#the worst part is I can see him having this house
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Prompt?? Request?? Idk what this is but it’s been stuck in my head and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it!!
——
Frat boy au where lance is super straight passing and acts really frat bro-y. But it’s Outside POV from another person in the college who assumes he’s probably homophobic and doesn’t treat women well/ all that stereotypical frat boy stuff. They complain abt fratboys all the time to their friends too and it’s this whole known thing in their friend group. Then they see him get into this super fancy car with a hot older man (nando ofc) and is like what’s up with that. Person keeps trying to ironically figure out if lance is part of the mafia or some other mystery. Turns out he’s in a loving relationship with his sugar daddy nando (person sees them kissing at a gay bar one night, among other things 😏) and after that they’re like damn wtf and have a change in perception of lance and can’t shut up about it and tells everyone “did u know lance is gay?!!” Other shenanigans ensue.
Bonus if they become friends in the end and lance tells them all the different ways and places nando fucks him.
I need you to know that this has unlocked something that I have been talking with my irls about for literally a month now. I will write this whole thing for you, but right now please enjoy this snippet and some Lore ™.
Also this may be so uniquely specific that no one will enjoy it, but I need everyone to know this has been my secret passion project for weeks now.
Logan absolutely despises group projects. He especially despises them when he’s partnered with perhaps the worst possible group of people you could be partnered with on an assignment that is responsible for a quarter of their grade. Other than the girl sitting to his left, her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, spreading out notes in multi-colored pen and highlighter, their table is the least inspiring of the lot. For one, there’s him, who had barely passed elementary calc. last year and was on his way to failing macroeconomics this semester. But it’s the two sitting across from him that instill a particular sort of dread.
“You going to Rusty’s tonight?” one of them asks, Esteban, tall and lanky and slumped so low in his chair that Logan can almost touch his feet even though he’s clear on the other side of the table.
The other one, Lance, broad and just as long as his friend, shrugs, “I don’t know, man. Getting kind of bored of it.”
Logan watches as Lance takes off his backwards cap long enough to ruffle at his hair before sliding the hat back down onto his head. There’s Greek lettering embroidered along back for some fraternity Logan doesn’t know the letters of, but is sure they’re assholes, nonetheless. He’s seen the way Lance strolls into class enough times, backpack slung over one shoulder, if he even bothers to bring it, his phone in the other. He wears his AirPods during class, which easily outs him as the elitist snob he is – the type of student who’s here partying on daddy’s dime, who wouldn’t know what the term ‘work study’ meant if it ran him over with the bike Logan knows Lance keeps in the University Village parking lot. Logan couldn’t afford off-campus housing, but he knows Lance can, the bike is always parked in a resident spot.
The girl beside him shifts her notes closer, he turns his attention to her, so he doesn’t have to hear Lance recount his exploits at the local bar that is known for serving underage undergrads.
“You took all of these?” He asks the girl, mildly impressed. Her handwriting is neat, so neat it almost looks unnatural. She’s color coded them, bolded certain words and underlined others. Logan is suddenly ashamed of the chicken scratch in his notebook that’s tucked beneath his arm.
For those that don’t know, Florida Gulf Coast University is a school in Fort Myers (in south Florida, on the opposite coast of Miami). Their big draw is being “close” to the beach, realistically it’s like a 30 minute drive.
They typically attract local kids on scholarship, or rich northerners who are just looking for an easy education. But they do offer a unique golf management degree, and their claim to fame is that they’re sometimes decent in the basketball department (like 1 time in 2015 but they just will not let it go). They also somewhat have a reputation as a party school (tho I think Miami definitely more than them).
Being built predominantly around preserved land, FGCU also has a big “eco-friendly” outlook. So lots of walking paths, a course called colloquium that all students have to take, and the one everyone dreads because you have to walk through the swamp for part of it. Lucky for Lance, he would have attended during the COVID years, and thus could avoid the swamp walk because all courses were virtual.
He’d probably be a member of Alpha Epsilon Pi, the Jewish fraternity on campus. They’re lowkey, but also kind of throw the best parties, off-campus of course because FGCU doesn’t have official fraternity or sorority housing. In this world Lance has definitely drank jungle juice from a trash can with a nozzle cut into the base. He is aware of the existence of “Saturdays are for the boys” flags, frat boy Lance is something that can be both repulsive and endearing.
He has a car, but most the time he opts to take his bike places. Fernando first runs into him when he’s in his bike gear actually, which, you know, hard to resist that. Plus, picture Fernando being Lance’s backpack. Please envision it, it’s a very important image. It’s definitely happened in this universe.
Strollonso beach dates??? Yeah, 100% happened here too. One of the reasons Lance even ends up at FGCU is because of the beach, so you know his ass is there most weekends. He forgets sunscreen frequently, Fernando is used to applying aloe to his back after they’ve spent a long day on the boat. He probably has that sunburned warmth to him like 24/7. He never forgets his sunglasses though, so he also maybe has raccoon eyes.
Oh yeah, and Logan, being a South Florida boy, probably would have attended FGCU too. His tinder profile unfortunately probably does feature a photo of him holding a fish. Just Florida boy things.
Anyway, this maybe is nothing. But if you want to talk more about this au please feel free to message me/send an ask. And I will 100% be ready to ramble more about this ultra specific fic. A chapter coming after keep to the line this weekend maybe.
#I have so much to say about this#literally I have notes upon notes that I’ve been building with my friends#we are so sure in another universe he went to fgcu#we know it in our bones#strollonso#strollonso fic#strollonso college au#lance stroll
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Idk just a weird story I got in the middle of the night
When Robin told Steve they were going to New York to see an old friend, the last thing on his mind was to end up in an underground queer bar with drag queens and prostitutes. I mean he’s not complaining, but why couldn’t they meet over coffee like friends, or just a regular bar, but no. It had to be a basement of a pizza restaurant where glitter and the sticky feeling was all around them.
“Robin, are you sure this is the place?” he said as she moved through the crowd to a free table, in front of the small yet very illuminated stage “cuz i dont think… these are your type of friends?”
“Hey handsome” a transvestite placed a hand on his shoulder and let her long nail press along making him shiver “Want something to drink?”
Robin smiled, completely pleased with the situation his friend was it
“Give me a rum and coke, and for the gentleman… get him a shirley temple please”
“What?! No!” steve shook his head “ a beer is fine please”
“A rum and coke and shirley temple on their way” she laughs as she walks away
Robin laughs too as she takes her purse and places it on the table. Steve just flips her off and looks around trying to understand where they were. The drinks were eventually served, and thankfully Steve got his beer, but also a phone number.
“Wet Wendy?” Steve reads “Her name is Wet wendy…”
“I have heard worst” robin scruggs, “and come on, have fun, you’re a fresh bisexual, and you're surrounded by everything you might like, no need to stress”
Steve breathes deeply and looks around, and before he can say something a loud music starts. It's a 80s like beat that is quite slow, and the lights started to go down while the stage curtains open
“Steve, it's starting,” Robin says as she hands him a 20 dollar bill.
On the stage there's a chair and a woman with her back to the audience. She has long, vicious hair that is curly and puffy. The person turns around and starts to sing the song.
“We broke up on a tuesday,
kicked me out with the rent paid
Ruined my credit
Stole my cute aesthetic”
And oh boy was Steve hooked. Other than the amazing hair, she was wearing some small yet clear devil horns. On her face was drawn a big white heart on her face, with the rest being red. The face on her though made his jeans tight, but just a bit. I'm talking bright blue eyeshadow, with some jewels and some big lashes that made the eyes pop brighter than ever he thought it was possible. There was a red lip tainted on her lips that were glossy and shiny. And the outfit was the best part of it all. She was wearing black pleather heels with red and black lingerie that fit like a glove. No to add a thigh corset that shaped the body like an hourglass. Steve was drooling.
But when the bridge started steve was pretty sure he was in heaven
It’s hot
When you have a meltdown
In the front of your house
And you’re getting kicked out
It’s hot
When you’re drinking downtown
And you’re getting called out
Cause you’re running your mouth
Oh god
The way she crawled on the floor while lip syncing the moans of the song made Steve's ears burn like a fever. She then layed on the floor on her back, to then arch it and show the red wine bra that had black jewels like nippels. She then got on her feet and got off the stage and walked around. People started to hand her dollars and she just grabbed them, stuffed them on her bra and then painties. Steve had to blink twice to make sure he was awake.
The girl then noticed him. He cracked. He let out a sigh like a moan as she locked eyes with her. Her dark brown almost black eyes looked like those supernovae in Dustin space books. It just got him trapped voluntarily and it made him gulp. She started to strut to him and grabbed him by the jaw to look up at her.
Ruin your life
You losing you mind
You dying your hair
People say I’m jealous but my kink is watching you
crashing your car
You breaking your heart
You thinking I care
People say I’m jealous but my kink is karma
She sang those words as she stared at him and smirked while taking a seat on his lap. God he was in trouble now. It took everything in him to stay still and not let his third leg rise up, but sometimes things just happen and it's inevitable. He looked up at her so ashamed and sorry for what he's doing, and for making her uncomfortable. She is trying to do her job and here is Steve with his willy hard. But it was as he looked up in awe at her, as she sang to the audience while dancing on him, that she enjoyed it of sorts. She then looked down at him, smirked and kissed him, hardly leaving a bright red stain on his lips that he would rather die than to take it off.
She climbed off him and walked back to the stage to dance where she made it very clear that not only she loves the attention but also loves the feeling on the stage. She belongs there, with her hair flowing with her moves. The way she portrays the song made it feel like she was singing to him and only him. Steve felt like he was in a world with only him and her. It was crazy.
He didn't even realize she had left until robin was snapping her finger in front of him. He looked at her and blinked again quickly and looked around
“Where did she go?”
“Her set finished 10 minutes ago, have you just been imagining her this entire time you perv?” she laughs, but steve just stares at her
“I need to meet her” he says
“Well you will”
“What!?”
“Yeah! In a few so go to the bathroom and get yourself together men, your friend joined the party, and that not really cute when meeting new people”
Steve stood up and ran to the bathroom that thank the lord was empty at the time. He washed his face and removed the lipstick stain from his lips and tried to calm down whatever was happening with him and his body at the moment. God he's about to meet her! He need to make a great first impression because then he’s fucked. He moved his hair from one side to another till it looked great. He smiled to the mirror and winked hyping himself up.
“Come on harrington, you got this' ' He said before leaving the bathroom.
Robin and him walked toward the back of the so-called bar to where a room with a star on the door hung where the word “dressing room” was written. Robin knocked twice before opening the door to find a bunch of men in makeup and robes running around changing wig and shoes. But on the very end, the dark curly mane stood up clearly. Steve swallowed and inhaled deeply as they walked into the dressing room towards her. She was wearing one of those 50s womens robes with the edge being fur. It was black with red fur and it was transparent enough for Steve to see some tattoos on her back that he didn't seem to see earlier.
“Hey!!” Robin said excitedly and she turned around.
Steve’s smiles didn’t fall… but it definitely twitched.
“Hey robs” Eddie munson said with a cig on his lips.
He looked better than Steve remembered from high school. He looked…. Amazing actually. The way his jaw was sharp and fine, his smirk was wider and flirtier than ever. He looked…. Even better than the stage.
“How are you feeling harrington?” he smirked “didn’t know you were one for underground bars, i thought you were more of a… 3 star michelin kind of guy”
The way he smoothed talked and slithered into Steve’s head made him literally stutter with his words
“I-i-i I mean- You- wha- li-” he then gave up trying to speak and just nodded subtly “yep”
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Honestly i also think that a lot of the romanticization of Ianthe vs infantilization/fear mongering of harrowhark is also that like... We don't really get to see Ianthe suffer the nastier parts of shit mental health. Like, we know she cries to sleep, for like a line or two, but we're not pressed against her intimacies and the inside of her head (hehehe pun intended) like we are with harrow.
It's easy to infantilize Harrowhark because we get to see her struggling, we get to see the thought processes that lead to her lashing out, we get to see her suffering through. Well, basically everything, more than we see her putting on the dignity, and even when we do, we generally get to see the lead up, or we are with someone who responds in kind (thanks gideon).
With Ianthe we basically *only* get the facade, even when the Issues Are Blatant, and even if when she lashes out she does her utmost best to seem in control, much like harrow. The other characters do Not Give A Shit, so neither do we, as readers, feel naturally inclined to it.
Plus like. I might be reaching, but sometimes i feel like tlt fandom needs a character to be "pathetic", or to suffer, in order to... Idk how to word this bc englishs not my first language, but essentially pay penance? In the fandom I see a lot of people who feel Uncomfortable recalling their fave did bad shit, and like, needing to either justify it for themselves or others by going "oh look how she suffers", essentially infantilizing their characters so they don't have to acknowledge the worst edges, which is a choice, I guess. They not only do this with Harrowhark, but also with Gideon, Pyrrha, Mercymorn, etc.
They also do the opposite, by rejecting the possibility of suffering for characters they consider evil, most notably with John. It's not possible for them to be over their heads, or for them to have made a mistake. Either they were deliberately planning it, or they deserved it somehow, or their actions *later* meant they retroactively deserved it, and may be pointed as the cause for it happening.
