core.

Throwing your head back you groaned softly, increasing the pressure on your sensitive bud. You imagined it was Eddie's fingers doing this, rubbing you, teasing you into an orgasm. It definitely helped. Soon you were panting, chasing your release.

Your mind races, thinking about how he picked you up earlier so effortlessly, you thought about his strong hands holding you firmly, rings pressing into your flesh. You think about what it would feel like, his hands on you whilst you grind against him and that did it. You come undone with your own hand, your release shattering through your nerves. Laying there for a moment you gather yourself, feeling a twinge of guilt. You shouldn't be thinking about your best friend like this. Maybe there was something wrong with you.

Freak. Slut.

No time to unpack all of that, hearing the crunch of gravel outside. The front door opens.

"Hey honey I'm home!" Eddie chuckles, and you hear him coming towards his room. You quickly try look less dishevelled, wiping your hand and hoping against hope that what you just did wasn't written all over your face.

Eddie struts in, chucks his metal lunchbox on the bed and throws himself after it. You can't help but laugh at his exaggerated movements.

He lays there on his side, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Ya miss me?" He grins.

"Always." You smile at him, trying your hardest not to appear flustered.

"So, I'll roll, you pick what to watch, and we'll make a nest."

You laugh at that. "A nest? What am I an egg?"

"Just do what you're told baby girl." Jesus that's a new one. That nickname went straight to your cunt. He sits up, cross legged. "Oh and hand me those papers on the bed side table."

You bend across and grasp the papers, passing them to Eddie. For a fraction of a second he looks down and looks back up at you, face flushed pink.

"By all means get comfortable." He coughs and looks away.

You look down and realise you left your jeans unbuttoned. A small triangle of red is exposed from the front of your black jeans. Trust me to pick bright red underwear today. Flushing magenta, you try and cover your tracks.

"Shit, sorry Eddie the jeans were digging in you know."

"No worries princess, you want a pair of sweat pants? You need to be cosy in our nest" he grins at you.

"Sure, thanks Eds."

He grabs you a clean grey pair from a drawer and you go to the bathroom to change, cursing yourself for being so stupid. When you return, sweats hanging low of your hips, he had rolled and was waiting for you with a lighter in hand.

"Shit Eddie you could have started without me."

"Nuh-uh. This is all for your benefit, and I'm a gentleman. The lady gets first toke." He reaches over once you've sat down and puts the joint in your mouth and lights it. You take a drag, holding it in for a couple of seconds, then release it. You take another, deeper toke.

"Wow this is decent." You smirk at him.

"All my stuff is decent babe."

"Oh so we aren't talking about the other week with that shit that was all twiggy?"

"No idea what you're talking about." He looks pointedly in the opposite direction. You snort at his actions and pick the first film, loading the VCR.

You both lay back, arms touching, watching the film. The joint goes back and forth, and you begin to giggle at the movie, feeling your high settle in. Laughing with each other at the ridiculous plot, you feel so much better about everything that had happened that evening. You were with Eddie. He always made you feel at ease.

Once the movie had finished Eddie started rolling another, and you ejected the film to put the next one in.

"So, you ready to tell me what happened?" Eddie asks, licking the spliff into place.

Your eyes go wide thinking about what you did in his bed. Shit, how did he know?

"What- what do you mean?"

"I mean why did lover boy break it with you? You never said."

Relief started to spread through you, then you remembered the reasons. Freak. Slut. No way you could tell Eddie that. It was too embarrassing.

"Just standard guy commitment shit. Nothing new." You try and brush it off. It might have worked with someone else, but Eddie could always tell when you are lying.

"Nope, nope. You weren't even serious, you said. So go on, tell me?" His soft brown eyes bored into you.

You started to feel hot and bothered at this amount of attention.

"He said some stuff, it wasn't nice, I don't want to go through it again."

"Did you tell Robin?"

Ooft. How did he always know?

"Okay he said some... stuff that got to me. Jesus Eddie its not important!"

Eddie strokes your arm and looks you in the eye, "if it wasn't important it wouldn't have gotten to you. I just, I want to help."

You look into his eyes and see pure love there, and it does help. You take a deep breath, and, looking anywhere other than Eddie's eyes, you explain the real reason for the break up. Eddie sits silently, listening to you recount the events. When you are done, he looks at you and begins to smirk.

"Eddie it's not funny." You scowl at him. That throws Eddie over the edge. He laughs out loud, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Feeling embarrassed, you move to get up. Eddie's hands grab your waist, holding you still.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I'm not laughing at you I swear." He's grinning, face slightly red from his outburst.

You stare at him. "Then what the hell are you laughing at?"

He chuckles a bit, then strokes your arm, "it's just, it's like he's gotten rid of any man's wet dream, seriously. What man doesn't want a hot girlfriend who wants to do him all the time? He's clearly fucking crazy."

"You- you think I'm hot?" You stutter at him.

"Of course, look at you, you're fucking incredible. Baby girl, any man would be lucky to have you."

Part of you thinks this is just Eddie being a good friend, but the way he looks at you and the lingering hand on your hip; that tells a different story. You decide to push it a little further.

"Any man, right?' You look into his eyes.

"That's what I said sweetheart."

"So, that includes long haired, metal loving, tattooed men right?" You look up at him through your lashes.

"I mean yeah if that's your type..." you see the penny drop behind his eyes. "Oooh, Er yes, those too. Maybe lead guitarist men. Men who like to play D&D?" His voice getting higher. He tilts his head to one side, looking at you with hopeful doe eyes.

"You think there's guys like that in Hawkins?" Batting your eyelashes at him, you move closer.

"Well, I can certainly think of one or two," he says, moving one hand to the nape of your neck, stroking your skin.

"Well, give me their numbers and I'll mmmph!" Your reply is muffled as he presses his lips onto yours.

His touch is electric, the feel of his lips on yours heated. It's more than you could have ever dreamt, the passion of the kiss is something you've never experienced before.

You press your tongue into his mouth and deepen the kiss. Eddie's hand holds you by the hip, fingers pressing into your sides, rings warming against your hot skin. You need to feel him closer so you move to straddle him, but in your eagerness you manage to push him onto his back. Leaning into him, legs either side of his hips, never breaking the kiss. You caress his chest with one hand, the other moving to grab him by the waist, as if he could get any closer without being inside you.

Both of your breathing becomes laboured, desperate. You break the kiss, panting at each other. Eddie's face is a picture, he looks like he's in heaven. A stupid grin is plastered across his features.

"So I've wanted to do that since forever." He beams at you, hand moving to cup your jaw.

"Why didn't you?" You frown at him.

"I dunno, I just thought you weren't interested in me like that."

You look down at him, gesturing to how you were straddling him. "Well, I mean, you're okay I suppose..." you tease him.

Eddie thrusts up with his hips, rubbing against your clothed pussy. You feel he is hard, almost busting through his jeans, and you whimper.

"Seems I'm a bit more than okay pretty girl." Eddie smirks at you.

"Shut up Eddie." The teasing that was a daily occurrence between the two of you puts you at ease. You hold him by the shoulders, and grind your core over his hardened cock, back and forth. Eddie groans low in his throat, his eyes rolling back.

"Jesus Christ, shutting up." You laugh at him, and reach to pull your top over your head, exposing your red cotton bra. It's just plain, soft cups with the tiniest bow on the front. Eddie gazes at your chest as if it were clad in the finest lingerie. You continue to rock against him, feeling your own pleasure mount up.

"You're gonna be the death of me sweetheart" he says but there's no malice in it, just pure admiration. You smirk at him and start planting kisses on his chest, fingers feathering their way to his belt. You undo it and his jeans, yanking them down to his knees, and continue leaving hot, open mouthed kisses to his stomach. Your fingers dip into the waistband of his boxers and you look up at him for confirmation. Eddie stares at you open mouthed for a second, then nods frantically. You smile back at him and bite your lip, pulling his underwear down slowly.

His member springs out to greet you, bigger than average but what really surprised you was the girth of it. You couldn't help but feel your pussy clenching around nothing in anticipation. Licking a pointed stripe from the base to the tip, you massage his balls with your hand. Eddie's head rolled back, his eyes scrunched shut. Lowering your mouth onto the tip, you swirl your tongue around it, licking up his pre cum. Eddie's groan was borderline pornographic. You look up at him and slowly take him into your mouth, using your hands for what didn't fit. Bobbing up and down on his length, you use your tongue to massage him. You'd wanted to feel his dick on your tongue for so long, this almost didn't feel real. There was something about being in control of Eddie's pleasure that made you feel extremely powerful. You could feel his cock twitching already, Eddie was practically whimpering. You could tell he was close.

"Baby girl, shit, I can't take much more, I'm gonna-"

You pull away with a wet pop, Eddie whimpering at the loss of your mouth.

"Baby girl please please." Eddie looks a mess, his face is red, his breathing coming out in heavy pants, trying to grab at your arm, side, anything he could reach.

"Patience baby", your voice dripping honey.

You fling your sweats off and move up him, straddling him in your underwear. Not letting him enter you. Not yet. You were enjoying dominating him.

You start to grind down on his length again, making Eddie whine.

"Please-" Eddie looks at you, breathless and pouting.

"No." You smirk at him. Eddie gasps and looks at you in surprise. You continue to rub your wet heat against him, "I was thinking about this earlier, wanted to find out what it felt like," grinning, grinding your cunt against his rock hard dick, feeling your slick drench your underwear and him.

Eddie's falling apart in front of your eyes. You unclasp your bra, letting it fall. Eddie's eyes widen and he whimpers, thrusting against you. You let out a moan.

"Touch me Eddie." He wastes no time in grabbing at your chest, smoothing rough fingertips over your hardened nipples. You feel a familiar sensation, a burning in your stomach and chest, desire building and building, setting your insides ablaze.

You increase your pace, rubbing back and forth, your wetness soaking Eddie, making him a slippery mess. You feel him twitch under you, fingers pinching your nipples almost painfully and it sends you over the edge. You cry out his name, your hands in your hair, still riding him, extending the outrageous feeling.

Eddie's hands suddenly grasp your hips, hard. You open your eyes and look down just as his scrunch shut. He comes then, violently with an exaggerated moan. His own release pebbles his stomach, your stomach, even a smattering reaches his chest. You look down at him as you come down from your respective highs, and you both start laughing.

"Well, I've never come like that before." Eddie's stroking your sides, gazing at you in disbelief.

You laugh, and get up off him, readjusting your underwear. You go to the bathroom to clean yourself off, and return with a dampened wash cloth. You kneel beside him, wash cloth hovering over him.

"You gonna help me or just stare baby girl" he smirked, poking you in the ribs, his other hand gesturing to the mess on his stomach.

"Hey, just admiring my masterpiece. Have to take a picture next time." You watch as Eddie's mouth springs open, his face turning purple. You simply hum and wipe him down, passing him the cloth to get anything you missed.

"Holy shit, I was right. You are literally every guys wet dream. Fuck. You're a-a pervert!" He points at you dramatically.

Laughing loud at that, you flop down next to him. He turns on his side and strokes your face, moving a couple of stray hairs.

