#this guy on the cover makes me think of that one guy from the silver eyes comic 😭 is his name john i forgot
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All In
Part 1 (might be two parts idk)
(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
Summary: A bet is placed to see if you can get the Summa Cum Laude to fall in love with you. (Scaramouche x Reader) (College au)
Contains: Idk. So it's one of those love stories where there's a bet. Hu Tao and Childe are kind of assholes for the sake of this fic, I am SORRY. Reader is also kind of an ass. Ooc. Some plot holes because I don't go to college or drink or smoke. Just roll with it.
(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
2,822 words 15,518 characters
What a stuck-up prick.
That's what you thought of him anyway. He was *the* Summa Cum Laude of your year. He was snobby, self-centered, friendless, and to top it all off, he just so happened to be your partner for your big thesis.
It was not by choice but he had no partner because people were afraid of him and you had no partner because well... people hated you. It wasn't a project that could be done individually either, lest you wanted to die before you graduate.
"He's such a bore." You complain to your friends on the lunch table, Hu Tao, Childe, and Xiao. "I tried to make plans with him, really. I asked if he was free, and you know what he said?" You slammed your hands on the table for dramatic effect.
Hu Tao leaned in closer, strands of her hair falling onto the table, and alarmingly close to Xiao's food, making him scowl as he moved his tray.
"He said," you began, putting up a silly impression of him with a snobby expression. "I don't need bottom feeders like you dragging down my work. I'll handle everything. Pay me if you want."
Childe snorted. Hu Tao doubled over in laughter, mainly because you're impression was so on point.
"God, what a freak." Hu Tao mused as she wiped her tears from her face, she never passed on the opportunity to talk shit about someone she didn't like. Childe agreed with her but he was partly not paying attention. He jabbed his fork into Xiao's food.
"Fucker." Xiao muttered under his breath.
Your silly clique was a ragtag bunch of misfits in their own ways. Hu Tao was your childhood friend who always had something vindictive to say or some storm to stir up. She lived for the drama.
Childe started tagging along around highschool. He was a charming, silver-tongued ginger ball of sunshine, he started developing a negative reputation over time as as somewhat of a satyr, though.
Xiao was above all the petty and immature antics whichever one of you had the gall to cook up. In all honesty, he was only there because his older brother, Zhongli had asked Childe to help him settle in to the college life. Childe owed the man a favor so he dragged the poor emo wherever you guys went and you kind of just got used to his company.
Then there was you, there was one thing that set you far apart from them all.
Money.
They were filthy rich and you, an independent college student, had not a penny to your name after you decided to up and leave your family to follow Hu Tao to college. You didn't really have to work though, your friends pretty much covered most of your college expense as casually as a friend would by you lunch.
"I know I can't really help him, I mean, my grades are dogshit right now but like I don't know how to pay him either," You said, burying your face into your palms.
Childe scoffed. "I don't even think he means it. Plus, it's nothing to worry about. We've got you covered if that greedy little nerd actually demands shit from you."
"Yeah, just let him do everything by himself," He continued "Watch him or something, in case your professor wants updates.."
A small smirk formed upon his lips. "I bet he's not that hard to watch anyway."
You playfully punched him on the shoulder "Gross!"
"You gotta admit he is kinda cute," Hu Tao chided in. "Right, Xiao?"
Xiao shrugged, far too focused on actually having lunch.
Childe snaked an arm over you. "Tell you what, (Y/N). If you can somehow bed the prudish bastard before the end of this semester, I'll fork over some money for this month's rent."
"Hu Tao pays rent."
"I'll fork over some money for anything you want."
"Hmm... I want VIP tickets to La Signora's concert."
"Done~"
"Oh my archons! Like actually?" Hu Tao couldn't tell if you both were serious. "(Y/N), your charm is above average but I don't even know if you can pull this one off."
You roll your eyes." Have faith in me. I bet he's easy."
Hu Tao leans back thoughtfully, a mischievous smirk playing on her face. "Alright, (Y/N). If you manage to pull this off I'll give you a grand.
