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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

bestie

spider squad x black cat!fem!reader

request?: yes

request: “hi! okay i love your works and my brains been rotting thinking abt this lol. i was wondering if i could request a black cat variant! reader that somehow (idk how sorry ), she's apart of the spider-society? Given that black cats backstory isn't all that nice, maybe she has a deal W miguel to let her stay if she makes sure she uses her skills to help the society instead of stealing? and how the squad(miles, gwen, pav, hobie) meet her in the society?”

requested by: anon

word count: 2.1k

genre: platonic and chaotic LMAO

Warnings: language, stealing, bad Spanish, slight Gwen crush if you squint but also like not really

A/N: STOP I LOVE WRITING PLATONIC AND CHAOTIC THINGS!! i did change up the prompt a bit as they didn’t meet her in spider society necessarily (even though the did, they just didn’t know it lol) i hope you enjoy this anon! also if anyone wants to knows some of the specific songs that gave me black cat 2099 vibes lemme know 👀 i’ll make a post

pt ii - becoming hobie’s bestie

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Gwen, Miles, Pavitr, and Hobie were called to “the principal’s office” as they started calling it. So here they are, in front of Miguel, waiting to be reprimanded for something they did. “I have a mission for the three of you,” he says, pointing to Miles, Gwen, and Pav. “Hobie, you’re not needed.”

“Like ‘ell I’m not,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Miguel subtly smiles to himself. Reverse psychology. Works every time.

“Wait, what?” Miles asks, eyes wide. “You aren’t gonna yell at us for existing?” Gwen asks, equally as surprised. Miguel rolls his eyes. “For existing? When have I ever…” he trails off as Pav, Hobie, and Gwen point at Miles.

And Miles points at himself.

“Dios mío,” Miguel mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I’m not doing that. This time.”

“What’s the mission then? Are we going somewhere new? Oh! Can I bring back a souvenir?” Pavitr asks, excitedly. “No, but I’m sure you’ll end up with some sort of souvenir regardless,” Miguel grumbles, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “Well, what do you mean by that?” Gwen asks and Miguel types into his computer. A picture of a girl pops up on the screen. “I need you to bring me her.”

“Uhhh what? You want us to bring you a… civilian?” Miles asks, and Miguel nods. “She’ll respond to you all better. You’re the same age,” Miguel says, and they all glance at each other. “Can you not be secretive for like, a couple of seconds? Is she an anomaly?”

“No, Gwen. Just bring her to Spider Society, please. She’s from this universe, so I’m just sending you to where I need you to go,” Miguel says, opening a portal for them to go through. They all glance at each other before Gwen shrugs, walking through the portal. Miles and Pav follow her, and Hobie rolls his eyes following the three of them. They find themselves… at a show? They’re on top of the catwalk in a stadium show, looking down at the audience. “What the hell?” Gwen mumbles and Hobie is intrigued when he sees the instruments on the stage. “Now why did he send us to a concert?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. Right at that moment, the lights go down and everyone starts to scream. “So, you think she’s in the crowd? How are we supposed to find someone in all of these people?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. “I can do it, easily,” Pav says, and Miles and Gwen give him a Look™. “What?! It’s simple you just look for her face! Miguel showed us a picture of her.”

“Aye, ‘e’s right. Found her,” Hobie says, and they all look at him. He’s pointing, and they follow his finger. “SHE’S THE SINGER?!” Gwen yells as the music starts. “Yeah. Guess we gotta wait for the set to finish,” Hobie says, shrugging and sitting on the catwalk, “Gettin’ a free show outta this shit at least.”

“Oh, please, every show you’ve ever been to has been free,” Gwen says, sitting next to him, taking her mask off. Hobie, Pav, and Miles all follow suit. “What does Miguel want with a singer?”

“I like her outfit,” Pav says, ignoring Miles’ question and sitting next to Gwen. Miles quickly slips between Pav and Gwen, shooing him away slightly. “Not my style. Lyrics ain’t bad,” Hobie says, leaning back and observing the performance, “She can sing, I’ll give ‘er ‘at.”

“I fuck with it. Lyrics speak to me,” Gwen says, and Pav nods. “She seems angry.”

“Yeah, that’s why I can respect what she’s doin’. Threatenin’ and angry music is cool,” Hobie says, bobbing his head up and down. Gwen nods. “Okay, guys, seriously, what does Miguel want with a singer?”

“Maybe she’s a scientist or something? Miguel needs her help?” Gwen suggests, and Miles shakes his head. “Nah, I feel like he’d just meet with her then.”

“He did mention she was close to our age, though. And her songs make it sound like she has an issue with authority,” Pav mentions, and Hobie nods. “I fuck with ‘er.” They all look at him. “Oh, I get it. She’s Hobie’s age,” Gwen says, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “What does ‘at ‘ave to do with anythin’?”

“You two are the same age, both have a problem with authority… whatever she is, she needs someone she can relate to to actually come with us,” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “Guess ‘at makes sense.” The four of them continue watching the concert. Even though it isn’t necessarily punk music, Hobie loves the lyrics. And Gwen loves all of the songs because she understands the lyrics more than the other guys. Miles is enjoying it because Gwen is enjoying it, and Pav is enjoying it because other people are enjoying it. However, neither of them would probably listen to this after this mission. When you’re nearing the end, Miles slips his mask back on. “Alright, everyone. What’s the plan?”

“We need to get backstage,” Gwen says, slipping her mask on as well. “‘ave a gander down there,” Hobie says, pointing at some marks on the stage. “What’s that?” Pav asks. “Pyrotechnics. When they go off, we go in,” Hobie says, and they all nod. “Hope they’re big enough that no one sees us,” Gwen mumbles and Hobie scoffs. “Gwendy, it’s a stadium show. It’s ‘bout to be big,” he says. The four of them prepare, running along the catwalk and getting ready to web back to where you would disappear to. Sure enough, the pyrotechnics go off and Hobie was right. They’re big. It gives them the advantage as they slip undetected backstage. They hide high up, watching as you run offstage after your encore. They silently follow you to your dressing room and Miles points at an air vent. Gwen nods, quietly yanking it off of its hinges. She crawls inside, taking a glance to make sure you’re still clothed, and then motions for the boys to follow.

Meanwhile, you’re wiping your makeup off, sipping on some water to soothe your throat from your performance. You walk away from the giant mirror to go grab a snack in the corner of the room when, suddenly, you feel like someone is watching you. You subtly unsheathe your hairbrush, which doubles as a dagger. Just in case. You take a deep breath, turning around, and throwing it. Miles leaps out of the way, and the other three’s eyes are wide. The accuracy with that throw was a little too good. “None of you are Miguel,” you say, on edge still. “Ay, don’t compare me to that bloody bloke. I’d rather die than be called ‘im,” Hobie says, and you give him an amused look. “I can arrange that,” you say, and Gwen clears her throat. “I just wanted to say your concert was like, totally, awesome.”

“Aw, thanks! Did you pay to watch?” you ask and she looks around. “Well uh… I, um—” She gets cut off by your laugh. “I’m kidding. I don’t give a fuck if you didn’t. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t,” you explain. “Oh! Then no. Too cool to pay, you know?” Gwen rambles and Miles turns his head to her, giving her a look that translates into ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ You chuckle. “Why are you four here, then? Señor O’Hara miss me?” you take a bite of the snack you picked, leaning against the wall. “How do you know Miguel?” Pav asks and you snort. “Long story. Oh! He finally find out I took something from him?” you ask, tossing your food to the side and crossing your arms. “I… we actually don’t know. He just said we had to bring you back to—”

“Wait he’s actually inviting me into his super secret spider society?” you ask, a look of excitement spreading across your face. “Uh. Yes?” Miles says, and you squeal. “This is so exciting! My first time being invited, okay, great, hold on,” you say, quickly running off and behind the changing room divider. “Uh… you’re just gonna come with us?” Gwen asks, and you yell a quick ‘yep!’ They all look at each other and shrug. “No offense, sweet’eart, but I thought it woulda been ‘arder to convince ya. Wasn’t aware bein’ invited by a stuck-up wanker like ‘im was all it would take,” Hobie says, and they hear a giggle from behind the screen. “Oh this isn’t my first time in his little fanclub,” you step out from behind the divider, garnishing an all-black catsuit with shiny black gloves coming to claws at the fingers. A small eye mask adorns your face, and you smirk. “It’s just the first time he’ll know I’m there.”

“Holy shit, no way! You’re Black Cat!” Gwen says, and you do a little curtsy. “Pleased to make your acquaintance officially, Gwen Stacy,” you say, and her eyes get big. “How did you know—”

“Like I said. Not my first time there. Surprising since you all have that spidey sense or whatever, but guess I’m just that good,” you say, pulling out a dimension-hopping watch. “When did you—”

“Do I have to say I’ve been to your Spidertopia already again? Come on, I’m sure your pendejo of a boss is waiting for us,” you grin, and Hobie shakes his head. “Not my boss. I like you, though. Gettin’ fuck the establishment vibes,” he says, and you wink at him. “Thanks, Hobie Brown. Appreciate it. Also, Pavitr, you need to tell me what your haircare routine is,” you walk through the portal, and the four of them follow after you. Sure enough, you step out of the portal and stand right in front of Miguel’s desk. “Hello there, Spider-Boy,” you say, and he sighs. “(Y/n). Give me the device back. Now.”

“I’m good, actually. Been having too much fun with it,” you say, placing it on your wrist. He mutters something in Spanish as the four of them appear behind you. “Wait, if you’re Black Cat, why are you like… a superstar?” Miles asks, taking his mask off. “Was told at a young age to never settle for second best. So, I never did. Also if you want to steal from the big leagues, you have to be in with the big leagues,” you say, shrugging. “Damn, she is… so cool,” Gwen whispers. “We have an agreement, (Y/n),” MIguel says and you groan. “Miguel! Big guy, amigo, can I call you that?”

“No.”

“Don’t care, when have I ever stuck with an agreement?” you ask and he frowns. “This is all because you want to be able to come here whenever you want, isn’t it?” he asks and you grin. “You’re so smart, bestie,” you say and he groans. “You’re impossible.”

“I know. So can I come here and not have to worry about multiple spiders biting me all at once?” you ask, and he sighs. “Yes.”

“YE—”

“BUT!”

“Fuck, there’s a but,” you groan, as he continues talking, “No. Stealing.” You feign offense. “What makes you think I would ever steal something from here?” He points to your wrist. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This was gifted to me.”

“By who.”

“Myself.”

“Esta maldita chica,” he mumbles, and you grin. “Well, thank you so much for approving my breaking and entering of your little arachnid club. I’ll be sure to return everything I’ve taken in hopes that you would notice I wanted to be invited,” you grin, and he clenches his jaw. “You step one toe out of line—”

“I woooon’t! Promise! Before I return everything though, I kinda have a heist planned in Earth-42,” you shrug, pulling up a portal. “I’ll tell Miles you said hi, Miles,” you give him a smirk, but before disappearing into the portal, you hear Miguel. “When you’re done come back here. I actually might be able to use you for something.”

You smile at him. “Say less, Spider-Man.” Then, you disappear. “We’re about to see a lot more of her, aren’t we?” Miles asks, and Miguel sighs and nods. “Dude! She is so cool!” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “She don’t take shit from no one. Respectable.”

“She’s funny! And she was able to shut you down, Miguel, that never happens,” Pav says, laughing a bit. “She seems kinda crazy,” Miles says.”

“What, like we aren’t?” Gwen retaliates and he shrugs. “I am perfectly sane! Most of the time…”

Miguel runs his hand through his hair in frustration as the four of them continue discussing you while walking out of the room.

He was not looking forward to the friendship the five of you were about to form.

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#spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miles morales x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderpunk #spidergwen #hobie brown #gwen stacy #miles morales #pavitr prabhakar #miguel o'hara

6K notes · View notes

cozage · 9 months

Note

hii can i request silent treatment with sabo, law, and ace? like the one you wrote before! i love reading it sm i wanted to see how they (sabo, law, and ace) would react if they received/ gave silent treatment !

Characters: gn reader x Sabo, Law, Ace Cw: everyone involved being a bit of an orange flag Total word count: 4k

Silent Treatment

Sabo

Oh sweet sweet Sabo. He didn’t even realize his offhanded joke in the meeting had offended you. He didn’t think about how you and Koala were the only ones not laughing about the jokes the officers said. He didn’t notice how you and Koala immediately left the room fuming as soon as you could.

He had to run to catch up with you after the meeting, and you showed no sign of slowing your pace.

“Hey!” he called out, trying to get to you. “I’m gonna go out with the guys for a bit, I’ll catch up with you soon?”

“Do whatever you want,” you shot back. “The men know best after all, right?”

He must not have heard the sarcasm and anger laced in your voice, because he just gave you a wink and a peck on the cheek and ran off with some of the other leaders.

Koala gave you a side smirk. “They’re clueless, I swear,” she laughed.

“We never get the credit,” you grumbled. “I can’t do it anymore, Koala! I’m so fed up with this!”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“So many times!” you cried. “We’re treated the same professionally but socially-”

“It’s a commanders club,” she finished for you. “Maybe we should make a separate club?”

“Rule One: No talking to them until they apologize.”

Sabo was surprised to find that you weren’t waiting for him in bed when he got home. You weren’t in the spare room, either.

He finally found a note on the kitchen that was short and to the point. “Sleeping at Koala’s.”

Confusing, but he was slightly drunk, so he opted to go to bed and figure it out in the morning.

When morning came, he was disappointed to find that the coffee hadn't started. He went to grab his overnight oats from the fridge, but you hadn’t made that for him either, which was strange. Usually when you stayed at Koala’s, you prepped all that stuff ahead of time. But last night you hadn’t. He’d have to ask you about that before the meeting this morning.

He arrived late to the meeting since the coffee took longer than he thought it would and he had to make breakfast. You were already sitting when he got there, you and Koala talking to each other quietly. Normally you saved a se at for him, but today all of the seats had been filled, and he was left with one at the end of the table.

He kept trying to catch your eye, but you refused to look at him. He finally caught Koala’s at one point, and mouthed “What’s wrong?” but she simply rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Dragon.

If Koala was mad at him, that meant you were mad at him. He racked his brain the entire meeting, trying to think of what he would’ve done to make you upset. But he couldn’t think of anything.

He tried to catch you after the meeting, but you and Koala made a beeline for the door and ignored his calls after you.

“Just let them go, dude,” Jiron said to him. “Those two never want to hang out with us anyway.”

Shit. It all clicked together. The jokes made in the meeting yesterday, him going out with the boys without asking if you and Koala had wanted to come.

“Maybe if you treated them with a little respect, Jiron, they would.” Sabo’s words came out in a low, threatening hiss.

“Look, I know you’re close with them,” Jiron said. “But they’re not very nice to us either. They’re kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Sabo edged, his blood starting to boil.

“Well…bitchy.”

Sabo wasn’t really sure what happened next. He didn’t remember doing anything, but the next moment, Jiron was on the ground holding his nose. Blood was leaking out through his fingers onto the ground.

“Don’t use that word to describe either of them ever again. Got it?” Sabo growled the words, looking around the room.

“What the FUCK, Sabo?” Jiron cried, but Sabo was already pacing toward the door, desperate to get to you as soon as possible.

He caught up with you and Koala quickly and jumped between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your alls shoulders. You tensed at his touch, but once you realized it was him, you just scoffed and shrugged him off.

“Go away, Sabo,” Koala sneered as she shoved him away.

“I’m sorry!” Sabo jumped in front of you all, trying to block your path. “Please, I’m sorry I laughed at those jokes yesterday and even made one myself. That was really shitty of me.”

“Sabo,” you sighed, shaking your head.

He fell to his knees and looked up at you, begging. “And please teach me how to use the coffee machine! And make overnight oats! I’ll make it from now on. I’m starving and I’m sorry.”

His apology made you giggle, and you took his hands and helped him to his feet. Once he was standing, you laced your fingers through his. “You’ll really make the oats?”

“If you want me to.”

“Deal.” You smiled, and gave him a soft kiss to seal his promise. “Can’t go back on it now.”

“And how are you going to make it up to me?” Koala pouted.

“Oh,” Sabo suddenly got very bashful. “I punched Jiron, I think.”

“You WHAT?!”

Law

You bounded into Law’s office, excited to tell him the news. “Law! Shachi just caught-”

“Hang on,” Law mumbled, flicking through his book. He was always looking for something. You were always interrupting him.

After a few minutes, he looked up at you. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Shachi just caught an electric eel! A massive one!”

The moments the words left your mouth, Law was back to looking back at his book. “Interesting. Is that all?”

“Well, I just thought-”

“Hang on,” he mumbled again, already lost on another tangent in his head.

“Don’t worry about it.” You left the room before he had a chance to respond, though you doubt he even noticed your absence.

He got like this sometimes, and you tried not to get hurt by his sudden coldness. It’s just what happened when you were with the Surgeon of Death. A few hours later you had all but forgotten the encounter. There was an island coming up, and you ran to alert him.

“Law!” You slammed his door open, ecstatic. “Law! Guess-”

“Do you mind?!” His loud and hostile voice made you take a step back. “I’m trying to do something and you keep interrupting me!”

You pushed down the lump that was in your throat, but you could feel your lip trembling, threatening to give you away. You couldn’t look weak in front of him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, rushing out of the room.

Shachi found you first, furiously wiping the tears from your face. “I told you, you’re too good for him! Maybe you should give him a taste of what it’s like to lose you.”

“Like how?”

A devious grin grew on Shachi’s face. “Silent treatment.”

“Hey captain.” Bepo peeked in the door nervously, knowing there was tension about to be caused. “We’re heading off to the island.”

Law looked up from his book, confused. “Island?” You always told him when you were about to approach an island.

“We docked about a half hour ago,” Shachi chimed in from the hallway.

Law could hear something in his voice. “Where’s Y/N? Are they going?”

“They're going,” Shachi said, grabbing the door handle.

“Well, can you-” Law’s words were cut off by Shachi slamming the door shut.

That was Law’s first indication of something stirring. Shachi always took your side during squabbles, and he seemed livid today.

Law meant to go talk to you. He wasn’t sure what he needed to apologize for, but he knew it was something. But then he found an interesting article about poisons, and he got sucked into reading. Before he knew it, the sun had set and he had to turn on a lamp to keep reading.

Shachi, on the other hand, kept your mind busy. He took you out on the town, dragging you into every clothing shop and making you try anything on that even might look good on you. He pulled you into dessert shops and trinket stores and forced you to go on a beach walk with him. He was your best friend for a reason.

“What if he doesn’t apologize?” you asked him, watching the sun sink. “Then you don’t talk to him, no matter what,” Shachi responded.

Law was still shut away in his office when you returned, and your heart felt a soft ache. He hadn’t even noticed your absence.

“Come on,” Shachi said gently. “You can sleep in our room.”

“I should go talk to-”

“No,” Shachi said firmly. “He always does this. He needs to learn his lesson.” So you slept in the crew bunkhouse for the first time in months. Nobody asked questions, everyone just accepted it. You suspected Shachi had filled them in.

It took Law a few minutes to realize what was wrong. He had come into his room silently and brushed his teeth in the dark before bed like always. It was quieter than usual. And when he went to lay down, the bed was still made. As he pulled the covers back, he couldn’t help but notice how unnatural it felt. But he couldn’t place why.

It was too cold, he realized. And he quickly flicked on a light in the room to find it empty. Thoughts raced through his mind. Where were you? Had you gone missing? Had the Navy or someone else captured you to turn you in for a bounty?

He quickly walked to the shared common room, where he found Penguin and Ikkaku sitting. “Did you go to the island?” he asked, scanning the room. It was too late for you to be up, but he had to double check.

They both nodded, and Law tried not to panic. “Did Y/N come back?”

“Yeah,” Penguin affirmed. “We had dinner with them and Shachi, and we all walked back together.” He gave Ikakku a nervous glance before continuing. “I think they’re sleeping in the shared bunkhouse.”

“What?” Law hissed. “Why?” But Ikkaku and Penguin both shrugged, and Law turned and stormed out the door, making a beeline for the bunkhouse.

He flung the door open, searching for you. He quickly found you in the bunk below Shachi, and he walked over to where you were sleeping.

“What are you doing?” Law said, shaking you lightly. “Come to bed.”

You groaned in your sleep and pushed him away. You never slept well in the bunkhouse. You were a light sleeper, any type of noise made you wake up.

“Y/N,” Law said, shaking you harder. “Let’s go.”

“Law?” Your eyes finally opened, your voice full of exhaustion and sleep. Once you realized it was him, you slapped a hand over your mouth. Silent Treatment.

Law could see the hurt and anger in your eyes when you recognized him, and his heart constricted when you turned away from him.

“Can we talk about what’s going on? Please?” he begged. He was trying not to disturb others, but you could hear them beginning to stir.

You almost caved, but Shachi came to your rescue. He hopped down from his bed and put himself between you and Law. “You can talk in the morning,” Shachi said. “Y/N wants to be here, so let them sleep here.”

Law tried to look past Shachi to you. “I know you can’t stand sleeping here. Just come to bed. Please.”

“Captain.” Shachi’s voice was on the verge of dangerous defiance. “Leave.”

Law stared at him, not sure what to make of Shachi’s protectiveness over you. His gaze was almost challenging, but Shachi refused to back down. He could hear the others in the room starting to stir, and he knew he was only embarrassing you, so he conceded. “I’m coming back first thing.”

“That’s fine,” Shachi said. “If Y/N wants to talk then, you’re welcome to have a conversation.”

Law slept horribly that night. His fingers kept reaching out for you. The bed felt too big, the covers weren’t warm enough. He finally got up and started reading. He was too anxious to sleep.

So were you. You were tossing and turning every 20 minutes, trying to get comfortable. You couldn’t sleep without Law’s heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But Shachi made you promise to never admit it.

Law was sitting in the hallway outside the door when you went to get breakfast. You almost tripped over him, and when he saw you, he immediately stood to his feet. His tired gold eyes pierced into your soul, and you could see he was in rough shape. “Can we talk now?” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but you could hear it loud and clear.

You gave a panicked look to Shachi, but he only gave you a smile and a small nod, encouraging you on.

You gave Law a nod in agreement. You still weren’t ready to talk to him, but you could listen.

“I did something yesterday,” Law said, closing the door to his office as you walked in. “I snapped at you when you were excited about something. I prioritized my studies over you and I’m sorry.”

You watched him closely, making sure his words were genuine. Law had a tendency to apologize when he knew you wanted to hear it, not when he actually felt bad about it.

“I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he continued. “I tend to get obsessed with my work, and my relationships hurt because of it. And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need you to tell me when I’m hurting you. Because I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want. So please…tell me. Yell at me. Smack me. Just don’t…don’t disappear on me. Please.”

Your heart melted at his words. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “And you won’t get mad?”

“I promise I won’t.”

You gave him a mischievous grin. “Even if I smack you really hard?”

“I feel like I’m going to regret saying that,” he groaned.

You giggled and gave him a soft kiss. “Too late, Captain.” You rested your head on his shoulder, his familiar scent making your eyes start to droop. “Can we go back to bed now?”

“Bed would be nice,” he mumbled into your hair, already pulling you toward his private room.

Ace

Fifteen people in the bar, and your boyfriend had flirted with every single one.

Friendly. That’s what he always called it. He was just being friendly. But you saw the way those commoners looked at him, the lust in their eyes. Getting with a pirate would be thrilling, they’d whisper when his back was turned. He never seemed to hear them talk about him, but he’d always be around them. Convenient.

“You shouldn’t be bothered,” he’d always say. “You know that I’ll always choose you.”

But you were bothered. You hated the pit of jealousy that formed in your gut every time a new person walked up to him. They were always so touchy, rubbing their hands along his shoulders, and the daring ones would even venture down his chest. Like he was their plaything. But he didn’t belong to them.

He was yours. Just not in this bar. Or any bar.

Maybe it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. You were certain he wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of you flirting with another man.

Your eyes met an attractive man across the bar, and you decided it would be a good theory to test.

Seeing what you were about to do, Marco grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down into the seat. “Wait,” he muttered.

“Stay out of it, Marco,” you hummed softly. Your voice was pleasant, but there was a threatening undertone to it.

“If you want to make him jealous that will end in a fight and change nothing except the intensity of your makeup sex, go for it.”

Your cheeks brightened at his words, and you finally broke your eye contact with the random man to look at the commander. “Marco-!”

“But if you want to make him panic and stay by your side from now on, listen.” Marco’s voice got low. “Ace looks over here at least once every five minutes. He’s checking on you. I’m guessing jealous sex is his-“

“MARCO!”

“Anyway, I guarantee if you vanish, it’ll make him sweat. Just go back to the Moby Dick, and crash in my room for the night if you want. Give him a bit of the silent treatment. Don’t lean into what he wants. Push away, and I know he’ll stop.”

“How?”

“Because he’s head over heels for you, dummy. Even right now, all he wants is your attention. Don’t give it to him and you’ll cut the bad habits.”

It was worth a shot, and you wouldn’t have to talk to any sleazy guys to test the theory.

“You’re the best, Marco.” You flashed him a grin and stood, giving Ace one last glance. “But never talk about my sex life again.”

“Oh please,” Marco scoffed. “You have no idea what the commanders talk about during shower time, do you?”

Your eyes widened in horror, but Marco just laughed. “Relax! It was a joke!”

“It better be!” you hissed. “Or I’ll skin that boy alive.”

You gave one more glance to Ace. He was caught up in some conversation with a woman, giving her most of his attention. You rolled your eyes, jealousy panging in your chest, and slipped out the door.

The first two times Ace glanced over at your table, he wasn’t worried about your absence. But the third time, he started to get a bad feeling. You had been gone for too long.

He wandered back to the table, trying to appear casual and unbothered. “Hey Marco,” he said, bringing him another beer. “Where’s Y/N?”

Marco knew he was using the beer as a bribe, but took it anyway. “Not sure, they walked out about thirty minutes ago. Hasn’t been back since.”

“What?” Ace could feel himself sobering up, worried about your safety. “Where’d they go?”

“They seemed tired,” Marco said, watching Ace carefully.

“But they always tell me when they’re going home,” Ace grumbled, looking around. “I’m gonna head back too. Kind of over this whole scene.”

Marco chuckled, reading through Ace’s words, but he didn’t say anything further. He watched Ace walk out the door and back to the ship without so much as a goodbye to anyone in the bar, and he knew his plan would work.

Ace tried not to panic when you weren’t in his room. Sometimes you slept in other places, like the common room or the bunkhouse. Especially on drunken nights, you always seemed to find some random place to pass out. But you always told him when you were going to bed.

He didn’t sleep well. He wandered around the ship several times, trying to appear unbothered. But he was searching every nook and cranny, desperately looking for where you had landed yourself.

He didn’t see you again until the next morning, sitting at the breakfast table with Marco and a few others. You were completely surrounded by people, but Ace stopped by your seat on the way to the breakfast line.

“Hey.” He touched your shoulder and you stiffened at the contact, which was odd. Normally you leaned into his touch. You always looked up at him full of love, silently begging him for a morning kiss. But this morning you didn’t even bother to look his way. “Where’d you end up last night?” he asked.

“My room,” Marco answered for you, laughing. “That sure was a shock to walk into!”

You laughed, shoving Marco slightly. You still refused to acknowledge Ace, though it was starting to get difficult. “Hey Thornton, you left shortly before me. Where did you end up?”

“I swear I could’ve made it back to my room if I wanted to!” he bellowed, and everyone laughed.

“Right!” you laughed. “I bet the deck all night sure was cozy!”

You were ignoring him. Ace was sure of it. Had something happened between you and Marco…no. The two of you had only ever been friends, so close you might as well have been siblings.

He finally left you alone, his brain in overdrive trying to figure out what had made you so upset since the last time he spoke to you.

“You flirt too much,” Marco said, joining him in line.

Ace looked back at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re wondering why Y/N is ignoring you, right?” Ace shrugged, trying not to show that it was bothering him too much, but Marco clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Drop the act, man. You should care. And I know you do. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears trying to figure it out.”

“I just like to talk to people,” Ace defended. “What’s the harm in that?”

“The harm is you don’t just talk. You flirt.” Marco chuckled, shaking his head. “I know what you’re doing, dude, and I don’t blame you. But you’ve got a good thing. Don’t lose it because you want to…talk.”

Ace frowned, annoyed with being called out so personally, but he thought about it while he ate his breakfast alone. He knew how much you hated the way he treated local islanders when you all went out. But he loved the jealous, possessive side of you. He loved watching you fight for him, even if you were fighting with him.

He found you lounging on the deck, reading a magazine. He walked over to you and sat on the edge of the lounger. He saw your eyes flick up and then immediately back to the magazine, and he could’ve sworn the air temperature dropped 10 degrees.

“Hey,” he cooed, his hands dancing up your legs, finding the spots he knew you were ticklish.

You tried to move your legs, but there weren't many places to escape to without getting up and walking away.

“Please talk to me,” he pouted. He leaned against you, pushing your magazine out of the way and resting his head on your chest, looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes.

You turned your head away from him, trying your best to ignore him even though he was physically on top of you, pinning you down.

“Pleaseeeee,” Ace begged. His hands came up and playfully squished your cheeks, and you struggled to keep a straight face. He was so good at making you smile.

“Go away,” you finally said, trying to push him off of you. It was useless, but you had to try.

“You speak!” Ace cheered, and you rolled your eyes. You were tired of his antics. You wanted an apology.

“I’m so lonely without you, babe,” Ace sang offkey, his fingers tracing along your shoulders. “Please come back to me, my loveeeee.”

You didn’t react, but you could feel your vision starting to get blurry. He was too stubborn, but you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep being humiliated and forced to watch Ace live the best of both worlds.

“I’m sorry,” Ace finally whispered when he saw your eyes starting to get watery. “I know I’m a little insane.”

You finally looked at him, still silent. Waiting for more.

“And I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you for so long,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you. So no more flirting with random people in bars. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

“Promise?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I promise,” he said, nuzzling into your chest and hugging you tight. He’d hold you close and never let you slip away again.

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hoe-for-hopper · 2 months

Text

A Crush On Eddie

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part 2 is HERE

WARNINGS: kind of a slow burn, unprotected piv, masturbation (f & m), drinking (reader is drunk, not during sex), vomiting (reader vomits)

Word Count: 4,983 (idk how that happened)

Summary: You've got a crush on Eddie Munson, so you drag your two best friends, Steve and Robin to Corroded Coffin's show. When Steve is too drunk to drive you home, Eddie offers.

A/N: I swear this was supposed to just be a one and done Eddie fic, but oops I got carried away and there's gonna be a part 2 (steddie) sometime in the next few days. Partially unedited, ends on a cliffhanger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SMUT BELOW THE CUT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You, Steve, and Robin pull up to the shitty little dive bar that Corroded Coffin is playing tonight. You’re nervous, but you’re not sure why. It’s not like Eddie is even going to notice you. You’re just here to enjoy the show and have a fun night out with your best friends. Besides, you haven’t seen Eddie since you were all in high school and you hardly spoke with him then. He probably doesn’t even remember who you are.

Steve has no clue about your little crush on Eddie Munson. He has no idea that he’s the only reason you dragged them to the Corroded Coffin show. Robin, on the other hand, has been forced to listen to your lust filled rants about Eddie on more than one occasion.