Which is... Uncomfortable, to say the least, even if I'm only latine.
anyways. TDLR: People should just say they look really fucking cool dripping with blood and determined. At this point ill even take an I support women's wrongs/woman's right to murder or whatever
Sorry for going in a tangent on your askbox or of this doesnt make sense its like nearly two am and i cant sleep
this is very real and leans into what ive observed in fandom as well! tlt is a house party full of morally gray characters but i feel like when we are panicked to discuss someone being "evil" or otherwise the two closest avenues are infantilization/reduction (i can fix him, theyre pathetic they cant do anything right im protecting them) or full villainy (i like them Because theyre evil, irredeemable, they deserved it so i dont care)
hope you sleep soon
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I had the absolutely most surreal ffxiv dream ever last night. I wandered into some random house (unclear why) and it is like the most kitschy cottagecore house in existence and it belongs to. zenos. there is cross-stitch on the wall. lacy curtains. a scythe on the wall but it's for gardening. and the dude himself in just sitting there in his little kitchen on a chair with a fluffy pillow and staring blankly right next to the jars of homemade fruit preserves on his counter
and, like, you have to understand that this is an aesthetic I deeply abhor and already the equivalent of a horror movie for me and this fucker is just sitting there dissociating in his kitchen with his slow lizard blinks while I'm examining his antique teddy bear collection and trying desperately to think of what to say because I can't just leave without saying anything and it was so intensely awkward that I woke up out of sheer desperation
anyway what the fuck
#I was trying to solo his ex trial before bed and I'm 100% sure that's what caused this#but why this particularly? unclear and upsetting#the worst part is I can see him having this house#it's either this or the single white guy empty apartment with a mattress on the floor#if I walked into this house irl I would assume it belonged to a serial killer and this dream just proves me right#ffxiv#ffxivmp#mp#zenos#I should have a tag for the fucked up ffxiv dreams I have I think there's been 3 now#like the laha has a kangaroo farm one#and the ex trial irl in a gerbil infested building#what is going on in critically acclaimed mmorpg my sleeping brain
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mmm essay about sally and kid gort in the tags (cw for child abuse, mentions of suicide, animal cruelty and a murder attempt. i always hope i don’t have to say this but just in case: i don’t excuse or condone any of her or gort’s behaviour at all.) this is literally not even touching upon everything i have to say because i hit the fucking tag limit lmao. NOBODY READ IT’S BAD BRAINSTORMING I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OUT SOMEHOW
#thinkin too much about gortie side characters again.#sally this time and why she specifically talks about him the way she does#like dravo is obviously still shitty but to me he was. ‘just ‘neglectful#while sally actively hated and even felt terrorised by her own child#like. it’s not like i don’t understand her at all.#imagine you and your love don’t have much besides each other and your shop and you get pregnant and ready to raise a child#only for it to not be a child he didn’t and doesn’t cry ever and he learns everything so much sooner than most but then he never calls you#his parents and it’s not just a petty thing kids do sometimes you feel that he doesn’t see you as family and the worst part is that you#agree deep down#and as he gets older he doesn’t have any friends and actively rejects the notion of the entire concept#but then as time passes you hear about how he has entire groups of children following him and then several of them commit suicide#and that thing coming to sit with you and dravo at the dinner table says that he did what you did last week when the axe to chop wood broke#and you discarded it and got a new one#and he has these habits of ripping out flowers and making sure that they don’t regrow#and then you hear rumours about a friend’s daughter’s cat disappearing and think nothing of it#until you visit his tree house a month later and find a declawed cat and birds with clipped wings and crushed bugs that he keeps fondly#and then you see him with other children and they don’t know and his face is different and body language is entirely different#and were it not for the fact that you know better you would never see anything but a normal child#and you know that you are one who painstakingly brought this thing that should not be into the world and so you decide to end it all one da#and go to him as he’s asleep with the knife shaking in your hand#but he cries when you’re above him! screams at the top of his lungs!#so you beg for forgiveness even though you don’t deserve it through tears but as soon as the knife is put away you see the act drop and fee#his clever fingers having twisted your brain inside and out and you know that you can do nothing#and so the opportunity arises to at least remove him out of your life if not everyone’s lives and you take it immediately.#but you heard him talk. how he will close his fist around the world one day. and you know that it is not a matter of if but when.#like. imagine that. jesus dude.#like i hc her as someone that is messy and does not know a lot about life and she certainly wouldn’t have been a good mother but the love#or at least desire to love is there somewhere. and believing that having a child is really the only somewhat meaningful thing she can do#with her life. she’s not some hero or rich or anything of note. so there’s a lot obligation and not genuine desire for family here.#but she never really got the chance to be an actual mother in the first place so. who knows what that might have looked like
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Call centers for URGENT CARE AND HOSPITALS are hell on earth
I think talking to the wall might bring better results
#they keep telling my nana to drink her meds#after she told them numerous times that she reguarly does and they dont help now#then they tell her that she could come#but not rn but she can call in the morning and see when she can come#its evening rn and she already called this morning#they cant send anyone to her house bc they dont have the permission from her doc who is not there atm#which like when the fuck does that man even work then???#cause he wasnt there this morning#he wasnt there this evening#so she can hope he is there tomorrow and call him and ask him to allow them to come to her home and do a SIMPLE CHECK UP and take her blood#also told her she is being paranoid multiple times#this woman waited weeks for her meds to work again#is in pain all the time#but yeah no she is being paranoid for sure#just what the fuck#also i guess we dont have half the machines and scanners we should have#like they told her we dont have an EKG???#im sorry wtf do you have then#do you just go with the vibes like what????#i know i am going to rage so hard when i go into my career#and probably cry a lot because i cant imagine being a part of creating a machine that helps detect something with more precision or faster#and then my own country and my own ppl not being able to use it#like i would sob on a nightly basis#and the worst part is i would have no influence over where it sells and for how much#bc i had a very rude wakeup call a few yrs ago that scientist and engineers mostly only create and only a few can choose how it sells#so i cant just be giving it at the lowest price possible like i thought cause it wont be my decision to make🤡#anyways i went on a tangent i am sorey#vent post
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Motherhood
Yautja x Reader
Summary: After you gave birth to your son, it took you some time to get used to having a half-Yautja and half-human.
You felt sore all over.
You moved against the fur but your whole body felt sore.
You could hear your mate’s soft breathing, it immediately made you feel at ease.
Yet, something felt out of place.
As you stirred from your sleep, you sat up in your bed and looked around. Everything looked normal, except for one thing.
The little child who used to be under your heart was now in a crib beside you.
You looked at your mate, sleeping soundly beside you.
He got used to sleeping with you to the point where he didn’t even care anymore if you moved or woke up.
It wasn’t always like that.
He often woke up with you when he took you into his home, but he got gradually used to you being with him.
You moved over to the crib, leaving the warmth of your bed, you stood up and got your son out of his crib.
It was a little strange to call him your son, after all, he looked nothing like you.
He looked like a pure Yautja, except for his eyes, his eyes were yours.
He wasn’t sleeping when you lifted him out of his crib, instead, he was watching, learning.
You ignored all the pain in your body as you moved out of the bedroom and into what you would call a kitchen.
You got yourself a glass of water as you sat down on one of the chairs. With your child in your arms, you moved him so you could see his face.
He laid in your lap.
“Will you never cry?” But your Baby had no reply. Of course, he didn’t he wasn’t even a day old. You watched him as his eyes wandered from your eyes to your chest and hands.
You held a finger out to him, which caught his attention and he immediately grabbed it.
He continued to watch your finger as you smiled.
This little moment reminded you that even if he looked like a Yautja, he was still a baby.
Your baby.
This little boy in your lap was not so long ago in your stomach.
It was crazy to think about.
Your house felt a little too quiet, usually you were never up without your mate. So, this felt a little strange.
You looked at your son.
“How am I supposed to feed you?” You said as you lifted him, trying to see if he was hungry or not. He was, you didn’t know how, but you could tell.
You pulled your nightgown down and you didn’t know how, but he was a natural.
You watched as he fed.
He truly didn’t feel like your son. You looked after so many Yautja babies when you joined their tribe, this felt almost like one of those moments.
Except for the feeding part. Only a mother can feed their child.
And your son was no exception.
While he was born into a very high place in the hunting tribe, he was still your son.
A highly anticipated member.
Your Mate was the right had of the tribe leader, a high position with lots of responsibilities.
One of which was to bring a son into the world.
Which you just managed to do.
You had a pregnancy which left your body sore and your mate feared the worst, but thankfully, you were able to give birth without any major issues.
And now, here you were, holding him and feeding him.
Your thumb ran down his little cheek, right next to where his mandibles were.
“You are beautiful.” You smiled and the child just kept looking at you.
Once he finished eating you pulled your gown back and pulled him to your chest, laying him down.
Did Yautja babies even burp?
Guess you will find out soon.
He did burp.
A small little burp.
And soon, he was off again.
You got up from the chair and headed back to the bedroom.
You got in, the fire was still going, but now, your mate was up.
He looked at you then at your son in your arms.
“He was hungry.” You said as you put him back into his crib before climbing back on the furs.
You let out a long yawn before getting under the covers.
Your mate made a sound before laying back down himself. You lay down closer to him as he pulled you closer.
Maybe it was a difficult thing to give birth to a Yautja baby. Maybe it was difficult being married to one as well.
But you loved them both with all of your heart and that was enough, more than enough.
Taglist:
@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
#x reader#fanfiction#x female reader#yautja oc#yautja x human#yautja#alien vs predator#the predator#yautja x reader#yautja x you#yautja imagines#yautja imagine#yautja x fem reader#yautja fanfic#predator wolf#aliens vs predator#predator#predator x human#predator x reader#predator x you#predator oc#predator imagine#predator imagines#the predator x reader#slasher short#slasher fandom#slasher movies#slasher#slasher x reader#slasher x you
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Imagine rough sex with eds and you guys just break the bed and you have to tell wayne
✶ ┄ BROKEN BEDS !
summary: you and eddie break his bed. the worst part is having to tell wayne.
pairing: eddie munson / f!reader
warning: smut! eddie being the cutest human alive! a wild appearance from uncle wayne! 18+ mdni!
a/n: i need everyone to know that when i wrote this draft, i titled it "breaking bed" and it made me chuckle a lil. anyway, thanks for your request anon! enjoy xoxo
( MASTERLIST )
when eddie muson fucks, he fucks like a wild animal
he grunts with each of his rough thrusts, brown eyes somehow darker with lust while his untamed curls cling to his sweaty forehead
and you just let him drill into you because, truth be told, you love him this way
you hold the backs of your thighs and keep yourself wide open for him while he fucks so deeply into you
he leans over you, one hand white-knuckled where it grips his headboard, and the other wrapped around your throat
not tight enough to choke you exactly, but to make sure your eyes stay locked on his as he fucks you for all your worth
the headboard slams into the wall in time with each of his thrusts, rhythmic bang bang bangs that you’d be scared are leaving a dent in the wall if eddie wasn’t making you feel so good
he tilts your jaw to the side to expose your neck to him
and he hides his face in the sweaty crook of it, seeking refuge there while he nips and suckles at the warmed skin
you just keep begging for him to go harder and deeper and faster as he fucks you more and more stupid
and eddie complies without question
he revels in the way you keen each time he pounds into you and how your face scrunches up and your back arches for him
your toes curl and your legs tense up so hard they start to quiver
and right when you’re about to come, the bed suddenly jolts and dips beneath you, accompanied by loud crashing sound
it scares the shit out of you and you squeal while eddie lets out a grunt of surprise
because his bed just fucking broke
and it isn’t the most surprising thing in the world, the thing is about as old as he is
but it does take the two of you off guard
all you can do in the moment is laugh about it
and eddie barely wastes another second before he starts fucking you again
because his bed is already broken, who cares if it gets more fucked up?
plus he knew how close you were to your orgasm and you just look so pretty when you come <3
the worst part about it though is telling wayne
because there’s no way he’s not going to notice
and eddie can’t exactly sleep on a crooked bed
so he just comes up with the shittiest excuse known to man “so the thing is... i was… jumping on the bed…”
wayne furrows his brows “the hell were you doing jumping on your bed?”
“well, you see, i was just, you know… trying to… heal my inner child…”
“…what the fuck does that mean?”
but, like, obviously wayne knows
typically you’re good at keeping eddie in check and sometimes he can hear you saying you don’t want to fuck while wayne’s in the house
and that’s a part of the reason he likes you so much bc you don’t want to put him through that trauma
but you guys are young and in love and sometimes keeping your hands off of each other feels like the hardest thing in the world
so he knows exactly how the bed broke
but hearing eddie trying to lie about it is the funniest thing on the planet
shopping for a new bed frame is easily the most adult thing you and eddie have ever done
and the only one he can afford is a star wars themed one in the children’s section
eddie groans and acts annoyed about having to get one that’s so childish but you know he secretly loves it
because the headboard is shaped like the cock pit of the millennium falcon with lightsabers painted on the foot of the bed
you try to put it together without wayne’s help while he’s at work
and you’re like “how long do you give it before we break this one?”
“an hour if you wine and dine me first <3”
have any blurb requests? send em here if you want!
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#eddie munson imagine#st headcanons#eddie spaghetti hc
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file #2: the amputation fic.
part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.
pairing: yandere!gojo satoru x reader (jjk).
length: 2.9k.
warnings: non/con, amputation, unhealthy relationships, abusive relationships, obsessive behavior, amputation (no injury to reader in fic), handjobs, masturbation, and unbalanced power dynamics.
“Babydoll? You wanna let me in?”
A beat of silence, a light knock. You stayed where you were, crumpled on the bathroom floor, and Satoru sighed.
“C’mon, angel. I can’t help from all the way out here.”
You clenched your bloody arm closer, pulling your knees up to your chest. An orange-tinted, half-emptied pill container sat lidless and on its side beside you. Shoko’s pills took care of the worst of the pain, but a steady, persistent throbbing had lodged itself in the knob that used to be your wrist and refused to let-up. It probably wouldn’t for the next hour, if not the next day.
“I can’t take you to see Shoko if you keep me locked out.”
At that, you relented, uncurling with from your self-made bundle. It took a second to shift yourself onto your knees, another to find the doorknob with your remaining hand, but Satoru himself in as soon as the lock clicked out of place. Thankfully, mercifully, he gave you time to skitter back to your corner before crossing the threshold, but that didn’t stop you from withering as his eyes raked over you, as he evaluated the damage. Eventually, he collapsed against the adjacent wall and sunk to the floor, letting out a raspy groan before tossing you a familiar, crooked smile. You didn’t return it. “That mad at me, huh?” You didn’t respond, gaze dropping to your decimated hand – or, rather, the mangled stump that used to be your hand. His smile wavered, but didn’t fall away. “Yeah, no, I probably deserve that. Does it hurt?”
You didn’t indulge him with an answer. “Did you call Shoko?”
“On a mission,” he said with a slight shrug, a strong note of ‘what can you do?’ in his tone. Lole this was some minor inconvenience, annoying but ultimately trivial. Like like you weren’t missing an essential part of yourself. “She said she’d swing by as soon as she’s done, but I’d give it another hour. I think she’ll kill me if I keep asking her to make house calls.”
Another beat of silence, another deafening failure to respond on your part. Finally, he turned to face you properly, leaning forward. “…can I?”