You gape at her. "Seriously?
"Absolutely."
You know were only entertaining the idea because they had no actual faith you'd pull it off, but to you. This was easy money.
You slowly turn to the brooding emo on the table. "What about you, Xiao?"
His eyes narrowed at you. "What about me?"
"You gonna offer anything?"
He scoffs, groaning internally and being the only one with a moral compass. "Only an asshole would find bets such as these any type of fun."
Childe flicks his wrist dismissevly. "We are assholes."
(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
It was hard enough convincing Scaramouche to work on the project and your (and Hu Tao's) place but now you had to deal with the emanating silence from you both. You've barely ever talked to him but the tension in your room could be cut with a knife, or maybe that was just your imagination.
He was sitting cross legged on your bed, typing away at his laptop with several papers surrounding him. You were sat across from him in the same position, nursing a cigarette in between your fingers.
"Do you want something to eat?" You finally break the silence.
He doesn't look up from the screen as he responds. "What do you have?"
You look to the ceiling, trying to recall what you and Hu Tao had last shoved into the fridge. "Uh... Pesto... Pizza... Dumplings. Probably some leftover vegetables."
"Bring me them all." Talk about shame.
"Alright." You say, putting out the cigarette on your nightstand. You couldn't help but notice the tiny scowl on Scaramouche's face as he glanced at the ashtray.
You come back balancing a bowl of pesto, a bowl of dumplings, and a bowl of salad on a box of pizza. Scaramouche pats on the side of your bed, indicating for you to drop the offerings there.
You light another cigarette as you take your previous seat in front of him.
"The weather is pretty nice today.." A sad attempt at conversation on your end.
Silence
"So... Childe's hosting a party tomorrow night, would you like to come?" You try once more.
Scaramouche still doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look up from the screen.
You blow a puff of smoke on his face. He coughs a bit before glaring at you with cold judging eyes. At least he was actually looking at you now. "I have no time to indulge in that crap."
"You have plenty of time. That thesis isn't due for another month."
"Well not exactly, since I'll be doing the work for both of us."
"Do you have a problem with me?"
"I have a problem with people like you." He glowers.
"People like me?" You raise your eyebrows.
"People who just have everything spoon fed to them by luck or by birthright and take that as a reason to slack off for the rest of their life since everything just magically works out for them." Scaramouche wasn't wrong, you really fucked around and never found out but still, what right did he have to judge you?
"Didn't know you knew me so well." You say, blowing out another puff of smoke but this time it's to the side.
Scaramouche opens his mouth to respond, then closes it once more. You had a point. It was hypocritical of him to listen to judge you based on gossip.
Finally, he speaks after a few minutes of silence.
"I was out of line." It's an apology although he doesn't outright apologize.
"Yeah." You decide to take advantage of his momentary guilt as you inquire about what he's working on. "So, do you mind telling me what you're doing?"
"Well, I'm looking online for research papers related to the topic were studying. I'm taking snippets I find interesting and I'll save them for later to expand on them in our thesis."
Scaramouche speaks a bit more but you're hardly listening. You take this time to really observe his physical appearance. Hu Tao was right; the man was cute. His eyes, his mouth, his lips. If you took a meat cleaver to the center of his skull, you'd have matching halves.
Even his hair looked softer than unicorn fur.
"(Y/N)?" He snaps you out, a displeased expression creeps upon his face upon noticing that you aren't even paying attention.
"Your hair looks softer than unicorn fur," you blurt out.
His eyes widen slightly, and you could've sworn he turned a shade pink before he feigned a disgusted look to save his dignity. "What the hell?"
You caught on immediately. There it was. Scaramouche had a weakness. The Summa Cum Laude, the bridge troll with a big brain and purple hair (as Hu Tao once described him) is someone who gets easily flustered .
"You're kind of cute." You push on.
"Shut the fuck up." His head lowers, he dares not look into your eyes.
"Come to Childe's party with me?" You ask once more.