“Alright, I’ll grab the drinks, you guys go find us a good clean spot to watch them.” Steve shook his head as he made his way to the bar at the back of the room.

You and Robin found a small table against the wall to the side of the stage. As you two placed your purses and jackets down you looked up and saw Eddie walking towards the bar and your heart skips a beat. He was cute, more than cute, really.

“Oh God. Why don’t you just go talk to him? It’s not like you two don’t already know each other.” Robin is rolling her eyes as she follows your line of sight to Eddie.

“Because. What would I even say? ‘Hi Eddie, remember how we hardly talked during high school and weren’t even friends? Well, I’ve actually got such a huge crush on you that I dragged my two best friends to your show tonight.’ I mean, come on, Robin.” You let out a heavy sigh and sit down on the stool.

Robin finishes draping her jacket over her chair and sits down, “Well, maybe don’t say that. I was more so thinking of something along the lines of ‘hi.’ You know, something normal.”

“What are we talking about?” Steve says as he sets down the drinks.

You catch Robin’s eye and give your head a subtle shake. “Oh, we were just saying how I think that girl over there at the bar is so cute. Y/N was saying I should go talk to her, but I’m just way too nervous.” Robin winks at you as Steve cranes his neck trying to see what girl she’s talking about.

“I didn’t see a cute girl at the bar.” Steve says.

“Oh she must have left already. Anyway thanks for the drinks, I think they’re about to start soon.” Robin spins around to face the stage while Steve is still scoping out the venue for girls.

As all three of you sip your beers and continue talking, the lights dim and Eddie walks onto the stage. You’ve got butterflies already. Robin turns back to look at you, she’s got a knowing smirk on her face. You roll your eyes and take another swig of your drink.

After the first few songs, you start to loosen up a little bit. Steve has gotten you your second beer and you’re almost ready for your third. You really weren’t planning to drink a lot tonight, but you have been wanting to talk to Eddie and you figured the alcohol would make it a little easier.

The next time Steve goes to the bar, Robin pulls you towards the front of the stage. “Robin, what are you doing?”

“Trying to help you get a closer look at your future boyfriend.” Robin is giggling so hard that a few drops of her beer splash over the rim of the bottle.

“Please.” You’re rolling your eyes again, but you’re definitely enjoying the close up view of Eddie. You rake your eyes over him and you can’t help but linger on the spot right below his belt buckle.

“I see you guys are getting in on the action!” Steve comes up behind you and hands you and Robin another beer. “I’m gonna go hang at our table. I’m trying to get this girl’s number, told her to meet me over there.” He walks off towards your table.

You turn back around to face the stage, and notice Eddie is looking right at you. Eddie Munson is looking at you. Your breath catches in your throat as he looks away towards the other side of the crowd.

Robin nudges you and says “Oh my god! He totally just looked right at you!”

You punch her arm and laugh, but a tingly feeling flows throughout your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Corroded Coffin’s set, you and Robin head back to your table to find Steve deep in conversation with a girl that Robin apparently knows.

“Well, I’ve got to run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back you guys.” You head to the bathroom in the back corner of the venue.

You fix your hair in the mirror before walking back outside. As you make your way back to the table, an arm reaches out in front of you to stop you.

“Hey, didn’t we go to high school together?” It’s Eddie. He drops his arm and steps in front of you.

“Wow, you scared me. Uh yeah, we did.” Your voice is a little shaky. You can’t believe Eddie is talking to you. You knew it was probably no big deal. It’s not like he was actually famous or anything. His band played at a few dive bars around town and that was really it.

“I’m glad you came out to the show. Did you have fun? I gotta say, I didn’t think this would be your scene. From what I remember, in high school you were in a different crowd.” He’s smiling down at you.

You look past him to see Robin staring at you with her eyebrows raised. Steve is also staring at you, the girl he was previously talking to had left. You raise your eyebrows back before turning to look up at Eddie. “Yeah, I remembered you had the band in high school and saw you guys were playing tonight. I thought we’d come check you out.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder and you see Robin and Steve quickly glance away. “I see you’re still friends with Steve Harrington.” He says his name with an annoyance in his voice. Eddie and Steve didn’t exactly get along in school and it seems like Eddie hasn’t forgotten that.

You chuckle nervously, “Yep. We’re still friends. So, the show was good. You were really great up there.”

“Thanks. That means a lot. I’m glad you had fun. I’ll let you get back to your friends. Maybe I’ll see you around some other time? We’re playing here again next weekend.”

“Maybe we’ll come watch you guys again.” As you walk back towards Steve and Robin, you try not to overthink too much about your conversation with Eddie.

“Didn’t know you were friends with The Freak.” Steve is saying as you all start gathering your things.

“Oh shut up, Steve. We’re not in high school anymore. Can you at least try to act like an adult?” Robin elbows Steve in his side earning a little “ow” from him.

As you all walk to Steve’s car, you’re telling them about Eddie’s band playing here again next weekend. It takes some convincing from you and Robin, but Steve offers to drive again next weekend.

“Do you like him or something?” Steve is asking you as he drops you and Robin off at your apartment.

You roll your eyes at Steve and say, “No, I just think it would be fun. And maybe next time you’ll have a little more luck getting some numbers.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Steve says before he drives off leaving you and Robin giggling at the door.

You and Robin spend the night overanalyzing the conversation you had with Eddie. Or rather, Robin spends the night listening to you ramble on and theorize your outfit for next weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the next weekend rolls around, you’ve spent countless hours going over how you’re going to talk to Eddie again. You’re still too nervous to approach him first, but you know you can’t leave the show without speaking to him.

You hear Steve honk his horn outside and you make your way out front with Robin trailing behind you. Robin had been helping you get ready and listening to you freak out over what you should say to Eddie tonight.

“You girls ready to go? I hope this time is better than the last time.” Steve puts the car in drive and heads toward the bar.

Robin snorts and says, “Steve, you can’t base the fun you have on how many girls’ numbers you get. There’s more to life than girls.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk.”

When you arrive at the bar, Steve grabs your drinks again and you and Robin head to the same table as last time. Robin nudges you, “Look who’s over there.” She’s smiling and you follow her gaze to the side of the stage where Eddie stands holding a guitar case and surveying the bar.

When he spots where you and Robin are sitting he walks up to you. “Hi guys. Excited for the show?”

You’re too nervous to speak, luckily Robin chimes in with, “Oh yeah. You guys were great last time.”

Eddie turns to look at you. You notice how handsome he is when his smile stretches all the way to his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be a lot of fun.”

Just then, Steve returns and sets the beers down on the table. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

Eddie just gives him a little nod and says, “I gotta get up there, but I’ll catch you guys after the show.” When he says it, he’s just looking at you. You feel a tingling go through your body. You feel electric and you can almost feel the blush creeping up your face.

Steve stares after Eddie before turning back around to say, “Jeeze. What’s his problem?”

Throughout the show, you catch Eddie’s eyes a few times. Of course, Robin immediately notices and nudges you each time. When it’s Steve’s turn to grab the drinks, Robin is asking you if you’re actually going to make a move on Eddie tonight.

“I have no idea. I mean, I want to, definitely. It’s just, I don’t know, we’re total opposites.” You gulp down the last of your beer. Robin assures you that Eddie would be interested just as Steve reappears with the drinks. You notice he’s swaying a little bit as he sets them down and you’re worried he won’t be able to drive home.

Corroded Coffin finishes their set and starts packing up, but Eddie breaks away and heads straight to your table. You stand up to greet him and that’s when you realize just how drunk you actually are. How many beers had you had? At least four, maybe even five? “Hi Eddie.”

“Hey. Like the show?” He’s still only looking at you and you’re not sure if it’s because he has something against Steve and doesn’t know Robin all that well or because he wants to look only at you.

“Yeah it was really great!” You’re excited and slurring your words.

All four of you talk for a few minutes longer before Eddie excuses himself to help the band finish packing up their equipment.

Eddie is only gone for a few minutes when he returns just as you’re all gathering your things and getting ready to leave. Steve stumbles as he stands and he grabs the table for support. Eddie sees this and says “Hey man, you all right? If you’re not good to drive I can drop you all off.” Eddie offers.

Steves starts to protest saying that you’re all going to different places, but Eddie cuts in with, “Really, it’s no problem. I’ve got the van, you guys can just pile in the back.”

Robin and Steve turn to face you and your eyes are wide. Eddie Munson driving you home after his show? Of course, he’s also driving Robin and Steve home. And it’s because you’re all too drunk to safely get home. It’s nothing exciting. “Yeah, yeah. That would be really great, thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie leads the three of you out to his van. He offers you the front seat which you happily accept and the other two climb in the back.

You can hear Steve and Robin giggling in the backseat. You’re hoping Robin isn’t drunk enough to spill your secret longing for Eddie. You know this is just a little crush and you’ll get over it.

You give Eddie directions to Steve’s then to Robin’s house. Eddie pulls up in front of Robin’s and you get out to walk her to her door. “This is your chance, Y/N. You better go for it.” You whisper at her to shut up as she slips inside.

Not much is said on the way to your apartment, but you’re filled with an electric buzz throughout your body. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re sitting next to Eddie.

“Thanks so much for the ride. I really appreciate it.” You say as you start gathering your things. Eddie responds that he’s glad to give you a ride. You’re not looking at him, but it sounds like he’s smirking and you blush at where your mind goes.

You try to get out of the van, but you can’t seem to grasp hold of the door handle without dropping all your things. You laugh as you realize the alcohol is catching up to you.

“Okay, hang on, sweetheart.” Eddie notices you struggling, gets out of the van, and walks around to the passenger side. He opens the door for you to help you out. “Let me walk you in, I’ll carry your things.”

You hand over your things in silence as you process that Eddie just called you sweetheart. You watch as Eddie fiddles with your keys before finding the one to unlock the door. “Ladies first.” He has one hand on your elbow and the other is pushing the door closed behind you.

As he sets your stuff down on the entry table you catch yourself saying, “Do you want to stay? I mean, just have a cup of coffee or something? Unless you’re tired. I know it’s late.”

Eddie says that he would love to, so you head to the kitchen and start preparing a pot of coffee. When you turn back around, you’re hit with an overwhelming sensation in your stomach. You’re going to vomit now. There’s no way you can make it to the bathroom so you lean over the sink and heave.

The next thing you know, Eddie is there behind you. He’s taking out the hair tie that had been holding his long hair in a loose bun and pulls your hair away from your face to tie it back. You’ve never been more embarrassed in your life. You’re vomiting in your kitchen sink in front of Eddie Munson who is currently rubbing small circles between your shoulder blades. Through your noises you can hear him saying, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Despite your current situation, a rush of heat shoots down to your core.

Eddie helps you to your bed, leaving to grab a glass of water. When he returns, you’ve slipped under the blankets and are almost asleep. “There’s a glass of water on your nightstand. Call me in the morning and I’ll take you to get the car.” He says before turning to leave.

“Wait. You can stay here, it’s late.” You call out to him from your half asleep state.

Eddie stands in the doorway, debating on what to do. Part of him wants to leave to not make things awkward for the both of you in the morning. He’s not sure if you mean he can sleep on your couch or your bed.

As if reading his mind, you tap on the bed and roll over sleepily. He doesn’t need any more insistence and takes his jacket off before tossing it on the ground and crawling into bed next to you. He leans up to look at you and realizing you’ve already fallen asleep, he lays back down. As he does, he catches a glimpse of lacy black underneath your skirt that’s crept up your thighs.

Eddie is completely still on his back next to you. He’s never told you this, but he had a huge crush on you in high school. He was more than surprised when he’d noticed you while he was on stage last weekend. During the entire set, he had been thinking of ways to talk to you before you left. He was a little disappointed when he realized you were friends with Steve and he’d been hoping Steve wasn’t going to talk you out of coming to the next show.

When he’d seen you again tonight, he couldn’t wait to talk to you. He’d been hanging out at the side of the stage, waiting for you to walk in. He spent the entire show trying not to stare at you the whole time. He felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He loved the way your short skirt flowed around your thighs.

Eddie felt you shift, as he looked over he saw that you had kicked off your half of the blanket. With your skirt almost completely up your thighs, he had a perfect view of the lacy black underwear you were wearing. He felt the bulge in his pants grow.

He knew it wasn’t right to stare, but he couldn’t help it. As quietly as he could, he undid his belt buckle and unzipped his jeans. Slowly, he pulled his pants down just enough to free his hardened cock.

As Eddie began stroking himself, he imagined what your hand would feel like wrapped around him. He thought about you staring into his eyes as your hand went up and down. He wondered what you would taste like.

Eddie continued to pump his hand up and down while alternating between staring at your ass and imaging all the things he could do to you. He lifted his shirt just as he spilled onto his stomach. Carefully, he got out of bed and made his way to your bathroom to clean up.

When he returned, he draped the blanket back over you and laid down next to you. He wasn’t sure how he was going to fall asleep with the knowledge that he’d just finished himself off a few inches away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you’re awoken to the sound of a voice coming from your kitchen. It takes you a second to remember that Eddie Munson spent the night.

“Oh, you know what, here she comes now.” Eddie hands you the phone as you walk sleepily into the kitchen. You see he’s already made a pot of coffee and is now cooking breakfast.

You know it’s Robin before you put the phone to your ear, you can already hear her voice. “Y/N, was that who I think it is that answered your phone? Was he there all night? What happened!”

“Yes and yes. I’ll call you later okay?” You hung up before Robin could say anything else. “Hey, thanks for the coffee. You really didn’t have to make breakfast though.”

“After what you did last night, I figured you’d need some energy this morning. Don’t worry about it.”

You’re shaking and it’s not from the alcohol last night. You’re still trying to piece together what happened. After what I did? What did I do? And then it all comes rushing back to you. You vomited in your kitchen sink right in front of Eddie Munson. And then you invited him to bed. And he accepted the offer.

Eddie sets a plate down in front of you and leans against the wall sipping his coffee. “I figure we can pick Steve up, take him to get his car. And then…” He pauses, unsure if he should say what he’s thinking. You raise your eyebrows and he continues, “And then I was thinking later tonight, you might want to grab dinner? With me, of course.”

You almost choke. Is Eddie asking you out on a date or are you reading way too much into things? “Yeah, yeah sounds good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eddie drops you back off at your apartment after taking Steve to pick up his car. As soon as you’re through the door, you’re calling Robin. “Robin, oh my god.” You gave her a recap of exactly what happened the previous night - vomiting included.

“You threw up in your kitchen sink and he still slept in the same bed as you. Wow.” Robin is laughing hysterically. “Steve, did you hear that? She threw up!”

“STEVE is there? Oh god, Robin I don’t want more people knowing about this. It’s embarrassing enough that I have to know.” You groan and slide down the kitchen wall to the tile.

Steve has grabbed the phone from Robin. “Are you dating Eddie now? Because if that freak can get a date easier than I can, I swear…”

“Shut up. No, we’re not dating. Nothing even happened. Sure, we slept in the same bed, but that’s it. Okay?” Even as you’re saying it, you still can’t believe it happened. You tell Steve and Robin bye before you hang up and start getting ready for your date with Eddie.

As you’re in the shower, you think of all the things that could have happened had you not passed out. Your hand slips down to your folds as you slide your fingers around in small circles. You’re imagining it’s Eddie’s hands touching you. As you climax, you’re imagining Eddie’s fingers pumping in and out of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re just finishing getting dressed as you hear a knock on your door. “Come in! I’ll just be a minute!” After trying on almost everything you own and calling Robin countless times for advice, you’d settled on a short flowy black dress.

When you emerge from your room, Eddie is sitting on the couch. As he looks up at you his eyes go wide and all of a sudden you feel self conscious. You look down at yourself and smooth your hands down your dress. “You look…incredible.” Eddie finally manages to choke out.

You smile at him and he almost melts. He rakes his eyes over you and without meaning to actually do it, he licks his lips. “You ready to go?” He stands up and grabs your hand, leading out to his van.

You feel an electric buzz that flows throughout your body, centered on where your hands meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You can hardly remember dinner as Eddie opens the passenger door to his van, helping you inside. You spent the entire time trying to think of ways to invite Eddie back to your apartment after dinner. You also spent quite a bit of time staring at his hands and imagining what they could do to you. So by the time you’re settled inside the van, your core is already pulsing with need.

When Eddie arrives at your apartment, you’re surprised when he gets out of the van to follow you inside. “I thought we could hang for a little longer? I’ve been really enjoying talking to you.” He says shyly as you set your things down.

The two of you sit on the couch and continue the conversation you’d been having about Steve. “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him, I promise.” You’d been trying to convince Eddie that Steve was actually a great friend.

“Well, I’ll believe that when I see it.” Eddie shrugs his shoulders.

Neither of you have mentioned the previous night. You know it’s probably not a big deal, nothing happened and Eddie was just taking care of you after you’d drank too much.

“Want a beer?” Eddie nods his head ‘yes’ so you head to the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge.

When you return to the living room and hand Eddie the beer, your hands brush and neither of you pull away. When you sit down next to him, Eddie leans forward to set his beer on the coffee table. He turns to look at you, “You know, you really do look incredible. Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

You can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you set your beer down next to his. “T-thank you. You look pretty handsome too.” And he does. He’s wearing dark jeans, black shirt, and a dark leather jacket. You can’t help but think what he looks like under his clothes. As you look him up and down, your eyes stop on his lap. You can see a bulge, a very big bulge, under his jeans.

Eddie sees you notice and lets out a little chuckle. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach towards him and run your hand from his temple to his cheek.

Eddie stills, shocked. After a second, he grabs your waist and pulls you on top of him. Foreheads touching, you stare into each other’s eyes for just a split second before your lips meet.

Eddie’s hands are roaming up your back now, your hands tangled in his hair. “Fuck. I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you at the bar.” He says into your mouth.

“Mm. Me too.” You breathe just as he rolls his hips hitting your sensitive bud and you let out a moan.

This is better than he imagined in your bed last night while he pumped himself. “I touched myself last night thinking about this. I was thinking about all the things I want to do to you.” He licks a stripe up the side of your face.

His words and the friction make you moan into his ear. You tell him how you fingered yourself in the shower, imagining his fingers inside you.

Eddie swears he could cum just from hearing you talk. He scoots you back so he can pull his jeans down before grabbing your hips and rolling them across his cock. Eddie lifts up your dress and pulls your panties to the side. “Is this what you want?” He asks as his finger brushes your clit.

“Mhm. Yes, please, Eddie.” Your hands are pulling his hair and you place kisses down his face before sucking a mark on his neck.

Eddie lifts you up so he can swipe himself through your folds before lining himself up with your entrance and sliding you down. You gasp as you take the full length of him before tugging his hair even harder.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to his size before bucking up into you. You can’t hold in the moans that escape from your mouth and your entire body is trembling. You’ve never felt so full. You weren’t a virgin, but it felt like Eddie was stretching your walls as far as they could go.

“Yeah? Is this what you thought about in the shower?” You can’t speak so you just nod your head ‘yes’. “Use your words, baby. I want to hear you.”

“Y-yes, this is b-better than what I imagined.” Eddie moved his hands from your hips to pull you to his chest. He cradled your head with one hand with his other resting on your lower back.

Kissing your head he murmured praises into your ear. “You’re doing so good.”

“Eddie.”

Still inside you, he lifts you up and carries you to your bedroom. Placing you down on the edge of the bed and kneeling between your legs, he continues to pump in and out of you. Pulling your dress up he groped at you while using one hand to pull your legs to his neck. “Oh, you’re so wet for me, baby. Gonna cum soon?”

You can’t form words, you moan in response. But remembering what Eddie said earlier you manage, “Gonna cum.”

“Cum on me, baby.” he moves the hand from your tits to circle your clit. In seconds, you’re gushing around him. “That’s it, show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

Incoherent words and moans fall from your mouth as Eddie fucks you through your high. His thrusts become erratic and he’s moved to holding both your legs up against his chest. He’s gripping your calves so tightly, you know you’ll have bruises.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?”

Shakily, you whisper, “Inside me. Please.”

“All mine.” Eddie pulls you towards him as he thrusts and releases himself deeply inside of you. “Fuck.” He whispers as he lets your legs down and helps you into the bed. His jeans still around his ankles, he takes them off before climbing in beside you.

You turn to face Eddie, your eyes glazed over, “I guess our date went well.” He laughs and pulls you in tighter.

Eddie is tracing shapes along your back, “We’re playing at the bar in a few days. What do you say if you come as my girlfriend this time?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You nuzzle your head into his chest.

Just as the two of you are drifting to sleep in each other’s arms, there’s a knock at the door. You both sit up and listen to the person knock again, louder. “Hello? You guys in there?”

You look at Eddie with wide eyes, “It’s Steve.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 is HERE

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you

922 notes · View notes

wonwoosthetic · 1 year

Note

Hi, I was wondering if I could get a Joel x reader pre - outbreak maybe they get in a fight and are giving each other the silent treatment .. I know it’s stupid sorry

Cold Brownies

pairing - pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x female!reader

word count - 6.9k (I got a bit carried away😅)

warnings - a bit of jealousy, fighting, mention of an age gap if you squint, and just a quick mention of smut but nothing explicit, but still very domestic and cute and fluffy ˙ᵕ˙

a/n: aaaaaah, my very first piece about Joel Miller hihi 🤗🫣 and your request was anything BUT stupid!!!! thank you so much for the request! 🤍🤍 I hope you enjoy it ˙ᵕ˙ I loved writing this soooo much, I'm such a sucker for domestic pre-outbreak!Joel😭

series masterlist

2003

“All I’m asking is that you could maybe tone it down a bit, alright?"

You were making your way to the front of the house, Sarah ahead of the two of you with the keys in her hands, ready to open the door, while you were hot on Joel's tracks.

“What- you want me to be rude to them?” He stopped to turn around and glare at you with confusion written across his face. In his right hand, he carried his daughter's bag from the football match you had just come home from, along with the football in his left hold.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!" You threw your hands up in the air in desperation, hoping to bring some sense into his head after noticing this discussion was not going where you had wanted it to go. "No, not rude! I just don’t need to see you all flirty and cute around the single mothers there!”

“They’re not single, Y/N!”

“That makes it even worse!”

With a huff, he turned back around to continue his way into the house. He threw the bag into the corner of the hallway before walking straight ahead past the living room to enter the kitchen. You followed him, closing the front door behind you with a sigh, shaking your head along with it.

It had been evident to you that he wouldn't react to your complaint amazingly, but it was still something you had wanted to bring up after noticing the hungry looks of the women standing by the field. It hadn't been the first time today, and you knew it wouldn't be the last time. And you were tired of just being the side-chick of Joel Miller that would come along on Sundays to cheer on your daughter's football team during their match. Because that's what you felt like. His side-chick. Not his wife. At least not in the eyes of the other mothers.

The two of you were usually known for having little to no fights. You had always been good at communicating, but this time it just seemed to hit you a little deeper and a lot harder.

Once you had caught up with him, your eyes found Tommy sitting at the dining table, munching on what was left of your lunch. Sarah had stopped to stand by one of the chairs right next to him to start a conversation, but they were quickly interrupted by Joel and you.

While you stood in the dining room, your arms crossed, staring at his moving form, he poured himself a cup of probably already cold coffee. “Do you seriously have such little faith in me whenever you see me talking to another woman?” He squinted at you.

Your hands found their way to your hair, brushing it out of your face hastily as you tried to clear your head. “No, God… please, it’s not you that I don’t trust-“

“But those women?! Why?! They just want to talk!” At this point, Tommy and Sarah shared a quick glance, immediately recognizing they shouldn't be in the room with you anymore. They quickly stood up and rushed out, leaving you two in the heated argument that filled the room with anger and tension, as well as frustration and pleads.

You could feel your throat starting to close up, but you swallowed it down, hoping it would buy you some time before you would have to let loose of your emotions. “Because I used to be one of those women that ‘just wants to talk to you’!" You mocked his comment, "And look at where I am now!”

“You gotta be kidding me. You can’t have that little trust in others. OR in me.” Why he wasn't hearing you was still a mystery to you. He used to be so good at communicating.

“It's not that!" You argued, "I just know exactly what these women think of when they come up to you a-and don’t even acknowledge me standing next to you." The emotions started showing earlier than you would've liked to. You had to sniffle, catching Joel's attention as his head shot towards you. He sighed.

“They realise you’re right there, they talk to you just as much.” The man had lowered his voice, hoping a softer tone would make the situation easier. But it wasn't the volume of the discussion that was the problem.

You scuffed, “Yeah, to ask me how you’re doing and if you’ve gotten even more handsome over the last week.”

In any other situation, Joel would've smirked at your statement. Hell, you probably would've delivered it with a proud smirk, knowing exactly that yes, he would in fact get more good-looking with each week passing. You had been trying to convince him of his looks ever since you could remember, for a good four years that you had been together, but there was still a wall in front of him that wouldn't accept any compliment that easily. And that made you all that madder because it seemed like receiving complimenting words from the mothers back at the football field affected him more than yours ever did.

Joel clearly had enough of the scene you were playing out,

"This is getting ridiculous." He raised his hands in defence. “It’s alright, we can talk about this later," walking past you once again to walk into the living room, not finding his daughter nor his brother there, making him wonder where they had gone to.

“No, we can’t.” You fought back, following him with your eyes, only taking a few steps into the other room.

After throwing himself onto the cushioned sofa, he put the mug on the coffee table in front of him. With his hands now free, he was able to lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees he rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Y/N, I really can’t do this right now-“

“You don’t wanna talk about it?" You scoffed, "Fine. Then- Then let’s just not. You’re right. Let’s just pretend this never happened, and I’m overreacting because everything’s fucking fine.” Not wasting another second, you moved your body to the stairs leading to the upper floor.

“Darlin'-“

But you stopped him by shouting down.

“Everything’s fine!”

Everything was in fact not fine. And every single person in the Miller household could tell.

The night before, you were able to avoid your partner most of the time. When Sarah had asked if you'd come to the dining table for dinner, you used work as an excuse to stay in the office corner your husband had built in the garage, sitting at the desk, deep in some documents that you could not concentrate on. Not even for a second.

Before Joel had made his way up to bed, you had already taken a shower and cuddled yourself up into the bed, hiding most of your body under the covers. You weren't asleep when he joined you. But you pretended to be. And it worked. For the entire night, the two of you didn't touch each other, not even with your feet by accident - maybe in your sleep, but how would you have been able to tell.

But still in the morning, while both of you were rushing through the kitchen, getting breakfast, coffee and orange juice ready, while also tugging on your clothing and fixing your hair, moving around the room frantically, you didn't share a word with each other. Not a single one.

Sarah and Tommy eyed you suspiciously from their spots at the dining table. The uncle was slurping on his coffee while the girl had a piece of bacon in her mouth.

"Damn..." the man whispered, receiving a nod from his niece right next to him. "How long has this been going on for?" The silence was something highly unusual for this household. Joel and you were known to be a quite melodic couple. Filling early mornings with chatter and laughter while you tried to brighten up the older man's face, knowing he wasn't the biggest fan of that time of the day. But there you were. Silently moving around each other.

Sarah picked up some eggs with her fork, "Since yesterday. I don't think they've talked through their argument yet," before stuffing her mouth with it.

"You don't say," the man sent her a side-eye, going back to the hot liquid in his mug. "What do you call?" He leaned back.

The girl shrugged, "He did something wrong."

"Well, obviously," Tommy rolled his eyes, "but what?"

"I think it was something about him not realising he's being flirted with and just going along with it because he wants to be nice."

He scoffed, "Idiot..."

"Blind idiot," his niece corrected him, only to get told off by her father.

"Hey," he pointed at her, "Watch your mouth." He didn't have the energy to comment on the other words he had heard coming from them.

Before she was able to say something smart back at him, he continued, "Hurry up eating, I'll be outside in the car." And left the room through the backdoor leading to the garage without another word.

The moment he closed the door, you let out a deep sigh you had held in the entire time the two of you shared a kitchen.

"He'll come back to his senses," the voice of your step-daughter made you walk over to the table, taking a seat in front of your two family members.

The cup of tea in your hands warmed your palm. "I don't know..." you mumbled before bringing the mug up to your lips.

"He's just acting stubborn as fuck," Tommy shook his head.

Sarah gasped, "Don't curse, there are children here." Receiving a subtle chuckle from you.

For a second, you shared a quick moment of silence before you put the mug down, "But am I over-reacting?" You asked them, "Like... am I looking too much into this?" But the shake of their head assured you, making you lean back into the chair with a huff.

"You think I enjoy watching these women gawking over him? It's disgusting. You should be the only one allowed to do that," Sarah explained, tickling a smile out of you.

"Shouldn't you be disgusted by me doing that?"

But she just shrugged, "It's kinda cute," before looking you dead in the eyes, "But don't tell him that."

You chuckled, "I won't. It's not like we're talking to each other these days anyways."

"Look," Tommy had had enough, "Like Sarah said, once Joel gets that stick out of his ass-"

"I never said that."

"Whatever," he jokingly brushed her off, "Once that happens. He'll start apologising. Joel's always been a little oblivious about that stuff. You don’t remember how it was with you?"

"But how?" You wondered, "They're literally undressing him with their eyes!"

"EW, gross!" The young girl exclaimed, making you send her an apologetic smile,

"Sorry..."

"We were taught to be nice and respectful to all kinds of women, Y/N. I don't know what else to tell you," Tommy got up at the sound of his brother's car honking, tapping Sarah on the arm to copy his actions. You watched her disappear back upstairs to grab her backpack while you stood back up to start cleaning the mess that had been left behind from making breakfast.

When you were about to walk past Tommy, his soft grasp on her lower arm stopped you. You looked up to meet his eyes.

"Don't you dare even think that Joel would ever leave you for one of those chicks," he told you quietly, but sternly, "He knows you're way out of his league." His first statement made you smile fondly while the second one made you chuckle and slap his chest.

"Tommy!"

"I'm being serious, Y/N," his hand brushed over the back of your head. He took a few steps back, a smirk still plastered on his lips, "But hey, you know, I still have quite a good amount of friends that would DIE to get to know you."

"Stop it!" You looked around for a cloth to throw at him, doing so once you found a wet one right by the sink. He jumped back, letting it hit the floor, continuing his laughing as he walked towards the back door. "Just saying," he raised his hands, "My brother's an old fuck, you might want to relocate."

You could only shake your head in disbelief, "You're unbelievable, you know that?" Earning yourself a mischievous grin from the younger Miller brother.

You had known Tommy for longer than you had known Joel. You met him at a night out, hitting on one of your friends after you realised that that dude used to be the same guy that had given your parents multiple headaches with that friend group of his in their old restaurant. You remembered them tumbling in some late evenings when you helped out after school, or even just wanted to do your homework in a corner. They pretended to not be drunk, when they definitely were, as best as they could. As much as it annoyed you and your family back then, they did bring a lot of other young people in and within only a few months, you had more visitors than ever. The memory made both of you laugh out loud in the bar and your friendship developed from then on. He even tried setting you up with multiple of his so-called other friends 'that would DIE to get to know you'. But he had failed. HARD. Every single time. His friends were… just not it...

That‘s because you had met his brother, and well... everything fell into place afterwards, leading to you now standing in the kitchen.

"What did you do now?" Sarah wondered, finding the piece of fabric on the floor, glancing at her uncle with her arms crossed.

You shook your head, "Nothing, don't worry about it. He's just trying to be funny."

She rolled her eyes overdramatically, "Ugh... again?" Getting a soft tap on the head from the man in question.