Feeling self conscious for a moment, you look at him, cheeks flushed slightly.

"You don't mind then?"

"Mind? Mind?? I think I won the lottery." He beams at you and brings you in for a kiss.

"So you wont mind what I meant, when I said I thought about that earlier?" You're testing him, seeing if this could actually work. And you want to see the look on his face.

"Oh please for all that is good tell me." He practically pants at you.

You giggle, "well when you dropped me off I had some time to fill, so I might have touched myself thinking of you."

The groan that escapes Eddie's lips travels straight to your core. He envelopes you in a fiery kiss.

"Jesus baby girl, fuck!" He rubs your back, one hand snaking into your hair, pulling it. "In my bed?" You nod. "So yeah I'm hard again."

You laugh, "looks like you weren't kidding when you thought you could keep up with me," you smile smugly at him.

He pushes you onto your back in response and starts to nip and lick at your neck, leaving opened mouthed kisses in his wake.

"Oh I can keep up with you baby girl, trust me."

Then he's mounting you, the tip of his cock begging for entry.

"Someone's eager, have you got protection?" You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Yes, God yes, please baby please." His eyes dart to his bedside table.

You push at him, smiling, teasing him, "so you're all confident until you have any pressure at all, I see. Lay back then baby."

He immediately lies on his back, quiet and unassuming, holding his cock by the base. He looks painfully hard but he's not moving a muscle, looking at you for your say so. You feel immensely powerful, gazing at him in such compliant position.

You reach to the drawer at his bedside, rummaging through.

"Oh, what do we have here?" You exclaim, pulling out a dirty magazine, folded to the centre. You cant help but notice the model's hair is just like yours.

"Hmm, she's hot I'll give you that. Kinda looks a little like me eh?" You wink at him mischievously.

He blushes crimson at you in reply.

"I, I suppose I have a type?" He shrugs, face red as a beetroot.

You can help but laugh, "I'm just flattered baby." And then you find his condoms. You pull one out and rip it from its packaging using your teeth.

"So, you gonna be a good boy?" You question, it almost being a joke but you receive a very certain "yes ma'am!" As a response.

You cant help but chuckle, "oh, so the dungeon master wants someone in control, I see how it is," and you grab the base of his painfully hard member.

"Please...' Eddie nearly drools out of the side of his mouth in response.

"Hmmm its good to hear you beg. Well I suppose I'll humour you. For now," you smirk out the corner of your mouth. You roll the condom onto his hard cock. He hisses at the friction. You line him up to your entrance, straddling him.

As you slowly lower yourself onto his hardness, he cries out at the sensation. You see his eyes screwed shut in response, his cheeks flushed pink. You already feel obsessed by the look of him as he entered you. You want to record this forever, the moment you finally got to take your crush. The moment you realised you could completely take control of him; everything you'd ever dreamed of. He's compliant, melting to your touch. You take him into your cunt until you're sitting on him fully. He's buried in you to the hilt, stretching you. Its bordering on pain given his size, but delicious in itself. It's a good pain.

You hold him by the waist, almost possessively. Searching his eyes as he meets your gaze, you see tears gathering at the edges of his eyes, flustered and fucked out already. The look on his eyes is pleading, almost praying.

"Mother of God, fuck...."

"I thought we settled on ma'am?"

"No.... definitely seeing God... baby..." it's a shadow of Eddie's usual humour.

You giggle at him, a sound seemingly innocent, considering Eddie is buried deep inside your pussy. You start to slowly move against him, bouncing up and down on his length, grinding against him every so often. Eddie's eyes roll back, he grabs you firmly by the hips, rocking you back and forth. You take a deliberate, pounding pace against him and feel your release begin to build again.

Eddie is babbling, passionately holding you as tight as he can.

"Jesus, baby girl, you feel so tight and warm, fuck."

Eddie's words of encouragement and blissed out face spur you on. You take him harder, faster, gripping onto him with your fingertips. Every thrust bringing you to ecstasy. You can feel him through every fibre of your being, deep within your core. You cry out in pleasure, the feeling of Eddie in every nerve. Moaning and writhing above him, you know you're about to cum, your walls flexing around him, squeezing his length. Eddie whimpers and you practically scream, your pleasure coming to a head, the feeling pulsating through your every limb, taking over control. Your body rocks in absolute rapture. You shake and stroke his sides as you come down.

"Fuck, Eddie, oh my God." You quiver above him, legs shaking.

"Baby, please can I get on top of you. Please." He looks up at you, wide eyes beseeching you. How could you say no to that face?

"Go on, whatever you want." You remember his reaction from earlier, " you've been such a good boy."

Eddie practically growls at that, flipping you onto your back.

He finds your entrance, slipping back into you deeply with a groan. You pull one leg over his shoulder, the other hitched around his waist and see his eyes roll back. He thrusts into you, deep and slow, planting open mouthed kisses onto your calf.

You stare at his face, one hand cupping his jaw. He's pink tinged, sweating, wild eyed.

"Hey, Eddie, baby, look at me. You're being such a good boy, taking me, using me so well baby."

"Fuck yes" Eddie breathes, his eyes now fixated with yours, grounding him. "Thank you thank you thank you." He chants as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. He grabs onto your hips, plunging as hard into you as he can, and you feel a mounting desire burning in the depths of your stomach.

"Eddie yes fucking me so well, oh God baby, I'm gonna cum so hard." Your words of encouragement send him over the edge; with a stutter and a high pitched moan he comes, shaking and gripping you tight. He continues to thrust in you though, looking at your face, brow furrowed. It must feel too much but he wants, needs you to come again. You grab him by the ass and push him into you as far as he will go, arching your back, releasing a toe curling moan as you orgasm.

You both try and slow your breathing as you move your leg from his shoulder, still quivering.

"Jesus Christ, baby girl that was... wow" Eddie chuckled in disbelief.

"Yeah? That good huh?" You smiled up at him, stroking a stray hair from his face.

"I just... if I knew you were gonna be so..."

"So what?" You frown at him.

"So... in charge! I mean, fuck that was... wow." He grinned at you, and you see your Eddie again. He rolls off you and disposes of the condom.

"What would you have done?" You smile at him, grabbing the blanket to cover yourself up.

"Well, probably just thought about it a whole lot until you made a move." You laugh at that.

"Eddie that's what happened."

"Hmmm, impeccable logic. Still, you had no right keeping this to yourself."

You laugh and throw a pillow at him. He pretends its heavy and it knocks him to the bed. He wiggles underneath it, seemingly pinned. You crawl over to him, moving the pillow, and cage him in with your arms.

"So, I'll roll, you put the movie on, and then round three yeah?" You tilt your head with the question.

"Fuck baby girl you really are gonna be the death of me. But what a way to go!"

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fan fic #stranger things fan fiction #eddie fan fic #eddie munson fan fic #sub!eddie #sub!eddie munson #eddie munson #dom!reader #sub!eddie munson x reader

3K notes · View notes

musings-of-a-college-dork · 1 year

Text

Wayne’s Thoughts on Eddie’s Girlfriend

Eddie Munson x fem!Henderson!Reader

Word count: roughly 2.6K

Wayne gives his thoughts on Eddie’s girlfriend who’s from a different side of town.

Warnings: mentions of financial trouble, fluff, misunderstanding of intentions, just soft.

Author’s note: I started thinking about this the other day and it’s a conversation that sorta happens between Nancy and Johnathan in the series but I wanted to write Eddie and Reader having it. Again this is from a longer OC work that has been modified so sorry if anything specific was missed!

When Y/N had first started coming around, she had managed to break through Wayne’s gruff outside demeanor with a graceful ease he knew now she carried with her everywhere. He was familiar with her, having run into her and her mother at the store a couple of times and when he had first heard Eddie talk about her all he could think was the hell does she want to do with Eddie?

It wasn’t that he saw anything wrong with his nephew, not at all it was just…seeing Y/N’s perfectly maintained shoes, the clothing that she meticulously chose with name brands, the shampoo he knew must cost a pretty penny…he simply wondered why she would want to be with him. He hoped Eddie didn’t see it at first but his nephew was too smart to miss it.

Wayne knew he saw it, but Eddie didn’t say anything about it so Wayne didn’t either. He wondered for a while if Y/N saw it, if she realized the difference…but as he started to see her more, he no longer wondered.

He noticed it the first time a couple weeks after Y/N had first started comin’ ‘round. Earlier that week he knew Eddie had taken her to his favorite music shop because he needed to get his guitar looked at before an upcoming gig. He viewed that baby as a business expense and so she was the only thing he went to the Music Store for. Wayne knew Eddie wished for more though. He’d commonly chat about this new record and that, since he did have a record player but everything he had on it was either a gift or outdated. The player in and of itself was old but Eddie knew beggars couldn’t be choosers and he never complained. Wayne knew they had been to the Music Store earlier that week as the pair had come home enthusiastically talking about if Abba really was a good artist or not (“Without a doubt!” “‘My mom listens to them!” “As usual, your mom has good taste! Better watch out Henderson! I might leave you for the older model!”) and Eddie hadn’t said more about it when Y/N had left. Wayne could see the look on his face though. Clearly something had caught his attention and as usual when this occurred he was running the numbers in his brain on if he could get it and still make ends meet. What Wayne couldn’t decide was if it was something for himself or something for Y/N…

The next time Y/N showed up at the door, Wayne answered it. The girl smiled at him from ear to ear, a tote draped over her shoulder.

“Hi Mr.Wayne.”

“Just Wayne is fine, Y/N,” he reminded with a smile as he let her in. “Eddie’s in his room but let me tell him you’re here.”

“It’s ok,” Y/N said, “I have something for him so I’ll go get him!” Wayne nodded and watched the girl head down the short hallway to Eddie’s room as he plopped down on the couch to do the crossword.

“Hi Eddie,” she said as she knocked on the door only for it to be thrown open two seconds later.

“Y/N Henderson,” Eddie greeted her by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Movie night, duh,” she laughed, “Breakfast Club isn’t going to watch itself.” Eddie laughed with her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he got back into bed to put away his guitar. “I got you something.” Eddie felt his heart leap into his throat. It wasn’t that he didn’t like gifts, it was merely that for him they were a reminder that he wouldn’t be able to return them.

“Oh,” his reply had Y/N cutting in, as if she could sense his turmoil but she didn’t mention it.

“I was really just trying to cover my tracks,” she teased as she pulled the latest Metallica record from her bag and passed it to him with a smile as his eyes went wide. “It’s just not as good on tape. Gotta hear the real thing and you’re the only person I know with a record player.” Wayne waited with baited breath for Eddie’s reply, one that never came out loud. Instead he was met with the sound of Metallica bursting through the small smile and Y/N’s laugh.

“I was right! So much better on vinyl!”

After that day, Wayne noticed she would commonly bring by a record every two weeks if not weekly.

“There are so many good ones,” she shrugged one day, “sorry that I want to listen to music the second best way to hear it!”

“Second best?”

“I mean hearing it live but when we can’t have it live, vinyl!”

Wayne overheard Eddie ask Y/N to take them home one day and her reply was simple.