(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
Scaramouche hated you. He hated your face and your voice and your personality. He hated every single atom you were made up of, but most of all he hated the way you were able to persuade him to come to this stupid party. And for what? Just because you were the first person to ever call him cute? He'd curse you and all your descendants to come.
Childe's party was just a gathering of drunks and trouble makers. His house was practically a mansion that could fit 60% of the university's student population.
He hated the blaring lights and unbelievably loud, repetitive, and distasteful music.
"I hate this!" He has to shout for you to hear.
"I know!"
"I'm going home!"
"You can't! You're my ride home!"
"We walked here, dumbass!" Scaramouche wanted to leave you truly he did but something, wasn't letting him. His moral compass or his growing fondness of you?
Childe finds you, placing an arm around your shoulder. "Hey!" He hands you a shot glass which you graciously accept and down in a couple of seconds, much to Scaramouche's dismay.
Childe pays no attention to your companion until he does a double take and realize it's Scaramouche.
"Holy shit! Is that Scara!?" Childe grins hazily. He was drunk drunk.
Scaramouche does not respond. He is frowning while Childe handed you half a bottle of gin.
You drink it within a couple minutes as you chat with Childe.
Scaramouche stands there, awkward, cranky, and out of place as the only person he's aquatinted with in this party is getting absolutely inebriated.
At some point you don't know when or from where but you get your hands on another shot glass.
"You're not drinking that," Scaramouche states firmly.
"I am." You bring the cup to your lips but Scaramouche is faster, he snatches it from you and lets it fall to the ground.
"What gives!?"
"I'm not carrying your drunk ass home just because you drank away the capability to walk!" He shouts at you.
People are staring now. Is it because of the commotion or because Scaramouche was the last person anyone would expect to see at a party?
Scaramouche didn't like the staring or the attention. "I'm going fucking home." He says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you past the crowd. "So are you."
Childe is left there, impressed. He takes out his cellphone.
To: Hu Tao
She's actually gonna pull it off. Wtf
From: Childe
You stumble and trip as Scaramouche drags you through the night. It was a miracle you could keep up. (It wasn't, he slowed his pace on purpose to match yours but it still wasn't slow enough for your drunken ass.)
"Scara, slow dooown~"
He ignores you until he feels you slip from his grasp, landing with a thud. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? Do you not have the smarts to walk!?" The boy scolds.
You decide to rest your knees a bit as you stay on the ground.
You hear him sigh sharply before crouching in front of you. "Get on."
"What? Like piggyback style?"
"Yes, damnit just get on." His face wasn't facing you and it was dark. Scaramouche was eternally grateful to the archons that you couldn't see the way his ears reddened.
He carries you like that until you're at the front door of your place. Scaramouche gently drops you off. Miraculously not panting. (He wasn't that athletic.)
"Can I trust you enough to tuck yourself in?" The boy asks, his tone was calm this time.
You nod in response.
"Alright." Scaramouche turns his heel to leave.
"Scaramouche." You call out.
He turns back to you, a little too quickly.
You try to take a step towards him except you "accidentally" trip on air and crash onto his chest. He barely moves an inch but his hands instinctively wrap around you. You can see the exact moment he scrunches his nose as well as the moment before that where his cheeks flush.
You'll blame this on alcohol later. You'll also blame alcohol for when you pulled his collar to place a quick peck on his lips.
This was the night Scaramouche nearly passed away.
(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
Scara paced around his room. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would you do that? His heart still raced as fast as it did when you kissed him.
He replayed the kiss over and over in his mind. Why? Just why? He mussed his hair in frustration as he plopped himself on the bed. If Scaramouche focused enough, he could still feel their lips on his, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.
Why had a drunken asshole decided to take his first kiss? Why was he reacting so weirdly?
And why did he just tuck tail speed walk away right after it happened without saying shit about it?
(Y/N) will probably tell their friends. They'll gossip and laugh at how the smartest person in their program was turned into a blushing, sputtering mess at the mere kiss of some drunk. Some overly confident, obnoxious, attractive drunk who's lips were soft as velvet.