You sent them off with a smile and a goodbye wave, wishing both a good day as they left you alone in the house. All by yourself, along with your thoughts and worries and a good amount of chores to get done.

After Sarah had come back from school, you offered her a serving of the lunch you had prepared on your day off, giving yourself one as well. You sat together by the dining table, chatting about your day while listening to her ranting about her school and her teachers - her English teacher in particular. There was just something she didn't like about that guy.

Before you knew it, the evening had arrived as you got done hoovering the living room, letting yourself fall back into the couch with a heavy breath tumbling from your lips.

The argument from the day before had been haunting you the entire day, draining you of every last bit of energy you had left. You went over everything you had said and all the things you'd want to tell Joel once you were back on speaking terms. And yeah... about that too. How long could the two of you go without talking to each other? You never went longer than a day, so you already broke that record. In all honesty, you didn't want to drag it out for much longer. You hated it. As much as you were still annoyed at your husband and the oblivion he was in, the love and care you felt for him were much stronger than that.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the young girl coming down the stairs slowly. You only looked up at the sound of the stairs creaking underneath her feet.

"Mom?" She softly called out for you, staying behind the wall while searching for your eyes in the softly dimmed room. It had already gotten dark outside and the only light in the room came from the small lamp on the side table to your right.

"Hm?"

Sarah looked down at her feet, her fingers drawing circles on the wallpaper, "I-ehm... so..." you patiently waited for her to continue, "You know how we have bake sales every now and then at school?"

You scrunched your eyebrows at the random question, "Of course... why?"

Then a sheepish smile made its way to her face, "Weeelll..."

"Well?"

"I may or may not have a bake sale tomorrow morning and need something for it," she quickly spilt out, only daring to look up at the end of her statement.

Your hands immediately came up to hide your face, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose, "Sarah... please tell me you're kidding."

"No...," she hugged herself shyly, "Sorry..." Coming a few steps closer, she stopped next to you, joining you on the sofa, the sly grin still on her face.

You sighed, looking at her, "You know, you're gonna be the death of me, right?" But she just showed you her teeth with a wide smile.

"Well..." you collected your thoughts, "Your dad has the car... and if I go to the store now, it'll be closed when I arrive. So... let's see if Tommy can go get some stuff because we have absolutely nothing in this house." You leaned over to reach for your phone that was laying on top of the coffee table.

"No!" The girl beat you and got a hold of your phone first, holding it tightly to her chest.

You looked at her in confusion, "What?"

"Eh... I- Why uncle Tommy? Dad should be on his way back from work now. It'll be way more practical if he buys it."

With a sigh and a nod, you gave in, "Well then, go on. Call him." But she shook her head. Her hand reached out to hand you back the device.

"Why not?" You wondered, slightly worried about the way she was acting.

"...I don't want him to be mad at me." You wanted to say something, but she continued, "If you call him, he won't get mad."

"Sarah..." another sigh of yours rang through your ears as you blinked at her. But she defeated you. With those goddamn puppy eyes, she inherited from her father, that neither you nor Joel could say no to - you more than him usually, but you were in a vulnerable place, so giving in came easily.

"Pleeaase, mom." The small word still brought a smile to your face - she knew exactly how to get you. You may not have been there her entire life, but for a good important chunk of it, and she appreciated that very much. It was on your wedding day when she asked you if she could call you 'mom' from now on. And it made you cry right at that exact moment.

You snatched the phone out of her hands and shook your head with a soft smile on your lips. She knew just how cute she was. After all, she was a very smart little girl.

You got up from the sofa and made your way over to the kitchen, already clicking on the number you had gotten so familiar with. Only two rings later, the deep voice of your partner erupted,

"Hey, everything okay?" You almost smiled at the concern in his voice. He knew you rarely ever called but prefered to send quick texts.

You scratched the back of your neck, "Hi, yeah... ehm... where are you?"

"Just got into the truck, why?"

"So... Sarah just remembered that she has a bake sale tomorrow," you explained, already hearing the deep sigh, along with a cruse word, coming from him, "But I can't make it to the store in-"

"What do you wanna bake, darlin'? What do you need?" You didn't ignore the way your body reacted to the nickname. You couldn't just let it pass like that. Even after all the years of being with him, his sweet tongue still made you feel like a little college girl. The heat rose up to your cheeks, painting them beautifully red as you ushered around the kitchen.

"Eh... wait a second," you opened the refrigerator, "We have eggs, we... don't have butter, so butter. We should have some flour and sugar. But we'd definitely need chocolate or-"

"What about a brownie mix?"

You perked up, "You really want to send your daughter to a baking sale with brownies from a pre-made mix?"

"Why not," he probably shrugged, "I can guarantee you, sweetheart, no one cares," the engine of the car roared in the background.

Unknowingly, your eyes drifted over the counter to the corner where a picture of the three of you was placed. Taken by Tommy, it showed you and Joel hugging the sweet girl in the middle while her face was covered in cake frosting. It was your, back then, boyfriend's idea to make her laugh, and boy, did he accomplish that. The echoes of her high-pitched giggles still roamed your brain as you were brought back to the day of her birthday party when she had turned 11 years old. Already then, the older Miller brother knew he was going to ask you to marry him one day. Never ever had either one of you been that happy when with another person.

That's when the memory of his proposal speech came back to you. Joel was a big romantic. Whether he wanted to admit it or not. But his plans of the original proposal were thrown out the window when a massive storm surprised the entire city, forcing you to stay inside the comfort of your own home.

Since Sarah was over at Tommy's place after the older man had begged him to do so, you had the house to yourself and you better bet, you made the best out of it. After multiple rounds in each other's embrace, exchanging passion and lust for each other, you found yourself in your bed, on his lap, still not tired of kissing the hell out of him. You were surprised when he stopped you for a second with,

"I have something to ask you," whispering it against your mouth before he leaned back to stretch his arm to get whatever he was looking for out of the drawer of his nightstand. You eyed him suspiciously, your fingers still intertwined behind his neck. You could feel your heart genuinely stop for a second or two when your gaze got stuck on the small red velvet box.

"Joel..." The topic of marriage had come up before, of course. But only because he wanted to make sure that the two of you were on the same page, and after doing that, he just had to find the right time to find a ring and actually propose.

He lifted a hand to stop you, "Just wait. Just for a minute," interlocking your eyes with his as he breathed out, "I had this whole thing planned," he shook his head, "I wanted it to be much more romantic than this. But God... I-I can't wait anymore."

Once his actual speech started, you couldn't help the tears in your eyes to well up. You had heard him say 'I love you' so many times before, but that love confession of his was something you had never ever received before. You felt safe with him. Loved, like no one else. How could you have said no? You knew he was the one for you. The one whose arms you wanted to fall asleep in for the rest of your life, only to wake up in a completely different position due to his restless sleeping habit. You wanted to forever hear Sarah remind him of his terrible eating habits, joining forces with her by making him drink more orange juice. You didn't even think you could live without Tommy barging into the house at the most inconvenient times, disturbing any romantic moment you'd get with your partner. That was the future you so desperately prayed for. And now you were finally going to get it.

You snapped back into the present.

"Have we really become those parents?" A soft chuckle dared to escape your lips, but Joel stole it.

"It had to happen someday."

Forty minutes later, the front door opened, making you look up to the left, only to direct your eyes back on the TV as soon his met yours.

"Hey," he talked quietly, finding Sarah asleep in your lap as he passed you.

"Hi," you greeted him back, the tension suddenly thick in the room. You followed him into the kitchen, careful about putting your daughter's head down gently.

You stopped by the fridge, leaning on it, your gaze travelling along with his moving figure while he put away the groceries he had just bought. Even though you were still not in the mood of talking to him, the words from yesterday still lingering with you, you decided to swallow at least a little bit of your pride.

"Thank you," you cleared your throat softly, "for... getting the stuff." He turned his entire body to look at you, eyes slightly wider than usual, sending you a somewhat subtle surprised facial expression.

"‘Course," he nodded.

"Well then... I'll..." Jesus, when did talking become so hard, "I'll let Sarah know we can start."

Just as you were about to walk back into the living room, the voice of your husband took you back, "No, let her sleep."

You moved towards him, "But she needs them for tomorrow, we-"

"I'll do it. I'll make the brownies," he sighed, finishing putting everything away, and leaving the few ingredients he'd need on the counter.

"Joel, no... that's her responsibility," you ignored his body coming towards you as you tried not to raise your voice, keeping it low since the girl was still asleep.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, only to turn you with a gentle touch, making you face the living room, attention immediately on the little girl. A few seconds of silence passed.

"Look at her," the man whispered into your ear, too close for the current tension that was still between you, "You really want to wake her up?"

You shrugged out of his grasp, "Don't make me the bad guy now," brushing past him into the kitchen.

Joel huffed out a deep breath, slightly shaking his head, "I'll get her upstairs." He didn't wait for a response from you, knowing he wouldn't get one anyway and walked over to pick his daughter up into his arms, carrying her upstairs into her bedroom.

In the meantime, you decided to get to work, reading the instructions on the brownie-mix packaging. You preheated the oven and made sure the eggs weren't too cold before looking for the fitting bowl, which wasn't where it was supposed to be. A sigh fell from your lips. Joel had a habit of putting stuff into new places and not where you had insisted they should be.

"In the cupboard next to the dishwasher," his deep voice suddenly spoke up from behind you, "I forgot where you usually put it."

With a quiet, almost silent 'thanks' you went to grab it before putting it next to the rest of the stuff. Joel was next to you within the blink of an eye, taking the bowl from your grasp.

"I can-"

"Let me," he softly argued back, bringing the eggs closer to him before starting by opening up the brownie mix and pouring the powder into the bowl.

"Joel-" you wanted to talk back, but his hand on top of yours on the counter stopped you,

"I wanna help," he gazed down at you, while you had to look up to meet his eye. It only lasted for a second, before you moved again, on the look for the next thing you'd need: a brownie baking dish. Thankfully, it was where you remembered you had put it.

The two of you worked separately from each other. You, just as much as Joel, were still very aware of the weight on both of your shoulders. The argument was still undiscussed and it was weighing you down. Both of you. The only interaction you shared was putting the baking tin in front of him to pour the batter in.

After you shoved it into the oven, with a quiet "careful" from your partner as he opened the oven door for you, there was no longer any sound that accompanied the silence between you two. Now it was just true stillness. No clinker, no whisk hitting the bowl, or anything else.

Neither one of you wanted to be in this position as you stood opposite of each other, each leaning back on the counter. You wanted to scream to break the tension. Thankfully, Joel took the lead.

"Darlin'," still that soft tone lacing his voice, "I'm-"

"No, Joel-"

"Please," he looked up at you, hoping to meet your eyes, only for you to find the same ones that had begged for you to call him your husband. The same puppy-eyed look. "May I?" He was so gentle, just how you knew him. You nodded, followed by crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

"I'm sorry." He spoke honestly, standing up straighter, "I'm sorry for what I said and... I'm sorry for being a blind idiot."

Your eyes fell down to your feet, running your toes along the wood as a smile crept its way onto your face at the mention of Sarah's choice of words.

"You're not an idiot," the sudden sound of your voice reaching his ear made him take a deep breath. You looked back up at him. "Maybe blind, but not an idiot."

But he shook his head, "No, I am." He started playing with his hands, "But can you blame me?" The scrunch of your eyebrows in confusion made him continue, "For four years, my eyes have only been on you. All I care about is you. And Sarah, of course," he added quickly, making you grin. He smiled at the sight, daring to take a step closer to you, noticing you warming up at his words, "I could not give less of a fuck about those other women. You're the only one that has been occupying my mind. I promise you that." They were small steps, but soon enough, he stopped right in front of you, keeping one foot between you two, and meeting your glassy eyes with his soft ones. "I haven't had to flirt with anyone in forever. How am I supposed to notice it then, when someone else is doing it to me? Especially, when it's not my wife. I don't care. I might continue being nice because that's just the human thing to do, but God... I..." he took a deep breath, taking that last step to be all that much closer to you. He trapped you in between his arms, resting his palms against the counter on either side of you. His left hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently moving against your skin. "I only have eyes for the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I, the lucky bastard that I am, got to marry her." He caught the tear falling from your eye, leaning forward to kiss the wet stain before it could roll down your cheek. But his action just brought more tears into your eyes as your brain ran through the words you had just heard. You couldn't hold back a sniffle.

"Don't make me cry," you tried to free yourself from his grasp, bringing your hands to your face, trying to hide your weeping face from your husband, but he was having none of that, immediately getting a hold of your hands and pulling them down.

"I'm sorry, Gorgeous," Joel replaced your hands with his, wiping away every falling tear while gazing lovingly at you, catching your eyes never leaving his face.

You sniffled again, "I'm sorry, Joel." Both of his hands held onto your face. "I... I trust you with my life, I really do," you tried to speak through your tears, making the corners of his lips curl up, "B-But those women... at the match-"

"It's okay," he leaned forward once again, peppering your cheeks with gentle kisses over and over again, while a small smile appeared on your face at the feeling of his close touch again. "I get it," he kept on holding onto your face, making sure you kept your eyes on him, "I don't trust other men either. I know you're way too good for me. I'm a blind idiot that doesn't deserve you."

You started giggling as you hit his chest, "Stop, no," sniffling one last time when the tears had stopped falling from your eyes.

"No, I am. I realise that now," he assured you, shaking his head, "Jesus... I had to listen to Sarah calling me that like... a dozen times. And that was just on the way to school. Plus I got a big fat scolding from Tommy. He threatened to hook you up with his friends." Joel followed you with laughter after you erupted in giggles from his story, your forehead falling to his chest while your arms came up around his lower torso as his wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you to him as tightly as he possibly could, breathing in the beautiful scent of your hair.

You decided to enjoy a few moments of comfortable silence, staying engulfed in each other's arms before you leaned back a bit to lift your head, making him look down at you. The same smile on his face as it was present on yours.

"No one could ever replace you," you assured him. In the next moment, not giving your husband any time to react, you stood up on your tippy toes and puckered your lips, indicating for him to lean down, which he did without even thinking for a second. It was a natural reaction.

You only gifted him a quick peck before pulling back again.

"I love you, Joel." Followed by another quick kiss.

"I love you so much more, darlin'," he spoke against your lips, his finger tracing down the side of your face.

You squinted your eyes at him, "Mmmm... I don't think that's possible." Your comment made his eyebrows shoot up, "Oh?" He teased you, "You want me to show you that it is in fact possible?"

The not-so-subtle blush was evident on your cheeks as you pressed your lips together, "You know I'd never say no to getting dicked down."

Joel wanted to grin, SO BADLY. But he kept up his act, just staring down at you in confusion. "Getting dicked down? The hell you talkin' about, woman?" Unknowingly, the two of you started gently swaying side to side as he looked around the room, "I was thinkin' 'bout making you a nice dinner, a bit of cuddlin' maybe-"

You pinched his side, getting his attention back to you. He glanced at you with a wicked smile decorating his face. He leaned down closer to you, stopping just as your lips were about to touch, "But I can work with your idea as well.“

You were first down in the kitchen the following morning. Dressed and styled for work, with a pleased look never leaving your face. You felt good again. The invisible weight had clearly been lifted off you as you swiftly moved through the kitchen. The smell of pancakes filled the room when the cute familiar voice of your daughter made you turn around.

"Mornin'."

You smiled as she walked up to you, hugging your side, hiding her still sleepy face in your shoulder, "Good morning, sweetie," you patted her unruly, yet beautiful curly hair.

She went to grab her beloved orange juice from the fridge before settling down at the dining table just like every other morning. Finally, a normal morning again. A comfortable small talk erupted between the two of you as you asked her about the school day she had ahead of herself.

In the middle of it, you brought a plate of pancakes to her, placing it right under her nose, along with a fork and the maple syrup she enjoyed so much. As soon as your back was turned towards her, eyes on the other pancakes sizzling in the pan, the third and final person in the house came down the stairs. You would be able to recognize those heavy footsteps from a mile away.

Joel greeted his daughter first, kissing the top of her head, "Mornin', baby girl." Before he joined you next to the stove, his arm immediately wrapping around you, to turn you towards him, "And a good mornin' to you too, gorgeous," smashing his lips onto yours. Your hand found its way to his cheek while his stopped at your ass.

"Children are present!" Making you lean back with a chuckle, slapping his hand to move from his position.

He turned around to jokingly glare at the girl, "Look away!" To which she just rolled her eyes.

Joel brought you back into his arms, giving you a few more kisses before getting interrupted another time, making him groan and you giggle.

"Oooooooh, well don't you two look adorable!" The younger Miller brother exclaimed, entering the house with a wide smile plastered on his face. He took his signature seat next to Sarah, stelling a piece of pancake from her, "Mom and dad getting along again?"

She nodded, "Looks like it."

Your husband wanted to get one more kiss from you, but a plate being shoved into his chest stopped him. He looked down before gazing into your eyes again, "Chocolate chip?"

"Blueberry." Your answer made him look at you with scrunched eyebrows. "Vitamin C," you grinned, giving his cheek one last peck before ushering him out of the kitchen.

You watched the three sitting at the table, smiling at the little family in front of you when you remembered something.

"Oh!" You moved back into the kitchen, snatching the Tupperware box from the counter, and bringing it into the dining room with you. "Here, sweetie, don't forget these."

"Ah, thanks, mom," she smiled at you, taking the box and placing it right next to her.

Tommy eyed the box, "What's that?"

"Brownies," you simply answered, taking a seat on the only other free chair, "We baked them for her last night."

"What are you celebrating?" His question was directed at his niece but you answered him.

"Nothing, her school's having a bake sale." Joel nudged your arm, his fork right in front of you, waiting for you to open your mouth, so he could feed you a piece of his pancakes. You knew better than to say no, remembering all the times you had tried to do that and he'd basically won and made you take the food in one way or another.

The younger brother glanced at you in question, "No, she doesn't?"

"Yes, she does, she forgot and told me yesterday."

But he just shook his head again, taking a quick look at his niece, "No, you don't. I know whenever those bake sales are." As soon as he saw the looks on your and Joel's faces, he quickly continued, "All the pretty teachers are outside during them, and I... you know... just happen to be there coincidentally. Buying them all that stuff from those kids."

You closed your eyes in disbelief, shaking your head, "Jesus..."

The older brother shrugged, "Can't say I'm surprised about that."

Tommy moved his attention towards Sarah again, "So what the heck were you talking about?"

All eyes were on the little girl, giggling in her seat as she leaned back in the chair, the curls on her head bouncing along with her laughs. "Yeah... so ehm... maybe that was a bit of a lie," sending you a sheepish smile.

"What?!" You exclaimed, switching between looking at her and your partner to your right.

She immediately raised her hands, "But you two are talking again!"

"What does that have to do-"

"OOOOOH," Tommy shot up from his seat, engulfing his niece in a tight hug, "You smart little girl, oh I love you," kissing the top of your head multiple times. All while Joel and you sat there, at least sharing the confusion between each other.

Your husband put his fork down, "Are we morons? What am I not getting here?"

His brother grinned at him, walking past him to slap the back of his head, "Your amazing daughter tricked the two of you into talking to each other again," he sang and stopped to stand in between the two of you, throwing his arms around you, pulling you in close, "She got all that smartness from me."

"Sarah!" You couldn't believe your ears. That little 13-year-old girl... you knew she was smart... but damn... Where did she learn how to read people that well?

She smiled, standing up to bring her plate into the kitchen, "It worked though!"

Tommy released you to follow her, finally looking for his mug to get his morning cup of coffee.

The two of you stayed seated, still in disbelief at what you had just found out. You got tricked. Tricked you into putting your guard down and giving into the sweet mouth of your husband. She knows both of you too well.

"That's your kid," you pointed at the girl by the dishwasher while looking at Joel, who grinned at you, his hand now on your thigh.

His other hand wrapped around your finger, pushing it down and pulling you into him. "That's our kid. Our very smart kid," he smiled against your lips, making you do so as well before the soft touch of his mouth against yours sent a tingle through your body once again. You could never get tired of that, that was for sure.

There was the future you had always dreamed of.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#Joel miller x reader #Joel miller #imagine #imagines #one shot #Pedro pascal #x reader #the last of us #pre-outbreak!Joel x reader #domestic #fluff #pre-outbreak #joel x wife!reader #x wife!reader

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azsazz · 1 month

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Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,217

Notes: Love this tbh!!!

_________________________________________

You feel him before you see him.

You can feel him all the time; even when he’s courts away there’s that connection humming blissfully in your chest. It’s comforting, to know that your mate is alive and well, that there’s a surety you’re aware of him and how he’s feeling. When he’s content in a warm bath with a glass of fae wine smoothing the creases between his brows. When he’s squaring his shoulders and surging with pride for the sparring with his brothers he has won again. When he sends a warmth so suggestive down the bond late at night when he’s sure there’s no one around. The very one you feel deep in your soul, that makes your core melt like his fire-filled hands are working your center. The one that leaves no questions whether he loves you or not.

Of course, there are times when you can’t feel him. When he’s blocked the bond from ever reaching you when his father brings his wrath down on him like he’s young and defenseless again. He always hides that from you. When the distance from you becomes too great and there is no choice for him but to block the bond because he knows that there is nothing that can be done in the current state of Pythian. No way for the both of you to be together, no way for him to seize you from the control of your older brother. If you were lesser than the High Lord’s younger sister, he’d sneak across the border lines on a whisper of autumn winds and find his way into your bed.

It’s been ages since you’ve seen your mate, since you looked into those warm russet eyes, ran your fingers through his auburn hair, counted the freckles dotting the pale skin of his cheeks.

Your breath catches in your throat as Eris is escorted into Rhysand’s office and your eyes meet.

A sense of relief floods the bond as his eyes move over you in an intentional sweep that to everyone else in the room looks like he’s wondering why you’re here, but you know your mate is assessing you for injuries even though you’re nowhere near injured. Not even a scratch or a bruise on your perfect skin.

No one notices the slight falter in his steps. All Eris wants to do is rush over to you and sweep you in his arms and press you into his chest, feel your heartbeat against his own. He wants to taste that smile you’re trying all too hard to hide from him, move his mouth across the color dusting your cheeks to feel his fire dancing underneath your skin. He wants to strip you bare, devour every inch of you. He wants to hear you scream his name, whisper that you love him, cry for him to take you away, admit that you never want to be apart—

But he’s not even allowed to sit next to you.

Across the large table is as close as he allows himself to get. It’s not close enough that he can accidentally kick his foot against yours and he doesn’t like that you’ve been meticulously placed on the opposite side so he can’t even walk past you and brush his fingers against your hand or the back of your neck.

His bond keens in his chest and he tries his best to stifle it, ripping his gaze away when he’s drawn to you like this.

Eris is flanked by Cassian and Azriel, and even though he feels as if he’s on the best terms he’s ever been with the Night Court, this feels like a set up. A trap.

You allow a caress of reassurance down the bond to your mate. Your brother doesn’t know, no one in this room, in this court, in this continent knows of your connection to the heir of Autumn. Eris’ throat works as he swallows, and you turn your attention away from him as he sends a feeling of understanding back to you.

“Eris.” Rhysand gestures to the autumn born royal to sit. He’s lounging in his own chair at the circular table, an arrogance to him that irks you. It’s all a front, of course, one Rhysand has carefully crafted to perfection from centuries as High Lord. You don’t like that it’s directed at your mate, and you’re feeling more protective than ever, flickering a glance over to the males sitting on either side of your mate, as if they’re caging him in.

Not unusual for an untrusted male in your court. You’ve seen your brother pull this same maneuver more times than you can count, but there’s a charge to the air that feels different. Your spine lengthens and you flare a warning down the bond, praying your mate doesn’t react but readies himself.

He follows your heed with unfaltering trust. Eris’ fingers flex where they’re resting on the arms of his chair, and you watch him unhinge his jaw only slightly, so that he doesn’t flex it. The scalding look on his face stays directed at your brother.

Your lips part and the muscles of your legs tense, ready to jump out of your chair in the next moment, when you catch Rhysand’s smirk, the one that spells trouble. His violet eyes are dark with the promise of violence and his shadows are quick to strike, tendrils of nightmares winding their way around Eris’ wrists, trapping him to the very chair he was offered.

Eris shifts his hands in a nonchalant motion, testing out the strength of the sentient darkness Rhysand uses to hold him hostage. They don’t give an inch and he wonders for a fleeting moment if he can burn them away. If your worry wasn’t heavy in his chest, the beat of your heart spiking double, he would try it. But with you here, he’s not willing to try anything that could potentially put you in danger.

Plus, a part of him wants to hear what Rhysand has to say. The other part of him wants to get you the fuck out of here.

The High Lord of the Night Court plants his hands on the table. High Lord, because there is no ounce of your brother in his eyes and actions right now.

The chair scraping against the floor as Rhysand stands is the only sound in the room. Cassian nor Azriel moves from their seats, but they pin your mate with the menacing kind of looks that mirror Rhysands, ready to follow his every demand, no questions asked.

“Eris,” Rhysand’s voice is not its usual purr as he leans forward. A strand of hair falling across his forehead is the only sign of the crack in his facade, the utter rage filling the room with an unbearable tautness.

The words are sticky in your throat. You can’t move, can’t seem to take your eyes off of your brother as your heart splinters in your chest like it’s his own shadows tearing you to strips. You’re only able to manage a quiet, “Don’t,” that’s filled with too much desperation.

Rhysand ignores your words. He hisses at Eris, dark and low. “How long have you and my sister been keeping this little mating bond of yours a secret?”

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris angst #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar

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flemingsfreckles · 8 days

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Newlyweds

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: You and Jessie finally get married, when you get home, your original plans get derailed by your sleepy wife

Warnings: suggestive, mentions of sex (fingering), getting walked in on, no detailed smut, non sexual nudity, showering together,

WC: 1.6k

A/N: this ended up soft and fluffy, I thought about taking it the smut route but I didn’t, sorry I know yall love some smut, I also finished writing this just now and I’m just gonna post it, it’ll edit it if I find errors but it’s very possible they’re in there.

Jessie was practically cackling as she ran down the hallway of your home toward your bedroom with you cradled in her arms.

“If you fall you’re going to get us both hurt Jessie.” You tried to protest when she went to pick you up outside the front door.

“It’ll be fine! Plus it’s a tradition thing.”

“I think the tradition is the groom carries the bride through the door, last time I checked we’re both the bride.”

“Shhh just let me do it.” You had, reluctantly let her pick you up, bridal style, walking you through the door of your house. It only took 3 steps for Jessie to in fact trip over the rug that sat at the entrance.

Thankfully neither of you were hurt, she had managed to catch both herself and you before either of you hit the floor.

“Jessie!”

That’s what set her off laughing. And she couldn’t stop, she was hysterically laughing as she kept moving, using your body to push open the bedroom door. By the time she placed you on the bed you were laughing too. You couldn’t help it, your wife’s laugh was contagious.

“I cannot believe you almost fell.” You shake your head looking up at where she stood next to the bed. Going limp she flops down onto the bed next to you. She’s laying on her stomach, looking at you as you lay on your back, turned to the side to look at your wife.

“Hi wifey.” She whispers to you, the biggest toothy grin across her face.

“Hi wife.” You lean in and kiss her gently.

You both lay, just staring at each other, soaking in the fact that just a few hours ago you had officially gotten married.

The two of you had joked for so long that you practically were married, being together since you were 17 and 18, you had stayed together falling in love with each other more and more as the time went on. Now being 25 and 26 you finally had done it, in front of all your friends and family, you were married.

As you stare at her you notice her eyes starting to flutter closed, then she’d open them with a couple hard blinks, before they’d start to droop again. The sight is adorable, Jessie’s sleepy face gently placed on the bed.

“Let’s go to sleep Jess”

“No, we’re supposed to, ya know, consummate the marriage.” She cracks her eyes enough to look at you and wiggles her eyebrows.

“Babe, I think that tradition is more for people who didn’t sleep together before marriage, we’ve been having sex for like 8 years.”

“But still, we’ve never had sex as wives.”

“What do you call the fingering in the reception bathroom then?” You counter.

You weren’t too proud of it, but something about seeing Jessie in her tuxedo declaring how much she loved you in front of everyone you both cared about, turned you on. You couldn’t help yourself but to whisper some filthy words into Jessie’s ear as both of you sat having dinner. The two of you had snuck off to a bathroom during your reception to have a moment to yourselves, one thing turned into another and before you knew it Jessie had you sitting on the sink, her fingers under your dress and inside of you.

Jessie’s face turned red at the memory.

“That doesn’t count as consummation, no one finished.” She argues with you.

“That’s not my fault, you can thank your sister for that.”

Jessie’s little, but thankfully adult, sister had come looking for both of you. The photographer needed you both for photos with your brand new wedding bands. You thought you had locked the door when you walked in, turns out Jessie had already made an attempt to lock it, meaning you unlocked it. She had looked everywhere, before she opened the bathroom door, seeing her older sister between your thighs, your dress hiked up around your waist and Jessie’s hand between your legs.

“Oh, you two are disgusting.” She clasped her hand over her eyes. “Wash your hands and both of you get out here, the photographer needs you!” Jessie had been mortified, being caught by her sister of all people, she would’ve preferred a teammate. You had laughed it off and dragged your red faced wife out of the bathroom.

The party continued on for a few hours after and while you were still very turned on by your wife, the exhaustion of the day started to sink in not exactly leaving either of you in the mood for what you knew would be multiple rounds of sex.

You watched as Jessie’s eyes continued to flutter shut each time they shut they stay closed for longer and longer until you’re pretty convinced she wasn’t going to open them again.

“Hey,” you gently nudge her shoulder and her eyes crack open. “Let’s go shower and get changed.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“Come on babe, we can have our first shower together as wives.” Saying the word wife and it not being a joke anymore made you smile.

“So cozy in the bed.” She mumbled as her eyes closed again.

“Alright, hang on.” You stand up, moving over to the side of the bed closest to her, you scoop your arms under her shoulders and the other under her knees. She doesn’t protest as you lift her and carry her into the bathroom.

You gently place her on the floor and give her a kiss. “Let’s get you undressed.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Jessie smirks at you.

“No, you were just falling asleep on the bed.”

She pouts at you, arms crossed. You gently take her wrists, undoing the cufflinks of her dress shirt and then sliding off her tuxedo coat. Your fingers move to the buttons on her vest, undoing those and helping her remove it. Lastly is her dress shirt, she works from the top down as you work to undo the bottom of her shirt. Your hands meet in the middle and she pulls the shirt off and quickly follows it with her sports bra.

“My beautiful wife.” You lean down placing kisses across her exposed skin. While your mouth stays kissing her chest, your fingers move to her belt, undoing it and sliding it out from her pants. She undoes the button on her slacks and lets them fall to the floor. You hands find the elastic of her boxers and you slowly pull them down. Moving your head from her chest you place kisses along both of her thighs as you remove her underwear.

“You’re turn.” She says, you turn away from her to allow her access to the zipper and ties on your dress.

Jessie’s hands find the top tie and begin undoing the knot. “Have I told you enough how beautiful you look?” She says as her fingers move to the next tie. “Absolutely stunning, you took my breath away.” Her hands then move to the zipper, undoing the rest of the dress. She brings her hands up to where the top of the dress sat. She begins pulling it off of your body, similarly to your actions she brings her lips, placing them on every inch of skin on your back she exposes pulling down your dress.