“Baby, I don’t have a record player! You’ve gotta hang on to them for me so that way we can listen when I’m over!”

That had been the end of debate but Wayne had seen the look in Eddie’s eyes as he closed the door when Y/N went home. He knew Y/N had seen it too even though she didn’t comment on it because the records became more infrequent, once a month became the new standard with things like guitar picks and new dice coming in between. While Wayne noticed this right away it took a little longer to clue in to the fact that it wasn’t just Eddie she was looking out for.

“My mom wanted me to bring y’all this,” she said as she held up a tray of barbecue, the meat smelling incredible, “she made way too much and Dustin was going to eat it all if I didn’t bring some over.”

“Well tell your mother thank you from us,” Wayne had said. He hadn’t clocked that there was no way Claudia made so much food all the time until he realized that it happened to taste remarkably similar to the way Y/N cooked on the rare occasion she insisted - wanting to pull her weight around their house.

The realization had hit Wayne like a truck and he knew Eddie felt the same after Y/N had left one particular night. The second after he had kissed her goodbye, Eddie sat down at the kitchen counter with a little sign and Wayne pulled up the chair next to him.

“Out with it boy,” Wayne said as he pressed a hand to Eddie’s shoulder.

“She shouldn’t be buying me things,” came the easy reply, “she should hang on to it. I just…she shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Wayne asked, though he knew the reason. He wanted to hear it from Eddie.

“Because what if she leaves me and then regrets it?”

“She won’t,” Wayne said, quieting that false reply. Leave or regret he didn’t specify but Eddie knew he meant both. “What’s really bothering you?”

“That I can’t pay her back for any of it.” There it was. Wayne had seen it in Eddie’s eyes time and time again, a look Wayne knew too well since he wore it himself. Eddie was remarkably conscious of money, he always had been. When he really wanted something like a new tattoo, a new ring, or to get something new for the band, he saved like hell, storing away every penny for weeks, months even. Even then the stuff he got for the band was second hand, the jewelry was always from flea markets, and the tattoos he had befriended the artist who never charged him full price in exchange for advice - girls, D&D, you name it.

But even that was a give and take. And that made sense to Eddie. He gave advice and as much cash as he had, he got a tattoo. So Y/N Henderson showing up with new equipment, records, and things she had gotten solely on the basis that they reminded her of him was something he had never known.

“You know,” Wayne spoke delicately, trying to find the words, “you could always mention it to her. She’s a sweet girl and I know she’d understand.”

“It’s not that…it’s not that I don’t like it,” Eddie confessed softly, “it’s that I like it too much and I know I can’t return it to her. I know that she leads a different life but…I just am afraid she’ll wonder why I can’t return anything-“

“You do return it,” Wayne comforted him as he watched his nephew, “you love her. I know it’s not what you want to hear boy and trust me I know how you feel but…you do return it in your own way and…she wouldn’t want you feeling guilty about it. If you want, I’ll mention it to her.”

“No,” Eddie shook his head, “don’t do that-“

“She’s doing it for me too,” Wayne pointed out, he and Eddie’s eyes both drawn to the cake Y/N had brought over which sat half eaten on the counter. “So I’ll speak with her on my behalf, not yours. M’kay?”

Eddie nodded and Wayne could tell it had been silently eating away at him. The next time Y/N came over she was a bit early and empty handed which gave Wayne a moment to chat with her as they sat in wait for Eddie to get out of the shower.

“Y/N,” he started drawing her focus to him, “I…well there’s no easy way to say this but I can see what you’re doing.” The girl made a face at him and he went on, “the gifts. The records, music stuff, the food-“

“Mr.Wayne-“ Y/N was red as she realized she had been caught, shame on her face…or so he thought.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said quickly, “I get it, you’re just trying to help out-“

“That’s not it at all!” She cut him off before apologizing, “sorry I didn’t mean to…it’s just…” she didn’t meet his eyes as she spoke, “you and Eddie give me so much. You all let me stay over, you’re kind to me, you let me have meals with you, and I…I just feel like I can never quite repay your kindness but I’m trying…” Wayne didn’t know what to say. The shock of hearing her admit that she was worried she couldn’t pay them back at him reeling. Was that really what she thought?

“Oh hun,” he said gently as he looked at the guilt on her face, the same look he had seen mirrored on Eddie’s, “that’s not the case at all! By bringing us all this we were feeling like we couldn’t repay you.” Y/N’s eyes went wide as she looked at him before she chuckled.

“Oh god,” she shook her head as she put it in her hands, “oh god I am so sorry I didn’t even think it might come across that way-“

“I hadn’t considered you felt that way either,” Wayne admired chuckling along with her, “Oh jeez what a pickle we’ve managed to get into, huh?” Y/N nodded as she looked at him again.

“How ‘bout this,” Y/N pitched as if she had just come up with an amazing plan, “I’ll bring dessert once a month, dinner once a month, and I’ll keep my ‘I thought about you seeing this’ gifts to a minimum…but at least once a month.”

“I think that’s satisfactory,” Wayne smiled at her. She smiled at him but it was a sad smile.

“Wayne, I am really sorry for not realizing how it might come across,” her voice was soft as the shower water clicked off, “I didn’t mean any offense and I’m so-“

“Hey,” Wayne cut her off with a little hand to her shoulder, “you’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, ya hear me? It’s sweet and Eddie and I both thought so but we needed you to know…” where we stood went unsaid but Y/N got the gist. She nodded as the bathroom door opened and Eddie lit up into a smile as he saw her.

“You’re early,” he said with a teasing scold as he made his way to her.

“And you need to put on a shirt,” she laughed as she admired him, a little shamelessly before remembering Wayne was present. The man laughed and shook his head turning toward the door.

“I’m gonna go see Sylvie,” he said as he grabbed his hat, “y’all don’t get into too much trouble, ya hear?”

“Yes sir,” came the reply from both teens as they headed off into Eddie’s room, chatting a mile a minute about this week’s upcoming D&D session.

As soon as Y/N heard the door shut, she sat down on Eddie’s bed.

“What were you and Wayne chatting about, so intently?” Eddie asked as he cleaned up a bit, the few touches he had forgotten to do before she got here, “I felt like I was crashing and intimate moment.”

“We just had a little misunderstanding,” Y/N said with a shrug, “nothing to worry about.” Eddie’s expression shifted ever so slightly and Y/N knew she needed to get it all out now.

“Eddie,” she said gently as she guided him to sit beside her, his hand in hers. “You know…I never expect anything from you, right? You give me more than enough letting me be with you and all I want is for you to keep loving me and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel stressed about returning anything, that was never my intention I just…” she trailed off for a moment and he pressed a hand to her face, an indication he was listening, “I just love you so much and I want you to have everything you want because you give me everything I want and more. I just…I’m always trying to make you feel as special and loved as you make me feel.” Eddie’s heart melted at her confession and he pulled her tightly into his chest.

“It’s…it’s hard for me to accept things without a give and take,” he confessed softly as he held her, “it’s just…that’s not the way the world has worked for me.”

“Well it should be.” She said softly with a little pout, “you give your heart and soul to those around you and the least they can do is give you anything you wish for in return. Besides,” Y/N replied, words Tina had said to her years ago playing in her head, “I prefer to be a giver. It’s in my nature. I like to give things to others, my time, gifts, food, you name it, just…because.”

“I know,” Eddie chuckled as he pulled away, “that was obvious about you from the first time we met. Giving your time to go pick up your friend’s drugs from the scary cult leader.” The pair both giggled as they stayed close before Y/N cut back in.

“But seriously Eddie, I’ll aim for moderation,” she said with a smile, “I’ve already promised Wayne as much-“

“Don’t give it another thought,” Eddie said genuinely, “I just…it’s brought me comfort to know your intention behind it. Don’t want you thinking of me as some charity case.” He bit his tongue the second the words came out of his mouth and he knew Y/N could tell as she wrapped her arms tighter around him.

“Never. I only wanted to repay the kindness and love that no partner of mine has ever shown.” That thought had always blown Eddie’s mind. How was it possible that no one Y/N had ever seen had loved her? It was impossible for him not to fall head over heels and he couldn’t imagine anyone laying eyes on her, much less holding her, who wouldn’t feel the same.

“I love you,” he said as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“I love you too,” she kissed back before standing up. “We’ll come on! Your math homework isn’t going to finish itself!”

#stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson

923 notes · View notes

pedgito · 2 years

Note

I NEED to see brat tamer!Eddie and bratty!Reader. Like every little thing reader is a brat about. “can you do that for me?” “I don’t know, can I?” Vibes yk? Also I love the idea of Reader getting needy and bratty and she starts tugging on his belt loops to get his attention while he’s working on hellfire stuff. Okay thank you, love you🫶

author's note: uh...yeah i have no words. sorry for this.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), bratty!reader, dom!eddie (sorta), degrading language, rough foreplay/sex (slapping, hair pulling, ect), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), lots of manhandling, dom/sub dynamic (sorta), reader loves teasing eddie at any and every opportunity, this is just completely self indulgent dirty smut

word count: 3k

It started at the Hellfire meeting that night, just as you two slipped through the door and waited for others to file in a few minutes later. His searches for the light in the dark of the room, mumbling over his shoulder toward you.

“Can you grab my stuff?” He asks monotone, turning his head to glance at your before successfully finding the switch and flipping it on.

And normally, you’d do it without question. But, Eddie had been insufferable for the better half of the day and most of the morning—finding every way to tease you throughout the day. Small touches, snide remarks, all the stuff he knew got under your skin the quickest and then it all went dead, focusing on the big event for the night—too you, just another D&D session.

So you turn it up, dropping your things on the table as you spoke, “I don’t know, can I?”

Eddie scoffs softly, rounding on his heels to turn in your direction. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” You reply sharply, standing straighter as Eddie walked your way, “Can I?” You repeat yourself, dragging the words out.

“Are you already starting this?” Eddie asks, eyes narrowing slightly as his eyebrows crease in frustration.

“Oh—so it’s fine when you mess with me all day, but the moment I flip it back on you, it’s a problem?”

And maybe it was a little bold, but you’ve never been one to hold back when it came to defy Eddie—you never backed down from an argument, even when you knew you were fated to lose.

Eddie crowds you in, hand drifting along the column of your neck until his thumb can press against the underside of your jaw, titling your face up to meet his.

“Not here,” He says lowly, “—you want to act like that? Save that shit for later.”

Later—out of the watchful eyes of others, in private, somewhere Eddie could deal with it the way he wanted to.

You grimace slightly, wiggling away from his grip, but it only tightens further, his jaw clenching at your moment,

“Got it?” He asks, expecting only one answer.

You’re nice enough to play along for the moment, giving him a subtle nod. Unfortunately, it was only the beginning.

Eddie’s sat near the end of his bed, feet planted firmly on the floor and his elbows digging into the rips of his jeans, leaving small indentations in the skin—and Eddie’s so lost in his own scribbling and jotting down of notes that he doesn’t even notice the faint tugging at first. He thinks that maybe your foot skimmed him on accident, turning over in bed as you napped. He’d watched you fall asleep in the passenger seat of his van after Hellfire and he was kind enough to carry you inside—because despite the risky and powerful dynamic between you two, he still loved you as he would any partner and it was a small way to show his affliction toward you and just how much he cared, but the adoration you had for it was short lived, remembering how sweltering his words had been earlier in the evening.