He always did this – paused like that, smiled like that, tried to make himself seem so gentle, so loving, so considerate. It might’ve been well-meaning, an attempt to let you know he was sorry without having to swallow enough of his pride to actually apologize, but all it ever seemed to make you feel was cold and alone, stuck in a shell of an apartment with a shell of a man. It was always the same. It was always going to be the fucking same.
And, like always, you relented, looking away as you nodded stiltedly. Satoru’s smile brightened as he closed the distance between you, his thigh pressing into yours as he settled against your side.
When you’d first gotten into a relationship with Gojo Satoru, you told yourself that if things ever so much as seemed like they might be going south, you were gone. You hadn’t known anything about cursed energy or sorcerer hierarchies or malevolent spirits, but you didn’t have to – even if you hadn’t watched him obliterate monsters the size of apartment buildings with a snap of his fingers, he still would’ve been the strongest person you’d ever met, a man capable of shattering bones with his bare hands and breaking open skulls with all the effort it would’ve taken you to swat a fly out of the air. He was dangerous to be around, even if you doubted Satoru could ever intentionally hurt another living, breathing person. He was rich, and pretty, and strong, and used to getting his way. You loved him, but you needed to be able to leave if it ever seemed like that love was going to put you in danger.
And you did leave. The first time you argued, the first time he lost control of his temper and you were left sobbing on the floor with nothing below your left knee, you’d gotten as far as you could as quickly as you could. It’d taken him a full week to track you down, another to convince you that one of his bizarre friends could heal you, and roughly half a minute of Satoru sobbing and clinging to your (newly restored) leg for you to forgive him, to write it off as an accident – just the kind of risk you took when you got into a relationship with someone who could deadlift armored tanks. The second, you’d stayed at a friend’s place for a few days before coming back on your own, as desperate for his miracle-cure as you were for the pet comforts that came with Satoru’s bottomless fortune. The fourth, you’d barricaded yourself in his bedroom for sixteen hours and only come out for Shoko, who’d muttered about your ‘wreck of a boyfriend’ as she rebuilt the three missing fingers on your right hand.
Now, on the ninth, you’d barely managed to keep him locked out of a bathroom for all of five minutes. It was embarrassing, more than anything. You wanted to be able to hate him, you wanted to be scared of him, but it was hard to be scared of someone you loved. Someone you loved as much as Satoru, especially.
You shook your head, dragging yourself out of your own spiraling thoughts. Your attention, instead, moved to Satoru – still slumped against the tiled wall, his head lulled back and his attention focused pointedly on the ceiling. You were dressed to go out, uncomfortable jeans and all, but Satoru looked like he just rolled out of bed – a plain white shirt pulled tight over his broad chest, a pair of pitch-black sweatpants falling low on his waist, the lights dim enough to mean his piercing blue eyes didn’t have to be locked behind tinted glass or thick fabric. That was what you’d been arguing about, even if it was hard to remember why it’d seemed like such a big deal. He had the day off, no class and no cursed spirits to slaughter, and wanted to waste his morning in bed, with you wrapped in his arms. You’d tried to tell him, as slowly and as tenderly as you could, that you couldn’t, that you had an important early-morning lecture, that you’d be back by the time he actually wanted to get up, but he’d whined and pouted and you’d lost your patience when he reminded you that you could ‘always drop out’. You tried to leave, and he tried to catch your hand, to make you stay for that much longer, and—
“Can I see it?” You were almost thankful to hear his voice, if only for the distraction. “Your hand, I mean. If you’re comfortable with showing me.”
You weren’t, but you were desperate not to sink back into your own head, either. Slowly, cautiously, you shuffled that much closer to him, folding your legs underneath you as you gingerly held out the arm you’d spent the better part of the last few minutes cradling. It made you sick to look at a part of your own body so violently distorted, so violently wrong, so you didn’t – keeping your focus trained on your knees as Satoru took up your shortened limb. His own healing abilities had taken care of the worst of the gore, but even with the open, gaping wound at the end of your arm closed, there was still a ring of bruising around your wrist, streaks of dried blood running down the length of your forearm, a raw quality to the skin where his hap-hazard repairs hadn’t quite taken. His touch was feather-light, skirting around the worst of the remaining damage and lingering near your elbow, then your bicep. Acknowledgement came in the form of a low whistle, an airy sigh. You tried not to let his casualness get to you. Sorcerers must’ve seen injuries like this all the time. This was the end of the world for you, but Satoru would be just fine. “I’m not going to let you lift a finger after this. You know that, right? I’ve gotta make sure my pretty baby’s still nice n’ spoiled, even when I go and fuck everything up.”
It wasn’t an apology, but it was as close as he’d ever get. You grit your teeth and nodded, taking a second to find your voice. Even with the delay, it came out as a croak; almost too low and too ragged to be coherent. “This can’t keep happening, ‘toru. I love you, but this can’t keep happening.”
“I know, baby, I know.” One of his hands remained wrapped around your arm while the other, unoccupied, fell between his open legs. “I don’t mean to. If I had it my way, nobody would be able to touch you, but…” A pause, a laugh. “I just get so stressed out when we start fighting, like that. All I can think about is someone hurting you when I’m not there to keep you safe, and I forget how delicate I’ve gotta be with you. It feels like I’m not in control of myself.”
Despite your better judgement, you felt a deep, churning well of guilt open up inside of you. It was your turn to sigh, now, to slump, to let your eyes fall shut. “I love you,” you repeated, like it was the only thing you knew how to say. “It’s just— It scares me, when you get like that. I know you’re just trying to be protective, but it hurts.”
You heard his breathing pick-up, his grip tighten ever so slightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to feel. “I know, sweetheart. I’m just trying to take care of you.”
“You do take care of me, but—” You were cut off by a breathy swear, a throat groan. Momentarily, your fear and self-loathing gave way to irritation, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips as you opened your eyes and snapped towards Satoru. He was still focused on your arm – what was left of it, at least – but his gaze was glazed over, far away, and his hand was moving between his—
You put it together too quickly, the force of the realization leaving no time for numbing shock or dampening confusion. He was touching himself, grinding the heel of his palm into the base of his cock. You could see the outline of his shaft against the dark material – already half-hard, if not worse.
If you’d been able to feel anything, you might’ve felt sick.
Reflexively, you tried to pull away from him, but his hold on your arm only tightened, fingertips digging into your bicep as Satoru laughed, the sound strained and airy. “Sorry, sorry, my bad. I know you like a head’s up, but…” Now, he looked at you, but it was too late, too much, too sudden. All you could seem to think to do was gape back at him, unmoving and unthinking. “Guess it’s just what you do to me. I’ll try to make it quick – all you’ve gotta do is sit there and look pretty.”
It was a familiar line, a familiar excuse. You’d heard it a thousand times – mumbled into your neck as draped himself over you in the early hours of the morning, spouted off as he dragged you back to his car halfway through dinner at a restaurant you’d been looking forward to visiting for months – but it didn’t seem to make sense, this time, didn’t fit with the image of your missing hand hovering a few inches above your loving boyfriend’s erection. The dissonance only seemed to get worse, more dizzying as he shrugged the waistband of his sweats past his hips and down to his thighs, freeing his stiff cock. You’d been too generous, before; he was already hard, his tip flushed a dark pink and leaking thick beads of arousal. Again, you tried to get away, and again, he only pulled you closer, until your side was flush against his. There was a deep grunt, a hazy grin as he wrapped a fist around the shaft of his cock, his grip almost painfully tight. His eyes never left the dull stump on the end of your left arm, his raspy breathing soon turning to a deep, heady panting as you watched him pump his fist over his cock, his pace slow and methodical – a far cry from the spontaneous, erratic Satoru you were used to. A soft voice in the back of your mind, awful and treacherous, suggested that he might be trying to savor it, and a dozen more screamed loudly enough to drown it out.
“Satoru,” you said, nearly surprising yourself with how distant you sounded, how detached. You didn’t feel detached. If anything, you almost felt too grounded in the feeling of cool tile against your back, the heat of his body where it pressed into yours. “Please, stop.”
“I don’t really have a choice, babe.” He shot you a playful grin, and for a second, you could almost imagine hating him. “It’d go a lot faster if you helped me out, though.”
You didn’t answer, but he didn’t need you to. His hand was already groping for yours, already forcing your reluctant participation. The position was awkward, your body half-bent over his, but when you shifted, Satoru’s thumb dug into the bone of your wrist and instantly, you went still. This was bad. Not having control of your only remaining hand was bad. But having your only remaining hand taken away from you would be worse.
Satoru didn’t seem to see it that way. Sounds of aching pleasure bubbled past his lips shamelessly, turning the abruptly claustrophobic bathroom into an echo chamber of pitchy whines and raspy groans and the slick, wet clicks of his cock fucking into your balled fist. It was terrible – being able to feel how his cock pulsed against your palm, being forced to acknowledge the little, stilted movements of his hips whenever he decided your (admittedly lackluster) pace left something to be desired. In less than a minute, his head had lulled onto your shoulder, his voice muffled by the proximity as he struggled to speak in spite of his own unabashed moaning. “Love you so much,” he half-mumbled, half-panted. You could feel his breath against your shoulder, his drool starting to pool just above your collarbone. “W-wanna take care of you when you can’t take care of yourself, make sure nobody else ever gets to put their hands on you. I’d be good – cook for you, n’ shower with you, ‘n dress you up all nice n’ pretty,” He paused, nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “You… You wouldn’t hate me that much if we left it that way, right?”
You felt something drop into the pit of your stomach. “Satoru, you’re—”
“Please, baby.” It was the same tone he used when he was begging you to make a late-night snack run with him, or when he wanted to finish inside of you without protection. “Just—Just tell me that you’d let me take care of you. Just say that you’d still love me.”
It felt like your throat was swollen shut, your chest stuffed to bursting with shattered glass and razor blades and spiny needles only just beginning to poke through your skin. You didn’t want to say anything, you didn’t think you could say anything, and yet, when your mouth fell open, you found a voice that was not your own seeping out by means beyond your control. “It’s alright,” you muttered, distantly, as his cock throbbed in your hand. “I’d still love you, ‘toru.”
Although, you were starting to wish you wouldn’t.
You heard him groan, felt something thick and searing spill over the back of your hand. Satoru’s hand, cupped snuggly over yours, kept you moving until every last drop had been milked out of him, until the final ember of his climax had burnt itself out. He went limp against you, his vice-grip finally falling away, but rather than run, you only straightened, wiping your hand on your jeans before tucking it into your lap. How you looked didn’t matter, anymore. There couldn’t have been more than a few minutes left in your lecture, if you hadn’t already missed it entirely.
Silence interrupted only by panting breaths and the beating, drowning drum playing in your ears reigned over the confined space, keeping you in a state of bleary stasis until the sound of a sharp knock, shortly followed by a distant door opening broke through the fog. “That’s Shoko,” Satoru murmured, almost disappointed. He started to separate himself from you, only to relapse – burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting out a deep, contented sigh. “You know that I love you, right?”
“I know.”
“And you know that all I wanna do is keep you happy?”
“I know, ‘toru.”
“Good.” He pulled back, grinning. “’cause all I ever wanna do is take care of my angel. Don’t let anything ‘side from that get into your pretty little head.”
You only nodded as he pushed himself to his feet, as he slipped out of the bathroom to meet Shoko, to explain what vital part of yourself he’d torn away this time. You wanted to get up, to wash the cum off of your hand, to pump feeling back into your numb legs, but your remaining limbs were uncooperative, heavy and awkward and useless. It was all you could do to pull your knees up to your chest, wrap your arms around your legs, and hold yourself as you started to cry.
At least, next time Satoru decided to tear you apart, you might not find it so hard to hate him for it.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yandere jjk#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk#yandere gojo satoru#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#yandere gojo#yandere satoru#gojo satoru x reader
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Lift Me Off My Feet
Chapter 3: Poltergeist
Masterlist
Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12
3.8k Words
Warning/Notes: Ghost x Reader, a little of ass eating from Ghost, fingering, a bit mean Ghost, hair pulling, angst.
“Hey, Birdie.”
“Hey, Ghost.”
The two of you look at each other, each expecting the other to make a move. But since he doesn't seem bothered by the silence, you break it.
“Here for work or pleasure?” You ask opening the door as he chuckles.
“Well, that's not my choice.” He answers looking at you. “Half and half, I suppose.”
“Why is that?” You ask as you enter your flat, leaving the door open for him to enter. But when you notice he is not moving you turn to him. “Are you gonna come in or do I need to invite you like a vampire?”
You see the smile on his eyes (mainly because that's the only thing you can see of his face), and he impulses himself off the wall as he walks closer to your door.
“And what would your neighbours think? A girl like you letting a man like me inside her house?” He asks cocking his head.
“Well, actually, I don't know if you have heard. But just last night my neighbour was taken by the police because turns out he was a terrorist or something like that, I'm not sure. So I think I am out of the competition for worst neighbour of the year, so, yeah, please c’mon in.”
You hear him chuckle behind your back as you walk into your room, and a little later you hear the door close. Maybe calling it a room is a big stretch, your whole flat is a room. A small hall that goes from the door to where your bed is, a door on the hall to your bathroom and another one to your kitchen.
Having breakfast in bed sounds great, but having lunch and dinner sounds a bit sad. But that's the flat you could get, and honestly, thanks to your neighbour's hobbies, at least you know the rent is not going to go higher.
“You know, jumping the wall on your balcony was ridiculously easy, you should probably get a lock for that window.” He comments looking at your window as he enters your line of vision.
“Then I would lose my deposit.” You answer sitting down on your bed to take off your shoes. You take off your jacket next and hang it in your closet. “Are you hungry?”
“Hmm, depends on what's the offer.” He says leaning against the wall again. He follows you with his gaze as you walk to your kitchen and open the fridge with a face. He chuckles when you close the door back and look at him. “Takeout?”
“Takeout it is.” You answer taking your phone out. “What do you fancy, Ghost?”
“You know? Most people freak out when I get inside their house, don't ask me what I want for dinner.” He says crossing his arms.
“Should I freak out?” You ask looking at him with an eyebrow raised as you lend him your phone with the delivery app open. “Order whatever you want, I'm no picky. I'm gonna take a shower, if the food gets here there is money behind that frame.”
You point out the only frame on your whole house and walk into the bathroom. You try to walk with confidence, but once inside the room, you let a sight escape your lips.
When you said yesterday you were going to push Price and Kyle away, you didn't mean it as in pulling the rest of the team closer.