Jessie extends a hand to you to help you step out and over the dress. “Wow.” She takes the time to look you up and down. You had bought a new set of lingerie for the wedding. It was a lacy white set, one you knew would make your wife crazy. “Where did you get this?” Her fingers work into the straps of the bra.

“Oh you know, just something I had lying around.” You joke with her. Her eyes are locked on your chest. “Quit staring, I’ll put it on again tomorrow for you to fully enjoy.” The comment had Jessie biting her lip, likely thinking of what she’d get to do to you after a good night's sleep.

You move your own hands to your bra, unclasping the back while Jessie’s thumbs hook into your matching panties and pull them down your legs. She comes back up to meet your lips with hers.

You both stay for a second, grinning at each other, both overwhelmed with happiness. You pull away to start the shower, while you wait for it to run warm you pull Jessie into your arms, hugging from behind. You turn the two of you toward the mirror above the vanity.

“Look at my wife.” You point in the mirror at Jessie’s figure in front of you.

“Ehh she’s alright but look at my wife!” She teases you back, pointing at you in the mirror.

“I love you, wife.”

“I love you, wife”

Your arms release her, giving her a quick squeeze with your hand on her shoulders. “Let’s hurry up and shower so we can sleep and then tomorrow we can do all the consummating you want.” You give her a wink and she quickly follows you into the shower, the two of you having a moment of peace and relaxation after the day’s festivities. As you looked at her in the shower, you couldn’t help but think how it was just the two of you, and that was all you would ever need. You and her.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt x reader

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lolabangtan · 1 year

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sideshow | jjk

You’re a successful cam girl in need of a hot guy with a big cock, and you think you’ve found your match.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: smut, dub-con fantasy.

# cam girl!reader, coffee shop AU, mutual pining, hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), squirting, face sitting, restraints, unprotected sex, face-fucking, dacryphilia, overstimulation and post-orgasm torture, teasing/degradation, cream pie, cum play, recording kink, dub-con role play, they’re so cute *sobs*

A/N: let’s not ask about this and enjoy it without wondering where the inspiration came from.

You’re always staring at him. When you’re in line waiting for your order, chatting with someone else when he’s nearby, or even when you secretly spot him working as you pass by the window – you’re always staring at Jeon Jungkook.

Your friends mock you for it whenever they get the chance. It’s almost as if you, the sexy, mysterious girl who records herself for a living, having such a silly, wholesome crush on someone was the most amusing thing they’ve ever heard. But a guy like him, so kind and hot and funny, is worth it, and you won’t deny it.

But being honest, they’re right by showing their surprise. You just don’t come off as the kind of girl who’d fall for a guy like him.

Apart from being kind, hot, and funny, Jeon Jungkook is also extremely popular while still being down to earth. An endangered specimen – if there’s ever been one before. He’s got his tattoos, and his adorable dog, and his decent schoolwork managing skills, and his outstanding talent at any sport to ever exist. And in the meantime, you sometimes catch him staring back, so your mind has to work twice as much to fish for an excuse. You just think it’ll be better in the long run.

Because honestly, people always talk. They point at you, make comments, or ask creepy questions. Surely Jeon Jungkook, with his brilliant future, doesn’t want that just because his cock might get hard with one of your videos.

In a way – a stupid, pointless way – you’re always staring at each other.

“You could try and talk to him one day, you know. Maybe then you’ll see there’s literally not a single thought behind those silly doe eyes.”

You can’t help laughing at Seokjin’s words, almost choking on your coffee. “Isn’t that a bit mean? I thought you liked him.”

“And I do!”

“Hm, look at the time.” You check your phone before putting it back into your purse. “I’d better hurry if I don’t wanna keep my sister waiting. We’ll talk later, okay? And I will not approach him just because. I really don’t need any gossip about me.”

Well, you’re just stressed. You need some money for your Spring break trip to the beach, but you aren’t exactly thrifty. Actually, you’re quite the opposite.

So, you’ve come up with an idea: charging for requests and uploading them to your website. The answer from your subscribers was immediate and increasingly positive, with only one problem.

The most voted idea was a POV, which sadly required another person to join you. Someone with a big, nice cock if it’s possible. You’d ask Seokjin, but he’d never let his almost little sister-like friend suck his cock and give him four orgasms in a row. And it’s not something you’d do either in a world where you weren’t desperate.

You’re not going to lie, there’s only one person you’d want to do that video with – and he’s walking out into the backbar right now.

The two of you stop at the same time as you walk past each other. Not noticing his presence next to you, you keep looking at the poster with the newest sweet additions to the menu and sigh with satisfaction at the fact that you’ll be able to keep enjoying your good old butter croissants.

Then you turn around.

“Oh, shit— sorry! God, I’m so clumsy! Let me help you.”

You squat down to pick up the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor. When you look up, you’re met with the sight of a staring Jeon Jungkook bent in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to repeat.

His lips twitch as if he wanted to say something, but the man keeps quiet as you hand him back his stuff. You can’t help looking down at his muscular arms, covered in black ink. Although Jungkook remains impassive and cool, here you are, practically malfunctioning – while he’s probably wondering why the cam girl hasn’t left yet.

“Just— be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”

He does look like a bunny, now that you think of it. A really hot bunny.

Fucking shit, you can’t help it, can you? To stare, to drool, to picture your hands stroking down his chest, kneading the flesh. You love ripped guys, especially when it doesn’t get over their heads. You’d eat him up in a second, pinky promise.

“Sorry,” you say again, standing up. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Y/N! Are you okay?”

Namjoon rushes up to you, breaking the strange silence between you and Jungkook. He sees the mess and starts to pick up the broken pieces, asking you to step back just in case. With a nod, the youngest offers to go and fetch a broom, and Namjoon thanks him.

Your friend lets out a laugh. “Only with my homeboy, huh?”

“Hm?”

“You only get like this with Jungkookie,” he explains. “The rest of the time, you’re a merciless succubus.”

“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you,” you groan.

Namjoon starts wiping the floor, and you help him by picking up the plastic bag.

“Do you think he likes you back?”

You shrug. “I guess he might be attracted to me, but I don’t think he likes me... in that sense. I don’t care, though – it’s not like we’re a match or something. I’m probably just attracted too.”

Jungkook comes back with the broom and cleans the floor while you look around in a poor attempt to avoid his eyes. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, nor the pent-up frustration with which he grips the stick of the broom, his lips twitching again.

“Well, I, uh— I’ll leave you to it. And sorry again, I wasn’t looking.”

With that, you rush out of the coffee shop and run down the street until you reach the number you were looking for. Taking out your keys, you open the door and walk in, going directly to the second floor.

When you get into the flat, the storm unleashes:

“God, I was so worried! You should’ve told me you’d be running late.”

Like always, visiting your older sister comes with a nagging and a steamy cup of coffee. You’re enjoying both of them sitting in her kitchen.

“You’re exaggerating,” you groan.

“Yeah, sure, it’s not like any of your creepy fans could ever doxx you or something and kidnap you.” With a raised eyebrow, you stare at her over the mug. “Hm, okay, just build the habit of telling me if you’re gonna be late, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So” – she turns around with a grin and leaves her mug in front of you – “who is this Jungkook guy and why haven’t you asked him out already?”

Your face turns a bright red. “How do you know about—? Fucking Jin...”

“Come on, you’re usually bolder. You really like him, don’t you?” At your shrugging, your sister chuckles. “You’re entitled to like people, you know that, right? And hit on them, and ask them out. Just because you had a few bad experiences—”

“It’s just not gonna happen,” you blurt out. “You know why? First, because he’s not remotely interested in me. And second, because I know, I just know how this is going to end if I do,” you continue, your face growing warmer. “And I don’t care about all the nice guys out there because, in the end, they’re all the same; dicks with an excuse of a brain.”

“You want to have sex with him, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

She laughs again. “Then try the opposite! You think he’d only be interested in the shagging? Go shag. And then see if he stays.”

You bury your face in the palms of your hands, thankful for the chilly contact. The skin cools down, and a sigh escapes from your lips.

“What if he says no?”

“Then he doesn’t want to fuck. That’s uncommon for a man so, one point for him.”

Ah, yes, your sister and her logic; it’s utterly stupid and yet, you always fail to rebuke her absurd reasoning. It’s almost a talent, you think. Maybe that’s why she’s a lawyer.

“Well, I do have a plan,” you murmur.

Her eyes brighten immediately. “Then go for it, tiger! He’s super cute, and super hot! Better get your heart broken by a ten if all men suck.”

The coffee shop is almost closing when you arrive; you had asked Namjoon who was closing tonight so, when you heard it’d be him, you rushed out of your sister’s place to get there in time. This is a one-time chance.

You spot him behind the window, wiping a cup.

There’s a sigh coming out from his mouth when the door jingles open. The common frustration of having a last-minute customer.

“Hey.”

“Ah— it’s you,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, and you frown. “I-I mean, I thought you were some annoying random, sorry… I don’t mind making you a coffee.”

Oh, that was nice. Very nice.

You quietly take a seat at the counter. “Thanks.”

“Uh, so…” You’re lucky Jungkook isn’t facing you, turned from you instead as he turns on the coffee machine. Otherwise, he’d notice your red face and the eagerness with which you listen to him as he stutters, “I-it’s pretty late— for a coffee. Do you have to stay up late tonight?”

“Not exactly.”

Finally, Jungkook turns around and hands you the coffee, looking pretty much puzzled.

“I was wondering if you’d like to work with me,” you finally let out, and your chest feels weightless for a second— until you come back to earth and realise that you’ll have to hear an answer.

He’s looking at you in complete silence.

Maybe he really doesn’t know that you’re a cam girl? Maybe he’s just thinking about what your job could be and how could the two of you possibly work together. Or maybe he’s just zooming out, who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Do you want me to, uh, e-edit a—?” Jungkook gets cut off by his own coughing as his cheeks turn red. “Sorry, edit a video... for you?”

Ah.

Of course he knows.

He knows, so there’s a chance he might have watched one of them. Maybe all of them. Perhaps Namjoon told him about it, or perhaps he thought you looked familiar and asked him. In his mind – and that’s what makes it awkward, and not the fact that he’s probably watched you naked or touching yourself – he knows what you work for, and every single interaction is stained with that.

“Uh— not... Not really.” You don’t notice, but Jungkook holds his breath, and his heart starts beating faster. “It was more along the lines of making one together.”

Your heart is beating fast too.

“Me?”

Well, I’ve been told that you’ve got a big cock, oh, and because I have a crush on you.

You shrug. “Thought you could use the money, and you do have a nice body— your face wouldn’t show, though.”

“I, uh...”

“Just asking if you were down!” you blurt out then, stepping back. “Of course, it’s up to you. I understand if you’re not comfortable with us, uh, having—”

“I-I get you,” he laughs. Now his face is as red as a strawberry.

In silence, you stand there, waiting for an answer. However, it seems like neither of you is functioning properly at the time, so you clear your throat with your heart clenching painfully in your chest and let out a shaky laugh:

“Of course, it’s too weird, so, uh— forget I said anything. Thank you for considering it, have a nice day!”

You rush out of the café, but his voice stops you:

“Wait!”

You turn around and look at him; he looks positively embarrassed, even more than you, although it’s understandable – probably due to the circumstances – so, you wait, breath hitching, for him to continue.

Jungkook looks away. “I— I didn’t say no.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” you rush to clarify. “That’s my number.” You hand him a business card, which he seems too afraid to check. “Call me… if you’re interested. I’ll leave now, thank you for your time. And— uh, nothing. Bye.”

“Bye…”

By the time you leave the coffee shop, your heart is beating so hard that you think it could be a stroke. Your cheeks are boiling hot, and you struggle to walk down to the bus stop while your legs wiggle. You did it, it’d done – you’ve already asked Jeon Jungkook to film an erotic video with you for your page.

You don’t get any signs of life from Jungkook until two days later, at two in the morning.

Namjoon told you that they had met some friends for a drink after closing time, so you’re not surprised that he’s up so late. He also tends to go to bed late when he stays up playing console games.

[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: Hello, Y/N.

[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: It’s Jungkook.

[Saturday, 2:18 AM] Unknown: I have been thinking about it and, if the offer still stands, I accept.

Your heart immediately somersaults the glowing letters on your screen. Reality fell on your shoulders, and you finally understood that you would be filming that video with Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you could ask him out on a date later, but it’d be tomorrow’s you’s nuisance to worry about rejection. For the time being, you’re going to get on with the script so that you can send it to him as soon as possible.

[Saturday, 5:43 AM] You: Cool, I’ve attached the script. Just let me know if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with or want to change. When are you free?

[Saturday, 5:44 AM] You: Of course, we’ll go through your limits before filming.

Jungkook’s reply doesn’t arrive in time for you to read it; as soon as you’re done with it, you plummet into your bed and fall asleep, totally exhausted.

[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: Looking forward to it!

[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: I mean

Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message

The bell goes through your head like a nail. Your mouth is dry and your body trembles, but you get up to open the door in the hope that it’s not Jungkook behind it.

After you had sent him the script, it took him a while to answer. Then, after three hours, he only answered ‘okay’ and asked you when you would be meeting. You agreed on the day and time, and here you are, turning the doorknob with your heart beating through your chest.

“Hi, come in.”

You step aside, and Jungkook walks into your small flat; it’s cute and cosy, with the golden light coming in through the windows. His black clothes soak in it as you watch him get comfortable and, for a second, it feels like he’s coming over for a date, just to hang out. It feels nice, that small, minute, short second.

“Want anything to drink?”

“Yes—” Jungkook clears his throat. “Yes, please. Water’s good.”

You come back with two glasses of water and sit in front of him on the couch, determined to calm down your nerves.

“Okay, so, I understand that you read the script, right?” you ask, and he nods instantly, perhaps too quickly. “Uh, so… is there anything you’d like to change? Anything you don’t feel comfortable with?”

Jungkook glances at you only to look away in the blink of an eye. He’s biting his lip again.

“No, hm, everything sounds good so far. I mean— t-there’s nothing I don’t like, like… there’s nothing that turns me… off.” He eventually gets discouraged to keep talking and gulps down the glass of water in front of him. “Sounds good, you know, with the angle you suggested.”

“Nothing at all? Are you sure? I wrote a lot of things.”

He keeps avoiding your eyes. “Yeah, I’m cool with it… And I brought the test results.”

“Good,” you murmur and take the papers as he hands them out to check them. “All clean, that’s good. I’ve got mine too, and I’m on birth control, obviously.”

“Cool.”

“I liked your suggestions for the plot, by the way.” Maybe it’s better to give Jungkook some praise for his effort, that way he will relax a little around you. “A bit wicked— but in a good way. Did you get it from a movie?”

He turns red in a second, and you have to press your thighs together. “N-no, I— it just came to my mind. I can add the effects later.”

You nod slowly and clear your throat.

Once the both of you have gone through every single detail of the script, you’re half turned on, half mortified. It’s almost as if your brain hasn’t fully processed that you will be doing all of this with Jungkook in an hour, or maybe even earlier.

“It’s okay if you’re nervous,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t come off shaky. “And, well, we can stop at any moment, okay? We’ll just stop everything, no hard feelings.”

“Thank you…”

You give him a robe and show him the bathroom, where he gets changed and washes up only to return to your bedroom; that’s where you record everything, but there is a tarpaulin covering the whole wall, including the window. This way, and with a VPN, you make sure you keep your affairs decently hidden.

You’re also wearing a robe when Jungkook walks in, revealing the sight of your cleavage.

You walk up to him. “All good?” you ask. “Do you want anything? A glass of water? Viagra, or an energy bar?”

Jungkook stares at you, a bit surprised, or taken aback by the joke. You turn around in shame, with an apology on your lips, before you notice the way his cheeks turn red and an amused smile creeps to his own.

“A glass of water’d be great, thanks.”

When you return from the kitchen, you’re also bringing along a bunch of papers. “Here are the test results, I’m all clean. Thank you” – Jungkook hands you his own results, and you skim-read them – “I’m also on birth control, in case I didn’t tell you already, so feel free to, uh…”

“O-okay, gotcha.”

Luckily, he doesn’t make any faces as you shut up, discouraged; why are you acting like an idiot who has no idea what she’s doing? He’s probably regretting it already.

You have prepared the props for filming in your room; your bed, which you insisted on buying with a bar headboard, is already set with the ropes, so all that remains is to tie the victim with them. You’ve done the same with the foot of the bed, as well as the POV camera that’s fitted just above his head. He’s wearing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and you’ve put on a shirt that shows your nipples through and a pair of panties that are a bit too small so that your folds are marked.

What can you say: you consider yourself a meticulous creator.

“Okay, so I think everything’s ready. You can lie down now; I’ll take care of the rest.”

When Jungkook is finally lying on the bed, you straddle him to fasten the ties around his wrists and ankles.

It’s weird to feel his warm body beneath you after pining for him for so long; you can feel his thighs tensing and flexing under your ass, how he shifts on the mattress, looking down at your hands and how they skilfully tie him to the bed headboard. His eyes burn wherever they land, you fear you might be getting a bit of stage fright.

“How are you doing?” Jungkook murmurs a ‘good’, looking up at you. “Cool… Then we can get down to business.”

Holding your breath, you lean into him to turn on the camera and, as soon as the red light appears, you realise you’ve been holding it for too long and let out a deep sigh. Time to get into character. Don’t think about it, Y/N.

You look down at him; Jungkook stares back, waiting for you to get on with the script.

Faking a wicked smile, you bend over him and dive on his neck for a kiss, being as loud as possible, slurping and groaning. He shivers beneath you, and you feel yourself already getting turned on just by having him at your mercy like this. After all, this is supposed to be erotic.

Suddenly, Jungkook fixes your knee on his crotch and moves it a bit to the left, taking you by surprise.

“Are you awake, sweetheart?” you ask, pretending you aren’t surprised.

As you wait for a response, you bend down to leave a trail of pecks down his jaw and neck, peppering kisses on his shoulder now, as Jungkook stirs beneath you again.

“Uh… w-where am I?” he asks as he stares down at you with a pitiful frown. “Who are you?”

You let out a giggle. “I was hoping you’d recognise me, but I guess I need to be humbled… I’m the girl of your wet dreams, baby.”

“I-I don’t know what—”

You attack his lips this time, delving for a deep kiss. Jungkook eventually closes his eyes and gives in to your kiss, uttering a meek whimper against your lips and pulling at the ropes to no avail. When you move away, you sit on his crotch, happily surprised.

“Oh, what do we have here? Someone’s waking up, look.”

Before he can say anything, you pinch his tip over his trousers. He twitches again, leaking precum, as you can tell from the way a wet patch appears in the fabric.

“I’m sure it’s small, so tiny I wouldn’t even feel it,” you snicker, “but I’ll use it anyway, maybe as a plug for my butt.”

Jungkook whines, feeling himself getting even harder. “I-it’s not small—”

Honestly, when you dropped by the coffee shop and asked him to work with you on a video, he couldn’t believe it. It had always remained a fantasy, and he feared for a second that someone had ratted him out about his crush on you. ‘Someone’ as in ‘Kim Namjoon’, of course.

Jungkook has spent many hours thinking of different ways to ask you out on a date. Ever since he met you, he’s grown obsessed with you and your personality, charm, beauty, and confidence. When he started to notice you getting shy around him, a small flame of hope lit up inside of him, but why would you be into a guy like him? Yes, he isn’t bad looking, but surely, you’d be more into big, strong, sexual guys, wouldn’t you? Real men who had lots of experience in bed.

On the other hand, Jungkook becomes such a mess every time he’s around you; he drops things, he’s unable to form a coherent sentence, and you never seem to be too interested in talking to him for more than five seconds.

Now, is Jungkook in love with you? Before, he would have denied it, that this was just another crush. But now that he’s so close to you, that he can feel the sweat on your skin, that he’s one with you, he has to ask you out. Otherwise, he’ll never be happy again.

Especially now that the feeling of you straddling his lap and playing with his cock is ingrained in his memory.

“Let me go,” he barks, suddenly remembering that he has a script to follow. “I— I won’t tell anyone if you let me go now.”

You lean into him and stroke his cheek. “Why would I?”

Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, you silence any possible reply from him and kiss him hard against the mattress. Your ass ruts against his cock mercilessly, almost by instinct, eager to feel his whines die in your mouth.

Your hands find their way beneath his shirt. With eager fingers, you brush his nipples and, hearing him whimper, keep pinching them as he stirs, fleeing your touch but at the same time seeking it. You chuckle and tease him for it, and Jungkook can only close his eyes with the genuine wish that he won’t come too soon, or at least before you get the footage you want.

You keep humping his clothed cock, now visibly hard and standing proudly against the fabric of his sweats. Between kisses, you tell him how well he’s doing.

“Let’s make a deal, shall we?” you suddenly say.

Jungkook struggles to peel his eyes open. “W-what deal?”

“If you manage not to cum before me, I’ll let you go,” you continue. “You will be totally free.”

“And— if I do?”

Shit, you forgot about this part. What happened if he came…? You can think of the paragraph and the page, but you really can’t remember the rest of the lines, shit. You totally suck at this—

“I’ll milk your cock dry until you beg me to stop – and only then will I think about it.”

Jungkook stares at you in shock, and for a second, you fear that your impromptu response has gone too far. But then you feel something hard rubbing against your pussy, and you realise that he is unconsciously humping you, twitching and getting bigger and harder.

“You’re fucking nuts,” he cries out.

But you only giggle in response, shoving your hips together as if you were actually riding him. You let out a loud moan, too exaggerated to be true. The constant pressure of your pussy against his crotch makes him arch his back, desperately trying to hold his own whines and grunts to save you the satisfaction of proving you right.

“Look at you! You poor thing,” you exclaim in laughter. “I’m gonna fuck your virgin cock until you pass out.”

Jungkook goes still.

“Oh, thought I didn’t know?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“I—”

You bend down and bite on his neck only to soothe the sting with your tongue. “You thought I didn’t know you’ve never been touched before? You’re popular, but women terrify you, don’t they? You see them and only notice their hard nipples through their shirts and their tight pussies peeking from under their short skirts, and that makes you nervous; if they’re nice to you, you’re not interested. If they’re mean, you spend all day imagining them spanking you or sitting on your face… Don’t lie, you’re a sicko who wants a woman to spit in your mouth and fuck your cute little cock. Do you call them mommy in your fantasies? A mean mommy with a fat ass to hump your pathetic dick and huge tits to suck on.”

“S-shut up,” Jungkook cries out. “Shut up, shut up— you have no fucking idea, y-you don’t know shit—”

“I’d show you my tits and you’d come on the spot,” you laugh.

“S-stop lying!”

“Jesus, you’re gonna burst your pants from how hard you’ve got, sweetheart. And I’m nuts? At least I’m not getting hard just because a girl is making fun of me.”

You start bouncing on his crotch, laughing. The constant pressure of your ass against his cock makes him squirm, spilling out an amusing mixture of insults and plaids for mercy. His cheeks are warm with a blush of embarrassment and arousal.

“No wonder no one has ever touched this cute little cock!” you chirp, finally shoving your hand into his pants. “I bet you spend all day locked in your room, watching porn or hentai or whatever losers like you are into. Fucking into your own hand like a bitch in heat. Thank goodness you live alone, because you would live in constant fear of your mom finding your dirty comics or the huge amount of dry jizz all over your plushies and pillows.”

“I— I always clean up after myself,” he whimpers in the sweetest voice possible, and you wonder if he’s actually being honest.

Time to find out. “Yeah? You don’t fuck into your pillow thinking it’s your crush’s wet pussy and leave it full of your cum with the pathetic feeling that you’re filling her up?” you grunt, getting riled up. The thought of Jungkook wanting to do it to someone else makes your blood boil.

“Y-yes!” Jungkook finally cries out. “Shit, shit— I always fuck my pillow thinking it’s you!”

The woman was too stunned to speak.

“Fuck, it— it always leaks out, I’ve always got so much cum saved up for— for you, mommy. I imagine it’s your pussy I’m filling up, want to milk my cock into your cunt until you’re happy.”

The ache between your legs worsens, and you have to rub your thighs together to ease the pent-up arousal; you’re dripping, could simply sit on his pretty cock and ride him until he’s a crying mess – but this has got way out of hand, you need to get the video back on track.

And you shouldn’t think about why he immediately thought of you when you brought up his crush.

You lean on him and spit on his lips, making him yelp. “Yuck.”

“M-mommy, please—”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Raising your hips off him, you take off your panties; indeed, they are ruined and soaked with your juices. Their only use is to gag Jungkook, and there they go, straight into his mouth.

He has to close his eyes when the scent of your arousal reaches his nose.

It takes him a couple of seconds to process that you’re naked now, at least from the waist down. Only your breasts are covered behind the thin white fabric of your tank top. It’s too small, so the sides of your tits stick out, and the neckline is too wide and barely covers your nipples.

Now, his eyes wander down to your pussy; glistening and dripping wet, Jungkook notices the way you rub your thighs together from time to time.

Kneeling over him, you sit on his chest and lift up your shirt, trying not to care that you’re leaving a trail of your juices across his skin. You’re right on top of the camera, and it really looks like Jungkook’s point of view. So, you grab his head and push it between your tits.

“Slow, dummy babies don’t get to suck on mommy’s boobs, darling. Hurry up.”

His eyes locked with yours, Jungkook opens his mouth to suck on your left nipple as you cradle his head. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Still bound to the bed, he struggles to turn his head and reach closer, eager to flicker his tongue around your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, baby, so good,” you groan.

He shifts to your other breast, and you allow him, too hooked on the pleasure to question his intentions.

Jungkook flicks his tongue with eagerness, hunger, almost desperation. His hips buck into the air, and his restrained cock keeps leaking precum, a wet patch appearing on the fabric. He sucks on your nipple like his life depends on it, unhinging his jaw to reach what he can’t touch.

Shit.

You’ve gone off script enough as it is.

You push him away, and he whimpers. “Well done, sweetheart,” you groan, “but mommy has other plans for you.”

Taking off your shirt, you’re now fully naked on top of him. Jungkook’s eyes roam around your figure and drink it up the sight of your bare body on top of him like it is water and he’s dying of thirst.

It’s time for the good shots, so you turn around so that your dripping folds are right in front of the camara – and right on top of his face, but that’s just a little gift for you. You’re facing his crotch, and with eager hands, you pull down his pants and underwear at the same time, letting his big, red, leaking cock spring up against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and your mouth waters just at the thought.

Meanwhile, Jungkook has been struggling with the tempting sigh of your pussy right above his head. It tickles his tongue, makes his lips twitch; he can only think about ravishing your cunt like a madman.

It’s practically instinctive when his neck is stretched upwards. You said you were okay with oral. In fact, you enjoyed it. The script is just something to guide you as to the plot; the rest, it can go as it comes up. That torture you promised him wasn’t scripted either, but it’s made his cock hard as if he was in heat. And, if you don’t like it, you can use the safeword too.

Just a bit more while you keep playing with his cock in your hands.

His tongue is already out, like a dog. That’s pretty much what he feels like right now, desperate to fuck your pussy with his mouth.

Shit, you’re dripping.

“I wonder if you can get even harder,” he hears you ramble.

As you get comfortable on top of him, your hips are getting closer to his reach. Your ankles rest under his forearms, you didn’t notice he could lick you for at least a few seconds.

Jungkook doesn’t stop to think and delves his tongue into your pussy, proceeding quickly to suck and lap at your clit. Your juices soak his face, but that only makes his erection grow. Your clit reacts instantly, throbbing between his lips.

“What the— s-shit, Jungkook, what are you—” you manage to moan.

Your first instinct is to push your legs away, but Jungkook is pressing down with his forearms and, by the time you think of moving your hips away, you’re already melting with pleasure. His tongue is quick to lick your clit over and over, relentlessly, as you thrust back. Using his forearms again, he pulls you by your legs so that you’re practically sitting on his face, bent over him, grunting his name.

Saliva runs down his chin. Your taste on his tongue has shoved him into a thoughtless state, he’s only thinking about making you come. His tongue parts your lips and fucks into your entrance with wet, sloppy strokes.

Jungkook lets out a whimper. “Fuck, as good as I thought it’d be,” he cries out, his voice muffled by your folds. “Mummy got dripping just from playing with me, so fucking m-mean—”

You arch your back and thrust back against his tongue, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach.

He’s got your ankles well locked, and you’re still torn between control and pleasure, so you simply squirm on top of him while Jungkook keeps ravishing your pussy now that you can’t close your legs – nor do you really want to.

But shit, he’s going to make you come if he keeps this up. And, if you do, the deal is off, and the video is over. You’d love to squirt all over his face and force him to drink it up, but you’ve got other plans for him and for you so, as much as you’re loving getting tongue-fucked by this bratty little shit, it’s time to stop him.

“My baby really wanted to lick mummy’s pussy, didn’t he?” you blurt out with a laugh, and his cock twitches, a drop of precum rolling down from his tip.

“W-what?”

“How was your first cunt, sweetheart?” you continue. “Better than your hand, huh? Better than the sad, pathetic hole you make in your stuffed animals to stick your dick in and think it’s me.”

A tear of embarrassment rolls down his cheek. “T-that’s not—”

“Let me return the favour.”

While Jungkook, in a desperate attempt to make you cum, keeps licking and sucking your pussy, you keep yourself decently composed and let a trickle of saliva drip onto his tip. Before he can say anything else, you’re engulfing his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone.

“F-fuck!”

You try to fight a wicked smile with his cock around your lips.

Jungkook’s hips twitch, but that only makes the tip of his cock bump into your throat, ripping a sob from him.

You start bobbing your head up and down; he pulls at his restraints, his head turning to his sides as two thick tears of pleasure roll down his cheeks. Guess this probably is his first time being deep-throated, so better ruin it for everybody coming after.

Fortunately, his bratty tongue is too busy crying and moaning to pay any attention to your pussy, so you sit on his chest and get momentum.

His cock feels hot in your mouth, leaking precum. It’s salty as it mixes with your own saliva running down his shaft. Jungkook is sweating all over, his head spinning like he’s having a fever; after all, the wet heat of your mouth around his cock is too much to handle. It’s coated in your spit, sending waves of pleasure down his spine, making his toes curl, his throat sore from grunting and sobbing. You hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, the vibrations of your moans only worsening the pleasure pooling in his lower back.

“Fuck!” he cries out again. “Of fuck, p-please—!” Jungkook can’t even properly thrash with his feet as they’re tied to the bed as well. “So good, so fucking good!”

You pull the foreskin back to expose the head and dip your tongue into the slit, savouring the taste of his arousal. For a second, you wonder if he’s never really got proper head or if he’s just very sensitive, but you shove the thought to the back of your head and keep going.

“Got anything to say about that misbehaviour from earlier?” you ask, licking down to the base.

“Dunno—”

“Ah, yes, you do.” Your voice comes out soft, too soft. It sends chills down his back. “You grabbed mommy’s ass and ate her pussy without permission, remember?”

Leaning on his thighs, you manage to turn around to face him. You notice his red face and dilated pupils, and he notices your slick, swollen lips.

To your surprise, Jungkook smirks. “But mommy loved it, didn’t she? I almost made her cum—”

You shut him up by swallowing down his cock again, even if he is right; only a couple of minutes more and you would have come all over his face. But you haven’t, and that’s all that matters. Now you have to make him cum so that you can start torturing his spent cock until he’s crying for you to stop.