The days weren’t always like this either—you could go days, weeks even, another normal and healthy relationship, but there was always that deep, dark underbelly that lingered when things got too tense or one of you went to far.

You crawled forward slowly, eyes still hazy from sleep as you curled around him, fingers looping into the loops of his jeans, belt forgotten and the button of his jeans spread open. It gave you less resistance, tugging and tugging until he sighed with a long, heavy breath.

“Stop.” He complained, though it was lightheartedly and didn’t seem at all threatening, the dull pencil flipping between his fingers absently.

You make a small noise, a groan of disapproval as you tightened your fingers and tugged harder, nearly forcing him backwards, papers slipping from his hands as he tumbled back against you, palm barely able to catch himself.

“God—do you ever listen?” He asks, turning over his shoulder to flare up at you, your mouth turned up in a salacious grin.

You shook your head slowly, a slow hand creeping under the collar of his shirt and beyond the chain of his necklace, blunt fingers dragging against the pale, alabaster skin of his chest and through the stubbly patch of hair there. Eddie tenses, using his free hand to grab your arm, yanking it out his shirt.

“Hey,” You pout, tossing your hand to the side as Eddie’s face morphs into annoyance, shoving himself back up and away from you, “I’m bored.” You tell him, voice soft and pleading.

“And you were asleep five minutes ago,” Eddie counters, “you know I need to get this campaign finished and you always think this is the most convenient time to ask for sex.”

You laugh softly, watching as he departed the bed and stood on his feet, unbuttoned pants leaving little to imagine as the hard line of his cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans. “Is it working?” You inquired teasingly.

“No.” Eddie doubles down, how shameful of him.

Your eyes flick down to his dick pointedly, smirk growing on your face. “Oh, so we’re lying now?”

“What’s with the fucking attitude all day?” Eddie avoids your line of questioning, bartering his own.

You shrug, walking on your knees toward the edge of the bed, leaning back on your heels as you looked up at him, his face devoid of any emotion, eyes eerily hollow.

“It’s been a while,” You tell him somberly, despite the teasing hand on his cock, palm rubbing against the front of his jeans. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t react positively either, “and you’ve been mean all day, Eddie.”

“Like you haven’t?” It’s redundant, but you respond anyways.

“Only because you started it.”

“That’s a weak fucking argument.” Eddie chuckles lowly, raking a hand through the crown of your hair, shoving the lose strands away from your face—you were expecting a gentle touch, but that’s quickly diminished when the hand winds in your hair, pulling snug until you can’t help but react, you whine softly.

“Eddie,” You respond, “that hurts.”

“Then tell me to let go.” He answers.

You shake your head stubbornly, letting his other hand pull you up from under your arm until your forced to stand before him, eyes never lingering away from his own.

“Get in the bathroom,” Eddie urges, shoving you toward the door with little force, knowing you’d go easily, “now.”

Well, maybe you were biting off a little more than you could handle, but everything with Eddie was exhilarating, never a dull moment in between—his face was still plain, not a hint of smile or any sign of anger.

“You’re so easy,” You remark sweetly, calling over your shoulder, "can’t even admit how badly you want it.”

You leave without a word from him, slipping down the quiet and dark hallway, trailer empty aside from the both of you—the bathroom door is already wide open, a tiny cramped room with not nearly enough space. There was only a few seconds of limbo before Eddie was right there, startling you at his ability to remain completely silence as he clicked the door shut behind you. You can only assume why he ordered you in here, face scrunching up in amusement.

“Huh, no—“ You laugh, “you have a perfectly sized bed—fuck, even a couch. We are not—“

“Turn around,” He interrupts, shifting his loose pants further down his waist, tucked under the expanse of his ass—and when you don’t move, he shifts your body for you, “—are you gonna fucking listen or not?”

“Why should I?”

Eddie knew you'd keep this game up as long as you had the energy and power over him—and he could admit it, you were very well capable of doing it, now being a perfect example.

The only solution was fucking it out of you, leaving you as speechless as possible. That's one thing Eddie was capable of.

“You want to act like brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He remarks snidely, pulling at the thin material of your shorts until they drop to your ankles, helping you out of them wordlessly. “Keep talking—it’ll only make it worse.”

Eddie drops to his knees in an instant, lifting you up on your tiptoes as you leaned over the edge of the sink, hands grilling the porcelain tight. His mouth is hot and wet as his tongue licks a broad strip up your cunt, the vulgarity of it sending a jolt of surprise through your body, gasping at the suddenness of it.

Your mouth hung open slightly, sounds dying in your throat as you tried to focus, refusing to give Eddie the upper-hand that he wanted—he’s got you spread wide, his face stuffed up against your cunt as he licks into you, the angle frustratingly pleasurable as his tongue glides over your clit in quick fleeting movements, your hand shooting back to sink into his curls, pulling harshly as you bury him deeper and deeper into the ache that was growing between your legs.

But, Eddie isn’t having it. He grabs the idle hand on the sink and the one buried in his hair and holds them tight, stopping momentarily to dig into the back pocket of his jeans—you know it’s coming and you can’t be bothered to stop it.

“You don’t get to have things your way,” He warns, finding the handkerchief stuffed in his pocket and wrapping it around your wrist, tying it loosely—part of him was hoping you’d play along, not wanting to leave any visible marks. He wanted you to give that power over to him willingly, “not tonight, sweetheart.”

You nod slowly, feigning innocence for the moment.

Eddie stands then, body dragging against yours as he speaks, “You think you can take me like this?” Eddie asks, “I don’t really think you deserve my fingers.”

“So I don’t get your fingers, but I get your dick?” You counter, earning a subtle smirk in return. “That doesn’t seem like a fair trade.”

Eddie snakes an arm around your front, forcing your chin up to look at him in the small mirror, squeezing at your cheeks until your mouth was forced open, “It’s a yes or no question—I don’t need your smartass remark.”

You laugh daringly, “Sorry—can you repeat yourself?”

Eddie doesn’t appreciate that, hand slipping down to your neck to pull back with force, body held tight against his. You couldn’t see in the mirror anymore, only his face as he glared down at you.

“Yes or no?” Eddie asks again, slower and much more menacingly. You breathe harshly against his grip, realizing he wasn’t going to let go until you answered.

“Yes,” You say weakly, “I can take it.”

“Good,” He replies softly, the grip on your neck loosening until you fall forward, his hand stabilized on your shoulder to help keep you upright, “don’t think I can wait much longer anyways.”

And despite Eddie’s vicious approach, he enters you slow, watching your face for any signs of pain—the stretch was welcomed and normal, a breath of relief when he was finally settled into you fully, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Shit,” He curses, “—messing with me all day just to have me fuck you like this?”

He doesn’t need you to answer, doesn’t want it, speaking his thoughts out into the charged air between you.

“Always have so much to say until my cock is inside you,” He can see the twitch in your expression, begging to respond, and he laughs, fingers dragging up along your face as his thumb drags along your bottom lip teasingly, “—you think it’s cute to berate me?”

It’s a double-edged sword, so you don’t respond in any way. But, Eddie doesn’t like that either. He’s squeezing at your face again, hips thrusting slowly in comparison to his rough grip. “So does that mean I get to do the same to you? Treat you like a whore?”

You moan softly at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you, but the word is like a trigger, face turning up in amusement as you laugh.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” Eddie asks with a condescending tone, earning an eager nod from you. “God, you’re so fucking predictable.”

You shrug slightly, shocked by how quickly he releases your face, dropping suddenly until his hand wraps into your hair, pulling your face back up to stare at him through the reflection and it feels like you’re being transported—looking at a different version of yourself.

He’s barely even done anything and you already look wrecked, embarrassingly so. He leans in closer, breath ghosting over your ear as his eyes make contact with you through the mirror, “And you’re gonna watch while I fuck you. I want you to see how desperate you look.” He says lowly, hips snapping sharply, “Every,” another rough thrust, “fucking,” a harsh tug at your hair, “time.”

You moan out loudly, feeling Eddie bury himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, eyes squeezing closed on instinct, only shooting back open when there’s a sharp slap across your face—it’s quick and doesn’t really sting, but it’s gets your attention. “What did I say?”

“To—to look,” You stammer, an endless soundboard of noises as Eddie didn’t relent, free hand gripping your hip tightly, bringing your ass back against him with every thrust, the loud sound of skin against skin drowning out any other noise in the trailer, “—while you fuck me.”

Eddie nods slowly, eyes dragging down to his dick, the sight nearly enough to make him come then, groaning at how perfectly you gripped him, soft velvet walls like heaven to sink into, again and again.

“And to remember who makes you feel this good,” He reminds, the hand gripping your hip sliding up the front of torso and under your shirt, squeezing gently at your bare tits, the outline of his hands and rings visible through the thin material—the rings were always cold compared to his warm hands and it was never something you got used, gasping at the way they bit at your skin, “say it, baby.”

Your eyes roll back slightly from the sheer pleasure consuming your body, his hips an overwhelming and unfaltering pace as he sunk into you with fervor. You try to say it, but it dies on your tongue, eyes falling shut again as you strained against the hold he had in your hair, begging for relief. Eddie notices, breaking the act for a brief moment to switch his hold, hand caressing your face in a loose grip, just enough to hold you upright to see in the mirror, his gaze still as permeable as ever.

“Say it,” He reminds, rubbing at heat growing in your cheeks, “fuck—say my name.”

“Eddie,” You gasp softly, “it’s you, Eddie.”

Eddie nods proudly, his pace faltering slightly, facade slipping as his jaw clenched tight, breathing sharply through his nose as he tried to hold out.

“Please,” You beg, “please—“

You’re not entirely sure for what.

“Oh—can’t find the words now, huh?” Eddie teases, the hand that’s stuffed under your shirt guiding down until his fingers can drag over the sensitive bundle of nerves, an instant relief when he finally touches you, you sigh sharply, eyes squeezing shut in concentration. “No, eyes open—“ Eddie urges, tapping at your face with his finger lightly, stopping his movements until you did just that.

“Use your manners, baby.” Eddie reminds, “Ask for it.”

“Can I—can I come?” You ask softly, “Eddie, please—“

Eddie laughs quietly, “Apologize.”

If it weren’t for how desperately you wanted to come, you would’ve ripped him a new one and told him off, but you needed this.

“Fuck—I’m sorry.” You force out.

“For?”

Eddie snaps his hips roughly, on the edge of his own undoing, barely able to keep himself together too.

“Being mean,” You gasp out, “and teasing you.”

“And being a complete fucking brat?”

You nod weakly, his fingers gliding over your sensitive clit with an intensity that brings you tipping over the edge quickly, fingers gripping into the trip of Eddie’s shirt from where your hands are still bound behind you, nearly ripping the material at the seam. Eddie pulls out quickly, urging you to turn around. His eyes are pleading, a stark difference from his earlier demeanor as he tugs at his dick swiftly, mumbling a quick, “Can I?”