This is bad, is mean and honestly, you must be on some weird week of your cycle where you are producing more pheromones than usual because you were chronically single for years and now can't seem to catch a break.
You open the tap to wait for the water to warm up as you undress. Just as you take your shirt off your pants you notice you didn't pick your pyjamas, so you walk back out.
You see Ghost seated on your bed, back leaning against the headboard, feet dangling off the bedside and scrolling through your phone.
“You can take off your shoes, you know.” You comment as you pick up the plaid pants and massive sweatshirt you wear to sleep as well as your underwear.
“You are a sneaky one, you know.” He responds looking at you almost offended he didn't hear you exit the bathroom.
You chuckle at him and walk back inside the bathroom. The shower helps you calm your nerves, the man is in your bed, and he hasn't made any moves yet; probably because he is not into you, you need to humble yourself a bit.
At some point you hear the doorbell and your stomach grumbles almost as a reaction. You quickly finish your shower, put on your clothes and walk back to the room.
“Chinese?” You ask when you see the containers as he stays looking around. “Let me get the table out.”
You say winking at him when he looks at you confused and he gets even more confused when you kneel before him. You look up at him, laughing internally at what he must be thinking and then you get your nice arm under the bed and pull the foldable table under it. You take it out and with a shake, you unfold it, take your seat on the bed in front of the table and tap the bed next to you. “Have a seat.”
He sits next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and he takes the container out of the bags opening them.
After a little, you decide to finally talk about the elephant and the room and ask: “So, did you just drop by in hopes I would invite you to dinner or do you actually have a mission today, Ghost?”
“Oh, yeah, about that. I actually had two missions today.” He says pulling his mask up so he can eat. You try not to stare at the little skin showing, but you quickly notice the stubble on his jaw. Blonde. “First one, finding out we're the girl from the captain's office was. That one was easy, thankfully cause the captain was freaking out. And the second one, figuring out why she left. That one is still ongoing.”
“And if the captain was freaking out why is it you the one that's on my house?” You ask looking at your plate, curious enough to ask but not brave enough to look.
“Cause he was scared the reason you ran away, was because of him or something he did. So he didn't want to make it worse.” He answers simply, you can feel his eyes on you. He bends down a bit to be able to see your face and ask. “Is that why you ran?” You shake your head. “Then why? It looks like you had fun.”
You turn to him with furrowed eyebrows and notice that he is looking at your neck, you remember the lovebites and quickly try to cover them with your hand.
“It was just…” you sigh. “I know when I am no longer wanted, and rather than make it awkward by making him drive me back or having to say bye I just… got out before he woke up.”
“Hm, I still think you should talk to him. I’m pretty sure he wouldn't agree with you with the ‘not being wanted’ thing” He says doing quotation marks with a hand and taking his phone out to send a message with the other.
“He doesn't even know my name. Neither do you.” You almost mumble. I’m just another one on the list, you think. “I think he will be just fine.”
He winces as if he was in pain and says. “You a tough one, birdie.” He cleans off the rest of his plate and stands up. “You don't know my name either and you don't see me throwing a hissy fit.”
“I'm not throwing a hissy fit.” You say rolling your eyes.
“Did you… Did you just roll your eyes at me, birdie?” He says moving the table and standing between your legs. “Now that” He says pointing at your face. “That's a brat move.”
“I'm not a brat!” You try to defend yourself standing up, but as quickly as you get on your feet, Ghost manhandles you to be laying down on your stomach. He sits on top of your ass immobilising your hips and grabs your arm putting them behind your back leaving you unable to move. “Ghost, what the fuck?!”
“Language.” He says and you feel a hard slap land on your ass cheek making you yelp. “Are you going to behave or should I teach you a lesson, birdie?”
“What? What are you talking about? Get off me.” You mumble squirming under him.
“No, I don't think I will until you learn.” He chuckles as he begins to grind against your ass. He bends down to talk to up to your ears. “You should be grateful, that I found you and not Price. Do you know what he would have done if he found out you got back, walking, alone, in the middle of the night?” Three more hard smacks land on the same cheek when he sits up. “And that alone, without talking about the fact you were missing a shirt. And didn't even say goodbye. Not a phone number, not a name, nothing.” He lands two more on the same cheek and an even harder one on the other cheek. Leaving your arse burning and you wouldn't be surprised if it bruised, but still, the most surprising thing about the situation is that you can feel your underwear sticking to your cunt.
You truly are learning about yourself these days.
He grabs two handfuls of the meat of your arse, pushing your cheeks together as he grinds with a grunt. Then he lets go, you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt being undone and it sends anxiety up your column. He must sense it because he says: “Calm down, birdie. I'm not giving you my cock until you beg for it, and only if you deserve it. And trust me, you don't.”
He takes his belt off, aligns your forearms and ties them together behind your back.
“Are you going to talk to Price? You can still leave unscattered.” He asks, putting his hands beside your head and leaning in to be closer to your face.
You look back at him from over your shoulder, face still push against your mattress, and try to look offended by how easily he got you tied, immobilised and horny. “I don't know.”
He makes the sound of a buzzer, like in the contest when they answer wrong. “Not what I want to hear, birdie.”
His index finger hooks the waistband of your pyjama pants as well as your panties, right above your ass and he pulls them down slowly. You hear him whistle as he pulls them down, feeling the cold hair of the room against your skin and against your glistering cunt. “I think I'm going to start by the desert tonight.”
He lands a loud smack on your naked arse, and when you try to complain, the sound gets strangled into a moan when you feel his tongue against your puckering hole. Getting your ass eaten by the mysterious masked man was not on your plans for tonight, but you are not complaining.
You moan against the mattress, biting the sheets to try and conceal the sounds leaving your mouth. Your consolation, is the fact that you can feel Ghost moan against your skin, the vibrations travelling up to your nape giving you goosebumps.
He gets his hands under your hips pulling them up, leaving you completely exposed. Ass up, face down, arms tied and knees together by your pants. He pulls back for a second to admire his job, you look already ruined and it's been less than a couple of minutes.
You await, expectant, his next move, every single thought that was on your mind about how you should push him away and stand your ground, is silenced by the feral voices of your mind scratching the walls with the need for his mouth to be back on you.
“Look at you, birdie. Such a good girl all of a sudden. You are not a brat, you just need that attitude fuck out of you, right, doll?” He asks massaging your waist with both hands.
“Fuck you.” You mumble, and Ghost lands a slap right to your cunt making you scream and arch your back to find distance from him.
“Language, birdie!” He says chuckling, amused with the situation. “C’mon, play nice, love. Are you going to talk to Price?”
His finger starts to travel up and down your slit, collecting the juices flooding from your cunt. He teases your entrance without getting inside.
“No.” You declared, tired of being played with.
“No?” He ask genuinely surprised. “Oh, I think you will.” He lands another hard slap on your pussy, right on your clit, and position his fingers so that when you arch your back again, you fuck yourself right into his finger. A loud moan escaped your lips at the sudden intrusion.
He raises his hand up to your nape, grabs your hair in a handful and pulls lifting your head off the bed. “I wanna hear you sing, birdie.” His fingers begin to move inside and out of your cunt making you groan softly, raising in volume as his tongue finds her way back to your ass.
You can feel his drool drip down your ass to where his finger is fucking your pussy, only adding to the mess. He uses the knuckle of his middle fingers to brush against your clit making you mewl and causing him to chuckle again. He can feel you clenching around his finger, and he pulls back to ask again. “Are you going to talk to Price?”
“No, fuck, no I won't.” You scream back. And immediately you wish you didn't. Ghost draws his finger back, and remains holding your head but otherwise untouched.
“Wrong answer again, doll. C’mon, tell me what I want to hear and I'll give you what want to get. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks. “No!” You answer, and the hardest slap to date lands on your ass making you cry out in pain. “Last chance, birdie. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks again.
You bite your lip, an inner battle going inside your mind. The stubbornness in you taking the lead, not even being reasonable, just stubborn. Another hit snaps you out of it. “Shit! Fine! Whatever, I'll talk to him.”
“Good girl, birdie.” He grumbles against your ear as his fingers start to piston in and out of your cunt, the sting of the stretch by the second finger completely buried under the waves of pleasure. He keeps whispering pure filth onto your ears, unable to hear him over the ring of your ears caused by the stimulus on your weak point.
You feel drool drip down your chin into the sheets, but you can only focus on the tight knot inside your body. It's unfair how easy it seems to be for these men to make you come undone with barely touching you, it makes you think about those mediocre ex-lovers who would put the blame on you for taking so long to cum. Fuck them, these men, Kyle, Price and Ghost had you coming in minutes without even taking off their clothes.
Ghost brushed his knuckles against your clit again, and you can only moan his name before you are gushing over his hand. He helps you ride out your orgasm and slowly draws back his fingers.
He stands up chuckling softly, you hear him walk into the bathroom, you hear the faucet open and close and then hear him walk back.
You feel the cold wet towel between your legs and it makes you jump off the surprise. “Sorry, you spend all the warm water, doll.” He says still snickering. He drops the towel on the table, pulls your underwear and pants up, takes his belt back and lies next to you caressing your hair. “Solid, birdie?”
You shake your head. “Pretty sure I'm liquid now, Ghost” You say absent-mindedly and rub your eyes as you yawn. He may have fingered the attitude out of you, but he also fuck the energy out.
“I think it's time for me to leave, thank you for the dinner, birdie. And for the desert.” He says, smiling at you. He lands a peck on your temple and stands up. “Lock your door when I leave. And talk to Price.”
When he turns his back at you, you roll your eyes standing up as well to close the door. He turns on his heels and looks down on you. “And don't roll your eyes at me, birdie. Don't give me an attitude. Lock the door.” He says and lights a cigarette as he makes his way out of the building.
While you're are cleaning everything, tidying your room, getting ready to get into your bed when you get a message from a contact that is just a skull emoji.
💀: Lock the door, birdie.
That's what you get for trusting him with you phone to order food.
“So she didn't say why?” Price asks Simon as he sits in the booth at the pub.
The both of them met there, a pub close to your house, Price too anxious to wait to get back to base to find out about Ghost’s discoveries.
“Negative.” Ghost answers setting the pints down. “She did make a great point, Captain.”
“Which is?” Price ask expecting
“We don't even know her name. Well, we do because of the background check we did to find her, but any of us have asked her.” Ghost responds. “And I thought you were the less hotheaded of the team, Captain.”
Ghost shakes his head as he laughs.
“Maybe try to talk to her when you are not saving her life? Maybe she will feel less overwhelmed then.” Ghost says taking his phone out to check his messages when he notices the vibrations. “Talking about the little bird.”
🐦: I told you I locked the dor
🐦: door*
💀: Awesome
🐦: ?
🐦: Go away, Ghost
💀: What are you talking about, birdie?
🐦: Stop messing with my door, I'm trying to sleep, you weirdo.
💀: It's not me.
💀: Are you sure it's your door and not your neighbours?
🐦: what neighbour?
💀: You and the terrorist are the only tenants on the building?
🐦: STOP MESSING WITH THE DOOR
🐦: You are giving me the deposit money if you break it.
💀: I'm not at the door.
💀: Birdie?
💀: Don't ghost me now.
💀: Not on purpose.
💀: Birdie?
Ghost knit his brows at the lack of messages and look up to Price who seems lost in thought. “Maybe we need to save her again, Price. Your heart to heart talk will have to wait.”
7 minutes.
That's all it takes for Ghost and Price to reach your building. Guns in hands as soon as they saw your apartment door busted open.
Price felt his heart sink at the possibility of your being hurt, because of him and his inability to treat you the way he should. Waking up alone didn't hurt as much, he hadn't slept that good in who knows how long, and it was all thanks to the warmth of your body pressed against his.
So now, that only now has he found this comfort, the thought of it being ripped away from him before he could mend his error, was truly heartbreaking.
The nice thing about your house being this small, is that there is not a corner that remains unchecked. And still, you are nowhere to be seen.
But your flat is a mess. The dishes are broken all over the hall and kitchen floor, the fridge is leaning against the wall obviously having been pushed, your clothes are thrown all over the place, your mattress is cut out it's inside thrown around, your clothes mixing with the rest of the mess on the floor, and your wall…
“You will pay for your actions, whore.”
Can be read on the wall, big letters occupying the whole wall.
Your TV is missing, only the metal skeleton that holds it to the wall it's on is place. And your window is busted, that's when he sees it, a chair. On your balcony, as if it was used by somebody to jump.
Price walks up to the balcony so fast, Ghost grabs his shirt unsure of the Captain's plan. “She probably jumped to the apartment next door, Captain. Let's check it.” The younger says to try and calm the Captain. He nods and they both make their way to the apartment next door.
It is just as destroyed as yours, but still, no sign of you. They make their way back to your apartment and Price sits down burying his face on his hands.
Ghost takes out his phone again and he calls you, anxious waiting for you to pick up. But you don't, instead, a silly music begins to sound from under your bed. Tranquillity floods their senses, only for it to be destroyed when the only thing they find is your phone under your bed.
“Fuckin’ hell, birdie. Where are you?” Ghost asks out loud.
THUMD
Both men whip their to the sound, and come face to face with your closet. Now, one of the things you like about your flat, is the closet. Built into the wall. With a ridiculously small space on top of it.
Both men look astonished, as a hand starts to crawl his way out of the false ceiling of the closet. You pop your head next, and when you confirm is the two men and not whoever entered your house just a couple of minutes ago, you start to bawl your eyes out.
When you heard the people force their way into your house, you automatically got yourself into the space on the false ceiling in your closet. You stayed there, contorted into yourself and used every ounce on yourself to not make a noise.
You heard how they rampaged your little home, how they screamed, how they destroyed everything.
It was merely a couple of seconds, but it felt like hours. And when you heard them come back for a second time, you were certain they would hear the beat of your heart. Until you hear what sounded like the sweetest desert on the universe, Ghost's voice, asking where you were.
The sheer fear that just saved your life, now turned you into a sobbing mess of tears and drool as you melt onto Ghost's arms once he holds you.
You feel Price's hand rubbing your back as he kisses your shoulder shushing you.
“It's all right, darling. We are here now. You are safe. No one is going to get to you now.”