The thought has him reeling. Rolling to the side, Scaramouche pulled a pillow over his head and groaned into it.
"I'm done guessing. What's wrong with you?" His inner monologue was broken by his cyan haired roommate.
"Nothing. Fuck off, Dottore." His words still muffled by the pillow.
"All your ceaseless brooding is keeping me distracted. I suggest you stop whining if you don't want me to give you more reasons to whine."
Silence.
That came out wrong, but it got Scaramouche to shut up so who would complain?
(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
It was a crush. That's what Dottore had said to him. It made jackshit sense though. Why would he like you? You were just someone he perceived as a slacker. It's possibly because you were the only one who ever showed interest in him. He'll probably get over it when he finds someone else to adore, but he couldn't.
Scaramouche was once again working on the thesis, on your bed. He didn't bring up the kiss. Maybe you'd forgotten about it? A small part of him hoped that you didn't though.
Finally, he decides to speak up. "I demand compensation."
You shoot him a confused look.
"What? Don't you remember?" Scaramouche scowls.
"You kissed me..."
"Did I?" You feign innocence.
"Do not make me repeat myself." He orders. "That was my first kiss. I demand some kind of compensation." His cheeks were heating up as it became harder and harder for him to look you in the eyes.
"Oh?" You bring your index finger below your lips in an expression of mock thoughtfulness.
Scaramouche's scowl deepens at your mocking finger below your lips. "Do not toy with me," he warns. "You took something and I want fair repayment."
You chuckle, enjoying his ruffled feathers. " And what is a first kiss worth these days?" Leaning back on your hands, you look him over appraisingly. "I'm not convinced it was really your first. You seemed to know what you were doing..."
His cheeks redden as he scrunches his nose at your audacity. "You're insufferable."
"And yet you enjoyed kissing me." You smirk. "Perhaps you even want more?"
Scaramouche's embarrassment only grows at your bold insinuation. "You presume too much, fool," he bites back, though his resolve seems weakened.
You shrug. "Suit yourself. I was just about to offer a date."
He narrows his eyes at you, as if trying to ascertain if this is some sort of trick. "A date?"
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"You're dead, Harrington!"
Steve sprints off down the hall, making a sharp left turn in hopes of losing him. He looks around at the doors, eyes settling on the drama room. Yeah, no one would guess that he would go in there.
He runs and easily pulls the door open, softly closing it behind him, leaning against the door to listen for Billy.
"You can't run from me!" he yells, somewhere outside in the hallway.
Shit.
Steve backs up a bit until he runs into something, and suddenly there's a hand covering his mouth with rings digging into his cheek while a bit of silver glints in his eyes. "Don't freak out, Harrington. I'm here to help. Hide behind the red curtain."
The guy lets him go, and Steve whips around taking in the guy everyone calls "The Freak." He just raises his eyebrows at him, so Steve takes the hint and darts behind the red curtains behind a throne of some kind.
There's a slight creaking, then Steve hears the door swing open and slam against the wall.
"Billy Hargrove. I didn't know you were interested in theatre," the freak says smugly. Eddie? That's his name, right?
"I'm not," Billy grits out. "I'm looking for Harrington. Seen him anywhere, freak?"
"Why would he be in here?"
Steve hears heavy footsteps as he walks closer to the curtain. "That's not what I asked," Billy says darkly.
"Well, I answered, didn't I?" Eddie replies, voice low with an undertone of danger. Shit, Steve didn't know he had it in him. "If you're so dense, then let me clarify. I haven't seen him. Now get lost or you'll never find him before lunch is over."
There's a pause, and Steve is certain that a fight is about to break out. Only, nothing really happens until Billy says, "One day you're going to pay for that, freak."
"Looking forward to it," Eddie says sarcastically.
A few seconds later and the door closes. There's a click that sounds like the lock turning which has Steve peeking out of the curtain.
"You can come out now."
Steve steps outside the curtain slowly, making sure this isn't some sort of sick joke. But he doesn't think Billy is that much of a planner, he's too impulsive.