And you can only assume he’s asking for one thing, quickly undoing the binding as you sank to your knees, hands gripping his thigh for leverage as he gripped your face with his free hand, your tongue slipping out carefully as he rested the achingly red and leaking tip over it, giving you a feeble groan of warning before he’s coming with a visceral, “Fuckfuck—“ and letting the milky white of his orgasm drip out of your mouth slightly, urging it closed with a tap at your chin, watching you swallow without question.

Eddie falls against the wall in exhaustion, watching you do the same as you leaned against the sink, still naked from the waist down. You laughed into the silence, a small giggle that bubbles from your chest.

“Too much?” Eddie asks, bracing for your retort.

You shake your head honestly, “Not enough, in my opinion.”

“God, you’re a masochist—I swear.” Eddie replies with a smile, grabbing at the hand that lingered around his thigh, pulling you against him with practiced ease.

“You just fuck really good when you’re upset,” You admit, open mouth gliding against his, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, “like, really good.”

“Yeah?” Eddie laughs.

You nod confidently, “I’m pissing you off everyday if it results in that—well, maybe without the bathroom next time.”

“I didn’t want to mess up the organization I had going with the campaign stuff.” Eddie defends weakly.

You snort in disbelief, “Organization? You know what—no, I’m not even gonna touch that one.”

You tug at his pants until get he gets the message pulling them over his hips before you’re ushering him out of the bathroom without a word, closing the door behind him.

Eddie stares on in disbelief at the closed door, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Unfortunately for Eddie, he’d never know.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

2K notes · View notes

wonyopout · 3 months

Text

(cw: noncon->dubcon, g!p wonyoung, overstim, manipulation but only a little 😋)

i wrote her sorta bratty in this but idc!! she’s still my perfect well behaved princess.. noncon notwithstanding…

wony who’s so pussy whipped/pussy drunk that she just wants your cunt all the time whether you want it or not! big into somno and will fuck you or eat you out while you’re sleeping soundly. a lot of the time it’s funny just how badly she wants you and you’re eager to indulge her most of the time, but sometimes you’re busy or you wanna do something else, and wonyoung just isn’t having it.. the second you flat out say no or even hesitate to say yes she’s grabbing you and ripping your pants and panties down, one hand groping your tit while the other rubs harshly at your clit, forcing you on her cock. both you and wonyoung groaning at the tight fit. she’s grabbing at your hips as you try to push away from her. pulls you flush against her to nip and suck at your neck 😵‍💫 she pushes her mouth right up against your ear as she says,

“y/n unnie, this pussy’s mine ok?? I can fuck you when I want to and you acting like I can’t is starting to piss me off”

your streak of spoiling her is really biting you in the ass now. every time she gets hard she’ll tell you to help her, being sure to pout and put on a show about how much it hurts and the only thing that’ll make her feel better is using your cunt like a fleshlight.. you gotta hand it to her though, she’s a pretty good actress, gets teary eyed when she’s really into the bit. a lot of the time though, she doesn’t even bother to manipulate you into saying yes. she realized she can just bend you over whenever and wherever she wants and you’ll hardly put up a fight! she’s definitely got you trained, shoves her dick in you and you meekly tell her “no” or that you “don’t want it” but you’re pushing back to meet her thrusts and clenching down on her?? grabs you by the throat to hold you in place while she’s abusing your cunt, squeezing ever so slightly on the sides of your neck making you cream around her cock as you get light headed 🥴 also loves putting you in a mating press and going to town, your tummy bulging slightly from the angle and how big she is.. she cums so much too, breeds you full just from cumming in you once.

it’s not just having you on her dick that makes her crazy either, she’s the exact same when it comes to eating you out. overstimulates you so much because she just can’t tear her head away from between your thighs and she won’t let you try to either! binds your wrists or holds your hips down when you get too restless, tears streaming down your face when you beg her to stop or at the very least give you a break!! wonys such a meanie because when she does pull away, mouth and chin all covered in slick, all she says is, “stop crying so loud it’s annoying! we’re not done till i say so, so be a good unnie and take it..” with sweet little smile before she shoves her face back in your cunt, slurping away at you, moaning at how good you taste. also shes definitely uses a spreader bar on you to make sure you can’t close your legs when she eats you out 🥴🥴 just when you think she’s done with you she’ll start talking about how yummy your cunt was and how it got her so hard. “i know i said i was almost done but i really really need you. you don’t need to do anything kay?? just lie there and let me use you..” 😵‍💫

so what if you’re turning into wonys free use toy?? at least you get mind blowing orgasms out of it.. yea sometimes she makes you come so much you pass out and even then she doesn’t let up. i’ve mentioned wonys crazy amount of stamina before, so she can go round after round not giving you a break. she’s so lost in her head when she’s fucking you, just so pussy hungry that she doesn’t care how spent you are… at the end of the day she’s still your sweet girl though!! she basically waits on you hand and foot on the days she knows she’s been extra mean :(( runs you a hot bath and washes your hair for you 🥺 doesn’t let you lift a finger as she washes and changes your sheets. offers to give you a massage and the whole time she’s doing it she’s leaning down to kiss your neck or shoulders or any exposed skin really (she’s obsessed with you). she can be so soft with you when she wants to be..

#ive imagines #ive x reader #ive smut #girl group smut #girl group x reader #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung smut #g!p wonyoung #wonyoung smut #wonyopout #had to add wony being soft at the end 😔#this is kinda short bc i cut out like half of it that was piss kink wony 🧍#will b expanding on that tho so stay tuned heheh

263 notes · View notes

theharddeck · 1 year

Text

can't unfeel that // Jake Seresin x fem!reader

pairing: hangman x reader (no y/n)

synopsis: jake and his FWB are going strong, totally not developing feelings, totally unaffected and happily still in friends territory...in completely unrelated news, Jake discovers a breeding kink

word count: 8k of smut interspersed with feelings

A/N: This fic is a follow up to kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit; it’s not necessary to read that first, but it is the dynamic (if you haven’t read it, that’s where Jake discovers choking so it’s a fun time) (also the title is another line from the same song). Thank you to @gigisimsonmars for the inspo and beta-ing, and @laracrofted and @bradshawsbitch for opinions, moral support, and straight up coaching!! 💙

Warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI explicit PiV, unprotected sex, non negotiated breeding kink—friendly reminder this is a work of FICTION oh my god use protection and communicate explicitly with your partner beforehand please please please— f!receiving oral sex, hint on condescension, denied/delayed orgasm, overstimulation…if none of that phases you, there’s also swearing.

This was friend behavior; friends totally go grocery shopping together.

It definitely wasn’t a big deal that you and Jake were at a Whole Foods, him looking for some kind of weird protein powder while you picked through cartons of blackberries.

It was absolutely casual that he’d moved into a small house off base, and you were spending the night more often than not.

Your friends with benefits situation was continuing as expected, and the domesticity of it all was not, in any way whatsoever, throwing you off.

You wrinkled your nose at your reflection in the mirrors over the produce section, wondering who you were convincing. In the mirrors, you saw a man with a child on his hip come up to peruse the bell pepper section, and you stepped aside to give them more room.

“I’m so sorry to bother, but would you mind?”

You were surprised when the man spoke to you, and you turned to see him sheepishly looking between the rows of bell peppers, and the toddler who wouldn’t let go of her father, her lower lip quivering dangerously each time he readjusted his grip to reach for some vegetables.

“Of course,” you said, pulling down a produce bag. “What can I grab for you?”

“Actually,” the man shifted the child on his hip, “could you just take her for a minute? My wife sent this massive list and I have like a dozen things I need to get, and it’d just be faster…”

“Oh,” you said, looking at the girl who looked dubiously back at you, trying not to read gender roles and expectations into someone just asking for help. “If it’ll help, sure.”

“Thank you so much,” the man sighed in relief, handing over the child with little fanfare. The kid looked at you suspiciously, and you settled her onto your hip, not giving her a chance to second guess the arrangement. The man moved quickly down the aisle, pulling out a list to consult and grabbing different vegetables, as you narrated to the child, hoping the steady flow of information would be enough to offset the fact that she was being held by a stranger.

“Did you know,” you told her quietly, “that Brussels sprouts grow on stalks, like almonds? They look like little cabbages, and they’re technically related, I think, but they don’t come out of the ground like that. The pattern they grow in is actually called helical—which I’ve never said aloud until this moment, but it’s the same base word as helix, so I hope I got it right—around the stalk…”

You rambled on as the father continued to dart up and down the aisle, coming back occasionally to drop the bagged produce into the trolley. You heard a familiar footstep on the linoleum, and turned both you and the child towards it.

“And that man over there,” you told her, smiling conspiratorially as Jake rounded the corner, his boots giving a distinctive cadence to his step, “didn’t believe me when I told him it’s actually Brussels sprouts, with an ‘s’ at the end.”

Jake’s face went on a journey when he found you, then registered that you were holding an unfamiliar child, and his eyes slid over to the father running frantically up and down the aisle. A strange expression settled on his face when he looked back at you, almost frowning, as he walked closer to you.

“It’s not his fault,” you continued to the toddler, who was watching Jake with open fascination as he approached. “He’s a cretin whose unpopular vegetable of choice is an asparagus.”

“Ha ha,” Jake deadpanned as he stepped beside you, looking between you and the child with that same unfamiliar expression on his face. “What’s this?”

The father chose that moment to reappear, dropping a mesh bag of yellow onions, a carton of fingerling potatoes, a bundle of scallions, and a couple heads of garlic into the trolley, and nodding at Jake before turning back to you.

“Honestly, you’re a lifesaver,” he thanked you fervently, reaching for his kid. She went without complaint, and you briefly envied her unflappability, before you were preoccupied by other things.

Things like Jake stepping way into your personal space, and leaning forward to brush a kiss on your cheek. You shivered, surprised by the contact, but Jake stared intently at the man’s retreating figure, juggling his daughter and the trolley, either unaware of or unbothered by the heavy gaze following him.

“What was that?” you asked him, as soon as the man finally rounded the corner. Jake’s nose wrinkled, before he shook his head and stepped out of your personal space. He wasn’t looking at you, but held out the shopping basket towards you, showing a brown envelope labeled Organic Pea Protein on top of the groceries you’d already picked out.

“I found the powder,” he said, his voice level, and you weren’t sure if you were crazy or if he was suppressing. But Jake didn’t look like he was going to divulge any additional information, so you reached behind you haphazardly, grabbing the first carton of berries your fingers closed on.

“And I’ve got the berries,” you announced. You checked your selection as you dropped it into the basket, mentally grimacing when you saw you’d picked blueberries.

“You hate blueberries,” Jake said, frowning slightly.

“Sure do,” you muttered, looking at them, before pasting a smile on your face to look back at Jake. “But we’ve committed at this point. Anything else we need?”

Jake looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head tersely. “Uh, no. No, let’s go.”