Hii! 💗
Hoped you liked the new chapter, reader collecting these men like they are pokemon hehe wish that was me
Taglist: @pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline
#call of duty#call of duty smut#cod smut#poly 141#poly 141 x reader#poly tf141#tf 141 x reader#price#captain price#john price smut#captain price smut#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#price x reader#price x y/n#ghost x y/n#soap x y/n#gaz x y/n#ghost smut#soap smut#gaz smut#cod mw2#cod#kyle gaz garrick#simon riley x reader#ghost#johnny soap mactavish#ghost x you#kyle gaz x reader
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fix it-a.hotchner
a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)
please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!
summary: aaron says some horrible things, can he fix it?
pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader
warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, jack is so sweet, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, no happy ending :(
part 2- fix it together
It was all coming down to this. It was Jack’s birthday and as his step-mom, you had been party planning all week. He was having a dinosaur themed birthday with a bounce house and watching a movie in the backyard, like a little drive in movie. You were excited for him. Aaron hadn’t really been around much that week, he was busy dealing with some legal battle the FBI was up against, meaning the rest of the team, including yourself, had the week off. It was Friday night, Jack’s actual birthday and he was asleep in bed as you waited for Aaron to get home. You were reading a book Spencer had recommended you as you nursed a cup of tea, getting sleepier by the second.
The front door opened and there Aaron stood, briefcase in hand, handsome as ever. You smiled and got up from your spot on the couch, ready to greet him. He smiled softly as you hugged him, running a hand through his hair. “How did it go?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.
“Oh it was fine, nothing too jarring. How was the week?” He asked, walking further into the house.
“Fine. Nothing to report. Jack’s asleep but-”
“Did you do something for his birthday?” He asked, cutting you off.
“Yeah, of course. I picked him up from school early and we went for lunch and to a film. He really enjoyed himself,” you smiled and he sighed. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, fine,” Passive aggressive. Aaron was being passive aggressive.
“Aaron,” You said, worry coating your words. “Is everything ok?”
“Yes! Everything is just fine,” He sighed again, sitting on the couch. “Just one thing though- you didn’t think to offer him to see his mom?” He asked, malice behind every word. The accusation cut you deeply. Of course you’d asked, but he’d said no. He said ‘I don’t want to go without dad’ because of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to go to his moms grave without his dad, and not on his birthday either. You stood there, stunned at his words. He continued. “Y’know, you promised me this wouldn’t be an issue, so tell me now, is this an issue Y/N? I need to know because we can still get an annulment.”
You gasped at his words. “Aaron stop-”
“No, you stop. You are not his mother. She is. She still is, even if she’s gone. You’ll never be his mother. You’re doing a good job of parenting but nothing compares to Haley. Thank god you’re not his actual mother.”
That was venomous. He was going straight for every insecurity you had around your relationship with Jack and throwing it in your face. He was hurting you.
The silence was heavy. Aaron finally looked at your face and saw the disgust written all over it. The worst part was the fact that he knew it wasn't disgust at his actions, it was disgust directed at yourself and your parenting. You loved and adored Jack, he knew that. He knew, though he’d never admit it, that Jack liked you more than him, or maybe it was just his insecurity speaking, he wasn’t sure. He knew you gave everything of yourself to the both of them. And he knew he’d just done irreversible damage.
“I offered,” you muttered, your eyes trained on the floor as you wrapped your arms around your chest, pleading with yourself to not cry. You felt silly, standing there, in his hoodie, his home, and seeing his child as your own. “He said he wanted to wait for you. I said we’d go on Sunday.”
Aaron’s stomach dropped at the tone of your voice and the words being spoken. He was making you cry. He was hurting you. And all you’d ever been to him was perfectly kind. You’d always been so supportive, so loving, and so caring. As he came in he saw a love note on the fridge, he’d seen one of his favourite chocolate bars on the counter with a note beside it, a little wrapped gift beside it too. There were multiple reminders on the fridge for yourself, ones telling you to pick up things for the party, pick up Jack’s big birthday gift (a new bike), and call Jessica. You cared so much about the both of them, and he’d just said some of the worst things he could’ve, just because he was stressed.
Imagine how stressed you were, planning an entire party on your own while simultaneously working through hours and hours of paperwork (courtesy of your job, you were still working from home even if you weren't technically working), and parenting all week, all alone.
“There’s dinner in the fridge, I-I’m going to go to bed,” you mumbled, walking about and leaving him alone with his thoughts. He heard your footsteps retract, walking up the stairs and in the opposite direction of your shared bedroom. Shit. You were sleeping in the guest room.
He got up, irritation and shame barely allowing him to get to the kitchen to eat the meal you’d made him. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he have just listened to you?
He sat alone eating, his eyes drifting to the gift on the counter the entire time. I don’t deserve it. He thought, but caved once he finished his food and cleaned up. He pulled the small bow off and unwrapped the colourful paper to reveal a positive pregnancy test. His heart broke again. Inside beside it was a note, in your beautiful handwriting.
To my dearest Aaron,
I wanted to tell you the second I found out but I also didn’t want you to come home too early when you were still needed in Washington. We’re pregnant! I’m so excited and nervous and happy and scared all at the same time. I didn’t want to upstage Jack’s birthday but I obviously needed to tell you :)
I love you so much and I can’t wait for this next chapter! No more guest bedroom I guess :)
P.s I’m almost sure Jack knows, I’ve been having horrible morning sickness :( but at least this fulfils his christmas wish last year, remember ?
Anyways, I love you so much and I’m so excited.
Your love, Y/N
Xxxx
He felt sick to his stomach. You were pregnant. He’d just been evilly cruel to you and you were pregnant. He’d said some of the most vile things on planet earth to you, he essentially called you a bad mother. And you were pregnant. He hadn’t even realised he was crying until he saw the splotches on the paper, ruining one of the cute doodles you’d done. He immediately put it down, not wanting to damage it further.
He took a deep breath, then went into his study and allowed himself to cry. He’d been mean. He’d hurt you in the one way he promised he wouldn’t, all because he was overwhelmed. All because he was stressed.
“Dad?” He heard Jack’s voice and straightened. He wiped his face. “Why are you upset?” Jack walked into his office, pyjamas and a teddy in hand.
“I did something mean to mom,” he admitted. “And I hurt her by accident,” he wasn’t sure if it was by accident. He was sure some deep part of him just wanted to self-sabotage himself. “And I feel bad about it.”
“It’ll be ok. Mom’s been sick this week, maybe you have the same tummy ache and it’s making you mad?” He suggested and Aaron let out a pathetic chuckle.
“Maybe bud, maybe,” he agreed. “How about we get you back to bed, huh?”
“Can I say goodnight to mom again?” He asked and Aaron’s heart broke again. He lifted him up and nodded, walking them down the hall. “You go into her and I’ll get your bed ready, yeah?”
“OK dad!” Jack exclaimed as he was let down to the ground, and went running off to your shared bedroom. Aaron shook his head.
“She’s in the other bedroom,” he pushed down another wave of tears at Jack’s confused face.
“Why?” He asked, confused.
“I was really mean,” Aaron sniffled. “Say goodnight from me too?”
“Ok dad,” Jack said, walking into the guest room.
Aaron heard your voice, wishing Jack good dreams. You’d been crying.
He was the worst person in the world.
Jack came into his bedroom a few minutes later. “Mom’s still sick, she said goodnight and to tell you that she loves you.”
Aaron almost started crying again. You were so caring. You always put him above yourself. “Thanks buddy.”
Aaron tucked him in and closed his door over, wishing him a good night. The tears came shortly after. He tried to sleep in your shared bed, but it wasn’t right. You weren’t there.
Sleep evaded him that night.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next morning, the morning sickness hit you like a truck. You had your head in the toilet for an hour, at least. You didn’t come out of the guest room until about 9am. You could hear the usual sounds of Jack and Aaron playing outside, probably soccer. You walked downstairs and got yourself a glass of water, the only thing you could actually stomach at the minute. You looked out the window that led to your garden and smiled when you saw your boys playing, then the nagging voice that you thought you’d gotten rid of all but screamed in your ear You’re such a terrible parent. Aaron’s just been trying to conserve your feelings this entire time. Jack probably hates you. You shouldn’t be having another child.
You looked away. Focus on the party. You told yourself. Get through today.
You had a long list of things that needed doing before the party at 3. You had to pick up balloons, pick up the cake, pick up Jessica and her kids, pick up Sean from the airport (as a surprise for Aaron and Jack), and set everything up. You left a small note on the table explaining where you were, and left. You ran all your errands, leaving picking up Jessica, the kids, and Sean till last. When you walked back in, the house was set up and Jack was immediately excitedly by Jessica, his cousins, and Sean which gave you a moment to slip away from Aaron.
Soon enough, the party started and you were bombarded with around forty children and a party to have. You felt Aaron's eyes on you constantly, checking in on you or just watching you. Once the outdoor film started, Penelope, Emily, Jj, and Spencer came over to ask what was wrong with you and Aaron, saying it was strange to not see you all over each other. You told them about the fight (not the pregnancy) and they were shocked at his behaviour. How could he be so mean? How could he treat you like that?
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aaron had been trying to talk to you for hours. Whenever he tried, a kid or one of the team would stop him with a dumb question, or needing help. You had Emily, Penelope, Jj, and Spencer crowding you the entire night, sending him the dirtiest of looks. That’s how he ended up at the end of the garden with David and Derek, who were both giving him a lecture about how what he’d done was wrong.
“You can't say anyone is a bad parent!” Derek stressed. “That’s a very clear no-go!”
“I’m aware,” Aaron said, his lips tight in a frown. “I know what I did was wrong.”
“Then why aren’t you apologising?!” Derek exclaimed, loud enough that a few kids turned around to shush him.
“Because,” Aaron sighed. “Those four haven’t left her side in hours.”
As the movie came to a close and the children left, you were left with just the team and family.
You all sat down to dinner, chinese takeout- Jack’s favourite. There was laughter and true joy, especially at David’s insistence that he could make the meal much better than Jack's favourite take-out, considering he was a ‘chef’.
You all sat down to watch Jack open his gifts, individually thanking each person who gave him something. He was especially taken by the gift Spencer got him, a book on dinosaurs, and he adored the bike. You’d gotten one that you'd made look similar to Sean’s motorbike, Jack was always obsessed with Sean's motorbike. You’d even drawn on specific details that made it even more unique. Everyone eventually trailed out and it was just you, Jack, Sean, and Aaron. Jack asked Sean to read his bedtime story. That meant you and Aaron were left to clean up together. You got up to start picking up plates but Aaron stopped you.
“Can I?” He offered and you nodded, sitting on the couch. You hadn’t eaten at dinner, all food just meant more vomiting in the morning and you were not up for that. “Can we talk?” He asked.
“About what?” You sighed, looking over at him. “I think we’ve both said enough.”
“I’m so sorry about last night,” he sighed, coming over to you and sitting beside you. “I was awful. I was disgustingly mean just because I was overwhelmed. You’re an amazing mother to Jack, while you’re not his biological mother, you love him as such and he loves you. You’re a great parent. I was just being reactive and mean. I was so cruel and I'm sorry. I don’t want an annulment. I want to be with you forever. I know that it isn’t a problem. I know how much you love Jack and me,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I know how little I deserve it.”
You took his hand. “What you said… it was probably my worst nightmare,” you chuckled flatly. “And what you said was pretty damaging, Aaron. I just… it completely restarted the voice in my head that says I’m a terrible parent. It made me scared to think about what’s going to happen when we have our baby. I was already terrified about being pregnant, and this was just…” you trailed off as Aaron’s heart broke. Your voice was raw with emotion. You were so hurt.
“I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are the best mother our children could ever have,” he promised and you smiled, but it lacked the regular spark your smiles usually contained.
“The best mother Jack could have is Haley. We both know that.”
Fuck. Now you were comparing yourself to Haley again. Aaron had quite literally set you back about 4 years in your confidence as Jack’s mother. “Honey-”
“I know it sounds bad, but we both know it’s true. I’m good, but as you said, I’m nothing compared to Haley. Which is fine Aaron. I understand my place.”
His heart broke for what felt like the millionth time. He’d hurt you so badly. “Honey please, I was stressed and overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I meant nothing I said. You’re the best mother to Jack and our unborn child. You are the love of my life-”
“I’m the second love of your life,” you smiled sadly at him. “I’m going to bed, goodnight Aaron.”
You walked up the stairs with a heavy heart. No matter what he said, you’ll always remember the look on his face when he told you that you weren’t enough, that you weren't Haley.
You fell asleep on your side of the bed, since you couldn’t exactly sleep in the guest room when Sean was in there.
Aaron leaned against the counter as he washed dishes, thinking about how he could fix this.
Could he even fix this?
——————————————————————————-------------------
criminal minds masterlist
#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#bau team#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#hotch
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Eddie, My Love!
eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series
Day 2 Prompt: Chocolates 🍫 ~ 2,000 words
Eddie's grumpy until he sees a familiar face in the candy aisle.
“This is a fake holiday,” mumbles Eddie as he pushes the cart past the pink and red aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy.
His uncle chuckles. “When you have someone to spend it with, you’ll feel differently.”
“Wayne,” Eddie deadpans, “this is just some bullshit that Hallmark made up so they could take more of our money.”
“I’m not sayin’ you need to go all commercial,” Wayne clarifies. “I just mean that when there’s someone special in your life, boy, you might be in a better mood during this month.”
Eddie’s mouth sets bitterly. He’d rather not get the ‘you’ll find someone someday’ talk right now — the last thing he needs is another reminder of how lonely he is.
Wayne senses his nephew’s reluctance to discuss the matter, and so bites his tongue. Instead, he points at a row of cans on the shelf beside them. “Do you need more tomato soup, or are you set for a while?”
~
Back at home, Eddie lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, okay, maybe Wayne had a point. Maybe he’d hate all this stupid cutesy shit less if he didn’t have to watch everyone around him enjoy it while he spent yet another Valentine’s Day alone in his uncle’s trailer, with no one to keep him company, save for a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
The worst part of it is ��� and Eddie would rather die than admit this — that deep down, he thinks he really could be…romantic.
Sure, he’s rough around the edges. He tends to be prickly, wary of others’ intentions, but it’s necessary in order for him to survive in Hawkins. The Munson name was already notorious, and his reputation preceded him; the incident with poor Chrissy Cunningham three years prior, despite his innocence, had sealed his fate as the town pariah.