Jungkook may be used to keeping it down at his shared flat and know how to be quiet, but you can always tell when a guy is close, and you’re surprised at how much he’s been holding it. From how swollen and purplish his cock looks, how much he’s leaking, and the way it reacts, throbbing and twitching at your touch, he must have been on edge for a while.

“Are you a masochist, perhaps?” you ask, rather to yourself.

Your hands find his base again and start pumping him, both of them. The contact feels kind of dry, though, despite his arousal dripping through your fingers, so you bend down and spit on the head again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, really,” you continue, jerking him off like it’s just one more chore. “A crazy chick ties you to the bed to fuck you and the first thing you do is get a hard-on. No wonder only your plushies are willing to let you hit it— though they can’t really say anything, can they?”

With a shaky gasp, Jungkook bites his lip and closes his eyes; he needs to stop either seeing or hearing you if he wants to hold on any longer, but your breasts are right in front of him, covered in a glistening layer of sweat, your erect nipples that he just had in his mouth, your pussy radiating heat and dripping down your inner thighs. If only you would sit on his cock and ride him until you cum and scream with pleasure, choke him, spit in his mouth, use him like he uses his poor childhood stuffed animals.

Then this torture would be over, he would climax inside you and stuff you with his cum, til it’s dripping. And the next torture would begin.

“Come on, the last test. If you pass it without cumming, I’ll let you go, okay, sweetheart?”

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts; suddenly, you’re straddling his lap, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds. The brief pleasure, more like a feeling-induced fantasy turned into a touch, makes him shudder and take a deep breath.

“This” – you yank off his shirt, buttons popping out – “off.”

Raking your nails through his hair, you yank it and force him to look at you in silence. His chest heaves and falls as he stares into your eyes.

Your thumb strokes his bottom lip. “It’s a pity that such a pretty face belongs to a pervert like you.”

“I’m not a pervert!”

“Yadda, yadda,” you mock him, tilting up his chin to get access to his jaw and bite him. “Whatever, I have no interest in your pathetic excuses – if you weren’t a pervert, you wouldn’t be hard right now.”

“I-it’s a biological response!” Jungkook insists.

“Hm, yeah, sure. Then you won’t mind if I don’t fuck you, right—? What’s more, you’ll be glad.”

To add weight to your words – and torture him a little in the process – you start moving your hips up and down against his cock, rubbing him with your folds. He twitches between your inner thighs, and you keep circling and undulating your hips over his tip, every now and then pretending you’re going to finally sit on him. His head penetrates you for a second, and you fuck yourself on it, one, two, three thrusts until you decide to press your ass against it.

“Just imagine if I let you fuck my ass,” you laugh. “Just think about it, sweetheart.”

“It’d be s-so tight,” he blurts out, “around my cock! Shit, I wish I could— I wish I could eat your ass, and then your pussy, and then fuck you open with my cock—”

“Fuck—”

You find yourself grinding on his swollen tip, rubbing your clit against his sensitive skin, too turned on by his words; yeah, you’d like him to eat your ass as well. Jungkook is trying to muffle the whimpers coming through his lips, but the pressure is getting heavier.

Moving in a quick thrust, you sit down on his cock. He works you open as it disappears into your body, a moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for leverage, hips setting a pace as you bounce on his cock. It massages your inner walls, with sounds of smacking flesh, working thigh muscles as you melt at the shocking waves of pleasure.

“Ngh—” Jungkook lets out a whimper and pulls at the restraints. “Fuck! Oh, fuck—”

Your skin prickles, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. It’s dripping, the ache between your thighs expanding while you chase your climax.

Jungkook pants, head bumping against the headboard, victim to the rolls and thrusts of your hips. Your tits are bouncing right in front of him, their round shape and hardened nipples so, so tempting, making his mouth water while his cock throbs and twitches between your walls. You clench around him, and he whines again. His nerves feel on fire, and the sight of your bare figure fucking yourself on his cock only worsens it.

Your hand slithers to pinch one of your nipples. Playing with it, arching your back, you let out a huff and roll your hips in undulating waves, cunt engulfing him over and over and soiling it with your juices.

You feel his tip bumping against your sweet spot when Jungkook suddenly cries; two thick tears roll down his cheeks, and you bend over to kiss them clean.

“Slow, s-slower, please, go—” he sobs, face red. “Shit! I’m— fucking hell, go slow! G-go slow!”

As he pulls at the restraints in pure desperation, his hips buck into you, jerking and trembling like he’s got no control over them. Jungkook is begging you to slow down, but the blazing way he’s fucking up into you, trying to reach your breasts and suck on your nipples again, wanting to get rid of the restraints so that he can grab your ass and pound into your dripping pussy only fuels him.

“Shut up, little bitch,” you grunt.

Before he can say anything else, you shove your nipple into his mouth and hover over him, your core aching at the wet pressure of his tongue around your hardened buds. You pull at his hair, and his eyes suddenly roll back.

He grows harder inside of you. “Oh fuck, oh, n-no, fuck, stop!” he cries out. “Shit, stop! Slow, slow down—!”

Only when you feel him going still on the mattress and the sweet feeling of hot cum filling you up do you understand he just came inside you.

You keep bouncing on his cock, and Jungkook’s seed eventually gets pumped out of your insides by his own cock. It leaks down your inner thighs and pools on his lower stomach, but you only lean onto him to bite on his neck while he sobs at the painful yet glorious feeling of your pussy milking every last drop of his yummy cum.

“Oh, baby,” you coo with amusement, scratching down his chest, “you just made this so much easier.”

Overstimulation kicks in when you resume bouncing on his spent cock, careful not to let him slide out of your cunt; Jungkook sobs and grunts as he writhes on the bed, pulling the restraints.

You grab his chin and spit into his mouth before you kiss him hard. Your teeth leave small bites on his lips and chin, peppering short kisses to swallow his sobs, embracing him to restrict his squirms. He’s crying so prettily into your lips, you want to eat him up.

“Please, p-please—! Hurts!”

Sucking the flesh of his neck, you let the red mark blossom. “A deal is a deal, sweetheart.”

Deal or no deal, you ride him chasing your climax, sweating and melting into him. Your clit rubs against his pubic bone, and the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach tightens. Jungkook writhes beneath you, and his toes curl in a poor attempt to let out a little of the pleasure that pushes him towards another orgasm. The sight of his cum dripping down your legs mesmerises him, your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.

Fuck, you look so hot right now; he’s going to explode in a heart-shaped puddle of pleasure, he can’t stop the tears either. It’s torture, the best kind, how you’re touching him, stroking his skin, licking down his lips to his sweaty chest, playing with his hair. There’s almost a certain sense of affection in the ways of your hands.

“Please,” Jungkook cries out.

“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come~“

Your words make his heart stop for a second. They fuel a fire in his abdomen and raise goosebumps all over his skin, and Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as the pain starts to mix with the tortuous pleasure.

You keep bouncing on him, ass striking against his hips at a brutal pace. “God! Shit, shit, baby, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

“Please!” he begs.

The ache between your thighs makes your core tighten, your muscles burn, your sweat is boiling on your skin, dripping down between your breasts.

With one last powerful thrust, the tension snaps, and suddenly you’re bursting out in an explosive orgasm, squirting all over him. You scream out, squishing his cock with your dripping walls, moaning his name and burying your nails in his chest. The shockwaves grip your body, and you ride out your orgasm with slower rolls of your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” you let out in a weak breath, “you made me spill myself all over you.”

When you finally peel your eyes open, you notice Jungkook staring down at the pool of fluid on his lower stomach. His pupils are so dilated that they merge with his irises. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, and his hips are bucking into you subconsciously.

“M-mommy—”

You’re too exhausted to be careful not to drop on top of him and leave a feverish trail of kisses down his neck, holding his face and brushing your lips together, swirling your tongue around his.

“Mommy,” he calls again.

“Yeah…?”

“I’m—” Jungkook lets out a whimper when you shove your hand between his legs. “I’m c-close.”

“Again?” you ask with a hint of mockery in your voice.

He pouts and closes his lips in embarrassment, but the way his cock throbs and twitches as you circle the tip of your index finger on his cock feels too good to stifle his noises. You have such cute hands; he’d die just to see them covered in his cum.

You move down his body in a trail of kisses and nibbles, enjoying the smell of his skin, so warm and intense. The room smells of sex, and it turns you on so much that your mouth salivates.

“Let me take care of you.”

Scooting between his legs, you stroke up and down his Apollo’s belt as he arches his back into the touch, desperate to come. His cock pressed against his tummy, you grab it and spit on it right before dipping your tongue into the slit. Jungkook pants in surprise and squirms and, making eye contact, you part your lips around his cock and swallow around it.

Jungkook whines and tries his best to hold his hips still, but the feeling of being engulfed in your wet heat only engorges the tension in the pit of his stomach. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, not yet, he chants in his head.

Sucking and bobbing your head on his cock, you enjoy how he responds to your touch; Jungkook is burning all over, writhing, twitching between your lips at the suction.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “y-your mouth—”

You don’t bother to reply and simply hum around his cock, and the vibrations send shivers of pleasure down his spine. His eyes stare at your lips, darkened and wet with saliva so, using hands and lips together, you start sucking his tip with sloppy strokes of your tongue and suction from your lips as your hands play with his balls. Jungkook lets out a breath moan, increasingly agitated and desperate.

Then you slide him out of your mouth, and he stares at you a bit confused – until he sees the way you just hover over him with your mouth wide open above his tip and gets it. Shyly, Jungkook bucks his hips into your wet heat, letting out a muffled moan.

“You— you can’t be for real—” he whines.

You tilt your head in silence, waiting for him to shove his cock into your mouth again.

He starts fucking your mouth with desperate thrusts, hitting the back of your throat. Tears make his vision blurry, and a wave of heat spreads under his skin. He’s half ashamed, half turned on just at the very thought of him having to fuck your face to cum while you stay there, hovering over him with your mouth open. The grip of your tongue around his cock is heavy and wet, you’re so mean to him, just letting him jerk his hips like a bitch in heat.

“I’m gonna— fuck!” Jungkook lets out a grunt and a desperate gasp, fighting the restraints and fleeing your mouth; but you grab his ass again and bury his cock into your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and you hollow your cheeks, fucking him between your lips. “C-coming! Slow, s-slow down, I’m— oh fuck, please!” he sobs.

His hips stutter, and suddenly he’s spilling himself into your mouth, dissolving into pleasure with a choked sob and your name on his lips. It’s bitter, but Jungkook’s contracted face, with two thick tears soaking down to the corners of his lips, and red cheeks makes it all worthwhile.

You help him ride out his climax with your hand wrapped around his cum-stained cock, but soon Jungkook is writhing beneath you and bursting out in tears of actual pain, and you let go of him.

Lying eye to eye, he watches you lean onto him and open up your mouth; a pool of cum rests on your tongue, and he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth and lets you kiss it back into the source system, massaging your tongues together and rolling them over each other. A drop of white cum rolls down the corner of his mouth, but you’re both too busy making out naked on top of each other to care about it.

“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, sweetheart,” you whisper.

After a pause, you get up and reach the camera to turn it off; suddenly Jungkook snaps out of something like a dream, and he remembers that you’re actually working. A feeling of shame and sadness washes over him, and he's so exhausted both mentally and physically that he feels the urge to cry.

“Okay, I turned it off.” You rush to undo the restraints on his wrists and massage the red marks with your thumbs to get the blood circulating again. “Does it hurt? I’ll get you something for the marks.”

In a thoughtful silence, he shakes his head.

“Good.”

You turn around and lean on his legs to undo the knots of his ankles as well, and Jungkook closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His heart is still trying to burst his ribcage open and get out of his chest, and now that the frenzy of the video is over, a dread falls over him; what is he going to do about you now?

“Uh, Y/N?” he asks, unsure.

Smiling, you look up at him with the rope in your hands. “Yes?”

Courage.

“Can I… take you out to dinner some day?”

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, laughing. With a napkin, you wipe away the milkshake foam that stains your chin and the corners of your lips. “It’s not funny, you should have told me earlier. I’m sure everyone has noticed.”

The terrace where you are sitting is practically deserted except for a few tourists and a couple of birds circling over your food. With the sun shining brightly above you, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your tummy aches from laughing so hard, and Jungkook glances at the menu with a growing smile.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about the opinion of three people and seven birds,” he jokes.

“Hey, it’s eight birds, sweetheart. And the tourists are carrying a camera,” you insist, grabbing the menu from him with a playful frown, “what if I come out in the background looking like Father Christmas? I’d never get over it.”

“Then Father Christmas had a glow-up – when he was a kid, he’d just eat the biscuits and leave. Anyway, should we order to share or is it every man for himself?”

“We’d better share, I want to try it all,” you murmur as you take a sip from your drink.

Jungkook frowns. “You’ll get a tummy ache like last time.”

“You don’t have to remind me!” With a giggle, he takes the menu again. “It was so embarrassing, on our first date on top of that.”

He scoops to the other side of the table and steals a kiss from you, letting you cup his face and deepen the contact. “Okay, just order anything you want,” he says, sliding the menu back to you. “I’ll eat what you can’t fit in your tummy.”

You thank him with a short peck on the lips, and Jungkook returns to his seat.

“Oh, by the way,” you say casually, stirring your milkshake with your straw, “I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?”

He frowns. “Well... The bad one, I guess?”

“The bad news is that I can’t use the video we made because you can hear us saying each other’s names. The good news is that it means we can make it again.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

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#jungkook smut #sub!jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #oneshot #jungkookff #661010 #romance #mutualpining #coffeeshop #camboy #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #bts x reader

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admirxation · 5 days

Text

Actress / Leon Kennedy oneshot

boyfriends dad!Leon Kennedy x afab!reader

summary: your boyfriend has brought you home to meet his father, but it turns to a non conventional meeting when your boyfriend goes to sleep.

cw: this fic contains cheating, I do not condone everything I write; this is just fiction where real people cannot get hurt, please read the warnings and continue at your own discretion // 18+ heavy smut (mdni), cheating, kissing, touching, tit grabbing, grinding, fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, degrading, unprotected sex (p in v), and creampie.

word count: 2.8k

thank you @valslullaby for this idea, my fellow older man lover, please check their fics as well they’re so good

When you told people you were going to college, the description and the idea of college tended to be romanticised, further enticing you to the whole ‘college experience.’ These conversations usually involved older people looking back on those former years through rose-tinted glasses and appreciating the simpler times, wanting to regress to that time when troubles weren’t as hard, where your biggest stress was getting an assignment in last minute compared to getting the rent due and food on the table for you and the whole family. The conversation tended to have them blissfully remembering how much they could drink and how they could handle the hangovers back then, remembering how easy it was to make friends in the same class as you and all they could do now was focus on a good credit score and getting on the property ladder.

But the conversation of college didn’t just come with remembering the good times; it came with some advice, some embarrassing advice you didn’t want to hear about—the sex talk. When you accepted your dream college's offer, the “be safe” talk was constantly repeated; you remembered how you wanted time to quicken and have the conversation end every time it started. You understood that they just wanted to keep you safe; after all, you would rather them tell you what to avoid than just outright forbid and have you get into some serious trouble—but who in their right mind wants to want to discuss their sex life with their parents?

The conversation consisted of the basics you already knew: you can say no anytime (obviously), make sure he uses a condom, watch how much you drink and who you’re going home with, the usual safety many people knew and practised. However, while you remembered it all in exact order to recite, you never thought you needed to use it when you entered the dorms since you didn’t have much luck when it came to your love life. That was until you met him—your current boyfriend.

You two were in the same class, him sitting next to you; it started with him acting stupid and you sharing your notes, compliments on how smart you are, later going to the same afterschool study sessions, then getting closer with every day that went past. At first, you didn’t think too much of it, thinking this would be a casual relationship that would end in the first semester, but then you started seeing each other more frequently; he was even buying you countless gifts that made you wonder what in the hell he was doing to afford it all. Then it turned to him meeting your parents; you tried not to admit it to yourself, but you wished that they wouldn’t like him, hoping to use it as an excuse to end things, but alas, they loved and approved of him, commending you for your “great taste” in picking a partner. You just smiled and hugged him that night as he gushed about his excitement about what they thought, but all you could think when nestled on his chest was: I’m forever stuck.

He was lovely and a nice enough guy, but something about him was off, maybe a touch of immaturity, not having much in common or just an outright lack of interest. Continuing your cowardly streak, you agreed to meet his father, wishing things would pick up after his first meeting.

The days rushed by when it came to driving back to his place, and you received constant text messages from your parents reminding you to be polite and make a good impression. A part of you was thinking about pretending to be rude and unlikeable, but you couldn’t bear someone thinking of you like this, especially an adult, after being raised to respect your elders, like most people.

You were quiet for the whole car ride, not sharing a single word, hoping he would perhaps disapprove of you—a girl could wish to get the easy way out.

As you two approached the front door, you heard heavy footsteps come closer and the clicking sound of a door unlocking. Later, you were in Mr. Kennedy’s gaze. You gave him a warm smile, watching his eyes widen as he quickly looked you up and down.

“Ah, it’s lovely to finally meet the mystery girl my son can’t shut up about,” he said, seeing your boyfriend roll his eyes in embarrassment as he entered his house. “Come in, come in.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you showed him respect.

“Oh, no need for formalities, just call me Leon… Mr. Kennedy makes me sound so old; I don’t need the reminder of how the years have slipped by,” you couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at his words; you never imagined his father to be like this, the way he described him didn’t fit the current person you were greeted with. Your boyfriend described how much he looked up to him, how he was his whole world and that he would trust his instincts; if he disliked something, he would dislike it; if he loved something, he would try his best to find a love for it. At first, you found it ridiculous how much he needed Daddy’s approval; you even told him he ought to just make his own thoughts. But standing there in his presence, you could understand; he had a gentle and subtle touch of influence in his stance, but also an overwhelming quality about him that made you want to follow his will.

Another thing you couldn’t deny was how attractive Leon was. You expected some normal military dad who was such a bore, but you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the attractive older man.

For the whole night, Leon made you feel welcome, helping you with your bags and asking you for any refreshments you would like; your boyfriend mentioned how he hadn’t seen him so happy and eager for years; it must have been the presence of a lady, you thought. You forgot about the desire to have him dislike you; you even thought of continuing to ignore those feelings as nervousness in the relationship, but at the moment, you were so invested in everything Leon was doing and saying to you—you couldn’t describe the feeling he had over you.

As the night wore on, you saw your boyfriend’s eyes get heavier, but you were still wide awake as your conversations with Leon continued at the same pace as in the early afternoon, all the way to the late evening.

“I think I’m going to bed now; I’ll see you tomorrow,” your boyfriend gently kissed your cheek, automatically reciprocating it as he trudged upstairs back into his room, hearing the heavy door click into place.

Your heartbeat picked up when you noticed it was just you and Leon in the same room. You thought about all those thoughts you had when you first saw him, how you analysed his stature, how you looked at how his biceps filled the sleeves of his shirt, trailing down to his hands and how he used them in his manner of speech.

Whatever junk was playing on the television went on for a few minutes after your boyfriend had gone to sleep, and you noticed how Leon leaned back in his chair and listened carefully toward the bottom of the stairs, trying to hear if your boyfriend had gone to sleep already.

“He’s a fast sleeper,” you tried to break the silence. “I’m quite jealous of people who can hit the pillow and sleep -” You weren’t expecting to be cut off.

“Hmm,” a smirk played at the corner of his lips, making your curiosity peak. “You know, you’re a very good actress.”

“E-excuse me?”

“I know you don’t love him, gods, that kiss was pathetic… I know you don’t want to kiss in front of his old man, but that kiss was… plain… Does he really eat this shit up?” You were shocked how he saw through your facade; no one, not even your friends, who thought they knew you better than anyone, could see your true feelings. You felt anxious, like a cold spike that hung around your heart, that sensation in your chest; you were nervous about how he looked through, but in a way, relieved? Relieved that someone could finally see how you were walking on eggshells in your so-called ‘serious relationship.’

You sighed: “I’m sorry… Sir… I didn’t —”

“…Just because I’ve seen through your little act doesn’t mean I think of you differently.”

“Why? I’m kind of wasting your son's time,” you paused for a moment, “I didn’t mean for it to go as far; I just wanted something casual, and I—”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, sweetheart, I don’t need to hear the excuse… I always knew… He showed me pictures of you… I was shocked he wasn’t making it up; in all honesty. A very pretty girl I thought, and I’m glad my theory was right.”

“You’re going to tell him when he wakes up?” you wanted to be prepared for when he would take the news, trying to talk to yourself and make sure you came clean until you heard Leon’s next words that curated a shake into your core.

“No, I think he can find out when he uses his brain… But I will say, this information does make me happy.” Your eyebrow peaked in interest, and you wondered what he meant. “It makes me feel less guilty.”

“For what?”

“Don’t play coy… I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at me,” you blushed as you swished your head to avoid eye contact, your heart thumping like an animal in a cage the moment you heard and felt him get closer, sneaking into the cushioned seat right next to you, placing his fingers on your chin and turning you to face him, “Don’t be shy now. I have to say I was excited to see that beautiful girl in the pictures; I’m quite glad she’s right in front of me now.”

“I, I, don’t think we-”

“Oh, now you’re a good person?” he teased with a taunting tone in his voice, slowly leaning back, “If you want me to stop, I will… just say the word, dear,” he tilted his head to the side, showing you he was hearing out for a ‘no’.

You couldn’t deny how much you were curious about what he was thinking. You were ashamed but also wanted to indulge in how Leon thought about you. You bit the bottom of your lip softly, slightly licking your lips as you briefly thought about what you were doing. You thought about the implications of cheating on your partner, for a little bit of fun, especially with his father, but that part of you couldn’t care about the right thing as you had Leon staring at you.

“Fine, I’ll —”

“No, wait… I don’t want you to stop,” you say in one breathless sentence.

“Hm,” he leaned in closer, placing his hand on your cheek as he brought you to his lips, “Just tell me when you wanna stop, darling,” he said as he pressed his lips onto yours for a moment, “and don’t worry… I’ll keep your little secret. For now.”

Your heartbeat continued to beat quickly, and you felt your blood rush through your body as you closed your eyes and got lost in his kiss; your lips brushed and glided against one another, and his tongue slid slightly in your mouth and smoothed over and around your tongue. You softly moaned into the kiss as your began to lose yourself even more, your fingers trickling through his blonde hair, feeling yourself drift into the experience as he pulled you closer as he placed his hand on your lower back and collided his body against yours, your arms wrapped around him as he slithered up to your chest.

His hand rose to breast, squeezing the mound that drew soft and whispered moans, continuing to meld into your soft plush as he continued to kiss you through your tender sighs; you instinctively moved your leg around his, making invitation for Leon for push you further into the sofa, not breaking from the countless interlocks and sensual touching. You felt him grind along your clothed pussy, feeling his growing bulge along your cores heat, pushing and rubbing against you as he continued to sway his hips forward and grind into your pussy that was already getting wetter the more the kiss and touches deepened.

He moved from your breast, grinding his index finger on your already hardened nipple, smirking at you not wearing a bra: “hm, you come prepared,” he said as you left a final strong squeeze and continued to graze down your torso, slithering to your core and lifting your dress up, placing a collective of his fingers along the wet patch of your underwear.

“You’re already soaked, you dirty girl,” he whispered in you ear, before leaving a subtle nibble on your earlobe that drew a deeper breath from your lips, arching your back into him as he continued to rub along your covered clit, squirming as his fingers went in perfect circular motions.

“Mm, fuck,” you moaned in a whispered hush, biting your lip as Leon stared at your core, no longer being able to wait as he wrapped his fingers underneath the waistband and travelled the material down your hips, staring at your glistening wet cunt as he discarded the cloth onto the floor, lost in thought as he proceeded to touch your heat, feeling how wet you were the more he circled along the bundle of nerves, your puffy clit stimulated more and leaving you to try your best to keep hushed tones.

“You’re such a beautiful girl,” he whispered to you, then proceeding to place his hand over your mouth, “now try to be quiet darling… we have a secret to maintain.”

He pushed his index and middle finger inside your wet hole, creating a catalyst for your widened eyes and drawing in air for a deep gasp as you felt his long fingers penetrate inside of your walls, feeling him pump in and out, using his thumb to press along your needy clit; your eyes rolled to the back of your head, exposing the whites and seeing a blurred vision as your walls tightened around his fingers, making his cock grow harder against his pants.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he expressed as he continued to pump his fingers, licking his lips as he felt and heard how wet you were, “and all because of me… easy to please a slut.”

Your breathing hitched into a tremble as he poked the right spots, a tingling sensation within you as you closed your eyes and got lost in his expertise before he slowly took away your excitement, feeling your hole flutter from neglect as you stared at him licking his fingers: “you’re a sweet treat,” he complimented as he wrapped his fingers around his trousers and glided them off, seeing his large member and feeling it slap against your pussy.

“Do you want this?” he asked as he positioned himself to your entrance.At first you nodded to which he replied: “be a good girl and use your words, or I’ll leave you squirming.”

“Yes… I w-want you, p-please L-“

“You can call me sir now.”

“P-please Sir. I need you.”

“Good girl.”

He slotted his length to slide into your aching hole, pressing the head of his cock against your walls before hitting the cervix with his tip; “god, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned as he swayed his hips as he continued to fuck you.

Saliva collected at the corners of your lips, as your body swayed up and down as Leon pressed his hands into gripping your waist, pounding his length inside you and you trying your best not to scream out; oxygen felt scarce the more you gasped in need for him.

“Shh, shh, shh, try to keep that pretty mouth quiet darling,” he cooed as he continued to rock forcefully inside you, feeling a wave inside you about to erupt in motions.

Your eyelids fluttered as your walls spasmed around Leon’s large cock, feeling his balls slap against your ass, him lifting your legs around his neck to get deeper and bruising your delicate cervix even more.

Your blood rushed through your veins all at once, as you released a muffled and large orgasm trapped by his hand over your mouth, feeling your stomach coil up into a knot as you released and made a mess all over Leon; but he didn’t care, as he continued to push further and deeper as he watched your tits bounce to the rhythmic thrusts he gave to you.

Before you could recover from your orgasm, feeling your cunt continue to pulsate, you felt Leon’s movement quicken into rougher grinds; as your moans got more laboured and strenuous you felt him drape your walls with his hot cum, swimming out and covering your walls and pooling out, making such a mess.

In a moment of recovery, Leon stopped to catch his breath, keeping himself inside of you and watching you gasp for air, before dictating you: “Go clean yourself up, no one likes a messy slut.”

a/n: the partners dad leon fics are literally my favourite to write atm, and i’m glad to see so many people going feral over them hehe. just wanted to note that i am working on father in law leon kennedy series, and im thinking of not continuing the las plagas series as i don’t find myself or others liking it. thanks for anyone that reads and I appreciate and am grateful for all the engagement.

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fabled-fiction · 11 months

Note

i see you write for hobie brown omg i like audibly giggled when i read that 😭 i’m so excited he’s finally getting his recognition !!

if you write for him, maybe some relationship hcs?? (gn reader would be perfect!) bonus points if reader and hobie are around the same height

tysm!!

Hobie Brown Relationship Headcanons

Summary: Headcanons for Hobie Brown in a relationship. From PDA to your private moments to how he acts when you aren’t around

Word Count: 961

Warnings: Talk of injury, POSSIBLE SPIDERMAN ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS (I’m just putting this here to be careful)

A/N: I hope this is good!! I wanted to include bits and pieces of what I thought could be a glimpse into some of the softer parts of Hobie!!

🕷️ First of all, this man is a charmer

🕷️ One of his love languages is words of affirmation and trust me this man is always finding ways to compliment any and every part of you

🕷️ His goal is to show how much he appreciates you…but also he just loves seeing how hot your face can get. How flustered he can make you.

🕷️ He gets a confidence boost everytime ngl

🕷️ Especially in public.

🕷️ “Aye, ‘ow good does (Y/N) look?”

🕷️ Once you’re settled into the relationship he will never call you by your name-atleast not fully

🕷️ He expects the same. Call him Hobart and he will be visually confused and apauled

🕷️ “ Im sorry, who? I dont see a ‘obart in the room wif us.”

🕷️ Its always nicknames of your name.

🕷️ His go to pet name is “babes”

🕷️ On a seperate note, Quality time is also a super big thing whenever you get together

🕷️ Cause sometimes he’ll feel bad that his time is essentially split into thirds. Between being Spiderman on his Earth, a part of the Spider Society, and his time as Hobie Brown

🕷️ So he finds any and every opportunity to just soak you in

🕷️ Obviously you have the swing dates. Where he’ll usually take you to the top of whatever building has the best view for the night and have a picnic

🕷️ But thats usually for special occasions.

🕷️ Your usual spot it cuddled up with each other either just watching TV or a movie or sharing earbuds.

🕷️ His favorite is when you’re just doing your own things but together. Being in eachother’s presence

🕷️ Normally he’ll be tuning or playing his guitar, writing down cords that work well together while you have a book or sketchbook in your hand

🕷️ When it comes to late nights together, sleepovers and what not his favorite thing is when you two are cuddling.

🕷️ His favorite thing is to hold your face

🕷️ Because of his spider senses he gets to memorize the smallest of details on your face

🕷️ Also this man, if you get his head on your chesr earlier on in the cuddle session he is OUT

🕷️ Your heart beat is his personal lullaby. His security. It calms him down. Especially if he’s having trouble sleeping after a particularly rough patrol. Expect him to just haul your ass onto the bed and just bury himself into you.

🕷️ Also this man is not SUPER into the traditional PDA, dont expect to get any long kisses from him in public or you sitting in his lap.

🕷️ He has his own form of PDA though. He ALWAYS has to be close to you.

🕷️ If someone is standing next to you? No they’re not. Suddenly he’s (not so subtly) making his way back into HIS spot next to you and then standing shoulder to shoulder.

🕷️ This is something he will not move on, his spot is next to you and your spot is next to him. Whatever surface he is laying on or sitting on he expects you to be next to him or sitting between his legs

🕷️ He’s not a full on hand holder (the most you’ll get is a pinky hold) but he is the type to either always have his arm on you SOMEWHERE. Whether that's resting his elbow on your shoulder, arm around your shoulders. He’s just always touching you in some way.

🕷️ He’s always slinging his body over you, smothering you. THATS his favorite form of PDA.

🕷️ Or if he’s just feeling especially territorial he'll have his hand in your back pocket.

🕷️ Its not because of any superficial reason, this guy is the opposite from that. He’s just solid in the relationship, and prefers the super intimate physicalities to be just between you two.

🕷️ Unbeknownst to him though, its not really needed because this mf is ALWAYS staring at you with the most lovey dovey love sick puppy eyes.

🕷️ Whenever he talks about you to Miles or Gwen or Pavitr or Miguel…really anyone that will listen

🕷️ They usually have to tell him to get back on topic.

🕷️ Also always expect to be wearing SOME article of his. Its his way of…making sure he’s always with you. Totally not because he’s vocal about you being his ans when he’s not with you others gotta know.

🕷️ And he’s the same way. He’s always got one of your jackets around his waist or one of your tees. Anything you’ll let him wear (steal) to show off that he’s yours. It gives him the biggest shit eating grin.

🕷️ If you’ll let him, he’ll go as far as to take an old tee you were planning on getting rid off and add a patch of it to his vest.

🕷️ Also uhmm…this mf never stops texting you. ESPECIALLY if he’s away in another universe he’s sending selfs.