You were both quiet as you stood in line to check out, making cordial conversation with the cashier, and then fading out as you carried the paper grocery bags out to the truck. The silence was almost disconcerting, but Jake didn’t seem upset, just like he was focusing intently on something, you weren’t sure what. You were loading the groceries into the backseat behind the passenger door when you realized Jake wasn’t opposite you, and that his bags had already been loaded. You were looking around for him when strong hands closed around your waist, and Jake pulled you to him, closing the door in front of you, before pressing you against the side of his truck. You expected him to turn you to face him, but you braced yourself against the truck when he didn’t, his broad body caging you against the door.

“Jake?” you asked softly, unsure what he needed, or was looking for, knowing that sometimes it was easier for him to feel you than to tell you. You could feel him drawing in slow breaths from the way his chest expanded against your back, and his hips pressed slightly forward at your soft question.

“Just a sec,” he said gruffly, his voice muffled as he turned his face into your hair. He wasn’t kissing and he wasn’t nuzzling; it just felt like he was grounding himself by touching you, and you knew that, despite trying to convince yourself otherwise by the bell peppers, your heart was in trouble. Because not only only did you not mind, you wish he’d let you do this more.

You nodded, sliding your hand up the side of the truck so you could rest your face on the back of it, while you waited for him. Jake drew in a couple more breaths, and then his hands on your waist loosened, as he turned you to face him.

You went easily, arms dropping from the truck to his shoulders, hoping if your presence had steadied him, your touch could do the same. His eyes were stormy, the green of them clouded over by something complicated, something messy, and your hand snuck up from his shoulder to the back of his head, pulling his face down to you. You didn’t kiss him, but you watched his eyes slide closed as you pressed his forehead to yours, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Want to tell me about it?” you asked quietly.

He didn’t say anything, but you felt him shake his head, his hair scratching your forehead from where it was trapped between you.

“Want to get out of here?” you asked instead, and this time felt him nod, causing something like pride to well up in your chest, relieved that he’d trust you enough to be able to voice what he wanted.

“Okay, then,” you said, gently as you could, “ let’s go.”

Again, Jake nodded, and you felt his hands tighten on your waist.

“When we get home,” he said, his voice rough, “I’m unloading the groceries. You’re going straight to my bed, changing out of this, and into my old Staubach tshirt.”

Jake didn’t phrase it like a question, but you knew he was asking it anyway, so you nodded. You felt him exhale a long breath against your cheek, like relief, and then he released you suddenly, like he had to do it at once or he wouldn’t at all.

He stepped away from you to open the passenger door, made sure your feet were tucked in before shutting it, then crossed in front of the truck quickly, pulling the truck out of the lot before his word choice snagged in your mind—home.

You looked at Jake out of the corner of your eye and he wove the truck in and out of traffic. His eyes were squinted against the bright sunlight, but the expression on his face was unfamiliar to you. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were tight on the steering wheel, and when one dropped to the stick to shift gears, the movement was terse, precise. You wanted to be a more altruistic person, you did, but realistically, something warmed deep in your stomach as you anticipated what that meant for when you got home.

When he pulled into the driveway, Jake was out of truck before it’d fully stopped, yanking open your door and turning you to face him, on the edge of the seat. You fumbled to undo your safety belt as his hand on the back of your neck drew your mouth to his, his lips claiming yours in a hungry kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you reached a hand up to his jawline to steady yourself as he pressed you back against the seat. He kissed you hard, heavy, and you knew there was something he was saying that he wasn’t telling you, but you couldn’t quite read it off his lips. His mouth moved hungrily over yours, then he pulled himself back, pressing chaste kisses on the corners of your lips, your chin, across your cheekbones.

“Upstairs,” he said, his voice low. “Be ready for me.”

The heat that had been curling in your belly since the parking lot fanned into a flame in his words, and you nodded mutely. Jake helped you out of the cab of the truck (a couple more kisses and a smidge more of that voice, and you probably would’ve slid off the seat), and you walked on unsteady legs towards the house.

Upstairs, you rooted through Jake’s pajama drawer, looking for the worn navy tshirt he’d requested. You could hear the refrigerator door opening and shutting as Jake shuffled groceries around the kitchen, and you stripped unceremoniously, before pulling the tshirt over your head. The material felt soft, the hem falling just to the tops of your thighs. Jake’s footsteps sounded on the stairs and you darted over to the bed, perching on the edge of it as he came into the room.

At the sight of you, something softened in his demeanor.

His shoulders lost some of their tension, even as he pulled in a deep breath, looking at you. Your thighs pressed together as you fought the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, no less unsettling for its familiarity. He noticed, of course, his eyes darting down to your thighs, and an almost-smile growing on his lips.

He walked into the room slowly, each step measured, and by the time he made it to the bed you were practically vibrating with need. To hear his voice, to feel his touch, to know you’d generated some kind of reaction from him, while you sat fidgeting.

Jake stopped in front of you, running a finger along the neckline of the shirt, and you couldn’t help but lean towards him.

“Thank you.”

He said it quietly, and it surprised you. You weren’t sure if he meant for changing, for waiting, for understanding that he couldn’t say whatever it was, but as you met his eyes as he stood over you, you nodded an unspoken ‘you’re welcome’.

Jake’s hand trailed down the front of the tshirt, his touch warm even through the cotton. His fingers stalled when he reached your breasts, his thumbs passing languidly over you as he confirmed you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Your nipples hardened under his teasing touch, light and unhurried, even as his eyes darkened.

“So good for me,” Jake murmured, and his hands dropped farther. He tapped the tops of your thighs and you opened them obediently. There was no pretense here, no point in pretending his words and his authority didn’t affect you. As you parted your legs, Jake sank to his knees beside the bed, his eyes flashing as he bent level to your hips.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over you, the endearment falling from his lips like it was natural, even if it was only when you were like this, “is this for me?”

He pressed a feather-light kiss to your core, his tongue darting out between his lips to taste you and you knew what he meant—you were already glistening with arousal. Jake’s fingers came up to grip your thighs and he inhaled deeply as he spread your legs farther, sending a flush of color across your chest. You always felt desired with Jake, but sometimes it felt carnal, the way he needed you to fill all his senses.

Another light kiss, another sweep of his tongue, tantalizing promises and teases for the both of you. You leaned back on your hands, braced on the bed, as Jake’s gentle touches continued. It wasn’t at all what you’d expected, this soft exploration, and your hips lifted towards him, asking for more.

He pulled back.

You whimpered at the loss of his mouth, looking down to see him licking his lips. Jake’s chin was wet, shining with your arousal, and he’d barely touched you.

“Jake…” you started, your body canting towards him, but his hands on your legs stilled you.

“Asked you a question,” he mumbled, holding your eyes while he leaned in to place another chaste kiss on your cunt. His lips closed over you, his tongue curled against you, and you trembled at the dark look in his eyes.

“Yes, fuck,” you breathed, and Jake sucked where his lips had sealed, a reward. “All for you, Jake, only you.”

He hummed, the vibration causing your head to fall back as he placed another maddeningly controlled kiss on your core. He lapped at you slowly, pulling your arousal into his mouth, savoring your taste, taking his time. You realized you were trembling, your body shaking as Jake took what he desired, finding his pleasure between your thighs.

He kissed you, again, again, a soft trail up to your clit. When he rolled his tongue over that tight mound, your arms gave out, one of your hands tangling into his hair while you fell back to your other elbow.

Jake chuckled against your core.

“Need something, sweetheart?” he asked, licking a long stroke up your cunt. Your back arched and you cried out as Jake smirked into you, his tongue circling your clit. “Use your words.”

“More,” you gasped, your hips bucking into his touch. “Please, Jake, I need more.”

“More?” Jake asked, his voice low, and his teeth brushed over your clit as he sucked. You moaned, and Jake soothed you with more light kisses before you felt him shifting. A moment later, a thick finger traced along your folds, and you nodded feverishly.

“Please,” you begged, “I need—”

“Oh she needs, does she?” Jake mused, and you whimpered as he pulled back. You felt his cheek press against your thigh as he watched his fingers pulling through you. He spread you with his hand, holding your folds apart so he could lick deeply into you. The pressure of his tongue, the sureness of his touch, it felt so good, but it wasn't anywhere near enough.

And he knew it, the asshole.

“Yes, please, I—” you broke off with a yelp when Jake pinched your clit. He leaned in to soothe it with another frustrating kiss, but your body echoed with the throbbing pulse.

“Most people would be grateful to have their man on his knees, wouldn’t they?” Jake said, his voice muffled as his lips trailed over your core, but the teasing derision still present, sending a tremor through you. “But not you, hmm, honey? You want more.”

Your breath caught at his words; surely he hadn’t meant to say your man.

He wasn’t yours like that, hot as it was for him to say it…but the illusion of it was enough to set your reeling. You looked down at him—hair mussed from your fingers, pupils blown wide from your taste, shoulders panting as he chose between air and more of you—and this afternoon you liked the idea of him being yours.

“Greedy, greedy girl,” Jake chastised softly, when you didn’t correct him, but if you closed your eyes, you could pretend there was a fondness hiding in the gentleness of his voice.

He thrust two fingers into you.

You arched off the bed, a wail falling from your lips as Jake curled his fingers inside of you.

“And I take care of you, don’t I,” he said, kissing your cunt sloppily as his fingers worked in and out of you. “Every damn time, satisfy this needy pussy, this fucking perfect cunt.”

The stretch of his fingers, the wet drag of his tongue, the dirty sting of his words, washed over you and you moaned as he wrecked you.

“Yes, Jake,” you practically whined. “You’re so good, you feel so good, please—”

“That’s right,” Jake gritted, his fingers working faster. He thrust into you, stroking your walls and kissing it better with his warm mouth. You felt your thighs shaking and heat building in your center and you didn’t remember falling back onto the bed, but you didn’t remember anything other than the torturous, teasing, all consuming need that Jake was stroking between your legs.

“Fuck, honey, squeezing me so tight,” Jake panted. “You gonna cum for me? After all that needing, you gonna let me make you feel good? Come on, sweetheart, let me have it; it’s mine.”

His fingers continued stretching you, thrusting into you with perfect, intoxicating, precision and Jake leaned closer to your core again. His nose brushed against your clit before his lips closed around it, sucking messily, and you felt the building pressure inside of you shatter.

You heard yourself sobbing like something in a dream, distant and echoing, but all you could feel was the tremors wracking your body, and Jake’s tongue pulling you through it.

“Pretty girl,” Jake was murmuring between kisses. “You’re so damn beautiful, all the time, but when you come for me it’s something else. You did so good, sweetheart, so good, and you taste like fucking heaven…”

You whimpered as your head cleared, pulling weakly at his hair as he continued to kiss your sensitive core.

Jake continued to lap up your release, unrelenting, unsatiated, and you both groaned when he eased a finger back into you.

“How we doing, sweetheart,” he asked, and when you opened your eyes, he was watching you carefully. You realized he was holding his finger still inside of you, and it was your hips pulling him into you, rocking into his hand.

“Good,” you whispered.

Jake nodded, and his finger curled. “That’s my girl.”

His words soothed over you, and you felt them settle warmly over your skin, the same as when he’d called himself your man. It was probably pheromones, nothing more, but God it was a lovely thought.