But if someone could just give him a chance, a real chance, he thinks that he could make that person really happy.
He’d help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, anything you — whoever you are — needed a hand with. He’d learn to cook better so he could keep you eatin’ good. He’d plan fun dates. He’d play your favorite songs on guitar, maybe write you new ones, if he was feeling inspired…anytime you needed him, he’d be there. He’d be the most reliable, affectionate, loving —
“Ed?” There’s a light knock on his door.
“Come in,” he calls back.
Wayne pokes his head into the room. “I’ve got to head to the plant in a few,” he says. “While I’m gone, can you do me a favor?”
Eddie sits halfway up, propped on his elbows. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Wayne fidgets, looking apologetic. “I know we were just there, but d’you mind going back to the Big Buy to pick up some candy? It’s Mrs. Johnson’s first Valentine’s Day since her husband passed, and I meant to get her something sweet, but I forgot.”
Eddie hauls himself up off the floor. “No problem. Want anything specific?”
Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t need nothin’ fancy, just get whatever’s cheapest that still looks nice.”
“That’s the Munson way,” Eddie muses, smiling in spite of himself.
~
Eddie reluctantly makes a turn down the seasonal aisle he had so pointedly avoided earlier, feeling depressed. Cherubs and teddy bears seem to mock him from where they sit, and he heaves a dramatic sigh.
His eyes roam the line of cards, plush toys, endless boxes of chocolates and candies, when they finally land on you, also perusing the rows of heart-shaped packages.
Recognition flickers instantly. Eddie suddenly finds that his heart is beating very quickly in his chest.
You.
You had still been a year behind him when he finally graduated, and though he didn’t really know you-know you, he was friends with people who did. You weren’t bullied like he and the guys were, but you weren’t exactly popular, either — and so more often than not, you ran in similar circles. Gareth and Harry used to swear up and down that you were the nicest girl in Hawkins.
Because of them, he had spent brief moments with you from time to time. He thought you had been very pretty, in your own unique way, but you were also rather shy. Your exchanges were always polite and charming, even if they never broke deeper than surface-level; overall, he’d found you incredibly endearing.
He never kept in touch, but as the years went by, he had often wondered about you.
Back then, it was hard to see past his own preoccupations: he was so focused on not failing his classes, Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, his dealing gig with Rick. But in retrospect, it always seemed to him like he had missed out on something special in not taking the time to properly befriend you.
Now, against all odds, you’re right here in front of him. And he had found you attractive back then, but now? Holy shit. You’re striking to look at.
As he studies your side profile, he thinks, it’s not that your appearance has really changed much, but rather the way you seem to be holding yourself.
You used to walk quickly through the hallways with your shoulders hunched and your head down, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. But now your posture is relaxed, your stance casual; your head is held high and a slight smile turns up the corners of your lips. And your clothes seem different too, like maybe you’d finally found your personal style, and were dressing in the way that you truly liked.
Is this what they call kismet? Fate, destiny, whatever, maybe Eddie’s fantasy-oriented brain was jumping to conclusions, but he thinks of the floor-misery he’d been wallowing in not even an hour ago — had his internal bitching been an unintentional prayer, which was now being answered?
He takes a few cautious steps forward, trying to act natural.
You glance at him when he comes nearer and offer him a quick smile before turning back to the sweet assortment before you.
Eddie stands next to you awkwardly, pretending to browse, hoping to see you make some gesture of familiarity, any confirmation that you might remember him as well as he remembers you.
But nothing. The seconds tick by.
You reach for a box of chocolates and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He starts sweating. Any second now, you would pluck a shiny, ribbon-adorned package and twirl away from him, vanishing into thin air, and the moment would be gone. His opportunity would be over, and he’d never, ever see you again.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. His face turns crimson, but he blunders on anyway. “I don’t wanna bother you, but did you graduate from Hawkins High in ‘87?”
You turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, one arm still outstretched. A breathy laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I did.” You give him the tiniest wave. “Hi, Eddie.”
He could almost cry in relief. You do remember him.
“Hi.” He returns your wave, dopey grin unfurling on his face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you just now. I didn’t think you would remember me,” you explain apologetically.
Forget you? Absurd. “Of course I remember you. How’ve you been?”
Your voice is bright, cheerful. “I’ve been good! Busy with school.”
College, of course. You had definitely been an honor roll kid. “If you’re in school, then you don’t still live in town, do you?”
“Nah, my university’s too far. I got a place near campus, but I come home every now and then.” You smile, and motion towards yourself. “Obviously.”
“Oh. Nice.” Eddie twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Are your classes going good?”
“For the most part. They’re stressful sometimes, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”
“Yeah, but you’re super smart. I’m sure you’re killin’ it up there.”
“I’m trying my best,” you reply with a modest shrug. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” You look at him with genuine interest, like you’re truly eager to hear about how he’s doing.
Oh, what to say. He opts for simplicity. “Bartending. At the moment I’m between The Hideout and The Attic. Although, I’m thinkin’ about trying to get a job at the garage instead.”
“You should!” Your voice is sincere, full of warmth. “I bet you’d be great there — I know you did a lot of work on your van.”
A bolt of pleasure runs through him. You didn’t just remember his name and face, but you recalled some minor details about him as well. He stands a little taller. “Thank you. We’ll see if it works out, I suppose.”
There’s a brief pause. Eddie moistens his chapped lips with his tongue. “Listen…”
Do it, you coward. If she says no, she says no, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.
“Um, if you’re ever home for the weekend, would you maybe wanna hang out? Grab a coffee or something?”
You look taken aback, but not displeased. Eddie counts that as a win.
“Sure. That would be really fun.”
He flashes you a grin. “Sick.” Then it occurs to him: you came home for Valentine’s Day weekend. Surely you’re in Hawkins because you have a date lined up with some former classmate who swooped in and asked you out after he had gone, and that’s who you were buying candy for and —
“I’m assuming you’re busy this weekend, though?” You point at the treats in front of you. “‘Cause I see you’re here to pick up the goods,” you tease him cheerfully.
“Oh, n-not really,” he stammers. “Wayne asked me to pick up something for our neighbor. I’m just an errand boy.” He swallows. “Do you have any big plans?”
“Nope,” you reply casually, lips popping the p-sound. You pull the candy you’d be aiming for before he interrupted, a pack of Hershey’s cream-filled chocolate hearts. You nod at him sagely. “I am my own Valentine this year.”
You don’t need to be. I’ll volunteer.
Eddie musters up all his courage, rocking slightly on his feet. “Actually, if you don’t have plans…like, if you’re not seeing anybody…would you wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” Nerves get the better of him and he starts pouring out word-vomit, totally oblivious to the way your expression is getting softer and softer the longer he rambles. “I get that it’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t know if you think that’s really…weird for a first date, or…if you even wanna go on a date with me at all, which if you don’t, that’s totally fine and I understand —”
“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” you cut in, giving him a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Eddie, I would love to go on a date with you.”
He feels like he’s having a fever dream. This can’t be real. Is this what manifesting is?
From now on, when he wants something, he’s gonna go cry on his bedroom floor about it.
Painfully aware of how clumsy his proposition came out, Eddie tries to put at least one suave move on you. “Well, if we really have a date tomorrow,” he says, swiping the Hershey’s from you, “then there’s no reason for you to be buyin’ your own chocolates. Allow me.”
Ten minutes later, both of you armed with candies and a phone number apiece, Eddie escorts you across the icy parking lot to your car. You grip his arm tightly crossing over a slippery patch of asphalt, and his stomach flutters in a way it hasn’t in years.
Okay, okay.
Maybe there is something to be said for this stupid, fake holiday.
thank you for reading!! xoxo
Valentine's Day Special Masterlist
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader
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BETTER THAN YOU, ALWAYS | JWW
cw - yandere themes, possessiveness, manipulation, cheating, cucking kink, recording, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming
– original request
∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘
bestie!wonwoo is someone who can pull. even when he doesn’t try, both men and women flock to him like bees on honey. it gets even worse when people get to know him because he’s just so likable and handsome that no one can ever stay away. so many people love and admire him, and your boyfriend is no exception.
you’ve never thought anything about how much your boyfriend admires bestie!wonwoo because you get it. god, do you get it. aside from being good looking, he’s smart and kind and gentle. even though you would never admit it out loud, you had a small crush on him when you two first met. so, yeah. you know better than anyone why your boyfriend is so starstruck by your best friend.
bestie!wonwoo finds it cute. your boyfriend is always so happy to see him and is so eager for his approval. he’s a good guy despite being a little clumsy and inattentive. but it was fine because he made you happy. well, for the most part.
another one of bestie!wonwoo’s wonderful traits is his attention to detail. he had noticed a long time ago that something is off about your relationship. not in a toxic or concerning way, but enough for him to wonder if there was something lacking between you two. he doesn’t push the subject with you, and you’re grateful. because telling him would be downright humiliating.
but you should’ve known that there’s no such things as keeping secrets from bestie!wonwoo.
you’re over at his house playing video games when you realize that his head isn’t really in it. this isn’t like him because he has this insatiable need to win at everything he does. especially video games. so after you beat him for the second time, you have to pause and look at him seriously.
“what’s wrong?”
bestie!wonwoo is usually straightforward which is why you feel concerned over seeing him hesitate. he sighs and pulls out his phone. wordlessly, he hands it to you.
his phone is open to a text thread — one between him and your boyfriend. you don’t think anything of it until you start reading the messages. apparently, your boyfriend was playing around with the idea of letting bestie!wonwoo fuck you. in the texts, he reveals how he had never made you cum and maybe learning how to properly fuck a woman would help him achieve that.
you’re absolutely mortified as you hand your friend his phone back. it’s absolutely humiliating that your boyfriend admitted to being a cuck who’s never made you cum before. in the messages he sounded so eager to watch bestie!wonwoo fuck you since he has this apparent sex god reputation. it’s worse because your boyfriend had gone on to say that you would be just as eager to have your best friend fuck you.
“i have to go.” you rush out, wanting nothing more than the earth to open up and swallow you.
bestie!wonwoo gently grabs your wrist, gentle eyes pleading and understanding. “don’t be embarrassed. he’s just trying to be a good boyfriend.”
it kills you that he’s being so cool about this. your boyfriend was an embarrassing fool who didn’t know any boundaries, yet bestie!wonwoo was still being the kind guy you know and love. you slowly deflate, skin burning with humiliation.
“this is so embarrassing!” you mumble, just wanting to curl up into a ball. “i’m so mad right now i could kill him!”
your best friend shifts closer to you until your thighs are touching. wonwoo’s gently caressing your wrist now, eyes looking at you with something you can’t place.
“what if you did something else?”
you don’t care that you’re betraying your boyfriend in the worst possible way as you lick up and down bestie!wonwoo’s big cock. he’s making the hottest faces and prettiest sounds as you deep throat him. his weeping tip is hitting the back of your throat as look up at the camera being pointed at you.
“fuck. just like that, baby.” wonwoo groans as he pets your head. “you’re so fucking hot.”
you’re slobbering all over his cock, chocking and gagging a bit as you take as much of him as you can. wonwoo cries out in pleasure when you hum around his cock, feeling the sensation all the way up his spine. you smirk around his thickness. if your boyfriend thought he could slut you out like you meant nothing, then that’s what you would do. but not for him. never for him.
you don’t think bestie!wonwoo can look any hotter but you’re proven wrong when he cums in your mouth. pretty moans bounce off the walls as you swallow every drop of his seed. you release his cock with a pop, opening your mouth to show the camera that you swallowed everything. he tosses the phone on your bed and pulls you up to smash lips on yours.
his lips are addicting. you can’t get enough as you fall back on his bed, giggling and moaning into his mouth. bestie!wonwoo sets up his phone on his nightstand so it’s pointing directly at you two. he folds your legs against your chest and shoves his thick cock into you with one harsh thrust.
you cry out for him, feeling so full. wonwoo’s dick is so bit that you feel him splitting you open, molding your hot cunt into the shape of him as he fucks you. he’s already found the spot inside you that makes you cream around his cock until all he can see is your arousal covering him.
“god damn.” wonwoo groans, loving how he can see and smell your arousal so clearly. “my pretty girl was just waiting for a real man to fuck her, huh?”
“yes!” you cry out wantonly. “fuck, nonu. your dick is so big!”
it feels like he’s fucking every coherent thought out of you. his cock is reaching spots inside you that you never thought anyone could touch. your eyes roll back as you let him stretch you open and use you exactly how he wants.
“tight little pussy’s all mine now.” wonwoo sounds ravenous. “that fool doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t deserve it.”
bestie!wonwoo smirks when your hot cunt grips him tighter and stains him with more of your arousal. he keeps fucking into you, already obsessed with the sight of you trembling and moaning under him. the moment your lips touched his cock, he was never going to let you go. you cuck of a boyfriend just didn’t realize it yet.
“feel so fucking good. make me cum, wonwoo. please, please, please!”
bestie!wonwoo smirks with a fucked out groan as you plead like you’re life depends on it. he slams his cock into you, juices completely coating his throbbing length and heavy balls. skin slapping and your moans mix in together, all captured perfectly by his camera.
“let go for me, baby. show him what it looks like when a real man makes you cum.” wonwoo growls, drilling his cock deep into you with insatiable desire.
you do as you’re told, cumming with a loud yell of your best friend’s name. it doesn’t take long for his orgasm to follow. bestie!wonwoo groans your name as he spills his hot cum inside you. he swoops down to capture your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss. you’re swallowing each other’s moans as he gently fucks his cum deeper into you.
your boyfriend replays the video over and over again, fucking his hand an embarrassing amount of times to the sight of your best friend fucking you. it’s not surprising that you made noises and faces he was never able to get out of you, and for some sick reason it just turns him on.
after pulling himself together, he sends you a text. he’s a little mad that you didn’t tell him you were going to follow through with the idea bestie!wonwoo had suggested to him last week, but he knew you’d done it for your relationship.
when he sends the text it doesn’t go through. he tries again but the result is the same. when he tries to call you, it goes straight to voicemail. his heart sinks as he goes to call the man he knows you’re with.
bestie!wonwoo picks up on the third ring.
“hey, man. i was trying to get a hold of y/n—”
“she doesn’t want to speak to you.” wonwoo says in that calm tone that always used to seem so cool to him. now it just sounds condescending. “you should know that she’s done with you. don’t call again.”