🕷️ He expects selfies back, and it gets to the point where his wallpaper is a collage of all the selfies you’ve taken and he’s taken…candids or not.

🕷️ Its also usually the most unreadible shit, because he’s convined he can text and swing which you’ve told him NOT to do

🕷️ On the topic of his wreckless swinging, you two have a rule

🕷️ He doesn’t want you involved with his Spider stuff. He’s got that part of the stereotypical spiderman mentality. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.

🕷️ But for your sanity, any injury he has you take care of (if you can). If gives you some sort of peace of mind to know how he’s going in and what to expect.

🕷️ Ever since you both got together he’s been more careful.

🕷️ Cause he’s actually got something to come back to on his earth.

🕷️ When you get together he’s more passionate about his cause

🕷️ Because now he has a much more personal goal to work for.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #x reader #marvel x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #hobie brown headcanons #headcanon #spider punk #spiderpunk x reader

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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

the clash | v. ever fallen in love

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 3.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, mentions of death, demonic names, mentions of injuries, giving and receiving stitches, geniuses being dumbasses

a/n: these keep getting longer LMAO which is wild too bc i literally had an idea to make this chapter even longer, but i had to end up splitting it up. thank you to everyone who’s reading the series, i appreciate you all more than you will ever know. please enjoy this chapter, the next should be out either late tonight or tomorrow :)

previous chapter: iv. london calling

now reading: v. ever fallen in love

next chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

───────────────────────────────────

It’s been a few months since you’ve become a part of Spider Society, and much to everyone’s disappointment, you and Hobie still hate each other. Even though on any given day the two of you will be seen around each other, you’re always arguing. Yelling. There have been multiple times where the two of you almost fought, but someone always breaks it up before it gets to that point. “Ready to go, Hobie?” Gwen asks, and he scoffs. “Can’t believe ‘m bein’ forced to go to that dickhead’s world by you of all people,” he grumbles, and she rolls her eyes. “C’mon man, we all know that you’ve both been way more irritable towards everyone because you haven’t seen each other in what? Like two days?”

“I’ll be a lot worse when I see them, I can promise ya that, mate,” he snaps and Miles shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Hobie,” he says as Gwen pulls up the portal to your world. “Are you excited to see them? I haven’t seen you two apart for this long ever, you’re always together,” Pavitr says, side-eying Hobie. He keeps trying to tell Gwen and Miles the two of you only hate each other because you have strong feelings for one another and don’t know how to face them.

“I’m telling you, they’re obsessed with each other,” Pavitr says as he, Gwen, and Miles sit in his home, sipping some chai. “Obsessed with wanting to kill each other maybe, but that’s about it,” Miles says, and Pavitr groans. “No! You’ve got it all wrong! Neither of them knows how to express their feelings and that’s the only reason they act the way they do!” he tries to convince them, but Gwen and Miles just glance at each other. “I don’t know, Pav,” Gwen says. “I picked up on the romantic tension between the two of you immediately, why are you doubting my genius social cue reading now?”

“You need to stop being such a romantic, Pav. The two of them would rather eat glass than be romantically involved in any way,” Gwen responded, but Pavitr was not convinced.

He still isn’t. Hobie laughs. “Excited? You must be mental to think I’d be chuffed to see them,” he responds, and Pavitr sighs. One day. One day he will get Hobie to admit he cares for you.

Gwen was honestly a little nervous for this little meet-up. The two of you had a really bad fight recently, and trying to get the two of you back to talking level seems a little ambitious.

“You what?” he yelled, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m being mentored by Miguel.” Hobie stares at you, not saying anything, with his mouth slightly open before he shakes his head. He’s very angry, but you simply don’t care. “He’s helping me, Hobie. We both have the venomous bite thing, so he’s trying to help me out with it and helping me adjust to–”

“Don’t you dare say adjust to fuckin’ Spider Society like I ain’t been here the whole time.”

“You never necessarily helped, Hobie. Unless you count constantly insulting me and–”

“Nah, don’t gimme that fuckin’ rubbish, (Y/n),” he growls, and you cross your arms. “Why are you so mad about it anyway?” He laughs. “Why am I mad? Seriously?! You’re the right fuckin’ hand of the pitch and toss!”

“The what?” you ask and he groans. “The fuckin’ boss, (Y/n)! The man!”

“So what, Hobart?! In case you forgot you’re a part of this society, you listen to Miguel too!”

“I fuckin’ don’t!”

“You fucking do!” By this point, you’d pulled attention from several other spiders, not only because of the yelling but because their senses were going off. The two of you were too focused on each other to realize they were all ready to pounce on the two of you. “Fuckin’ piss off before I do somethin’ we both regret,” he growls, and you laugh. “Make me.”

The two of you were separated after that and haven’t talked to each other since. Granted, it’s only been two days, but that is long for the two of you, honestly. And it’s been making everyone a target of Hobie’s rude remarks and your cynicism. The two of you need to talk because clearly, not talking just makes the two of you feel worse.

Even though Hobie’s acting like this is the worst thing his friends could possibly do to him, he does kind of sort of miss you. Which he hates. It’s been two days and he’s already missing you? Disgusting. He can’t wait to yell at you about it. He’s able to keep his cool and pretend like he really doesn’t want to go, but in reality, he’s so anxious to see you. “Alright, come on,” Gwen says, motioning for Hobie to enter the portal. He glances around at them. “Makin’ me go first?”

“Can’t have you run off at the last minute,” Gwen says and he sighs. “Whatever,” he says, walking a little too fast into the portal. He only stops when he’s enveloped in a familiar darkness. He feels something brush up against his leg, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good seein’ ya, Shadow,” he says, bending down to give your cat some attention. Shadow headbutts him and he scratches between his ears. Your cat loves Hobie, much to your disdain.

“You hurt him, I kill you,” you said to him the second time he was at your place. He picked up Shadow while you were in your room, and when you came out and saw him holding your baby, you were ready to fight. But you were ready to fight him at any given moment anyways. “I won’t hurt him. He’s much cooler than his owner anyways,” Hobie says, petting his head. You roll your eyes. “Yeah well– wait is he purring?” you say, and Hobie smirks at you. “Looks like he likes me better than his owner too.”

“Shut the fuck up. Shadow!” you call your cat, your voice going from a tone that screams ‘I hate you’ to one that screams ‘I love you.’ Of course, Shadow’s ears perk up and he hops out of Hobie’s arms and right over to yours. You stick your tongue out at Hobie, who rolls his eyes and looks away to cover up the dusting of a smile on his face. “What are you, 12?” he asks, and you scoff. “Can I hold Shadow?” Pavitr asks, and you hand him to him without a second thought. But no matter who you passed him to, he’d either end up in yours or Hobie’s lap.

He's so lost in the memory that he doesn’t even sense you approaching. “So, you decided to actually show up. I’m surprised,” he hears your voice and looks up at you. “Wasn’t exactly by choice, love. If I had it my way, I’d never be in this hellhole again,” he retorts, and you just shake your head and say nothing. That’s strange. You thought for sure you would mention something about him being forced to do something even though he always does what he wants. “What? Have you lost your spitfire after only two days of not talkin’ to me?” he asks, standing. You sigh. “I just… I don’t have the energy to fight today, Hobie. Okay?”

Don’t have the energy? You literally always have the energy to fight with him. Before he can say anything else, Pavitr comes through the portal.

“(Y/n)! How have you been?” he asks, excitedly, hugging you. Hobie doesn’t like that. But what he doesn’t like even more is the slight look of pain that spreads across your face for a split second. He observes silently as you play it off like nothing happened, and Pavitr is none the wiser to it. Gwen and Miles enter shortly after, and the dynamic you all had before yours and Hobie’s attempted murder of each other returns. Except for the constant bickering between you and Hobie. Instead, it’s just a lot of silent glaring, and subtle reactions. “Okay, hold on. What the hell is this?” Miles asks, and you both look at him. “What?” you say at the same time, ending in a side eye to each other. “That! That right there, why aren’t you two threatening to tear each other’s heads off because you said the same thing?” Miles asks, and Hobie shrugs. “I got nothin’ to say to them.”

“Ditto,” you say, and the three of them look at you two like your heads just got cut off. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m havin’ a laugh, mate?” Hobie snaps at Miles and he puts his hands up in surrender. “This… is odd. I can’t recall the last time it was quiet between you two.”

“Because it never was. They always went for each other’s throats like their own lives depended on it,” Pavitr says to Gwen, and you clear your throat. “We’re right here, you know,” you say with a forced grin. “Yeah, care to save the talkin’ bout us til we aren’t around?” Hobie grumbles and the three glance at each other before nodding. “Sorry, you two…” Gwen says, and you shrug. “It’s whatever. Dealt with worse,” you say, and Hobie nods. He glances over at you again. How is no one else noticing how weird you’re acting? Is he the only one who pays attention to you or some shit?

This isn’t the first time he’s picked up on your odd behaviors. Within the time he knew you, he was able to notice your behaviors unlike anyone else.

He wasn’t necessarily looking for you. He’d never go out of his way to look for you in a million years, yet here he was. In your world because you didn’t show up at the allotted time everyone was gonna meet up at in his world. He webbed up to the tallest building, the Ember Stake Building. It resembled that of a wooden stake, except all black and metal instead of wood. Sure enough, you were there. “You’re late.”

You turn and look at him, but don’t say anything. Instead, you just turn away. He frowns. “What’s that all about, then?” he asks, plopping next to you. You sigh. “I think I’m just gonna stay here tonight.”

“What? Why? Because you’re too borin’ to do anythin’ fun? Gotta work late tonight?”

“No. Personal reasons,” you say and he cocks his head to the side. “Such as?”

“Fuck off, Hobie. I’m not telling you.”

“Yes, you are. What’s goin’ on in that empty head of yours?” he asks and you give him an unamused look. “It’s the anniversary of my Uncle Belial’s death,” you mumble. He frowns. “Ah. I see.”

“...Yeah.” The two of you sit in silence, the wind the only noise happening before he sighs. “Well then, you’re definitely comin’ tonight.” He stands. You look at him. “I just said-”

“And I don’t give a shit. Come on, your friends are waitin’ for you. Besides, they can help ya get your mind off of it. Chop-chop.” You ended up going because you were forced to. But you did have a good time. Hobie was right, it helped you get your mind off of things. And maybe you were reading into it, but he seemed just a tad bit nicer to you that night than normal.

And you could tell his.

“And what the hell is your problem today?” you appear behind Hobie who is angrily restringing his guitar in his common room at Spider Society. “Well now you’re a part of it,” he responds. You sit on the floor across from him. “As much as I’m happy just my presence can reduce you to a massive asshole, I don’t think I’m the only reason this time.”

“How could you even tell?”

You shrug. “You busy your mind and hands when you’ve got something on your mind,” you say, and he looks at you. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Didn’t realize you were obsessed with me.”

“You wish,” you say. He sighs. “New group of fascist assholes showed up today,” he begrudgingly opens up and you nod. “Told you so.” He glares at you. “Had to say it,” you say, “But you’ll beat them. You always do.” He glances at you. “And if you can’t, I’ll just take care of it for you.” He laughs, unamused. “I’d like to see you try.”

He’s unsure why so many memories are flooding back to him at this moment in time. The answer is that he’s obsessed with you and Pavitr is right, but we don’t need to talk about that until he realizes it for himself. Maybe not seeing you has made him think about you more for some reason. He shakes his head, rejoining the conversation. Everything goes surprisingly well for the rest of the time you all are together. Unfortunately, Gwen gets a notice that something is happening in her world, and she has to go. Miles follows, and Pavitr is torn between going with them or staying with the two of you to make sure no one gets murdered. Or to see some romantic shit.

“We been behavin’, haven’t we?” Hobie says, a bit relieved they were leaving so he could find out what was up with you. You were close with the others, but even they’ve commented on you two only opening up with each other. “You actually have… and maybe it’d be good to leave them alone. Talk out whatever issues they’re having,” Miles says to Pavitr and Gwen, who look at each other but reluctantly agree. Miles and Pav rush into Gwen’s world before her. “I swear if you two kill each other I’m going to kill both of you,” Gwen says, walking backward into the portal to her world and pointing at the two of you. “We won’t.”

“Probably,” Hobie finishes, and Gwen rolls her eyes before disappearing. There’s a silent tension between the two of you before he speaks up. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“Don’t play dumb with me, now. What happened?” he pushes, and you frown at him. Shadow leaps up into your lap and nuzzles you. You sigh and gently pet him. Hobie stays silent, watching and waiting. “Just… bad day,” you mumble. “Bad day, how?”

“Bad spider day.” He hums. “That why you looked like Pav stabbed ya after that hug?” You look at him, surprised. “You saw that?”

“Course I did. ‘m not fuckin’ daft,” he responds, and you look at Shadow. “Yeah… it’s nothing, though. Just a few scratches, typical Spider-Person shit,” you say, and he nods. “Let me see, then.”

“What?”

“Let me see.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re lyin’,” he shrugs, and you glare at him. “Have I told you I hated you?”

“Not recently, but yeah.” You glare at him but sigh. “Fuck you, Hobie,” you mumble, but shrug off your oversized cardigan. His eyes widen as he sees deep lacerations and bruises spread across your shoulder and onto your back. He stands up and approaches you without even realizing it. You watch him as he studies your injuries. “Who did this?” His voice sounds darker than you’ve ever heard it. You look away from him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he responds immediately. You turn your head to look at him again, only to have him staring directly into your eyes. “Prowler,” you mumble, and he frowns. “The worst of the worst in your world,” he whispers to himself, recalling a conversation the two of you had months ago. He glances around. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks, and you look at him with a side-eye. “Why?”

“Cause I wanna get high off the painkillers in it, why do you think, you dolt?” he snaps, and you point to your bathroom. “Under the sink.” He gets up and walks into your bathroom, grabs the first aid kit, and walks back out to you on your couch. “Turn round and move a bit,” he says, and you do. He sits behind you, starting to clean and stitch to your injuries up. You wince slightly and he frowns. “Why haven’t you done this yet?”

“I can’t reach back there myself.”

“Then ask someone else to do it.”

“I don’t have anyone to ask anymore.”

“Yes, you do,” he says without missing a beat. You turn your head to say something snarky to him, but he looks at you at the same time. Your faces are closer than the two of you expected, causing you both to quickly look away. You can feel your face burning, and you’re grateful the injuries are mainly on your back and not close to your heart because you don’t want to hear his comments about how fast it’s beating. On an equal note, Hobie’s happy you aren’t looking at him because he has his jaw clenched and swallows hard. His heart is beating just as fast, but he pretends like it’s nothing, just like you. He finishes the stitches, placing bandages over top of them. “Done,” he says, and you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as he tosses the first aid kit onto your coffee table. “Should be healed by tomorrow,” you mumble, and he nods. “When did that happen?”

“A few hours before you all got here,” you admit, and he frowns. “And you were just gonna pretend nothing happened?”

“Yes. I told you earlier, I’m too tired to deal with any bullshit today, okay?” you confess, and he frowns.

“He get ya that good cause you’re tired?”

“I guess.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno.”

“Stop lyin’ love,” he says, and the nickname you hate oh so much sounds just a little sweeter to you than it should. “Couple days ago.”

“You haven’t slept in two days?” You shake your head, and he sighs. “Go the fuck to sleep. Now.”

“But–”

“Go,” he demands, pointing to your bedroom. You groan, “You’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, getting up and dragging yourself to your room. “Yeah, yeah whatever,” he says, following you. You flop onto your bed as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Come to tuck me in?”

“You wish,” he watches as Shadow hops up onto your bed, curling up against you. You immediately put your hand on him and pet him. Hobie frowns as he feels a pang of annoyance toward your cat. “Gonna stand there and watch me sleep or something?” your voice pulls him out of his ridiculous thoughts, and he scoffs. “Gonna stand here and make sure you don’t try to get up as soon as I go,” he says, and you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, rolling away from him. He stands there until he’s sure you’re asleep. He glances at Shadow, who is still awake and staring at him. He puts his finger to his lips to say “shh” as he pulls his mask over his head.

He and the Prowler of this world need to have a bit of a chat.

───────────────────────────────

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#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

2K notes · View notes

puck-bunnies · 3 months

Text

behind closed doors

umich!luke hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, fingering, praising, choking, not proof read

word count: 2.3k

me and luke were never much of friends, never even talked much. at least, that’s what everyone thought. no one ever knows what happens behind closed doors.

i have not used this app in forever, meaning i haven’t written a fic in quite a long time so this is me trying to get back into writing. sorry if this is not great and a little rushed, i just haven’t written anything in like five months. anyways, try to enjoy this fic and ill try to write more as soon as i can.

i sit in the living room of my best friends boyfriends house, she sits beside me as all of ethan’s roommates take up every other seat. the lightning vs islanders game plays on the tv, having all of our eyes glued to it.

the boys are in a constant state of yelling, wether is celebrating, yelling at how stupid the refs are, or booing the other team. i’m not as invested as usual, my teams aren’t playing, but ill never miss an opportunity to a hockey game.

my mind also focuses on the close proximity as luke sits beside me, our thighs lightly rubbing against each other ever so softly. the warm summer weather left me wearing shorts and a tank top, causing luke’s hand to glide across my bare skin as he secretly places his hand on my thigh.

i never intended on sneaking around with luke, it all just happened one day, the house was empty and quiet. we got to talking, venturing from subjects like our classes, plans for our future, and somehow turning into our sex life.

he learned that i’ve never really gotten quite what i need, never feeling that spark with any guy that i’ve been with. them never wanting to try anything i’ve wanted to, i’ve never been fully satisfied.

he continued to tell me how he has slept around quite a bit. nearly almost always leaving the rink with some new blonde puck bunny stuck to his arm. he didn’t wear it as a trophy, or say that he regretted any of it, all just saying it’s apart of his past. his history he can’t and won’t change.

one thing led to another, his hands roaming my body as my lips bit down on his. my hands squeezing the mattress tightly with every moan escaping my lips.

we didn’t even stop there, whenever we could find a time to be alone, we were tangled in each others arms.

here we are now, not even able to keep our hands to ourselves in sight of one another. i try to shake his hand off, not wanting any of the surrounding eyes to see his intimate gesture. he doesn’t move, squeezing my skin harder. i softly pierce my bottom lip with my teeth, try to calm my nerves. i can feel heat bubbling up to my face, painting my cheeks with a faint blush.

my eyes peer over to him, giving him a pleading look to start behaving. he doesn’t budge, giving me a side smirk before returning his eyes on the game.

rutger groans loudly as the 2nd period finishes, “fuck the lightning.” he swears as they’re pulling a 4-1 lead. he chugs back the rest of his beer, throwing the can on the ground in some grown man temper tantrum.

the ads run during the commercial break, leaving the rest of us to disregard the television for the time being. my heart starts to quicken, without their distraction of the game they’re eyes could fall upon luke’s hand on me.

my mind tries to work fast, but the only thing i can think of doing is grabbing the blanket next to me and covering myself with it, concealing us from the wandering eyes. luke’s lips curl into a smirk, proud of me not forcing him off, knowing that i want it. that i want him.

his hand becomes bolder, rubbing up and down my inner thigh. i bite my bottom lip again, trying to stabilize myself from this new feeling. his fingers become more adventurous, going to the hem of my shorts.

“fuck.” i softly mumble to myself, luke’s soft chuckle tells me that he hears my light groans. his fingers don’t stop there, rubbing up to the bottom of my shirt, toying with the cotton material.

the pads of his fingers brush against my sensitive skin, right across the bottom of my stomach. fire engulfs my stomach, my breath hitches as he rubs softly back and forth, tickling my skin.

the game comes back for the final period, my eyes keep trained on the hockey game, but my mind can only focus on his touch as it drives me insane.

he feels my stomach hitch with my breath, he knows i want him so badly, he knows what he does to me. i squeeze my thighs together, trying to cause some type of sensation in my growing wetness.

i can’t take his teasing fingers anymore, “meet me in my room.” i whisper to him. rising from the couch and walking away from the crowded living room. i head for the direction of the bathroom, making them hear my footsteps as i lead their ears to the door closing. i stay outside the bathroom, tiptoeing to my room in an unsteady waiting of luke.

the door finally opens, luke quickly closing the door silently behind him. a deep breath is all i can hear from him, turning around to look at me patiently sitting on the foot of my bed. he takes a seat beside me, quickly gripping my hips and pulling me onto his lap.

“it’s been awhile since we’ve been alone,” my fingers rake up the back of his head, through his soft brown hair, my finger swirling around a curly lock. “too long.” a soft sigh parts from his lips as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp.

he keeps his hands on my hips, roughly gripping at my denim shorts. “i missed your hands all over me. you can’t tease me out there and not expect me to want more.”

our bodies come closer, our lips so close together, our hearts syncing their beats. i can barely hold myself back from making up that final inch. “tell me how badly you want me.”

“i want you..” he shyly gives into my need. it’s not enough for me, i feed off of hearing how badly he wants me, his hands rubbing up and down my body, the feeling of his cock being buried deep inside me.

“oh yeah…” my lips attach to his neck, softly kissing down from his jaw.

finally he gives in, “i want to feel you against me, your lips on mine, every inch of your beautiful body baby.”

a devilish smirk spreads on my face, “mmm, is that right?” i mumble against his neck, softly sinking my teeth into his sensitive skin, sucking the spot to soothe it after.

“oh god yes.” luke practically moans out. his hands become adventurous, slowly going down to hold my ass in his hands, gripping at my clothed skin. they make their way down farther, gripping at my exposed thighs while my kisses go back up his jaw.

i crave for his taste, forcefully pressing my lips against his in a hungry state. my tongue quickly sliding into his mouth, hands combing through his messy curls, pushing him closer into me. he guides my hips back and forth on him, i can feel him hardening underneath me.

breaking the kiss to catch my breath, i drop my head onto his shoulders as i feel his hands press against my pussy. my hips still grind on him, but instead of just on his hard cock, it’s on his fingers. “mmm, you want me that bad?” he chuckles, i nod against his shoulder.

he undoes my shorts, exposing the top of my pink lacy panties, his fingers drag down them, going farther into my pants. they settle on my wetness, my hips stop rocking, focusing on the closer touch. “god you’re soaked.”

my lip sticks to my teeth in a harsh lip bite, my walls clench around nothing, begging to be filled by him. his fingers work slow and teasingly, rubbing circles around my clothed clit, watching me squirm on top of him. my back slightly arches, legs slowly opening wider for him to have better access to my aching pussy. “needy, are we?”

i softly whimper, my hips start to grind again, craving more attention from his teasingly slow hands. his fingers move the crotch of my panties aside, touching my wetness with his bare fingers, feeling my folds and them dripping for him. my head lifts off his shoulder, taking a glance down at his hand stuffed down my pants, looking back deep into his eyes.

i take a deep breath out, without a single warning he thrusts a finger in my pussy. making me loudly squeal with surprise. he quickly covers my mouth, stopping his finger in me. “you have to be quiet princess, you don’t want us getting caught, now do you?” he asks. i shake my head no, he hums at my obedience. “good girl.” his voice is in a whisper, softly praising me.

he begins to move his finger once again, letting me adjust to the new sensation before adding another, stretching me out for him. curling his fingers up to my g-spot. finally trusting me enough not to scream, he moves his hand off of my face, settling it down on my hip to keep me steady.

my hands grasp at his curly locks, trying to compose myself. as he adds another finger i bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the wanting moans from escaping my lips. a smirk spreads across luke’s face, watching what he can do to me with just his hands. i curse under my breath, dropping my head down to keep my brain straight, the pleasure slowly becoming less bearable.

his fingers quicken, hand comes off my hip and to my chin, lifting my head to force me to stare back into his eyes. “look at me while i’m finger fucking you baby.” my teeth puncture my bottom lip harder, my chest heaving with all the moans i keep to myself. i slip up and let on me out, hard hands hit my throat, softly squeezing. “i thought i told you to keep quiet?”

his grip loosens to allow me to take a breath, closing back up as soon as my chest rises. another finger slips in my cunt, my legs start to squirm, toes curling and hands squeezing his hair. his fingers losen from my throat, falling down to the straps of my tank top. he pulls one strap off each shoulder, one at a time. hooking two fingers at the neckline and pulling down, my tits falling out from my lack of wearing a bra.

he wastes no time before gripping my breast, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bud. i clench around his fingers, my senses overloading with pleasure. he lowers his head, kitty licking my other nipple. i softly moan, not loud enough for luke to get me in trouble again, but enough for him to know the things he’s doing to me.

my stomach clenches, the feeling i know very well as my head starts to feel light. “i’m so close.” i whimper out. luke doesn’t let up, switching to my other breast, sucking on the nipple before softly biting the skin.

my whole body clenches as i feel my climax, luke’s quick fingers curling inside me quickly. it all comes raining down, my pussy clenching around him as i coat his fingers with myself. he backs up, letting me heave and fall down on his chest to catch my breath.

i quietly curse under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut to recover from my high. i life my head back up to look luke in the eyes. he removes his fingers from my folds, fingers coated with my cum. he slides his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. my breath catches in my throat again, god damn he makes me want more.

“you’re such a good girl Y/N.” he pops his fingers out of his mouth, “i wish i could fuck you silly right now. but i want to keep all those precious moans to myself, when we can be completely alone.”

before i can even react to his words he puts his lips back onto mine, slipping his tongue in my mouth to let me taste myself. his fingers plant back onto my hips, helping me up to my feet so he can get out from underneath me.

“you go get yourself cleaned up and meet me back in the living room. i pray we weren’t gone too long for anyone to notice.” he whispers, fixing my hair from the sweat that beads on my forehead.

i nod to his words, giving him one last little kiss before he silently slips out of my bedroom. my try to regain my normal breathing patterns, my brain still fuzzy from my previous orgasm.

i obey luke’s wishes, tiptoeing to the bathroom to clean myself off. splashing water into my face to try to remove my blushing red cheeks. i walk back out to the bathroom, seeing everyone engrossed in the final minutes of the third period. i thankfully sigh, slipping back between the guys to sit back down beside luke. he offers me a light smirk, we both then back to the television, watching the game unfold.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #luke hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes one shot #puck-bunnies

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qrrieterisunnq · 7 days

Text

It's nothing - Nico Hischier

nico!hischier x fem!reader Summary: Nico gets injured during the game, which leads to y/n checking him out in the medical room. Nico downplays his injury to make a good impression on Y/n. requested: yes/no A/N: I hope you'll like it, it's unedited so I might change something when I have time to edit the rest of the fics! So just enjoy this fic and happy rest of the day! likes are good, reblogs are better <3 gif, not mine word count: 1,38K warning(s): injured Nico, y/n is an intern, cocky Nico, fluff

masterlist | wip's

The puck is on Nico’s stick as he skates towards the net of the team they’re playing against. They are up for two goals, but they are just in the second period. Nico looks around, looking for his teammates so he can pass them the puck.

On his left is Jack but there are two islanders next to him, so he wouldn’t be able to get the puck. There are other two Luke and Ondřej, but they aren’t in the best position, so the last one is Jasper who is in center with the best chance to shoot a goal.

“Bratter!” he shouts, his thick Swiss accent making Jasper whisp his head in Nico’s direction. With a swift swing of his stick, Nico sends the puck over to him all eyes on Jesper as he shoots on the net getting the puck in the top left corner. The cheers and the bell sound through the arena, and the boys on the ice skate over to Jesper embracing him in a hug and patting his head. “Atta boy!” Nico laughs, patting his helmet.

“God shot, J!” Jack skates over to them, joining the hug. The lineup slowly makes their way to the bench bumping the extended gloves of their teammates.

After their celebration, Nico skates on the faceoffs, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down to win the face-off. As soon as the puck touches the ice, Nico swings his stick the puck sliding behind him on Jack’s stick. He swings his stick, hitting the puck hard as it flies in the net, right between the goalie's legs, but this time, he’s prepared for it and deflects the puck away. Nico skates toward it, but the defenseman on the other team pushes him in the boards. Nico’s shoulder slammed into the boards, and he fell down, staying there as he winced in pain.

The referee immediately whistles announcing penalties, as the boys skate over to Nico. Timo immediately shoves the other player away earning a shove in return.

But Timo's anger and loyalty to Nico won't let him and he shoves him again, the defenceman doesn't like that and gives Timo a hard hit in the face.

The free referee skates over to them trying to get them away from each other. Jack skates towards them hugging Timo around his waist and pulling him away. “YOU SON OF BITCH!” Timo shouts over Jack’s shoulder as he’s dragged away to the bench.

“You okay, Nico?” Ondřej asks Nico as he kneels down beside him.

“My shoulder hurts like a bitch.” Nico whimper, his left hand clutching his right one

“Okay, give me your hand, we’ll get you down to the medical room.” He sighs gripping Nico’s left hand and helping him up on the skates as he skates with him to the bench.

“You okay Nico?” Coach Green asks with concern in his eyes.

“No my shoulder hurts like a bitch!” he curse as he clutches Ondřej’s arm for support.

“I’ll lead him down to the medical room, I’m sure y/n is ready for him.” Coach just nods his head making room for them to leave down the tunnel.

“Y/n! Are you here!” you can hear a voice with a thick accent calling for you. Immediately you run to the door opening and welcome the two players inside the room.

“Yeah! Come in, come in!” you urge them inside pointing towards the table. “Sit on the table Nico and Pally I need you to help him take off the jersey and pads.” You say as you walk over to your table taking the gloves from the box.

“Sure.” He nods his head solely helping Nico to get his jersey from his injured shoulder. “Thanks, O.” Nico breathes out as soon as the jersey is off of him leaving him sitting here in only his pads. “I get the pads you can go back. I need you to win the game!”

“You sure Cap?”

“Yeah positive, go and kick their asses.” Nico goes to move his right arm to extend his fist but winces in pain.

“Hey, Nico, be careful!” you scold him as you walk over to him starting to get his pads off.

“Sorry,” he pouts, a small laugh leaving Ondřej’s lips. “But it’s nothing.”

“Okay, can you please slowly raise your hand up? As soon as it starts hurting you stop okay?” you say when he’s sitting half-naked in front of you.

Nico just nods his head raising his right arm. You watch his face wince in pain but he continues raising it until it is in a vertical position. “It’s nothing, see?” he points to the right arm.

“I’m the one to say if it’s nothing. The boarding looked really nasty so let me do my job here okay?” you smile at him your hands gripping his right arm and getting it down in a normal position. You place your hands on his shoulder, squeezing the right places to find out what is with his shoulder.

“So, how are you enjoying the internship so far?” he asks as you do your job with his shoulder.

“Oh, it's amazing! Really the medical staff here is so welcoming and really helpful when I need something or I don’t know what something is. And of course, you guys are amazing too, you know, free hockey games.” You chuckle a throaty laugh escaping from his lips.

“Oh, are we?” he says cocky smile lingering on his lips. “Yeah, I mean you’re playing amazing,” you look at him when a quiet groan leaves his mouth. He just shakes his head like it's nothing, that it’s not hurting. “Especially you.” You whisper to yourself hoping he won’t hear it. It’s no secret you have a crush on the captain. Lots of the guys noticed how you check him off and the medical staff too.

“Especially me, eh?” he asks his hands landing on your hips as he pulls you between his legs.

“Yeah, and now let me do my job. Your shoulder is dislocated so I need to get it back in its place,” You say shaking his hands off your hips. “So on three, okay?” you prepare him for a pain. Your left hand is resting on his shoulder and your right is holding his biceps so you can pull at it.