“Sweetheart…” Jake’s voice was quiet, dangerous. “You know what that look does to me.”

This was happening more often than not, little moments where you wished for more, and Jake had to remind you that that wasn’t the deal you’d both agreed to. You clenched your eyes shut again, trying to make it go away.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

When you looked at him again, Jake’s forehead was pursed in a frown, and he shifted his weight to climb up onto the bed. He lowered himself over you, his hard body pressing over your soft one, and his mouth found yours. He kissed you and you tasted yourself on his tongue, even in the gentle insistence of this kiss.

Jake pulled back, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck.

“Don’t apologize, honey, please don’t,” he whispered against your skin. “I can’t…please don’t.”

And you pressed your lips tightly together to trap the words, but when he pulled back to look at you, you knew you couldn’t look, not without showing him what he didn’t want to see. You could feel him watching you carefully, gauging your reaction as he added another finger inside of you. He groaned when you clenched around him, his hips rocking into you slowly as yours spread wider, to cradle him.

“Feels good, Jake,” you gasped, loving the weight and motion of him.

He sucked on your neck, nibbling lightly and letting go as he rocked into you again. “Why’d you have to do that,” he mumbled into your collarbone, “look at me like that, then tell me it feels good. Makes me want to keep you, honey.”

Your hips stuttered against his, even as you knew he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t. Before you could ask and before he could take it back, he surged up to kiss you again. There was something almost frantic in his kiss, desperate enough that you knew this was it, whatever had gotten into him back at the grocery store.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, pulling his fingers out of you, settling his hands on your waist, squeezing tightly to orient himself. His face was buried in your neck, hiding, even as his clothed hips rutted harder against you.

“Tell me what you need,” you asked, one of your hands coming up to card through his hair. He shivered, this enormous pilot, shivered at your words and your touch. He pulled back to look at you again, carefully, for a long moment.

The afternoon sun was fading, and he looked golden in your arms, crouched above you. He hadn’t pushed your hand from his hair, and you smiled when he moved his head, adjusting where you were scratching him, working up the gumption to say whatever it was he needed.

“Can we pretend?” he asked at last, his voice holding something almost vulnerable. “I…maybe I can explain it later. But for now, can we just pretend?”

You didn’t know what he meant, but, irrationally, you trusted him anyway. If this was what he needed, and you could provide it, then you would. You nodded, and he let out a slow breath, nodding back. Beyond that, he didn’t move, looking almost uncertain with what to do next, so you pushed at his shoulders lightly.

“Let’s start here, yeah?” you prompted, pulling his shirt over his head.

Jake helped you, shifting to his side so you both could work on getting his pants off. Then he was in his boxer briefs, and you were in his shirt, and then he pulled that off of you too. The air was thick for a moment as you lay looking at each other, waiting.

You ran a hand down his chest, over the smooth skin and coarse hair, thickening as you trailed lower. You brushed your fingers over his length, straining against his underwear, and looked back up at him through your lashes.

“Don’t you want to fuck me, Jake?” you asked softly. He nodded, eyes closing as you ran your hand over him again.

“More than that,” he whispered.

He felt good in your hand, hot and thick, and you watched the outline grow as you waited for him to finish the thought.

You felt him brush some of your hair out of your face, before he said quietly, “Want to get you pregnant.”

You froze.

When you looked back up at him, Jake was watching you closely and your heart felt like someone had it in a chokehold because that was what he’d meant by pretending?? You’d mentally prepared for some variety of roleplay, maybe even an admiral or rank kink, but this? You, just with a future together?

While your mind was screaming that it was unintentionally cruel, your body was sighing that it was so. Damn. Hot.

You had an IUD so it wasn’t a possibility, but the fantasy was admittedly one that sent a pulse of need straight through you.

“Color,” Jake asked softly, and you bit your lip.

If you said no, he’d be apologetic, probably fix you a bath or go downstairs, give you some space while he fixed something from the grocery run earlier. You’d eat together, pretend it hadn’t happened, and he’d help you get back to base, whatever you needed. Unless what you needed was to be here with him, like this, only not pretend.

It was that simple, wasn’t it: there was no way you were walking unscathed away from knowing how Jake fucked you when he wanted a future with you.

But you looked at him, into his soft eyes that were waiting for you, hoping for you, and there was only one word in your mind.

“Green,” you whispered.

Jake’s eyes closed.

The hand that had brushed your hair away settled on your neck and he pulled you to him.

“Thank you,” he said, and before you could process that, he kissed you.

This kiss was different.

It wasn’t possessive, it wasn’t hungry. It was almost tender. It was gratitude, honest and insistent, pressed against your lips as Jake thanked you for something he had no way of knowing you wanted.

It was too gentle, but when you tried to deepen it, Jake held back, soothing you with soft caresses. His hands were light on your shoulders, your waist, the side of your face, embracing you with more than just his kiss. You melted into it, the gentle slide of his mouth against yours, his sweet taste, the strength of his arms around you. Jake kissed you until he felt you trust him with it, and then he rolled you both over.

He settled over you, his long body draping over yours, and you wanted to melt into the bedspread. Your arms were wrapped around him, pulling him closer to you, and one of your hands ran over his stomach to slip into his underwear. You hummed into Jake’s kiss as your fingers wrapped around his cock, warm and heavy in your hand, and his hips pushed further into your grasp.

“Honey, hold on—” he muttered against your lips, but you shook your head. His touch was too good, there was too much unspoken, and if you let the tenderness fester unchecked, you weren’t going to be able to handle this.

You could lean into this, you could do it. You slid your hands around his back, pushing his boxer briefs down to his thighs before your hand returned to his cock. You knew he always got a little worked up when he went down on you, and as you stroked your hand over him, precum beaded on the tip of his cock.

“Waited long enough, Jake,” you whispered, “want you to fill me.”

Jake drew in a sharp breath at your words, and he nudged your chin with his nose, moving your face so he could kiss up your neck. His mouth was more desperate than focused; you knew he’d leave marks and you tried not to think about why you wanted him to. You shifted under him, moving to guide his cock towards your entrance, brushing against your thighs, slicked with his spit and your orgasm.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, words muffled against your neck, a warning and a promise as you ran his cock through your folds. “You’re so warm and I’m not even in you yet.”

“Want to feel you,” you told him, wishing your voice was wrecked because he’d asked you to pretend, not because the thought of him having you like this sent your head spinning.

“I know, honey,” Jake said, voice low. “Just give me a sec.”

You could hear his breathing, measured like he had to count it, like it was overwhelming for him too. You licked your lips as you lined him up with your core.

“Come on, Jacob,” you cooed, letting go of his cock and running your hands up his side, settling under his shoulder blades, “don’t you want to breed me?”

“Fucking hell,” Jake swore, and his hips slammed forward.

Your head fell back as he shoved his cock into you, stretching you, deep and hot and sudden. You whimpered his name as your body ached in the most delicious way, stuffed, full.

“What’d you think would happen, honey,” Jake said, his voice hoarse, but his tone sharp. His arms caged around you, and he pushed off the bed to pull out slowly.

The drag of his cock through your cunt was devastating, but not half as much as the look on his face, when you opened your eyes.

Fuck, he looked so good.

Sandy hair in his eyes, expression strained as he held his body in check, his eyes blown wide with desire. His head dropped when he pulled nearly out of you, just the tip still in you, and you felt yourself clenching down on him, needing him. His lowered head draped his dog tags against your chest, the cold metal causing you to gasp.

Jake chuckled, a rumble of a laugh, and the tags dragged across your chest, then trailed up your neck as he leaned forward while he pushed back into you. You looked down your body, down to where his thick cock, shining with your joint arousal, was pressing back into your entrance.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Jake said, and you looked up at him. “That’s right. Look at me while I feed you my cock.”

You whimpered, every impulse telling you to close your eyes, let your head fall, focus only on the stretch of his cock and your body adjusting to him. But you let your eyes burn as you looked up at him, and Jake almost smiled.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Beautiful girl, doing so good for me.”

Your nails raked up his back as he bottomed out in you. He felt so deep, like you could feel his heartbeat, or maybe that was just the way his chest was pressed up against yours. It felt like every inch of your body was connected to his, melting into him, as Jake waited for you to adjust. His eyes darted over your face, watching you carefully, and it warmed you just as much as his body over yours.

“Need you to move, Jake,” you gasped, when you were ready. “Need to feel you move.”

“We’re back to need, are we?” Jake asked wryly, but he rolled his hips, pushing deeper into you before pulling himself back out. He thrust back into you, your body accepting him, craving the push and pull and the fullness of him. Jake set a steady pace, deep and thorough and you felt like every time he pressed into you it was too much, and when he pulled out, like you needed him all the more for it.

So, yeah, you were back to need.

“Fuck, those sounds you’re making,” Jake groaned. “You sound so good, sweetheart, I could come just from hearing you.”

You hadn’t even realized you were whining, each thrust of Jake’s hips punching sounds out of you. A layer of sweat coated his skin, soothing the abrasion of his chest hair as he moved over your and the juxtaposition of it all—his words, his cock, his sweat, his chest—clouded your mind so all you could do was keep making whatever noises he pulled from you.

“But not today, huh?” Jake continued, pushing back into you. “Not today, because today’s not just about getting us there, is it, it’s about fucking filling you.”

You moaned at his words, nodding desperately, feeling yourself clenching him tighter at his words. God, you wanted to feel that, wanted to feel him.

“‘s that what you want, baby?” Jake gritted, his hips slamming forward. “To be so full of me, with my seed, not just when I can give it to you like this. Fuck, you’d always have me in you, wouldn’t you, carrying me.”

You felt yourself sliding up the bed, being pushed up by the force of his thrusts. You reached back for the headboard, finding it closer than you’d expected, pushing back to meet Jake, and he moaned.

“That’s right, sweetheart, push yourself back on this cock. You need that don’t you, to milk it till you’re full of me?”

You cried out as you nodded, needing that, just like he said. Jake swore under his breath, reaching down to rearrange you. He pulled your legs out from your hips, hooking his elbows under your thighs and easing into you again.

“Jake, fuck,” you groaned, the new angle pushing him impossibly deeper. Pleasure curled hot in your core, stoked higher by the friction of Jake’s thrusts. Your body was still sensitive from your first orgasm, but his cock and his words had you hurtling towards that precipice again, sooner than you could’ve imagined.

“You too, sweetheart,” he gritted, but he couldn’t know, couldn’t feel this as much as you did.

“Jake,” you whimpered. “I’m want to come, please—”

“No,” Jake gasped, and your eyes flew open. His jaw was slack, his eyes hooded, but his expression was intense as he looked down at you. His mouth opened slightly when he pressed deeper into you again, but he gained control when he pulled back, your body protesting the loss of him.

“No?” you echoed, and he shook his head.

“We have to time it right,” Jake murmured, his cock shoving back into you, “if we want this to stick, honey, you have to come with me.”

Your eyes rolled back, at his words or from the steady press of his cock. “Jake—”

“Count us down, sweetheart,” Jake said, voice stern. He braced his hands on either side of you, his arms shaking as he held himself in check, but his expression steady. “I’ll get us there, but you tell me when you need it.”