“but—”
your best friend hangs up the phone and tosses it aside before pulling you closer to his naked chest. you nuzzle against him, mewling in your sleep as his cock slips further inside you. bestie!wonwoo feels his heart and cock swell at the adorable sight. he was never going to let this or you go. your idiot ex had fallen into his trap perfectly, and now the only one who would have you this way was him.
#kumawaii.exe#midnight.hourz#wonwoo smut#svt smut#jeon wonwoo smut#seventeen smut#wonwoo fic#wonwoo x reader#svt fic#svt x reader#seventeen fic#wonwoo imagine#svt imagine
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hummingbirds
Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.
“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.
Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.
“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.
“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.
“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.
Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”
Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”
Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”
Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”
“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.
“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”
“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.
He is.
“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”
Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.
“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.
“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”
Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.
“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.
“Harrington.”
“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.
“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.
“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”
“He what?”
Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.
“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.
Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”
Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”
Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”
Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”
Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”
“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”
Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”
“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.
Eddie relaxes but only slightly.
“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”
“Stevie…”
Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”
“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.
“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”
Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”
“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”
It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.
“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”
Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.
“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.
Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”
“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.
“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”
Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.
It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.
Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”
Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”
Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”
Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”
Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”
“I—“
Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.
“Home?”
“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”
Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”
Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”
Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”
Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”
****
I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡
#steddie#stranger things#Steve eventually gets a hummingbird tattoo#everything I write is soft#they deserve to be soft#bisexual steve harrington#gay eddie munson#cw: implied homophobia#cw: internalized homophobia#my writing#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#robin buckley#steve x eddie#soft boys#post s4#bisexuality awareness
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1. The Unicorn | nanny!yn
Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.
Summary: You nanny for the Styles, but Harry and his wife would like to offer you another position.
A/N: This will be 3 parts. Based on this and this.
Word Count: 5.9k
Warning: 18+ only, smut (fingering)
The Unicorn Masterlist
“She’s perfect, Harry.” His wife watched out of the window as you walked to your car parked in front of their house.
“I don’t know. She’s taking care of the kids every day while we’re at work. How does that make her perfect?”
“Because look at her! And she’s so sweet and I just have a sense for these things. She acts all shy and innocent but I bet she’s kinky under it all. And haven’t you seen the way she looks at you?”
He had noticed your glances. The placement of your gaze over his frame. But Harry never thought too deeply about it. Not really. Though he kind of liked that you couldn’t help from dropping your gaze to his lips and then down over his shoulders and mid-torso until every time you breezed your pupils over the natural protrusion at the front of his crotch you were suddenly quickly reminded of what you were doing and bounced your head back just the tiniest bit to correct your sight to the more appropriate height.
But just because you were cute and couldn’t help when your eyes skimmed over his cock with the quickest peek didn’t mean you were perfect to invite into the bedroom with him and his wife. He was hesitant to find a third. He knew that it was unlikely this would end well but his wife had been begging him for it.
Kit was bisexual and once she married Harry, she learned that she often missed the more feminine touches and pretty soft curves. Someone more submissive. It had been almost 8 years since she’d slept with a woman so when she offered a threesome to Harry, she thought he’d jump right at the opportunity but instead, he was worried.
“I think this is a bad idea no matter who it is, but having it be the nanny is like…” he ran a ringed-clad hand through his hair, “… the worst. What if you don’t like seeing me with another woman? Or if I hate seeing you kiss anyone else? I don’t know if I can handle this. And poor Y/n is then stuck in the middle.”
“Harry,” she turned to him and put her hand on his forearm, “You and I are solid. I trust you and you trust me. I know you can handle this. Just the same as I can. I think this will be really good for us. Probably will just make us insatiable for each other. I’m already getting so turned on just thinking about watching you with her. And just imagine it, Harry, having us both laid out, spread legs…” She smoothed a hand up his arm and to the back of his neck, pressing herself close to his body, “You dip into her for a few thrusts and then pull out and—“
“Mom, can I have ice cream? Y/n said I had to wait til you and Dad were home.”
Harry and his wife laughed at the timing. They’d be returning to their conversation later.
. . .
You arrived bright and early Monday morning as requested. You loved nannying for the Styles. Mrs. Styles was so kind to you. She always made sure you had everything you needed and Mr. Styles was funny and easygoing. Plus the twins were a dream. You loved William and Warner as if they were your own.
“Morning, Y/n,” Mr. Styles smiled warmly at you as he opened the door. Warner walked up to you and hugged you. He was the one that liked hugs a lot.
“Morning Mr. Styles…” you laughed and patted Warner’s back, “and you too Warner.”
Mr. and Mrs. Styles left for work not long after but before they left they both asked you if you could stay after work that night. Mrs. Styles would make dinner and the three of you could have a glass of wine and chat a bit after the kids were put to bed.
Of course, you said you’d love to. Though you had kind of been looking forward to going home and watching your show, you wouldn’t mind having dinner with the Styles. The truth was you found Mr. Styles extremely attractive. He was the hottest guy you’d ever seen. He was married so he was obviously off limits but that didn’t stop your brain from short-circuiting every time you were near him.
And because of the way Mrs. Styles acted around you, almost flirty, you sort of had a crush on her too. You were interested in women but had never dated one. You’d only ever been in a couple of real relationships. You were too shy to approach people you found attractive so your pool of potential dates had been low.
So yeah, you’d accept their invitation for dinner.
. . .
“William made a picture today,” you rattled off a few things the boys did. The picture William drew was too cute and he even drew you in between Mr. and Mrs. Styles like you were part of the family.
He held it up proudly and Harry took it and pointed at the figure that was supposed to be you, “Who’s this, Will?”
“It’s Y/n,” he gestured to you.
Harry smiled at William and said how nice it was as he handed the paper back to him. He looked at you for a moment that felt a little warm and lingering before Mrs. Styles brought out the hot pan with food to the table.
When the table had grown quiet as everyone began to eat you wanted to remind Warner to tell his dad that he’d finally gotten the part down on the piano that Harry was teaching him.
“Warner, remember what you were supposed to tell Daddy today?”
When you looked at Harry with a smile you noticed the slightly surprised look on his face but by then it was too late. You hadn’t meant to let the word Daddy slip out like that. If you’d been thinking you’d have said “… supposed to tell your dad today?” Even the twins didn’t call Harry Daddy anymore.
And of course, Warner was already excitedly telling Harry about the part he’d learned on the piano before you could correct it. You hoped no one thought anything of it and while you’d fantasized about calling him Daddy a time or two, you really didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Darting your eyes from Harry to his wife you saw nothing from her at all as a reaction to your misspeak.
Luckily no one seemed bothered by it but you could tell Harry thought something by the surprised smile on his face.
You loved watching the boys interact with their parents. And being able to see it during dinner and then after clean up until they were in their beds with books to read quietly felt special.
Harry, his wife, and you sat in the living room with a bottle of wine. Mrs. Styles sat next to you and she started doing that thing where she looks at you in that way that gets your heart pounding and raises your temperature.
With her hand on your upper arm, she gushed about how much she and Harry loved you. How great of a nanny you were and how lucky they were to have found you.
Harry sat across from the couch in a leather armchair and watched you and Kit with a more solemn look on his face. He nodded at the end of his wife’s praise for you as he looked at you directly. You felt a shiver up your spine at the intensity of his eyes. But it wasn’t just that. There was something so formidable about him. Like he was governing over the moment. He was still Mr. Styles but with an edge of something uncertain. Darker.
You looked back at Mrs. Styles and smiled shyly, “Thank you. So much. I’m really happy to be working for you. And the twins are just amazing. I feel so lucky too.”
Kit’s hand smoothed down your forearm until she softly pushed her fingers through yours. She was sitting with her legs tucked under herself, feet on the couch, and knees angled toward you.
“Honey, you’re coming on too strong,” Harry chided his wife.
“No, I’m not. I’m just being friendly. Y/n is so sweet. I just…” she looked at you, “You don’t mind this do you?”
You loved the way she was looking at you. If you didn’t know any better you’d say she was hitting on you. That had to be wrong, though. Her husband was right there watching you two.
“It’s fine. I know you’re just being friendly.”
Harry laughed and shook his head and spoke his wife’s name in a warning, “Kit. Are you sure you want to do this?”
You looked between the pair. A little confused about what they were talking about. You didn’t know if you’d missed some dialogue somewhere or what but you were definitely picking up a vibe between them.
“If she’s up for it then yes, I’m sure.”
“Up for what?” You questioned them both.
Harry raised his brows and looked at his wife, “I’ll let you do the honors.”
Her hand squeezed at yours gently, bringing your attention back to her. Her other hand brushed over your knee with the tip of her fingers casually, “We think you’re very sweet and pretty, Y/n.” Kit began.
You kept your eyes on hers the best you could but she’d been wearing a low-cut dress and, not unlike the times you dropped your gaze to Harry’s crotch, you couldn’t help peeking at her cleavage with the same attempted deftness.
“And we think you might be fun to…” she paused and looked at Harry, who nodded at her to go on, “Have in bed. For us to share.”
You looked down at where Mrs. Styles was grazing your kneecap with her fingertip and whispered, “To share.”
That was quite a lot. If what she was saying was what you thought she was saying then you’d have to determine if it was worth it.
“You don’t have to say yes, Y/n.” Harry chimed in, “I know you’re a really sweet girl and you don’t want to disappoint anyone but if you tell us no we won’t be upset. You won’t lose your job.”
You were thankful he said that. It had flashed across your mind the idea that if you said no they might not want to keep you around.
“So, you’re like asking me to have a…” you gulped and looked between Harry and his wife, “like a threesome with you?”
“Yes. You don’t have to decide right now. And like Harry said, you don’t have to say yes. We just both find you very appealing and sweet. We’re very much attracted to you too and we trust you. I think we’d all work well together. It could be just a one-time thing or maybe it could be something we do regularly.”
The subject was changed shortly after. They’d done their part. They’d asked you what you thought and now the ball was in your court. You had to figure out what you wanted. Which made it hard to participate in the rest of the conversation. You tried but your brain was having a hard time moving past the things your imagination was coming up with.
“I hope you don’t feel weird after this. No rush to make a decision. Seriously.” Mrs. Styles smiled softly at you as she drew her fingers from the side of your jaw to under your chin delicately.
“Thank you. I just need some time to think.”
She leaned in and kissed your cheek as Harry stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder.
When you’d all finished the bottle of wine Harry and Kit walked you to the door. You still didn’t know what you wanted exactly. In a fun fantasy world (which you’d definitely be visiting in your imagination that night) it would be amazing. To have them both? Yes. That sounded so good. But the reality of it wouldn’t be that easy you knew. Would it be awkward to work for them after? And what if you did some kind of arrangement with them as their… what was it called? A unicorn?
You felt breathless as you got into your car. You hadn’t had all that much wine. A glass and a half. The bottle was split between all three of you so none of you had gotten even close to drunk but you felt all buzzy. And even turned on. The idea of what they were offering sounded like a dream. But maybe that’s how it should remain. Just a dream. A fantasy.
. . .
The following day everything seemed normal. The Styles acted as if they hadn’t just asked if you’d want to have a threesome with them. It felt surreal. Like perhaps it never happened.
But when Harry arrived home first after work you felt like something about him was different. That’s when the cracks started forming. That morning he was friendly like he always was. But now he was brooding. His eyes were heavy on you. As if he was now looking at you differently.
He listened to William and Warner tell him about their day but you felt his eyes singing you as he kept looking your way. You felt intimidated by him suddenly and looking at him in increments longer than a few seconds felt like you’d dissolve.
He walked you to the door after you said goodbye to the boys and held the handle tight before turning it, “You wouldn’t want to stay for a drink would you?”
The way he asked you felt less like a question and more like a reminder to you of what was still left on the table. It was a reaffirmation of what was suggested the night before. It was real. It had happened and he was here to remind you.
You looked down at his hand grasped around his door handle and back up to him. You were compelled to say yes as you began to nod, “Yes. Okay.”
You felt nervous. Harry’s grin looked like he was pleased by your answer.
The boys were playing in their room as he poured you a glass of wine.
“When will Mrs. Styles come home?” It was rare that they weren’t home at nearly the same time after work.
“She’s going out with a friend tonight. She’ll be late. I thought you and I could get to know one another a little better. She knows I planned on asking you to stay. I’m glad you did.”
You nodded and felt your nerves only grow. Alone time with Mr. Styles wasn’t something that ever really happened much. Normally Harry was with his wife when he discussed anything with you.
You both sat on the large couch in the living room as Harry lifted his glass toward yours, clinking them together.
“So, what are your plans this weekend?” Harry had one leg draped over his other casually as he looked down at you.
“Uh… I don’t have any. Normally I just make last-minute plans with friends,” you squirmed in your spot at the way he was consuming you with his eyes.
“Maybe if you find you’re free you could come over Saturday afternoon. The kids will be staying with their grandparents. Kit will be making something special for dinner.”
“Oh, that sounds nice. Yeah. I mean, as long as it’s not imposing,” you were growing hot. Your palms were sweating. Harry was so attractive it was making your body weak. You honestly didn’t care what would be made for dinner but you were curious about where the night might lead if you did wind up in their house without their kids around all night.
“Of course, you wouldn’t be imposing. You’d be the guest of honor,” Harry’s arm slid over the back of the cushion behind you, and you gulped nervously.
“Oh, that’s…” you breathed out a jittery laugh, “… not necessary. No need to do anything special for me.”
“I hope you know that anything that happens, we’d always make it special for you, Y/n. We want you to feel comfortable.”
You could feel the temperature around your body rise with his proximity. You had noted how he’d inched his way a bit closer.
“Thank you, Harry. You and Mrs. Styles are always so nice to me.”
You were visibly nervous. Harry could see it too.
His wife had suggested that he invite you to stay for a drink and more if you allowed it. She really wanted to try any angle to get you to say yes to their offer. She figured if you were alone with Harry for a bit maybe you’d feel more comfortable. So, Harry was working on just that. And the more he thought about you and his wife’s convincing argument to bring in a third, he found he was more and more into the idea.
Plus you were simply the sweetest thing. He could see that you were a little timid and somehow that made his body respond to you in a way he hadn’t felt in a while. It set his blood to a low boil. His wife was lovely. Amazing in bed but it was true that with her there was something missing. He rarely got the opportunity to dominate his wife and really release his natural inclination to flex his prowess with her. Because she was dominant as well. And Harry didn’t mind it for the most part. But he missed certain things.