When he doesn't spot him, Steve says, "Thanks. It's Eddie, right?"
The other boy looks surprised and even gets a small smile on his face. "Yeah."
"I'm Steve," he introduces himself, sticking out his hand and everything.
He gets a scoff and a, "Yeah, I know," in response, but Eddie still takes his hand and shakes it.
"I like your rings," Steve says genuinely. They're cool really. He wishes he would wear something like that without his parents and teammates getting onto him about it.
"Thanks," Eddie says, pulling a bit of his hair in front of his hair. It's cute really, almost like he's flustered.
Huh. He'll unpack that thought later.
"How did you get Billy to back off like that? I've never seen anyone do that." He can't help but be in a bit of awe about the whole thing.
Eddie chuckles. "I supply his weed. He knows better than to hurt me."
"Mabe I should start selling him weed then."
Eddie laughs loudly, showing off his dimples. Steve can't help but smile back.
"Hey," Eddie says, making his way to the throne and sitting back. "What did you do to get him that riled up anyways?"
Steve groans and takes a seat at the table in front of Eddie. "I know his little sister, Max. I just asked him how she was doing, and he freaked out. I think he misunderstood my tone."
Eddie laughs again, and Steve starts to believe that maybe the whole thing was worth it to see the boy's smile.
A silence settles between them, but Steve doesn't mind. It gives him a chance to look at him more.
It must fluster Eddie again because he ducks his head down and shakes his head.
"What?" Steve can't help but ask.
Eddie looks back at him. "Nothing, I just can't believe that Steve Harrington is sitting at my D and D table."
D&D... "Oh, that's like Dungeons and Dragons, right?"
Eddie's jaw drops. "You know what Dungeons and Dragons is?"
Steve shrugs. "My friend plays it, but he's in middle school, so you wouldn't know him. But hey, that's where the demogorgan thing comes from, right?"
Eddie continues to stare at him in disbelief mumbling something under his breath like He's friends with middle schoolers, and he knows what a demogorgan is. What the hell? Am I dreaming? He shakes his head and says clearly, "Yeah, yeah, that's where the Demogorgan comes from."
Another silence settles between them, and Steve doesn't know why he says it but he asks, "So, do you have a girlfriend?"
Once again, it looks like Eddie is about to have a meltdown, but Steve stands his ground. He's curious really.
Eddie shifts in his seat a bit uncomfortably before quietly asking, "Haven't you heard the rumors?"
Steve leans back in his seat and scratches his face absentmindedly. He's heard about "The Freak" before, but he didn't really pay much attention. He knows he sells weed. He failed senior year once or twice, he forgot how many times people said. And he once heard that he's a...
Oh.
"So, do you have a boyfriend then?"
Eddie freezes, fear evident all over his tense body.
"It's fine if you do," Steve assures him.
Eddie runs both his hands over his face and questions out loud, "Am I dreaming?"
"Do you dream about me often?" Steve flirts, leaning forward on the table. He can't help it, he likes how affected Eddie is by him.
Eddie looks at him for a solid fifteen seconds, tongue running over his top lip and brows furrowed in deep thought. He relaxes against his chair with a sigh. "You're not at all what people say you are."
Steve shrugs, uncomfortable that the topic has turned to be about him. "I try not to be."
"It's a good thing," Eddie says.
Steve smiles. He didn't know how much he needed to hear that.
The bell rings, and Steve feels a pang of disappointment.
"Hey," Eddie says as he stands up alongside Steve. He reaches into his black metal lunchbox and pulls out a sandwich in a little bag and a banana. He tears the sandwich in half and offers it to Steve along with the banana. "It isn't much, but I doubt you ate lunch. Have to keep all our star players in shape, right?" he asks with a wink.
Steve wishes he could stay longer to see him relax more. He takes them both, unpeeling the banana quickly while asking, "Is that weed in there?"
"Among other things."
Steve laughs and takes a large bite of the banana that has Eddie looking away, turning a light shade of red. Now he really wishes he could stay longer.