Fuck, you were pretty sure you could come just then, if he told you to. But you bit your lip and nodded, rewarded by a slow push as Jake rolled his hips into you.

“Ten…” he prompted.

“Ten,” you repeated, not sure if you could make it that long. Jake pulled back as he stroked out of you, and you heard him spit a moment before a cool wetness covered your clit.

“You look so beautiful,” Jake whispered, his thumb brushing over your clit. “God, how unreal you’re going to look carrying my child.”

“Nine,” you gasped, your vision blurring as his finger worked over you.

“Fuck, with your stomach all round,” Jake broke off as he thrust into you sharply, “filled, carrying my child...”

His thumb moved in a circle with delicious, maddening pressure, and you moaned as his words settled over you. “Eight.”

“These tits,” Jake leaned forward, his shoulders pressing your thighs flat against the bed and his mouth closing over your breast, messily kissing you, “they’ll be fucking swollen, won’t they, as you get ready to nurse our child.”

Your back arched off the bed as his tongue worked over you, mirroring the motion of his thumb. His mouth was wet and warm and perfect, and heat pulsed through your body. You could feel everything and you keened as you tamped it down, knowing you had to wait.

“Seven,” you managed, and Jake hummed, you could feel it.

“So soft, swollen, and all full of milk,” Jake mumbled, switching to the other breast. “And when you’re aching and sensitive, I’ll be there for you—bet you’ll taste so sweet like that, won’t you, darlin’.”

The thought of nursing Jake was stunning, and you moaned when you realized he was sucking at you, nipping and miming milking your breasts. You felt your body tighten, your toes curling and you shook your head against the pillow.

“Six; I’m not going to—”

“You’ll make it,” Jake soothed, releasing your breasts and shifting back, returning his attention to your clit. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart, I know you can do it. Just a little longer, have to make sure you’re ready for me.”

“Five,” you gasped, “I’m ready, Jake, please–”

Jake pressed more firmly on your clit, stealing your words as your breath caught. “I don’t know, honey—you’re doing so good for me, but it’s a big fucking load. That’s what you need, that’s what I need, so much fucking cum, to get my girl pregnant.”

You could only moan, surrendering to the feelings and emotions he was caressing out of you. Your skin felt white hot, and you could feel your legs trembling; it was only a matter of time before you lost control entirely.

“Four,” you whimpered, and Jake thrust into you again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothed, his own voice tight as he fought off his orgasm. “You’re milking my cock so good, honey, can you feel it? Feel how hard you make me, how bad I need you, how I need to fill you?”

His rhythm faltered as his pace sped up, his cock plunging into you. Jake grunted at the top of every thrust, a sound of deep satisfaction that curled through you, gave you strength you didn’t know to hold off, to wait for him, to do it together.

“Three,” you cried.

“That’s it, sweetheart, because I do need to feel you, need to fill you, pump till you’re full of me and see me dripping out of my pretty cunt. Christ, you feel so good, you’re so good, how are you—”

Jake broke off, his hips slamming into yours, his cock reaching a place that had you seeing stars. Your eyes rolled back and you reached for him blindly, anchoring yourself with a hand in his hair, the other closing around his dog tags, moving with him as he thrust over you.

“Two,” you moaned.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” Jake groaned. “Almost there, almost time for me to fuck a baby into you. Fuck, you’ll be such a good mama, won’t you, so smart and beautiful and glowing when you’re carrying my child, all contented because I gave you everything, always will, and you can’t leave then, not with my seed—tell me you’re close, honey, are you almost there?”

“Jake,” you wailed, your count forgotten as your body trembled, his words closing around your heart like a vice. Jake’s pace was bordering on erratic, rhythm lost, his sweat dripping down to your joined bodies every time his hips met yours.

“Gonna give you a baby,” he gritted, “but you have to come with me, come with me now, please, fuck, sweatheart—”

Jake came with a shout, hoarse and sharp and he pressed his hips into you. He pulsed inside of you, his hips shuddering, and you could feel his cum streaming into you, hot and deep and what you needed. His head dropped to your chest as his body loosened with his release and you felt your orgasm break over you, like a thousand fuses lit at once.

The room swam, blinding light and senseless heat, pulsing over your skin like a heartbeat, and your awareness was distilled to him—Jake.

Jake’s beautiful groan when he finished, echoing around in your head, the holiest sound you’d ever heard.

Jake’s hips stuttering weakly against yours, thrusting even after he’d cum, like he couldn’t stop.

Jake’s voice, hoarse, whispering words you couldn’t discern, phrases you must’ve heard incorrectly, promises pressed against your skin.

Jake’s hands, shaking with the force of his orgasm, but smoothing over your skin, checking you, soothing you.

The light faded and you fell back into yourself, into your wrung out body, drenched in sweat and pleasure. The room felt hazy, heavy, and you realized Jake had matched his breathing to yours. You reached down, pushing the sweat-dampened hair off his forehead, smiling reassuringly when he looked up at you.

You could see it on the tip of his tongue, wanting to ask if you were okay, but he held it back, and you watched him shut down the part of him that was nervous about what had just happened.

“Hi,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“Hey,” Jake said back, clearing his throat. “Um, I can get a towel—”

“Can we stay?” you asked, hoping it didn’t sound too desperate. You just needed a minute, just a moment to bask in the warmth of what you’d pretended to feel, before your mind could catch up enough to pretend it away.

Jake hesitated for a moment, before nodding, and gently rearranging your legs, laying them down beside him before he shifted onto his back, pulling you with him. You went easily, resting on his chest and drawing a deep breath, thankful for the borrowed moment.

He probably wasn’t pulling out to avoid making a mess, knowing a washcloth was far away, but you could almost imagine it was because he craved the closeness as much as you did.

As you settled against his chest, one of Jake’s hands came up, absently running up and down your arm. You thought it had to count for something, the ‘friends’ part of ‘friends with benefits’, so you steadied yourself before you asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jake’s hand stilled, then resumed its slow brushing as he petted you. You knew he knew what you meant—you weren’t asking about the sex, you were asking about before.

“Not really,” he said quietly.

You’d expected as much. “Okay.”

Jake’s fingers drummed against your arm, and the room was quiet again. The sun was setting, casting the room in an orange light, like the inside of a lamp.

“I mean, if you want to, we can,” he hedged, after a minute.

You scoffed. “That doesn’t mean much; I always want to talk with you.”

Shit.

The words had slipped out before you could stop them, and you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could take them back.

“We can ignore that,” you mumbled, and Jake chuckled softly, before sobering.

“If I tell you why,” he said, “can we ignore that, too?”

Ignoring and pretending, how you’d always expected falling in love to be.

Even though no one could see you, you rolled your eyes at yourself, and your malaise. You nodded into Jake’s chest, knowing he could feel it.

His hand was back to stroking your arm, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

“You kinda looked like that kid,” he said.

Your heart stopped.

“What?” you managed.

“At Whole Foods,” Jake said, “when you were holding that little girl. I just came around the corner and it was like…like I saw a whole parallel life, one where someone married you, gave you kids. And I’d just walk by you in a grocery store, without knowing. Hell, even knowing, you looked like a family, like you fit together, like…”

He trailed off and your head physically ached as your mind whirred, processing his words. “Jake, she didn’t look anything like me.” “Her hair was similar,” he continued, a stubborn lilt to his voice, and you knew he wasn’t looking to be reasoned out of this.

“Okay,” you said, wetting your lips, waiting for Jake to finish the thought.

Only he didn’t.

He simply lay there, with you, his hand moving gently up and down your arm, seemingly content.

“So you decided you wanted to roleplay us getting pregnant?” you prompted, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else.

Jake sighed. “I hated it.”

You jolted at his words. “What?”

“Shit no, sweetheart, not that,” Jake said hurriedly. “Not what we—no, are you kidding, that was so damn hot—I meant seeing you in the store. With him. And holding her. It…I don’t know, it made me mad it wasn’t me.”

You pulled in a sharp breath, trying to find a platonic way to interpret that.

You could feel your heartbeat in your temples, so loud you couldn’t think, much less rationalize and you pushed yourself off of his chest. Your hips ached as you spread them again, settling your knees on either side of Jake as you looked down at him, still joined. Jake’s expression was guarded, but he let you look, shifting his shoulders on the pillows but meeting your eyes. Without your arm to stroke, his hand fell to the top of your thighs and resumed its motion there; you could tell the silence was making him nervous.

Well, that made two of you.

“I need you to be so fucking honest with me, Jake Seresin,” you said, proud of the way your voice was steady. “What does that mean?”

A hundred emotions flashed across Jake’s face before you could name them, and then he pushed himself up, settling you firmly on his lap as he brought his eyes level to yours.

“It should be me,” he said, “not with a kid, per se, and not just in Whole Foods, but people should look at us and see we fit.”

And then he kissed you.

For a moment, you were frozen.

This couldn’t be happening.

It had to be a weird, sex-induced dream where Jake told you he was jealous of an absolute stranger, jealous enough to admit he had something dangerously close to feelings for you.

But even as alarm bells sounded in your head, you knew this wasn’t a dream.

Because your body was sore in a very real way, the man in front of you was flushed, his fingers digging into your thighs with nervous tension, and he was kissing you carefully, so carefully, like he could pull back at any moment if you told him to.

Like hell.

You leaned into him, your hands wrapping around the back of his head to pull him closer to you. You felt him relax, felt his shoulders loosen and his arms wind around your waist, pulling your body flush against him. And this kiss was new, it was different, it was excitement and a little bit of embarrassment, at the foolishness of waiting so long.

You broke away, panting, and Jake rested his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. In the orange light, he looked gilded, too good to be true, like maybe he was Midas but you didn’t care if your skin turned to metal, so long as he didn’t stop touching you.

His long lashes fluttered, and your heart flipped at what you read in his green eyes as he opened them.

“Jesus, Jake,” you muttered, teasing, “you could’ve just told me you wanted to go steady.”

He chuckled, a warm low sound that you felt shake his body at the old-fashioned phrase.

“Yeah,” he said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple, “but then we would’ve never discovered you had a breeding kink.”

Your jaw dropped and you pulled back, sputtering. “Excuse me—”

“I know, I know,” Jake shook his head, grinning, incorrigible. “But admit it: you loved it.”

You snapped your mouth shut, trapping the response that threatened to bubble out, words you hadn’t dared think, much less speak, before this moment. Jake looked at you, at your pressed-together lips and eyes that always said too much, and his smile softened.

“I know,” he said again, quietly, and he kissed you gently. Jake’s arms were tight around you and you leaned into him, letting it—whose kink it was, what you loved, what he knew—all go, knowing there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

taglist: @peakyrogers @hangmanbrainrot @wildbornsiren @princessofglitterland @mandylove1000 @daggerspare-standingby @blue-aconite @abaker74 @lt-bradshaw @dempy @callsignvalley @princessphilly @aurora-whispers @mxgyver @mlibbydp @bioodforbiood @thedroneranger

#jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin smut #hangman smut #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader smut #jake seresin x reader smut #misskielwrites

2K notes · View notes