“Yeah, you don’t have to count, it won’t hurt, I’m a tough guy.” Smirk finding its way on his lips shrugging you grasp his shoulder harder at the same time as you pull on his biceps getting the shoulder in the right place.

“Oh FUCK!!” he hisses his teeth sinking in his lower lips.

“Tough guy, huh?” you smirk at him patting his tight as you walk over to the table for bandage.

“Very funny y/n, really.” He says taking in deep breath, and just watching y/n do her job. He had this intense crush on her since she started her internship here only a few weeks ago.

“What, I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt!” you giggle as you carefully bandage his shoulder. “Okay, tough guy! You can go on the ice, but be careful with it. One bag hit in the shoulder and you might end up here again.” You smile at him when you’re done and fuck…your smile is so fucking cute and he just wants that full plump lips on his.

“Oh, don’t worry, I wouldn’t mind ending up in here again.” Nico puts his pads back on his shoulders and arms, covering his toned muscular chest. You pout at it, shaking your head at yourself.

“Yeah, good one. Now go on that ice and kick some asses. And for a record, don’t try to downplay your injury just to make a good impression on someone, tough guy.” You motion your hand towards the ice and turn away to take off your gloves and write something on the computer.

“Okay, thanks for the advice miss intern.” He salutes and walks from the medical room, only to come back. “And by the way, tomorrow, you and me, dinner! I’ll pick you up at eight.” He sends you a wink, causing your cheeks to turn red. Before you can say anything, he’s running down the tunnel to the ice. You just shake your head at him, sitting down on your chair, your cheeks still bright red and your thoughts already on tomorrow and the dinner.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier #nh13 #nj devils #nhl #nico hischier fic #nhl fic #nico hischier imagine #nhl fanfiction #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils

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livyjh · 7 months

Note

Hey! I have the following request please...

Reader (shy and inexperienced) is enjoying a night out with friends. They end up discussing all the eligible men in Jackson and a tipsy Reader confesses she has a crush on older man Joel and lists, in explicit detail, all the things she'd like to do to him. Little does she know, Joel is within hearing distance. When he reveals his presence to the group, he has a little fun teasing an embarrassed Reader. A couple of days later when Reader is sober, Joel (having a crush on her too) confronts her and says he's up for everything she wanted to do with him.

Hope that inspires you! Thanks and have a good day! 😊

ANON. I LOVED THIS IDEA. THANK YOU!!!! Have a fantastic day 💕 and enjoy!

Crazy On You

Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Word count: 3k

Warnings: all the smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it!), pull out method (don’t do this), oral sex (f and m receiving), reader gets called fem gendered terms, filler OCs, drinking alcohol.

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

“Alexander. He’s good looking.” Your friend, Samantha, speaks up to your small group at a table inside the Tipsy Bison.

“Oh, I agree.” Your other friend, Olivia, chimes in.

“How old is he? Like 22?” You ask the two other girls.

“Yeah. So?” Samantha raises a brow.

“You guys don’t want someone a little older? More mature?” You ask, sipping your fruity cocktail.

“Like who, Tommy?” Olivia asks.

“I mean, I dunno.” You shrug. “Or uh, his brother.” You giggle a little, really feeling the alcohol now.

“Joel?” Samantha and Olivia look at each other.

You nod, slurping down the rest of your drink. “Yeah… what? What’s so wrong with that?”

“He’s like, kinda old, Y/n.” Olivia laughs.

“N- no he isn’t. He’s not that old.” You defend yourself. “Besides, age doesn’t matter when you are that fucking attractive.”

Samantha and Olivia nod. “Okay true.” Samantha agrees.

“God, the things I would do to that man.” Your eyes flutter closed for a moment before you’re brought back to reality by Olivia’s voice.

“Like, what? Come on, we all know you’re… innocent.” She says the last word quietly.

“So? I’ve seen porn. And I’m not a virgin. I know what I like. Just because I don’t have a ton of experience doesn’t mean there aren’t things I would pay to have that man do with me.” You waggle your eyebrows.

Samantha glances behind you for a moment and then meets your eyes again. “Spill. Tell us.”

“Well,” you start. “I mean the obvious answer is I want to ride his dick. Which I’m sure is huge.”

Samantha and Olivia giggle drunkenly.

“I would suck his soul out through that cock. He wouldn’t know what hit him.” You bite your lip thinking about it.

You hear a chair shift behind you but continue talking anyways. “God, and I would-“ you lean in a little. “I would ride his face. So hard. That nose on my clit? Yes, please.”

Samantha and Olivia both have their eyes on a spot behind you and above your head now.

“Are you guys even listening?” You ask, turning around to see what they’re staring at when you’re startled by the closeness of a broad chest in a dark green flannel shirt. You look up and meet the man’s eyes.

“J- Joel-!” You laugh, surprised and utterly embarrassed. Did he hear any of that?

“Hello, ladies.” Joel smiles down at you and then your friends. “How ‘bout I get the next round?”

Samantha and Olivia nod while you stumble over your words. “Y- you don’t- I mean, we’re- you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Joel winks at you and sits in the empty stool next to you.

“Okay.” You blush something fierce when his knee bumps yours.

Joel waves over to the bartender and points his fingers to your glasses on the table. The bartender nods and starts making more drinks.

“Thank you, Joel.” Olivia looks at you with a knowing smirk.

You widen your eyes at Olivia, trying to send the signal that she needs to shut up.

“My pleasure.” Joel smiles.

“Yeah, thank you.” Samantha adds.

“Thanks.” You smile at him.

The bartender interrupts your eye contact with Joel, “Here ya go, folks.” He smiles and sets down four drinks, one for each of you.

“What are you ladies drinking tonight?” Joel looks around at the three of you.

“Gin and tonic.” Olivia and Samantha say in unison.

The gears in your head are turning especially slow as you stare at Joel’s lips. “And you, Y/n?” He asks.

“Uh, dirty Shirley.” You smile softly and focus your eyes on his once more.

“So, you like it dirty.” Joel says, just loud enough for the table to hear.

Your cheeks burn warmer at that and Samantha and Olivia look at each other, holding back little snickers.

You gulp loudly and you can’t help but look at Joel’s lips again, warmth spreading through your lower stomach.

He smirks at you with that goddamn beautiful face of his, his eyes searching your face.

Olivia and Samantha try to both play wingman for you. Olivia speaking first. “She’s full of surprises.”

“Is that right?” Joel teases, knee rubbing against yours gently.

Samantha nods. “You should’ve heard what she was saying like two minutes ago, she-“

“Samantha.” You scold her with a whisper.

“Oh, it’s okay. I heard.” Joel sips the last of his whiskey before getting up and smiling at Olivia and Samantha, then at you for a little longer. “Have a nice night, ladies.” He winks at you and then he’s leaving.

“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands.

“Oh my god!!” Olivia whisper-yells.

“He’s totally into you.” Samantha pulls your hands away from your face.

“Oh for sure.” Olivia agrees.

“You guys suck.” You roll your eyes. “You knew he was behind me the whole time, didn’t you?”

“Uh… no?” Samantha tries to lie and fails miserably.

“I’m too drunk for this. I need to go home.” You slur.

“Alright, let’s get her home.” Samantha and Olivia stand and you walk around the table, putting an arm around each of their shoulders. They each put an arm around you and help you walk home.

***

A few days later, you’re walking through the community garden, hoping to get some fresh carrots for dinner. That’s when you see him.

Joel.

“Hey.” He waves to you from a few plots over before walking up to you.

“Hi.” You smile shyly, remembering the other night far too vividly.

“Hopefully you weren’t too hung over after the other night.” He laughs softly.

“About that, I-“

“If you’re gonna apologize, don’t, honey.” He gives you a devilish grin.

You look at him, a little shocked when he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I think those were all great ideas. I’d be happy to try ‘em.”

You feel your face get warm as he pulls back just enough to look at you. You nod with a smile. “My place or yours?”

“Surprise me.” Joel grabs your free hand and you start walking the both of you to your house.

You toss the carrots down on the front porch, to be worried about later. It wasn’t too hot or cold out so they should be fine.

You unlock your house, feeling Joel’s body so close behind yours that it’s causing you to get wet.

Once inside, Joel shuts the door and pushes you up against it by the hips, both his hands on you.

You whimper at the sudden contact, looking up at him through your lashes. He ducks down to kiss you, moving so slow you thought you were gonna die if he didn’t hurry up.

Finally, his lips meet yours in a heated kiss. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and bites softly. You moan into his mouth as you reach up to start unbuttoning his shirt.

He pulls back just enough to speak, “How would you like to start, baby girl?”

You shiver with pleasure at the nickname as his hands dip under your shirt to feel the soft skin of your stomach. “I-“ you lick your lips, suddenly feeling sheepish. “I don’t know. I’m- I’m not a virgin but, but I haven’t… there’s not a lot…”

“S’okay, doll. I’ll take the reins.” He smiles and kisses you again, eliciting a soft groan from you.

You lead him into the living room, the two of you working to get each other’s clothes off. First it was Joel’s shirt. Then yours. Then your bra. At that point, Joel had to pause the undressing to ravish your chest.

You’re both still standing, bare torsos against each other until he leans down and starts kissing your neck, hands around your back. You tilt your head back to give him more access. He sucks a mark into your collarbone and then he’s moving further down to press kisses all over your breasts.

He suddenly takes your right nipple into his mouth and you gasp, fingers of both hands tangling in his graying hair.

Once he gets his fill tasting your chest, he works on your jeans. He gets them off of you and then admires your panties. They’re not really that special, they’ve got a couple spots where the lace trim is starting to detach, but Joel finds them sexy nonetheless.

“Can I take these off too, sweetheart?” He asks, slowly hooking his fingers in your waistband.

You nod. “Yes.” You breathe the word as he slips the fabric down your legs. You step out of them, eyes focusing on the bulge in his pants. Jesus, yeah, he was big.

You reach forward, gently palming his erection. He grabs your wrist softly and pulls your hand away. “We’ll get to that… you said sum’ about riding my face?”

You blush deeply, biting your lip and nodding up at him.

“Sounds like a dream come true.” He smirks and kisses your lips deeply. He then moves to lay down on the couch, pointing at his face. “Have a seat, darlin’.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Joel, I-“

“Uh-uh. Not gonna break me, pretty girl. Come on.” He waves you over.

You reach for the arm of the couch that’s above his head, moving one leg up over him and sitting on your knees, each one on the sides of his head. You were hovering, and that’s not what Joel told you to do.

He hooks his arms around your upper thighs and pulls you down until your pussy is resting against his face. You reach down with one hand and pull at his hair gently. “Joel, I’ve never- oh!”

Before you can tell him you’ve never actually tried riding someone’s face before, he starts kitten licking your clit.

“Oh fuck.” You gasp softly as his tongue moves up and down through your slit, collecting the wetness there and spreading it all around.

You looked down at him and saw that his nose was shining with your slick already, his tongue starting to push into you.

“Oh my god.” You whine as both his hands grab your ass and push you down against his face even harder.

There it is. His nose is pressed against your clit as he starts to eat you out like a starved man.

The hand of yours not in his hair was supporting you above him with the arm of the couch. You grip his hair harder and your hips involuntarily buck, making his nose rub your clit harder.

“F- fuck! Sorry.” You breathe, afraid you were hurting him.

“Baby girl…” he moves back to look up at you. He’s gorgeous, his nose and lips and beard are shining with your juices as he speaks. “I want you to use me. Use my face like it’s your toy. Promise you’re not gonna hurt me. Okay?”

You think about it for a second but then agree. “Okay.”

He mumbles a “good girl” against your vulva as he kisses it before he’s moving back down and pressing his nose against your clit and his tongue into your center.

You pull at his hair, starting to grind down on his face. His hands on your ass encourage you to move harder, faster.

You swear you’ve had to have broken his nose by now. But he wasn’t saying anything so you kept going, rolling your hips in rhythm with his tongue moving inside you.

Your release grew closer and closer the faster you went, his large nose rubbing against your bundle of nerves perfectly. “Joel-“ you whine. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. Fuck! Ohhh-“ you moan loudly as your orgasm hits you. You feel yourself release into his mouth and it surprises you. You’ve squirted once before but it was on your own fingers. Never with someone else.

You ride his face through your waves, his hands slowly releasing your ass cheeks as you slowed your hips. You use all your strength as your shaky legs lift you enough to see Joel’s face beneath you.

He’s got a shit eating grin on his face. “Baby, that… that’s exactly what I wanted you to do. You’re doin’ so good.”

You smile at him and move back until your wet cunt is rubbing over the tent in his jeans. He groans loudly, hips bucking up against yours. You move back a little more and then get off the couch, reaching down to undo his pants and pull them down.

“Sit up.” You smile at him and get on your knees on the floor.

He does as you tell him, sitting up and putting one of his legs on either side of you. His pants were around his ankles, the only thing in the way were his boxers.

“Show me?” You ask softly.

He nods, licking his lips as he lifts his hips and shimmies his boxers down. His hardness slaps up against his stomach, the head angry and leaking.

“Oh, fuck.” Your eyes widen as you help him get his boxers and pants completely off.

“What?” Joel asks, almost worried at your expression.

“Joel, that’s- that’s not gonna fit.” You look up at his face.

“It’ll fit.” He reassures you.

You shake your head a little. “I don’t think-“

“I’ll make it fit.” He growls.

You swallow thickly, feeling more wetness leak down your thighs. You nod in response and reach up, grabbing the base of his cock with your right hand.

He winces softly, happy to finally be touched. You sit up and put your arms on his thighs, leaning forward until your tongue is tasting his precum.

“Fuuuck.” Joel moans low in his chest, one hand moving up to your hair to grip it at the roots gently.

You swirl your tongue around the head before wrapping your lips around it and starting to suck gently.

He pulls your hair harder, signaling to you that what you were doing felt good. “S- such a good girl. Fuck. Know how long I’ve been wanting this?”

You hum a negative around his dick and it twitches in your mouth. “Long fuckin’ time. Since I first saw you. Knew I needed you.”

You whine around his cock, sucking him down further as you grip the base. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you stroke with your hand. Soon, you’re bobbing your head quickly, his hand in your hair helping to guide you up and down.

You’re almost choking on him, spit dribbling down onto your hand and down your chin as he starts to fuck your face.

“Fuck, Y/n. Got such a pretty mouth. Feels so good.” He grunts.

His cock starts to twitch, you taste more precum, and suddenly he’s pulling you off as he’s panting.

You lean forward, wanting to put your mouth on him again, but his hand pulls you back by the hair. “Wanna fuck that tight, little pussy before I cum.”

You whine at that and nod, releasing his cock as he releases your hair. He pats his thighs, “have a seat, baby girl.”

You lick your lips and get up, moving to straddle him. One of his hands finds your hip, the other guides himself to your entrance.

“Alright, baby. Go on.” He nods.

You slowly relax your thighs, sinking down onto his thick cock. You stop about halfway when you really feel the stretch.

“You can do it, honey. Know you can.” The hand on your hip moves up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath and continue to sheathe his cock with your pussy. You’re whining with each breath by the time he’s all the way inside of you.

“Fuck!” You clench around him involuntarily, making his dick twitch and tickle your g-spot.

“I’m not gonna l- last long.” You let out a shaky breath.

“S’okay, pretty girl. Me neither.” He admits. “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you?”

“Y- yeah.” You moan softly, lifting yourself off him a couple inches before sinking back down with a whimper.

“Doin’ so good, baby.” He encourages you sweetly.

You surge forward and kiss him hard, whining against his lips as you lift up and move down once more. Your body is slowly getting used to him, and once the pain starts to fade, you know you’re done for.

You’re bouncing on him in no time, hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you fuck him with all you’ve got.

One of his hands is back on your hip, the other pinching and tweaking your right nipple.

“Fuck…” he groans as his hips meet Your with each thrust.

“Ohh… oh shit. Fuck. Joel!” You nearly scream his name as you cum all over his cock, velvet walls pulsing around him.

“Jesus. Look at you. Look s- so good.” Joel praises as you keep fucking yourself on him. You don’t slow down as your orgasm fades, wanting him to have just as satisfying of an orgasm.

“Where’d ya want me to…?”

“Inside. P- please.” You beg.

“Baby girl, can’t risk that.” He almost moans the words.

You clench around him. “Fuck.” You whimper. You know he’s right.

You pull off of him and quickly climb back down onto the floor, right hand wrapping around his cock, mouth sucking on the head, left hand finding his balls.

Both his hands grab the back of your head and he uses your mouth like he wants. You moan around him at the taste of yourself and that’s what finishes him off.

“Fuck.” He whimpers beautifully as he cums down your throat, cock and balls twitching in your hands.

You whine as you swallow him, loving the taste of his seed. It was heady and salty and it left you wanting more.

As his dick starts to soften you pull off and pull your hands back, moving to sit next to him on the couch.

You’re both breathing hard, his hand gently grabbing your thigh as you come down from your highs. You lean your head on his shoulder and he kisses your front hairline.

He hums happily. “Have any other good ideas?”

____________________________________________

Tag list: @evyiione @chyannealaniz @cesspitoflove @supersingle @dizzyforyou @jrosie25 @blackfemalenerd @bongsrconfusing

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cozage · 1 year

Note

HI COULD I REQUEST A SHANKS ZORO SAMJI REAUEST WHERE AFTER AN ARUGMENT WITH THEIR GIRLFRIEND THEY GET THE SILENT TREATMENT FROM THEM AND HOW THAT PLAYS OUT AOR HOW THEY RESOLVE IT? THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH PLS TAKE BREAKS AND DRINK WATER 🫶

A/N: I am definitely trying my best thank you! :) Apologies for the length of Zoro’s but i know that man would not apologize easily.

Characters: f reader x Shanks, Zoro, Sanji

Cw: angst with a happy ending

Total word count: 1.9k

Silent Treatment

Shanks

Shanks didn’t get mad easily, and neither did you. But today you were both in a bad mood. And something that would’ve been a small disagreement had blossomed into a full fledged fight because of it.

He avoided you all morning, but by mid-day, he realized that your mood wasn’t lifting. At night, he opted to take watch so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. He hated fighting before bed, and decided it was better to let you both get in better moods before you talked about it again.

The next morning he saw you walking on the deck. “Hey! Do you mind adjusting the sail to catch the northeast wind a bit better?”

You shot him a glare, but did as he asked without comment.

“Thanks!” he called, but you didn’t respond to him. You just sat in a chair on the deck and flicked through a magazine.

Oh boy. Now he was fully aware of just how irritated you were. He glances around on deck and doesn’t see anyone else, so he walks over to you. He walks up behind your chair and leans down to get a better view of what you’re reading.

“Whatcha reading?” he whispers in your ear. His voice startles you, and you huff out an irritated sigh. You start to get up, but he wraps his arm around you and pins you to the seat. You squirm, but he only holds you tighter.

“Shanks, get off.” Your voice is clipped and short with him. He presses his lips against your cheek for a long time, waiting for you to stop fighting him. You realize you’ll lose this fight no matter how long your struggle, so you calm down and still your body.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, tickling your skin with his voice.

“I’m just frustrated with you!” You slam your magazine shut. “I know you have goals and they’re important, but I have goals too! You may be the captain, but I thought we were a team.” Your voice is starting to crack, and you hold back a sniffle as he holds you.

He hums against your cheek, lips still placed there. After a few moments, he pulls away from you and walks around to bend down so he’s at face level with you.

“Your dreams are important,” he says, grabbing your hand. “You are important. I’m sorry I was so focused on my own wishes that I overlooked yours.”

You nod, accepting his apology, and wipe your eyes with your free hand.

He raised your hand to his lips and gave it a few quick kisses. “I’ll do better in the future, I promise.” And you believe his words fully and completely.

Zoro

Zoro wasn’t an idiot. He knew he was in the wrong for escalating the fight so much. And he should’ve never said those things to you in the first place. But he figured as long as you both had time to cool down away from each other, then you could act like nothing happened.

When he finally left the crow’s nest for dinner, he found you sitting between Nami and Luffy. He could tell you were still mad, so he grabbed a meal to go (which Sanji was happy to give him if it meant he wouldn’t have to see the mosshead’s face)

He didn’t realize just how mad you were until he went to your room and found it locked. Your fights had never been so bad that you’ve kicked him out of your room before. He banged on the door for several minutes, and when you finally opened it, he felt relief. Until you walked past him without a word and walked to Nami and Robin’s room.

Zoro is so prideful. He hates apologizing, but he knows he needs to do it. He lays awake in bed all night trying to figure out what to do. He spends half the night thinking how he just needs to wait it out, and the other half wanting to go wake you up right now and force you to forgive him.

He dozes off at some point, and in the morning he’s awoken by the soft click of the door opening. He bolts up, ready to say something, but he only finds Nami, glaring at him while she’s grabbing clothes from your drawer. “Apologize,” she hisses as she leaves the room.

But he can’t, damn his pride. He hides out in his workout room, trying to ignore the pressing weight of your absence.

After lunch, you walk into the crow’s nest. You don’t want to see him, but you need a few weights to work out.

“Hey!” He’s not sure what else to say when he sees you, and it feels like a pretty lame start. But you don’t even look his way. You just grab your weights and start to leave.

He grabs your arm and you pull away from him, trying your best to ignore him. But then he blocks your path to the door, and you finally speak one word to him, against your will. “Move.”

He can feel the anger still thick in your voice. “I’m sorry,” he rushes, trying to keep you there.

“For what?” you shoot back, glaring at him. “What are you sorry for, Zoro?”

“I-” his voice falters, not sure what to say or what to apologize for, and you roll your eyes and push him out of the way, taking your leave.

He doesn’t go down for dinner, and he opts to sleep in the crow’s nest tonight. He figured that he got the bed last night, you could have it tonight.

He hears a light knock on the door, and he rushes to open it, hopeful that it’s you. But Sanji stands on the other side. He’s holding the weights you took down earlier, and a plate of food.

“You really are stupid, marimo,” he sighs, handing the weights and the food toff to the swordsman.

“Wait, cook…” Zoro hesitates. He knows he’s going to have to swallow a lot of pride to do this one. “How do I fix it?”

Sanji scoffs, and Zoro can tell the cook is about to patronize him, but he stops himself. “You apologize, idiot.”

Zoro’s eyebrow twitches, and he struggles to remain calm. “Apologize for what?! She started it!”

“No she didn’t, you moron!” Sanji yells, kicking him in the side. “You started it when you didn’t listen to her wishes! And then you called her selfish and all sorts of other names, and THEN you kicked her out of her own room! You have plenty to apologize for, so do it!”

“How was I supposed to know it was going to bother her?!” Zoro yelled back, grabbing his swords. “I’m not a mind reader!”

“That's your problem, marimo! You can’t think for a damn second about how your words and actions might affect other people!” Sanji’s words finally start to sink in through Zoro’s thick skull, and he pauses, his hands still resting on his blades.

“Just apologize and know what you’re apologizing for, moss for brains.” And with that, Sanji leaves Zoro alone to think about it for the night.

He made a list. It was easier to write everything down. And it turned out that he had messed up on a lot of things. He was surprised you were still with him, when he had it all written down like that.

He let you eat breakfast before he found you. He pulled you aside from the crew and led you up to the crows nest balcony. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for your hand.

“For what?” you shoot back, pulling your hand away from him. You see a hint of irritation twitch over his face, but he reaches into his pocket and unfolds a piece of paper.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, and for saying things I didn’t mean. I’m sorry I got so angry I didn’t see you as a person - a person that I love so much. I’m sorry I always leave my stuff around and that I make it easy for you to trip over stuff in our room. I’m sorry I never separate the laundry, and-” His eyes glance down to the paper now, and he keeps reading. “I’m sorry that I don’t wash the toothpaste out of the sink, and that I always take your fries even though you love them, and I’m sorry I steal the drinks Sanji makes for you, and that I interrupt your social time with Nami and Robin to make you train with me and that-”

You grab the paper from him and he stops. Your eyes scan over the paper, and it’s full of sloppy handwritten things that you’ve gotten upset with him over the past few weeks. Some of the things were silly, others were ones that had been irritating you for weeks, but the page is filled.

Your eyes filled with tears and you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss.

When you pulled away from him, he stared at you nervously. “So, uh…are we good?”

You laughed and rested your head against his chest. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Sanji

“Drinks for the ladies?” He’s holding out a platter of seltzer waters, but you ignore him.

He notices it immediately, and he tries his best not to give an outward reaction. He knows he’s in the wrong, and he should throw himself into the sea for making you feel so upset.

He cooks instead. And he makes a spread of your favorite treats with the freshest ingredients he has in the pantry. He spends all afternoon slaving away, and he’s extra snippy with Usopp and Luffy when they try to steal away any of it.

When he serves it to you though, you give him no response. You barely touch the food he offers.

In a desperate attempt to win back your grace, he makes your favorite dinner entree for the crew as well.

But you don’t show up for dinner, and he takes a plate away to search for you. He finds you sitting on the railing of the bow of the ship, and he cries out to you, startling you.

“Y/N!” he weeps. “Please don’t jump overboard!” He holds you back, smothering you against his chest.

“I’m not going to jump, idiot!” you yell, pulling away from him. “I just want to be alone!”

He calms down, but you see his eyes darken in shame. He holds up the plate as a peace offering. “I brought you dinner. Your favorite.”

You want to take it. You’re starving and it’s your favorite meal in the whole world. But you turn back to the sea, putting your back to his offer. “I’m not hungry.”

“But-”

“God, Sanji!” you scream, pissed off now. “You can’t just fix everything with food! Sometimes I need to hear actual words from you!”

You hear him pause for a moment, and then the soft click of his shoes against the wooden deck of the ship as he approaches you. His strong arms wrap around you and hold your stomach as he presses up against your back.

“I’m sorry.” The smell of his cigarette smoke is comforting to you, and you breathe it in and lean back into him, finally relaxing. “I was insensitive and cruel and I should’ve never treated you like that.”

It’s the apology you’ve been craving all day. You just wanted an apology with words rather than food, and now he’s finally understood that.

“I think I’ll take that meal now, if you don’t mind,” you hum, appeased with his apology.

“Of course,” he said, kissing your cheek before he pulled away to grab you dinner.

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astroboots · 10 months

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #9

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You get a new mysterious co-worker.

Word count: 8,100

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

August 1st

Nearly pancaked by grand piano falling from the 8th floor outside of favorite cafe. No casualties (except the piano).

August 5th

Freak blizzard out of nowhere during lunch. Nearly crushed by large icicle dropping directly outside the exit of the Chrysler building. No other known casualty.

August 6th

An escaped hippopotamus from the Bronx zoo ran 11.3 miles, nearly got stampeded when exiting hotel for work. No casualties.

August 12th

Tornado appeared inside the Guggenheim museum, nearly squashed by large falling statue. Nobody nearby was seriously injured.

It's already mid-August now. You've used up more than a month of your allotted three. It means you don't have much more time to waste, but that knowledge does nothing to help you in figuring things out.

You’ve compiled a comprehensive list of the Universe's ongoing murder attempts, determined to keep track of them all. All in all, there are 37 incidents and counting that you’re aware of… and they’re all different.

They differ in severity. They differ in scale and they differ in frequency. Sometimes it can take weeks, sometimes days, sometimes within hours of each other. If there’s any sort of pattern to them—anything that might help you predict what will happen next or how to stop it—you can’t see it. There’s nothing that gives you any hint or clue as to where you can start to make progress with solving this mystery.

The one thing you have been able to observe from cataloging these incidents is that Miguel was right about what he told you that day at Starbucks: the universe is ramping up. Each attempt is becoming more and more bizarre, defying the very laws of physics and nature in its attempts to snuff you out. Before this, in all of your years in New York, you’ve never heard of a blizzard in July or a tornado indoors.

With the escalating dangers, Miguel is more on guard than ever. Sticking close to you at all times like a particularly insistent herding dog that’s always a few inches from nipping at your heels. Even when he’s seemingly preoccupied by something else—reading a book, folding clothes, eating a crate of kit kats in one sitting—you can always tell that he’s keenly aware of and attuned to your every minute move.

Practically, the only time he lets you out of his sight is for bathroom visits.

Work is still a point of contention between you two. He hates that he can't enter the building to monitor you at work and make sure you're safe, and after that incident when you caught a co-worker trying to take a surreptitious selfie with Spiderman while Miguel was loitering around in the windows, you’d banned him from climbing and scuttering around the exterior of the building like some deranged squirrel.

It’s made him even less pleased about your whole work situation, something he’s not shy about sharing with you. Every morning when you are about to leave for work, Miguel will stand by the door with that ever present frown and ask you:

“Why are you still going into a job you hate when there’s only two months left?”

This morning, you sigh as you reach for your jacket and messenger bag.

Part of you completely understands and even agrees with his logic. If the end of the world is only two months away, why go back to that shithole everyday? You could go to Disneyland. Eat fancy croissants in Paris for breakfast. Have Lyla fake a reservation at an all-inclusive yoga retreat in Bali. You could be living your life like every moment is your last.

The thing is though, as delusional as it may be, you’re not ready to bet on the world ending just yet.

“Miguel, I fully intend for the universe to still be around in two months. And I don’t want to be unemployed when that day comes. I’m not some trust fund baby. Once we figure this thing out, you’re gonna be free to go, and if you take Lyla with you, then what am I supposed to do? Live on the streets? Rent in the city is ridiculous, and my rent-controlled apartment got blown into a million pieces.”

For once Miguel doesn’t seem to have anything smart to say back. He tilts his head, quietly studying your face. Then after a long pause, he gives you a curt nod, as if something clicked into place.

"Fine."

You stop mid-way through zipping up one of your boots to eye him suspiciously.

Okay, that’s… different.

In all the mornings you’ve repeated this argument, this is the first time he’s simply accepted your explanation without sassing you back. He just gazes right back, apparently unperturbed, and holds the door of your hotel room open for you, ready to walk you to work.

There is definitely something going on inside his head, because this stubborn dummy never lets anything go without a fight. You just don’t know what it is yet.

By mid-morning, you've forgotten all about your suspicions, too busy dealing with the aftermath of your coworker's incompetence. You're not entirely sure how they managed to corrupt the Excel formula you’d painstakingly inserted to make sure all the numbers add up correctly, but two hours later, you're still trying to get the data to compute properly.

It’s the kind of mind numbing task that lets your mind wander, and you spend most of that morning wondering what Miguel is up to. He’s probably lingering near the building, eating mini donuts by the dozens from that food truck that is always parked around the corner.

There’s a pointed series of knocks on your cubicle wall. The noise is grating, and it makes the whole of your back seize up because you recognize that signature knock from sound alone. It’s your boss, probably here to ask if you have capacity to take on more case evaluations.

And sure enough, as you reluctantly turn to look, you see her, toothy smile and all, looking down at you in that hammy and strained way of hers.

“Are you busy?” she asks. “I just wanted to introduce you to the newest member of the team.”

She gestures to the person standing beside her. Your gaze goes up over their insanely long legs, up and over the narrow and tapered waist and torso, up over the wide chest and broad, broad shoulders, and even before you get to the familiar face, you already know who you are looking at, because no one else is that tall.

Your mouth gapes open wide in shock.

This stupid motherf-

“This is Mickey O’Hara,” your boss introduces, simpering up at him. (You didn’t even know she knew how to simper.)

Has Miguel gone insane?

What is he playing at?!