He finishes his bite and says, "Hey, it was really nice to meet you by the way."
"You too," Eddie says with a soft smile, finally looking back at him.
The warning bell rings.
Steve sighs. "I'll see you around, and hey, pass on a word to the next D and D leader about Dustin Henderson, will you?"
"Will do," Eddie says, and Steve's glad that it sounds like a promise.
He heads to the door and unlocks it quickly, pausing to rush back and press a soft kiss on Eddie's cheek. "Thank you again," he says before rushing out of the room with his heart pounding and a blush spreading over his face.
He can't help but think that he should thank Billy for being such an asshole.
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hi! reader doesn’t like kids at all, but somehow eddie’s child is just different and the cutest sweetest child who warms their heart
✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ the beginning ]
summary: when steve harrington brings you as a plus-one to a munson birthday party, he forgets to tell you it's for eddie's four-year-old, maeve. (1.8k)
pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader
tags: strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, meet ugly-ish, fluff, girl dad eddie munson™, r is not used to being around kids (and it shows), baby blurb turned spin-off universe <3
When Steve Harrington invites you to a birthday party, he fails to mention it’s for a four-year-old.
The tiny trailer is decked out in decoration. A fusion of black and rainbow, of bats and unicorns, of vampires and Tickle Me Elmo — like no one could land on a singular theme.
Steve guides you into the home with a golden hand on the small of your back, his other clutching a sparkly black bag with Count von Count’s face on it. You stop very suddenly in your tracks. Happy 4th Birthday, Maeve! reads a handpainted sign draped beneath the ceiling.
You become very hyperaware of the whiskey bottle in your right hand, something you figured would be the most sufficient thing to gift someone you’d never met before. You just hadn’t expected the stranger to be a child.
“What the fuck, Steve?” you bite under your breath, glaring at the boy beside you. “I thought you said this was your friend’s birthday party?”
“Maeve is my friend,” he answers with a stupid shrug. “Though, to be fair, I did say it was my friend’s kid’s birthday party.”
He most definitely hadn’t.
“What the hell— I brought booze!”
“That’s okay,” assures a wild-haired boy with a pretty pink grin as he walks up to the two of you. The friend in question.
Eddie Munson wears a silver ring on each finger and a thick leather jacket despite the warming spring season. His laughter sounds like sunshine. His smile is bright enough to give you a goddamn sunburn.
“Maeve’s been getting presents all day— It’s about time someone got somethin’ for me,” he jokes.
You grimace while the two boys laugh. “Sorry…” you murmur as you pass him the bottle, shrinking inside yourself in an attempt to hide from the moment. I’m never letting Steve convince me to leave the house again, you think to yourself.
Eddie shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I’ll go stick this in the kitchen— Make yourself at home.”
Your racing heart quells only slightly. He must be more of a good guy than Steve made him out to be, if he’s willing to keep you around after you brought booze to his daughter’s party. Though, you’ll contend that you were only half at fault for this.
Steve bites back a chuckle as he walks you to the back door, standing with you on the little wooden deck lined with sparkly streamers. There’s a picnic table off in the distance, covered in a bat-patterned cloth and set with Sesame Street-themed utensils. A small crowd of teenagers gather around it, and a couple of their parents, you figure.
The spring breeze only half soothes your burning skin.
“See?” he lilts, trying not to laugh and failing. “He likes you already—”
You swat his chest with a less than kind hand.
“Ow!”
“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Harrington, I swear to—”
“What’s your favorite animal?” a tiny voice asks from behind you, a smidge too loud and confusing their R’s with W’s.
You look over your shoulder, face flooded with horror. A kid with wild chocolate hair stands at less than half your height, wearing the tiniest Ozzy Osbourne shirt you’ve ever seen beneath a rainbow tutu. You don’t know what to say, so you just blink at it for a moment — at her.
“Hey, Maeve,” Steve greets with a curt wave.
The girl beams, missing her very front tooth. “Hi, Uncle Steve!”