“We’d like to be more than just nice to you, darling,” his fingers behind you softly brushed against your neck and you inhaled shallowly at the contact. “But you already know what we want. How about you? What do you want, Y/n?”
You fluttered your eyes closed for a moment as you felt the pad of Harry’s thumb slide up your neck. Harry’s cologne and his natural scent were so appealing. You turned to look at him and worked up your nerve, “I think it sounds really fun. The offer. I’ve never been with a woman.”
He licked his lips, “You’ve experienced men, then, yeah?”
You nodded. You were sure he could see you physically melt.
“What do you like, Y/n?”
You had not expected the conversation to go this way, “I don’t… I’m not sure. I’ve not really done a lot. Nothing too crazy,” you laughed your words in embarrassment.
Harry’s soft petting on your neck continued, “That’s okay. We can figure it out as we go. To be honest, we’ve never done anything like this either.”
“And Mrs. Styles? Has she been with women?”
Harry nodded, “Yes. This was her idea actually. She’s been missing a feminine presence in bed.”
You felt the trickle of lust and carnal need swell in your body as Harry drew his free hand across his body and to your knee, “Is this okay?”
You nodded, keeping your eyes on his. You wanted to lean forward and grab your glass of wine and gulp the whole thing in one go but you wouldn’t dare break from his hold. It was intimate and having his hands on you was satisfying.
Harry looked toward the hallway and then back to you, “I’d like to kiss you. Y/n. Are you comfortable with letting me kiss you?”
His lips felt like they’d burst into flames if he didn’t press them into yours. But he couldn’t do that in front of the twins because he knew that once he felt your mouth and your tongue he was going to want more and if you were open to it he’d take it even further. His wife had given him permission as long as he was discreet (not in front of the boys). No sex without her present but some heavy petting and fingering were fine.
“Okay,” you breathed and expected him to kiss you right then as you braced yourself.
“Yeah?” He squeezed your thigh and tilted his head as he looked down over your body, “Go into my bedroom. I’ll be right there.”
You were shaky as you stood up and watched Harry walk away to talk to the twins in their room. The boys were old enough that they’d play by themselves just fine, you knew. You lifted your glass of wine to your lips and gulped half at once. You couldn’t even remember walking to the master bedroom upstairs. Your mind was a swirl of what-ifs and scenarios and questions.
“Are you okay?” Harry said as he closed the door behind himself. Everything was happening in slow motion. You were trying not to feel so floaty and far away but you couldn’t help it. Your experience with sex had been minimal and you certainly had never pictured yourself as part of this situation.
“I’m just nervous. I’m always like this the first time…” You swallowed and looked at the edge of the dresser against the wall.
“That’s okay,” Harry stepped in front of you and rubbed his hands down your arms, “I’m a little nervous too but I really want to kiss you. Just didn’t want the boys to see.”
You nodded in understanding, “And it’s okay with Mrs. Styles?”
His hands slowly grazed up your arms to your shoulders and then around to the back of your neck and head, “Her idea. But in all honesty, I want to kiss you. Feel like I need to.”
Blinking your eyes you raised your arms to hold onto his biceps as you kept your eyes pinned to his. He was solid under your hand. Of course, he was. You knew Mr. Styles was fit and you’d seen him in shorts and t-shirts and once glimpsed his pecs. You knew he had tattoos.
But when he finally nudged his nose to yours and his hot lips wrapped around your mouth everything went from being slow motion and blurry to high speed and heart pounding. You couldn’t get enough of his mouth and his tongue and you gripped his arms until he’d practically lifted you off your feet and pulled you to his bed.
His kisses were wet and warm and he moaned into your mouth. He was ravenous. It made you feel like a seductress, like he craved you.
You were across his lap and twisted to face him with your arms over his shoulders and your tongue pressed to his when he cupped your face and parted from the kiss.
“Y/n… Fuck honey…” he dabbed a kiss to your jaw and then looked back at you, “Can I get your pants off? Make you feel good? No sex tonight,” his words were deep and thick, “That’s for Saturday. But for now,” he ran a hand up your thigh up to your hip, “I can give you a preview with my fingers. If you want.”
“Yes, Harry,” you breathed your words and tried to lean back in for another kiss but he kept you at a distance, his hands on your jaw and fingers cradling the back of your head.
“I really liked it when you referred to me as Daddy last night. Will you do that for me again, honey?”
See. That was the thing. You already thought of him as Daddy. In all your private fantasies you called him Daddy. But it made you nervous because you fantasized about Harry far more than you ever did his wife. Kit was beautiful and she was definitely your type but Harry dominated your secret daydreams. So it would be easy for you to call him Daddy. But it worried you when it came to having his wife included in that dynamic.
“Is that okay? I mean,” you sighed breathily, “Will Mrs. Styles be okay if I call you Daddy?”
“I don’t think she’ll mind,” Harry licked his lips, “Tell you what. Tonight, call me Daddy because I want to hear your sweet voice say it when I finger you, okay? I’ll talk to her and let her know I asked you to and I think she won’t care but if she doesn’t like it we won’t do it again.”
You nodded. Daddy it was. That would be easy.
Harry brought an arm to your low back and leaned you down onto his bed. The bed he shared with his wife. With his knees dug into the bed next to your hip he loomed over you and brought a gentle hand up to the front of your neck and pressed, “How does this feel? Is this okay?”
It was a first for you. To have someone’s hand on your throat. It was a surprise. But the good kind. You loved how small it made you feel and how powerless. You knew if you asked him to remove his hand he would but the notion that you were physically relinquishing your power to him was so hot to you somehow.
“It’s good,” you breathed just before he inched down to kiss you again.
It felt absolutely nuts what you were doing. Making out with your boss, a married man, in his bedroom while his wife who was away gave him permission and even encouraged this situation.
Harry’s hand slid off of your neck and down your t-shirt, “Can we take this off? All of it? So I can see you?”
You nodded, “Yes,” and sat up so you could pull your shirt over your head. Harry unbuttoned his own and watched you unzip your pants and tuck your fingers inside the waistband before lifting your bum to pull them down your legs.
With his shirt unbuttoned you saw more tattoos. You’d paused for just a moment when you took note of his bare chest and abs.
Harry got to his knees and leaned over you, his hands on either side of your hips, “Do you need help with this?”
He put his hands over yours where you were grasping your waistband and helped you pull them off your legs.
His hands found your calves as he looked at you, “You’re so pretty, Y/n. Take your bra off.”
So you did. Unhooking the back and letting the front fall down your arms. Harry’s hands found their spot on either side of your hips again as he softly kissed each of your nipples, “Beautiful. Can I take your panties off?” His fingers were already dancing over the fabric of your waistband, knowing you’d be saying yes.
You gulped and nodded as he dragged the material down your legs, rendering you completely nude. Harry let out a breath as he raked his eyes over skin and curve and freckle.
Harry lay next to you and took your hand in his, bringing it up between you on the mattress, “You still doing okay, Y/n?”
You were feeling very vulnerable and insane for laying completely naked next to him but still you nodded. Because you wanted more of what he was doing.
You rolled to face him on your side when he smeared his mouth over yours. Letting go of your hand he moved his fingers down over your side to your hip and then upper thigh just at the curve of your ass. He squeezed softly but enough that you could feel his big palm grasping your flesh. You lifted your thigh to mantle his hip out of instinct and his palm spread out over the globe of your cheek.
“Want my fingers, honey?”
The way the tips of his fingers were grazing so close to your pussy with your leg draped over him you were losing your mind. All he had to do was lower an inch and he’d feel your wetness.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Harry moaned and moved his head back to look at you, “Oh I really like how that sounds. Let’s have a look then,” he ran his hand over your hip to the front of your tummy as he moved back the tiniest bit to press his fingers over your mound. Slowly his fingers lowered until he met soft wet lips. He breathed in through his teeth, “You all wet for Daddy?”
The smile on his face was cocky but you loved it.
“Yes,” you bit your lip.
With his eyes on yours, he parted your labia with two fingers and slowly ran them down to your opening and then back up until he bumped your clit and pressed over that. You moaned softly.
He was easy with his fingers on you as he kept slipping them up and down, pushing your arousal through your crease and getting his fingers coated.
When he captured your lips in his again you felt him prodding at your entrance. You sucked his tongue into your mouth and he pressed two fingers inside as you grasped onto his shoulder.
You groaned as he fingered you and fixated on the spongy dip inside. You bucked into his hand, “There we go. Feels good doesn’t it?”
You panted yesssss.
The sloppy noises that were coming from between your legs would have been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good.
“Please,” you breathed as you lowered your hand to his hip, “I wanna see.”
Harry kept thrusting into you with his fingers while his thumb smoothed against your clit, “You can on Saturday, baby. For now, this is all about you.”
You whined and closed your watery eyes as he began to fuck into you faster. His palm was a sticky mess. You raised your hip and rutted into his hand harder.
“You’re gonna grip me so tight and I’m gonna push inside you deep,” he punctuated his words with his thrusts, “Have you creaming all over my cock.”
Your groans grew louder as he pasted his mouth to your neck and you felt the warm press of his tongue on your skin, his curls brushing against your jaw. He shifted so that suddenly you were on your back and he was on his side with his fingers still inside of you, lips on your breasts.
He felt so good and you were already so caught up in the way he was making you feel you’d all but forgotten that this man was married and he was your boss. This was better than your fantasies. He was more confident and a lot more dominant in reality. And just sweet enough that you felt safe.
Harry lifted upward slightly, still pumping his fingers through you causing you to let out a small squeal. You felt his hand cover your mouth and you peeled your eyes open as he lowered his lips to your tits, his fingers plowing through your walls. You were being too loud.
He peered up at you with his tongue gliding over your nipple, his shoulder flexing with each thrust of his arm. Yes, this was definitely better than fantasy. Because it was happening and it felt so good.
You felt his lips slip off the skin of your nipple, “If I take my hand off, you gonna keep quiet?”
Nodding your head you softly moaned into his hand. He pulled his hand away from your mouth and leaned over you to kiss your mouth. Softly at first. It felt like candy-flavored pink sparkle dust magic with his warm lips smoothing against yours, and his nose mushing into your nose.
“Daddy, please…” you breathed as he lifted himself to look down at you.
“What baby?” The sound of your wet pussy getting fingered was the backdrop of you beginning to unravel.
“M’gonna come… Daddy, ffuu– ohhh!” Your mouth was quickly covered again when your volume grew even louder than it had been. You heard Harry softly chuckle just as you clenched around his fingers and grasped his forearm, your neck stretched over the pillow as you arched your back.
Harry looked down at his hand and groaned at how your pussy was devouring his fingers. He couldn’t wait to see what his cock would look like sinking into your perfect cunt. And he thought you were pretty when you orgasmed. He was sure he’d want to make you come over and over again if his wife wasn’t too greedy with you.
“Such a good little girl, Y/n. There you go, baby.” He smirked at you, his fingers still slipping into you, squelching when he buried them in all the way.
“This what you needed? Needed to come on Daddy’s fingers?” Your soft moan was muffled as you finally set your gaze back on Harry who was already looking at you.
“Just imagine how good it’s gonna feel on my cock.” He slid his thumb over your clit and you jolted from sensitivity.
Harry took his hand off your mouth and slowly pulled his fingers from your pussy as he sat back, stuffing his fingers into his mouth to taste you. He could smell your pussy as he was fingering you and couldn’t wait to get a taste.
Popping his fingers out of his mouth he caged you into your spot on the mattress, hovering over you, “How was that?”
“So good,” you were still taking in labored breaths.
His mouth encased yours once again. His kiss was lustful and fiery. You could smell yourself when he cradled your head, his fingers, still damp with you, swiping into strands of your hair.
A deep moan fell from his chest and you pulled your arms over his shoulders and the cotton of his shirt. Your body began to ignite again just before he parted from your mouth with a gasp.
“I’m sorry. Got carried away. Your lips are so sweet,” his voice was deep and breathy. “You okay?”
“Mmhmm,” you nodded and smiled.
Harry insisted on helping you clean up. First, you peed but then he came in and wet a towel to help wipe you and talk to make sure you were okay.
You could tell he had a boner. The front of his trousers was bulged in an obvious way. His pupils were dark and his skin was hot. And you would have loved to have him use you however he wanted to take care of himself but you wouldn’t go against his Kit’s wishes.
“So, Saturday? You sure you want to come over?” Harry handed you the clothes he’d picked up from the floor and his bed.
“Yeah. I’d like to.”
Harry cupped your jaw and smudged your cheekbone with his thumb, “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
He walked you out to your car and squeezed your hand before dropping it. It felt strange. Like you’d just gotten away with something so immoral and improper but you were elated.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Y/n. Drive safe.”
“Okay. Thank you, Da–“ your eyes widened and you felt your whole body wash in heat as you tried to correct your near-fatal error, “Ha- Harry.”
The grin on his face with smiling dimples told you that he didn’t mind, “Night, sweet girl.”
Part 2
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landscape with honey
summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here)
tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader
-
He starts showing up at your house at odd hours.
You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.
You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.
The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet.
He pays for the whole order.
You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you.
John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you.
John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing.
The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.
“Hi Jo—” you start.
“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock.
“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”
“Get in the car.”
“This is my only time to exercise!”
“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”
You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console.
He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.
“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”
“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff.
You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”
“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him.
"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."
John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."
The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning.
“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.
“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away.
“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?”
You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under.
The first week of December hits town like a truck.
You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.
It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance.
A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue.
The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first.
You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.
It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you.
You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.
You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that.
When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark.
You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake.
It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.
Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.
A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.
“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress.
Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.
Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.
“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”
He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water.
“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there.
Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out.
Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance.
“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed.
The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.
“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”
“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.
He hums instead of answering.
“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur.
His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again.
“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”
“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan.
“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”
“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up.
Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch.
“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”
He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip.
When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”
He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back.
You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you.
His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”
You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”
“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”
“The winter?”
“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”
“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.
“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”
Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside.
He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.
“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”
“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized.
He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”
You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide.
“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured.
“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”
Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble.
You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly.
Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache.
You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle.
There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor.
“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you.
“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”
“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”
It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky.
Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs.
He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.
You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body.
When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you.
“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.
Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”
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