He didn’t even bother to change his name properly!

And the man looks unfairly good in office casual! He’s dressed in a white, well-fitted button down shirt and dress pants. Wearing ridiculous thick-rimmed glasses that would belong on Gregory Peck. Riotous curls are as messy and wild as ever, not having even bothered to comb it back. You don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling, the subdued get-up only makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

“Mickey is our newest hire,” your boss continues, batting her eyes at him. “He's interning with our team as a junior insurance claims adjuster and will be shadowing you for the next two months.”

After that, Miguel truly is with you everywhere you go.

He spends most of each workday sitting on a spare chair in your small cubicle, the two of you squeezed into 6'x6', shoulder touching shoulder in that tiny, cramped space.

A superhero he may be, but Miguel is a terrible office worker. He seems completely bamboozled by the copier, and you quickly learn not to ask him to do any copying or scanning or even pick your printouts from the printer, because he always manages to mangle the process, coming back with crumpled up prints or half-shredded paper that looks like budget confetti.

Before the week is over, he’s gained a reputation with the rest of the team as the handsome-but-useless junior that can’t even make coffee for shit.

Most of the time, he doesn't even make an effort to look like he’s doing any actual work, just sits right next to you, and reads books all day long. When you scold him and ask him to at least pretend like he's doing busy work, or he'll get fired, Miguel will just shrug and quietly hum back at you, engrossed in whatever latest sci-fi book his nose is buried in.

"If they fire me, I'll just have Lyla hack into their HR system and rehire me."

Then there’s the way his sleeves are always rolled up halfway up his arm, hugging tight around the firm muscles of his forearm. The peep show of gorgeously tanned skin that is always on display for all to see. It's obscene.

He’s maddening and distracting.

Still, you can’t be too mad about his presence. The office is a much more treacherous place than you’d initially thought. It’s a danger zone of death traps.

One morning when you’re in the supply room, getting a new pad of post-its from one of the massive industrial shelves—the ones that are supposed to be bolted to the wall for safety—suddenly crumpled, taking half the wall with it and nearly flattening you. That was almost game over for you. Squashed like a bug and entombed under a pile of archived TPS reports.

Then there’s that time with the runaway elevator when the supposedly secure and unbreakable industrial cables snaps, with you in it, falling through 40 floors. And you still shudder everytime you walk past the copy machine because of that time it tried to electrocute you. If Miguel hadn’t been there for all of these incidents, you’d be a goner.

Another upside is that it’s also nice to have a cubicle buddy. On slow days, the two of you kill time watching YouTube origami tutorials and practicing with post-its stolen from the temporarily-relocated office supplies.

Despite having hands the size of a giant, Miguel is surprisingly good at it. Delicately folding paper cranes, butterflies and flowers that sit in the place of pride atop of your computer screen, compared to your questionable attempts that usually wind up in a crumpled ball in the trash.

With Miguel there, your days at the office are never boring or predictable in the way they used to be. It no longer feels like you are just going through motions. It's almost… fun.

If there wasn’t a cosmic executioner’s ax looming over your neck, you don’t think you would mind spending every day with him like this.

You take it back. You do mind spending days with him like this. Miguel is the worst.

You've been doing data entry all morning, and the man will not shut up about how primitive Excel is.

“Malo! I don’t understand how your company relies on this software. There are so many data consistency issues! It completely lacks data validation and integrity checks, and it’s too prone to human error when entering crucial data, which results in–”

You take deep calming breaths as you continue to type, trying to pretend his rant is white noise.

The previous day's near death experience—an electrical surge from the printer, trying to finish what the copy machine started—also wiped out one of the file servers, and now you and half your department are stuck manually re-entering three years worth of data.

Two hours in, your fingers are aching, and you're about ready to start banging your head on the keyboard out of frustration. (Or banging the keyboard on Miguel’s head if he doesn’t shut up.)

Like he can hear your thoughts, the man in question obligingly stops talking, and there’s a moment of blessed silence before your chair glides smoothly and suddenly to the left as Miguel rolls you out from in front of your computer. Your first instinct is to wonder what new danger he’s saving you from, but no… He’s just moving you out of the way to make space for him to drag his own chair in front of the screen. “Enough,” he says firmly, already typing out some unintelligibly complex code at a speed that far outstrips your own personal best of 67 words per minute, “I can’t watch you keep doing this when it’s so simple to automate.”

You sometimes forget just how smart Miguel is.

True, he can’t seem to work the office printer, but he’s a genius scientist who single-handedly built an A.I. sophisticated enough to hack into financial institutions and topple governments. He successfully invented a machine that travels between dimensions. Every other sentence coming out of his mouth sounds like something that would confound Stephen Hawking. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s able to automate Excel spreadsheets.

It doesn’t take him very long at all.

Within minutes, he’s finished, hitting enter one final time, and then you can see all of the cells rectify themselves one by one. Errors disappear and new corrected information appears, data populating blank cells and aligning itself in tidy rows.

You lean in closer to get a better look. Your elbow snags the edge of your coffee cup and the cup topples over, splashing runaway hot coffee across your hand.

Before you have a chance to react, there’s a strong pull backwards. Miguel is already grabbing you and pulling you sideways into his lap and out of the firing range.

The cup clatters off the edge of the desk and onto the floor. The rest of the burning liquid never had the time to land on you.

Then you’re sitting on top of him, confined in the much too small seat of the office chair that can barely fit him and his broad backside, and much less the both of you. But if it’s uncomfortable, Miguel doesn’t show it. He takes your hand in his to inspect it carefully.

The patch of skin burns and stings, but you can’t tell if it’s from the coffee or his burning touch that makes you feel like there’s liquid fire simmering in your veins.

“You okay?” he says, his voice right in your ear.

He is so close. Surrounding you. Broad arms locked around your waist and the firm muscles of his thick thighs under yours.

“Yeah,” you manage, nodding slowly. Your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth.

He quietly drags your hand closer to his face, then blows on the back of your burnt knuckles to soothe the sting.

“Better?”

Those stunning eyes are staring into yours from inches away, cut cheeks right there, nose barely brushing against yours, and – god, is he close. Too close.

Miguel is always in close proximity to you these days. Never more than a couple yards away, but save for life or death situations, the two of you do not find yourself like this. He only ever holds you when you’re crashing through the skies or about to collide with a runaway vehicle. This is different somehow.

Your heart feels like a trapped bird in your chest, fluttering so fast and panicky it might burst from inside out at the proximity.

“I– um– ah…” You’re not saying any words, just making strange noises in your throat like a squawking bird.

Your eyes flicker away from his face avoidantly and from the corner of your eye, you spot Matt from accounting spying on you from the cubicle across.

Oh god. This probably doesn’t look great, does it?

You’re sitting on a co-worker’s lap in the middle of an open plan office. Compromising does not even begin to describe the position you two are in.

Jumping off his lap, you quickly stand up and turn away, trying to ignore the flustered heat in your cheeks.

You walk back over to your chair, about to sit yourself back down, but there’s spilled coffee everywhere. The dark brown liquid quickly sinking into the already stained fabric of the seat. You need to clean this up or else your chair is going to smell like expired coffee for the rest of time. Grabbing for your bag, you start digging for some tissues so you don't have to walk up to the supply closet.

You pull out item after item. Tampons. Sunglasses. A half-eaten chocolate bar. More tampons. New wallet with new ID, (expedited, all courtesy of Lyla). A handful of pennies. A random pamphlet. Still no tissues though, so you upend your bag onto your desk, wincing at the clatter.

How on Earth have you accumulated this much stuff in the few short weeks since your apartment was destroyed? And how on Earth do you not have any kleenex or napkins or anything in your handbag??

You paw through the mess, hoping for something useful, then swear as some of it spills over onto the floor. Ducking down, you crawl half under your desk, collecting wayward tampons and receipts, until your eyes pause on the pamphlet.

Not just any pamphlet. It’s yellow and bright with Whoopie Goldberg's face in the corner. It's the map you received from the fortune teller lady. One of your many misfires.

Now that you look closely at it, there are faint lines that seem to glow faintly in the dimness under your desk that weren't there when you were looking at it in plain daylight.

You pick it up and unfold it, laying it out on the floor. It looks like it’s been written on with some kind of a glow-in-the-dark marker, but it’s not dark enough for you to see clearly. You need to get somewhere darker to test your theory.

Backing out from under your desk, you get to your feet and head briskly off down the hall. You barely make it three steps before Miguel’s on your tail, his towering height blocking out the bright LED lamps above as he follows after you like the world’s biggest duckling.

“Cielo, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you murmur curtly under your breath. The heat from before is still riding persistently on your face, and you quicken your steps, hoping it doesn’t show.

You half run to the end of the hall until you reach the small supply closet. When you open the door to step inside, Miguel is right behind you, apparently trying to squeeze himself in after you.

"We won't both fit in here!" you scold as you close the door after you. His unhappy expression is the last thing you see as darkness envelops you in the pitch black.

There’s a niggling feeling of guilt that wiggles down into your skin. But you remind yourself that you can always steal cupcakes meant for clients from the conference room to make it up to him. All will be forgiven if you appease his sweet tooth.

Ducking your head to stare down at the map clutched in your hands, you squint your eyes in the dark to study it closely. There's a small star glowing bright in the middle of the map.

It's a literal star map.

She gave you a location.

You're standing in front of an old stone building at 177A Bleecker Street, smack in the middle of Greenwich village with its picturesque ivy covered old brownstone houses.

Then there's this monstrosity: Sanctum Sanctorum. The infamous residence of Dr. Strange.

The mansion is built in a mix of a Victorian and Gothic style as if the architect couldn't make up their mind and just decided 'why not both?' Throughout the rooftop, there are ornate carvings and intricate stonework that you suspect was meant to lend it a mysterious air, but instead the place reminds you of Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride attraction.

You bring up your hand to the old knocker, gripping it firmly. Your lungs tighten, breath constricting in your chest as you hesitate, unable to bring yourself to pull the brass down to make contact with the wooden front door. Instead you’re holding it still in the air.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. How are you going to explain this?

‘The universe is out to get me, please send Avengers to help.’

Isn’t he just going to think you’re nuts? One of those delusional Supes-fan with munchausen syndrome?

"We can still leave," Miguel says.

The man's been protesting every step of the way here, buzzing in your head about how much of a bad idea this is.

You frown, turning around to him. "I want to do this,” you answer.

His continued opposition is the final push you need. You bring down the knocker against the front door and tap it repeatedly.

There's no answer.

Part of you has to fight the urge to turn your feet and flee, saving yourself the embarrassment. But before you do, there’s a loud creak and a heavy scraping noise against the entrance as the double door swings inwards and slowly opens.

No one greets you by the door. The entryway before you is empty, revealing a grand imperial staircase leading to the second floor, curving upward into a majestic spiral on each side of the room.

It looks deserted. It’d be impolite to just step inside without someone to greet you and explicitly invite you in. But the doors did open to let you in.

You look at Miguel, unsure of what to do, but the man does not have the same compunction for politeness that you do, he’s already walked in, shoes and all, straight into the main hall.

“Can we just get this over with without you making your usual stupid grand dramatic entrance?” Miguel says into the empty room seemingly to no one in particular and you don’t know who he thinks he’s talking to.

A ring of ember and fire sparks into existence out of nothingness in the center of the room. The ring grows wider, and you can see hints of another room inside of the circle: one decorated in a different decoration style than the current room you’re in: moroccan seats and plush cushions with oriental wooden carved furniture.

A man steps out from within that room to stand in front of you both. The ring of light closes behind him once he’s made it through. Clad in a rich purple tunic and dark robes that is monk-like in appearance. Miguel steps in front of you, tucking you safely behind him.

"You're not Strange," Miguel sneers, and you want to smack him. Why does he always have to be this rude?

"Oh, I'm quite strange. But I am not the Doctor. I am Wong. I’m the Sorcerer Supreme and guardian of this place." The man’s voice is calm and formal, and he holds himself with a stately manner as he speaks.

You pop out your head from behind Miguel’s side. "We’re here to see Doctor Strange."

At the repeated mention of Strange, the man’s formality seems to fall away, an expression of irritation bleeding into his features.

"Let me know when you find him. Because he is not here."

"Where is he?" Miguel asks, and there’s that contempt rumbling in his voice again.

"I do not know. Probably playing hooky again. The man comes and goes as he likes." Wong makes a muttering noise under his breath as he continues. "Treats this sacred place like a summer gig at McDonalds."

Your chest deflates. How are you supposed to get Dr. Strange to help you if he’s not even here?

"I need help,” you plead with Mr. Wong. Maybe he can help you if Dr Strange can’t, he is the Sorcerer Supreme after all, supreme is the highest level, right? This might even be an upgrade from Strange. “I know this sounds crazy, but I think the universe is out to get me."

Wong just looks at you, expression unchanging, and okay, yeah, that was maybe not the best place to start. You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to make yourself sound less paranoid.

"I've almost died 40 times since the beginning of the summer. I just want to know why this keeps happening and how to make it stop."

You dig into your bag, pulling out the folded map.

"We talked to a fortune teller in Chinatown, and she gave me this map. It led us here, and I'm really, really hoping you can help me."

Wong dips his head down to the map, "This is a celebrity home star map," he says, with a straight face and a neutral voice that only slightly betrays that he thinks you're batshit crazy.

“I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“Sanctum Sanctorum opened its doors for you, which means it wanted me to meet with you. I believe what you’re telling me.”

Oh thank god.

You tell him everything, rambling on as you try to explain what’s been happening and what little you know about it as best you can. The near death experiences, Miguel being a Spiderman from another dimension, the destruction of your apartment, the unnatural phenomena and the universe’s escalating attempts on your life.

Wong is quiet throughout, studying your face with grave concentration as you speak.

When you’re finally done, he sighs with deep weariness that emanates from the core of his soul. He looks down on his feet, tapping them in deep consideration.

"I have an idea,” Wong says cautiously, “I could perform a Multiversal Divination on you, that might give us a clearer idea of what we’re dealing with,”

“What does that mean?” Miguel asks, anger vibrating off his skin and boiling in his tone.

This man needs to calm down. You clearly need to take him to anger management, because since the moment he’s stepped into this place he’s been on the edge (even more so than usual).

“What does a ‘Multiversal Divination’ entail?” he continues, “Is that some magical mumbo jumbo that’s going to hurt her? Because if so we’re not–”

“I’ll do it,” you say, interrupting his objections, and you sidestep Miguel who is scowling, mouth already parted in yet another protest, to stand in front of Wong.

Wong looks to you and then Miguel, then back at you again, caught in the awkward stalemate, before you interrupt.

“Please, I need answers. Whatever it is, if it might help, I want to do it.”

Wong nods, stepping closer to you. "This will feel a little bit strange," he warns with the bedside manner of a patient doctor.

His hand comes to your collarbone and he places his palm there with a gentle push. There is barely any effort put into it, but you feel the force of it as if you had been slammed with the full force of a six ton truck. Your body wants to leap out of its skin. It is the sensation of being dumped in cold water from head to toe. A shock runs through your entire nervous system.

Images flash before your eyes, flickering by too fast for you to process. They’re vivid and bright. Glimpses of a scene: your apartment, your work, your commute home. Each of them expiring in a fraction of a moment before you have a chance to latch on and make sense of any of them individually.

You see yourself in picture after picture. Except slightly different in each. Short hair. Long locks. Curly.

In some you're wearing glasses instead of the contact lenses that you usually use. In others, you’re sporting the piercing you wanted to get at 16 but never did. Sometimes you have tattoos, sometimes not; occasionally you’re covered in them. Dyed hair, in every color of the spectrum: pink, blue, purple. A myriad of versions of you, of every variation of the decisions you could have possibly taken in your life.

There are pictures of memories you have had and not had. They rush in and flee before you're able to grab hold of one.

Captured moments of lifetimes you have never lived.

It's overwhelming. You don't understand what you're seeing. There’s pandemonium inside your head.

Then everything slows to a crawl.

The scene unfolding before you is one that you immediately recognize. An image that you'll never forget.

Window after window after window flashing you by. You know this view. Have seen it twice before. The same view of the Chrysler building as you were falling. But it's different this time.

The sky isn’t blue, nor is it gray. It’s a pink and an abnormal purple, a color you’ve never seen on it before and it looks both beautiful and completely wrong. There’s an angry tear in the sky, cracking at the edges with static. The whole of the sky looks like it is going to cleave in two and bring the whole world with it. Is this the future? Is it the past?

There's no pain, but somehow tears run down your cheeks uncontrollably.

In the distance you hear Miguel's voice, muted even though you know from that tone that he's furious and must be bellowing loud enough that it echoes through the walls. It sounds like you are underwater, and you have to strain to make out what he is saying.

"Why is she crying?" He's definitely shouting, voice raw and growling. Is this part of your memory or is it happening in the now? "You're hurting her."

The ground approaches.

"Stop! Stop!" Miguel's voice is shouting, but there's no way to stop this. Everything is going too fast this time around.

Miguel is here, tearing through the sky towards you. But you know it's too late. He's too far away. He can't save you this time.

Then everything does stop.

No images in your head. No noise in your ears.

Everything goes black, like the ending of a movie.

Then you hear a thud.

It's loud and close and real.

You snap yourself out of your fugue state, to see Miguel towering over Wong's body where the Sorcerer Supreme lies, limp and lifeless on the ground.

“What did you do!? Are you out of your mind?" you shout, running up to them.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Wong isn’t moving, not even blinking!

"He was hurting you!" Miguel roars.

"He wasn't hurting me, you big doofus!" you shout back, and it’s only then that the fury in Miguel’s eyes seem to abate.

"What's wrong with him?” you ask, bending down Wong’s limp body on the ground. “Is he dead!? Did you kill him?” There's a rising panic pushing inside your throat.

"He's just paralyzed."

"He’s para– What do you mean paralyzed? What did you do to him?"

"I just... I bit him," he uses a finger to part his lips slightly, pushing the upper one up just enough to reveal the sharp edges of his fangs. "There's toxins in them that can have a paralyzing effect."

You glance back at Wong. He’s still worryingly still.

“Is there some kind of way to un-paralyze him!?"

"It was just a small bite," Miguel says, ducking his head down sheepishly to stare at the floor, like a scolded boy. "I didn’t use that much venom... It’ll wear off. He shouldn't be out long. Maybe half an hour or so."

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” you tell Wong fervently, hovering over him. You can see his eyes tracking yours and the rise and fall of his chest, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the proof that he’s still alive. “Do you, um… Do you want me to help you up?”

“He’s not gonna want to move for a few more minutes,” Miguel interjects from behind you. “Moving will be incredibly painful until the venom wears off the rest of the way”.

What the actual fuck!?

You throw a glare at Miguel, as you loop an arm under Wong’s waist, “Well help me move him so he can be more comfortable.”

At your command, Miguel helps you prop the man up against the wall in what is (hopefully) a more comfortable position, and then you sit next to each other and wait.

"I can't believe you bit the Sorcerer Supreme," you mutter under your breath. “Miguel, you can’t just–” you cut yourself off, too frustrated to find the proper words.

"I'm sorry,” he says, grimacing at your scolding, looking regretful for once as he ducks down his gaze. “You looked like you were in pain".

Your anger subsides, if only slightly at his repentance.

“It still doesn’t make it okay. You can’t just attack someone like that! He was trying to help us.”

He doesn’t say anything more to that, just stares down at his feet in contrition.

The two of you sit in the silence.

Your mind goes back to the surreal experience you just had. The myriad of thousands if not millions of images that were flashing through your mind at the speed of light.

The warped shape of your world, the jarring images of it distorted and wrong, as it started to collapse.

Miguel had said that didn’t he? That the universe was going to ramp up its game and if it didn’t succeed, it would eventually self-destruct in its mission to get you.

It takes 26 minutes. The first sign that the toxins are wearing off is that Wong is able to wiggle his toes. His recovery accelerates after that, he's able to move his fingers, then the muscles in his face until he's able to form a grimace. He doesn't look happy, and you don't blame him.

After another five minutes or so, he's able to speak again.

"Strange way of expressing gratitude, literally biting the hand that helps you."

You get up on your feet to help Wong, and Miguel moves next to you.

“No, you stay there! Don’t move,” you order, and even though he scowls, Miguel complies.

You hunch over next to Wong, and help him sit fully upright. He stays seated, but dusts his robe off from the caked soot and fine layers of dirt.

“This has happened in other dimensions,” Wong tells you. “And if we don’t stop it, our universe will be destroyed.”

“How do we stop it?” you ask.

“The universe wants you dead. It won’t stop until it achieves its goal.”

Your stomach drops.

“So in order for this to stop… I need to die?”

There’s a look of barely contained fury burning in Miguel’s red eyes that seems to vibrate out of his skin and pounce. But he doesn't, this time he remains in place, visibly restraining himself, still following your orders.

“There is that option, or you will need to find the reason for why it wants to kill you. And you need to find it soon, because you don’t have a lot of time left. You will have even less time once the people of this world realize the threat you present to the continued integrity of this universe.”

“Are you threatening her!?” Miguel demands, and somehow even though you didn’t hear him move, he’s right behind you, red eyes glowing, shoulders rising, looming over Wong, ready to cut him down at any further hints that the man might be a threat to your safety.

Wong doesn't seem deterred in the slightest.

You have to give it to the Sorcerer Supreme. He's a brave one. It took you weeks before you stopped being intimidated by the man, and Miguel’s never bitten you.

“I am only telling you what the universe tells me. And it tells me that you do not belong here at all. The universe thinks neither of you belong here.”

You think back on fortune teller's drawing of the poorly drawn circle and stickfigure of you that’s speared with arrows.

"What if we went… somewhere else?" Miguel asks.

For the first time since he entered this house, his tone is no longer dripping with anger. “What if we left this universe and dimension?”

The image of white blankness enters your mind at his words. You shudder at the reminder. The cold numbness of the void and the sensation of nothingness. Dread fills your veins. A cold clammy sweat flashes hot and cold against your skin at the memory.

Wong tilts his head up in deep consideration. “That might work. This universe would slowly return to equilibrium with her gone. But… This will just start again in any new Universe. Most likely she wouldn’t be able to stay. She might have to leave every dimension she's in for the rest of her natural lifespan. A life spent always on the run.”

Wong pauses as he glances over to you with sympathy and concern in his gaze. “Is that something you would want?”

What is the alternative here? To lie down and die?

“Yes.”

“One month’s time, you need to find a way to leave this dimension before then.”

Back at your hotel that evening, you wake up to the sound of distress. Muffled whimpers and quiet moans.

By habit, your eyes roam the room, seeking out Miguel in the dark. He’s lying on the sofa from across the room and even in this distance you can make out that his body is writhing beneath the covers. But you’re groggy and too sleep-drunk to make sense of what you’re hearing or seeing.

There’s murmured noises from him, and it takes you far too long to understand what’s going on.

He’s having a nightmare.

Tugging off the blanket on top of you, you get up and scoot over to the end of the bed over to him. Miguel looks like he’s in pain. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he tosses and turns, face pinched in pain and distress. Now that you’re closer, you can make out words in the sounds he’s making.

“Quiero quedarme contigo. No te vayas, no te vayas,” he keeps murmuring.

He looks exhausted. Which, of course he is. He's been on constant alert trying to protect you. Fighting off supernatural weather phenomena, blocking hazardous furniture and fighting off charging hippos out of nowhere. Of course he's worn out.

“Shhhh, It’s alright.” you whisper to him, reaching out to gently stroke his arm, attempting to soothe him. “It’s okay.”

He groans unhappily in his sleep, burying his head into the cushion.

“Quiero quedarme conti–”

"Hey, hey, Miguel,” you tap insistently at his shoulder now. If you can’t soothe the nightmare away, then maybe you can at least wake him up out of it, “It's okay. Wake up."

This time his eyes slam open, wide with adrenaline and shock, and he shoots upright, head whipping from side to side as he scans the room. Every inch of him prepared to leap into a fight.

“What’s wrong? What’s–”

“You were having a nightmare,” you explain to him.

He stiffens at that, dropping his eyes to stare down at his lap unhappily.

“Shit, did I wake you?” he runs a hand over his face, then lays back down, “Sorry.”

Silence blankets the two of you, and you don’t know what else to say to him. Except just that you want him to be able to rest–truly rest–after the day, week and month you’ve both had. You don’t want him to have to go back to snatching moments of troubled, uncomfortable sleep on that stupid, too-small couch.

“You could come sleep on the bed with me,” you offer, “That couch is nowhere near big enough for you.”

"It's fine," he mutters, "It's been fine the last month, and it's fine now."

"It's not though. You're clearly not sleeping well. I should have asked you before. I'm surprised your back isn't already killing you—that sleeping position looked painful."

His head darts down, eyeing his own spread legs that are sticking out into the empty air from the bottom of the couch. But he doesn't concede the point.

"Please?" you try again, "It will make me feel better."

Apparently all you needed to do was ask, because Miguel immediately complies like your request was a decree. He gets up, pulling the quilt with him, his mop of curls in adorable disarray as he drags his feet over to the other side of the bed and flops down with a loud thump that makes the whole mattress bounce underneath you.

You can feel the pull of the sheets where his legs threaten to brush up against your bent knees, and you're beginning to realize you didn't think this through. Even in the big bed, there's only so much space, and he seems to be taking up most of it.

He's close, and you can't seem to peel your eyes away from the strong line of his throat. Can't help the way your body reacts. Your pulse starts to race, heart kicking up hard and fast against your ribs.

Miguel turns around to observe you with narrowed eyes. “You okay?”

Shit! Did he hear you? That timing was too on the nose. You nod at him a little bit too frantically and you sound high-pitched and skittish even to your own ears.

“Yes of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

Fuck. He could hear you. Of course he can, he has super hearing powers doesn’t he?

“I’m just tired,” you stammer out, wrapping the blanket close to your chest for layers as a shield from his super hearing.

Miguel doesn’t push it. He turns back around, letting his head drop down the pillow.

The distance between you has been growing smaller and smaller with each passing day together and you think you have been crossing an invisible line that you shouldn’t be crossing as of late.

You think of the closeness of him in the office, the weight of his arms on your waist as he held you in his lap. His eyes on you. The bare skin of his broad back casually revealed to you when he was changing. The same back that you find yourself staring up at in this moment.

“Go to sleep,” Miguel rasps from your side, and you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise.

You close your eyes, but somehow in the dark you become even more keenly aware of his presence in the bed with you. Your heart seems to skip a little bit faster as the seconds pass, each beat a little bit harder.

There's a quiet sigh, then a much louder exhale, as he turns back towards you in bed.

"What's wrong?" His voice is still gruff with sleep.

"I can’t fall asleep,” you say, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. “Can you talk? It might help me sleep."

He snorts with a laugh. The sound of it makes something pleasant skitter up the length of your spine. He's got a nice laugh. It's a shame he doesn't laugh often.

"What's so funny?"

"No, nothing. Just... some things never change." Even in the dim of the unlit room, you can see the smile on his lips.

"What do you want me to talk to you about?" he asks.

You tilt your head, considering it. Miguel rarely gives you a carte blanche to ask him for information. Logically, you should use this moment to seize a tactical advantage and ask him for all the salacious details that you know he’s been keeping from you. But as you wrack your brain for questions, the only ones that come to mind are disappointingly ordinary. You just want to know more about him. Small, silly, personal details, the way he seems to know everything about you.

"Tell me about where you're from," you request, "Your dimension. Your hometown."

He shifts on the bed, lying flat on his back until he’s staring up at the ceiling with you as he reminisces.

"It's called Nueva York. It's significantly more technologically advanced than this dimension. Definitely cleaner. People aren't as big of assholes as they are here. Public hygiene is way better, everything doesn’t reek of piss. Oh, and there’s not a rat epidemic in the public transportation system there."

His head turns to his side to look at your face, and he gives you a small mischievous grin as he continues. "Food is healthier. You don't get junk food there."

The words should be complimentary, but from his tone of voice and what you know of his eating habits, you think it’s probably a win for your dirty, rat-infested dimension.

"Lots of skyscrapers and neon-lights everywhere. It's colorful."

He pauses, as if he's struggling to find anything more to say about the place. Then his head tips to the side, meeting your eyes, and his gaze is soft.

“I'll take you there," he promises, voice quiet and warm and it makes something sweet and honeyed trickle inside your veins pleasantly.

“How?” you wonder.

His smile drops, replaced by an unhappy frown. “Not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t we just open up a portal like last time?”

He shakes his head.

"The last time I took you through the portal, it was meant to take us back to my dimension. But I built the parallel universe traversal device to transport me—and only me—through the multiverse."

He reaches out to you, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. The contact makes your skin tingle, but you don’t pull away.

"I wasn't thinking last time. We can’t take the risk of winding up back in the void.”

He’s mumbling now, nearly asleep. His eyes half-shut as he blinks slowly, struggling to keep them open as he slowly blinks.

"Someone that disappears in the void, they'll be erased from existence and out of every timeline. No one will ever remember you or know you existed. It's as if you've never existed at all."

You eye the watch on your wrist. The slight sheen of the bed light reflecting against the shiny glass.

"Can we modify the watch?"

"Firstly, not a watch", he reminds you by rote as he fluffs up his pillow with his arm.

"And second..." he pauses, eyes drifting up to study the ceiling before he shakes his head, "I've tried. It doesn’t work. The power source isn’t powerful and your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed. It’s how we ended up in the void.”

Worry burrows into your chest, and your gaze drops down from his face. It always feels like you’re taking one step forward and ending up two steps back. Futile and hopeless but that’s what you get for trying to fight against the will of the universe.

"Go to sleep," he says again, his hand coming to rest gently on top of your head, "I'll figure it out, don't worry.”

You smile, warmed by the comforting gesture and his reassurance.

“I won't let you get hurt this time."

…‘this time.’

The promise cuts through you like glass. Sharp and jagged and clawing its way into your chest until it hurts you to breathe.

Miguel is talking to you, but you don’t think it’s you he’s thinking of when he says the words.

He attacked Wong without a second of hesitation when he thought you were hurt. He's exhausting himself half to death to protect you. But you know that he’s not really doing any of this for you.

It’s not your comfort he was thinking of when he cradled your burnt hand and gently blew on your fingers. It’s not your love of egg tarts that makes him save the flaky pastries for you when the two of you go out for dinner. It’s not you—has never been you—that he’s seeing whenever his eyes linger on your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You're riding on the emotional coattails of the other you. The unwavering loyalty that he had for her has transferred to you now that she's gone.

He must have really loved her.

There’s a sharp fissure in your chest, and you try to swallow down the thistle of needles that’s found its way into your throat, only to discover that your saliva tastes sour and bitter.

Closing your eyes, you can see an image of yourself smiling with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. Except it’s not you.

It’s her.

Other-you, with the wedding band and the happy life and– And somehow better hair too, the lucky bitch!

Except… she wasn't lucky, was she? She's dead.

She’s dead, and you still resent her for what she had with Miguel. It's such an ugly feeling.

You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, but the image doesn’t go away. Nor does that acrid taste in your mouth. You can't help it. This irrational and childish madness is eating into the edges of your mind. You're envious of your other self.

God that’s fucked up.

Does someone like you even deserve to be saved at all?

~ Next Issue

Credits & Dedications: To @thirstworldproblemss for all the rubberducking we do together on this silly little story. Thank you so much for sitting with me and making this fun! I love you 234238472938492374923 x infinity and back again.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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