“Wha— Huh?” you stammer mindlessly. ‘Cause you’re not exactly the best at talking to people your own age, let alone to children. They’re too honest. And too loud. And beyond still feeling like a kid yourself most days, you don’t have anything in common with them.
“What’s your favorite animal?” Maeve repeats in the same inflection, smiling until a dimple appears in her freckled cheek. “Mine’s a Hefflelump.”
“Hef… Hefflelump?” you echo quietly, only vaguely registering Steve’s laughter as he disappears through the screeching screen door, leaving you all alone. You’re definitely killing him for this.
“Yeah… From Winne the Pooh!” she says like it’s obvious.
“Oh… Okay…”
“What’s yours?”
You stumble over your words to find an answer. “Um… Uh… I don’t— I don’t know…”
“Everyone has a favorite animal,” she scoffs like some kinda critic with a speech impediment. She tilts her chin to her chest and peers up at you with a pair of doe eyes, so brown they’re almost black. You shift your weight on your feet, visibly uncomfortable beneath her unwavering stare.
“Maybe like a… A blobfish, or something?” you shrug.
Her tiny face screws in disgust. “Gross,” she spits.
You flinch. “What? Why is that gross?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest, more defensive than you’d like to admit.
“They’re so ugly,” Maeve giggles.
“Why?” you squint. “‘Cause they look differently than we do?”
“No!” she laughs, loud and golden, just like her father. “’S ‘cause they’re so slimy.”
“Well— You— You’re slimy,” you stammer.
The wild-haired girl grins with all her baby teeth (well, besides the front one, anyway). “You’re slimy!” she echoes with a mischievous twinkle in her chocolate eyes.
The screen door squeals open again, the rusted hinges screeching in protest. “Who’s slimy?” a male voice questions from behind you, a smile audible in his voice.
“You are!” you and Maeve chorus at the same time.
You whip your head around a second too late. Your heart drops to your ass when you find Eddie lingering in the doorway behind you. You stumble over your words while Maeve giggles. “Sorry! I thought— I thought you were Steve! I’m so sorry!”
A chuckle sputters from Eddie’s mouth. He’s nearly as grieved by it all as you are. “He just left,” he tells you with a lopsided smile, cocking his thumb over his shoulder. “I think he’s helping Wayne out front. They’re putting together Maeve’s d-o-l-l-h-o-u-s-e.”
His eyes flit upward as he tries hard to spell the word correctly. Upon your confused look, he says, “I can’t say it, or she’ll know what I’m talking about.”
“Right,” you nod.
Eddie crouches and holds his arms out for his daughter. Maeve’s tiny feet patter against the wooden deck as she rushes to him. He huffs at the weight of her — heavier than he remembers and getting bigger every day (which is weird ‘cause she was a newborn, like, a week ago). He grunts when he picks her up, propping her weight on his side.
“What were the two of you talkin’ about, then?”
“Blobfish!” she shouts with a beam.
Eddie breathes out a faint chuckle and turns to you. “She’s forcin’ you to pick a favorite animal, huh?” he wonders, then laughs a bit louder when you nod. “Yeah, she’s been doing that all day. It’s her new thing,” he says, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her curls.
Realization seems to him then, and his brows furrow when he looks at you. His face, all twisted in confusion, is an exact replica of Maeve’s.
“Wait— Your favorite animal is a blobfish?”
“That’s what I said!” the girl laughs.
You shift your weight on your feet and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m… feeling very judged in this moment…” you murmur under your breath, only half joking.
��I think that’s the most creative answer we’ve had yet, huh, Mae?” Eddie chuckles.
You scoff. “Well, I think Hefflelump’s pretty creative considering—”
The boy clears his throat, seeming to sense the rest of your sentence. His eyes widen in a lighthearted glare before he nods to the girl on his hip. Only then do you realize the words sitting on the tip of your tongue. You swallow them down immediately.
“Right…” you nod instead. “Nevermind…”
“Here—” Eddie huffs as he sets the girl down again. “—Go find Aunt Robin, alright? She’s probably decorating your cake as we speak.”
Maeve rushes off at the word cake, tottering on lanky, ungraceful legs. The two of you watch her go and linger in an awkward silence. Neither of you is quite sure how to make conversation without her there. You decide to start with an apology.
“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, by the way. Again,” you laugh awkwardly at yourself, scratching at the back of your neck. “I’m not… I’m not really… great with kids. If you couldn’t already tell.”
Eddie grins, pink and lopsided and pretty. You don’t feel deserving of the warmth swimming in his button eyes, glimmering beneath an early setting sun. “It’s okay. Seriously. You should’ve seen Robin and Steve the first time they met her— they were hopeless. And now they’re… Sort of alright, I guess.”
You force a faint chuckle. “Yeah, I’m— I’m just not used to being around them, I guess. I don’t even think I’ve talked to a kid her age since, like, elementary school.”
“I was the same way. ’Til I had Maeve and all…”
“Well, I couldn’t tell,” you assure him with a wavering smile. “You’re, like, a total pro. You’re great with her.”
He ducks his head to hide his blushing cheeks. The apples of them speckle warm and pink beneath the weight of your compliment.
“Well… thank you,” he says, deflecting from your praise with that stupid, posh, D&D accent he always uses when he gets nervous. You don’t notice him grimacing at himself because you’re still stewing in your own embarrassment.
“And sorry for the booze, too. I seriously didn’t mean to bring— I mean, Steve didn’t even tell me that—”
“Stop apologizing,” Eddie chuckles warmly. “That part’s not your fault, alright? I don’t know if you know this or not, but your boyfriend’s a total idiot.”
Your face screws up. “Oh, he’s not— Steve’s not my boyfriend.”
The boy’s smile ebbs. “No?”
“No. No way!” you laugh before you mean to. “I’m pretty sure I’m just, like, his replacement best friend since Robin started dating Vickie.”
Wide-eyed and distantly relieved, Eddie stammers like a teenage boy. “Oh. Right. That’s… That’s cool. Yeah.”
“Yeah…” you echo.
“Well, uh— I’m gonna see if Wayne wants any help,” he blurts despite knowing he’s been barred from doing handy work since he nearly drove a nail through his own finger. He just needs a way out, lest he keep stumbling over himself and lose all of his cool points with you.
He saunters backward through the opened door and nearly trips over the frame.
You bite back a laugh. He forces a wavering smile.
“But, um, I was thinkin’ about cracking open that bottle you brought. You know, after Maeve’s in bed and everything. If you— If you wanna hang around that long…”
The silence makes him as nervous as a teenage boy, all writhing and uncomfy in his skin. You nod in agreement, and his sparkling chest swells all over again. “Yeah,” you reply, lip quirked in a poorly hidden smile. “Sure. I’d— I’d like that…”
He smiles, all proud of himself. “Good. That’s… That’s good,” he stutters, then swallows hard and scurries off before you change your mind.
Before he shuts the squealing screen door behind him, you hear Robin’s voice exclaim loudly from the kitchen. “What the hell’s a blobfish?!”
if u have any other ideas for hijinks these two idiots (and maeve) can get into, feel free to leave 'em here! (ꈍᴗꈍ)
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble#eddie and maeve
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I got this comic book 2day- i figured I would read it once i'm done with J&H, although I've never heard of it before so IDK if it's particularly good?
It seems like a sequel/AU of the original Strange Case (Unless it's actually a sequel to a different comic book. In which case oups). the premise reminds me of LXG which is also an AU I guess
Uaghh well. I thought this was a neat find :•)
Edit: GUESS WHO WENT TO ANOTHER STORE AND FOUND AN ACTUAL COPY OF STRANGE CASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was Fortis :•)
#lonely dog speaks#this guy on the cover makes me think of that one guy from the silver eyes comic 😭 is his name john i forgot
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reggaeton & champagne.
PAIRING! lee minho x reader x bang chan
SUMMARY: you knew better than to go down to the club alone. and that guy should’ve known better than to mess with minho and chan’s property.
REQUESTED! by my pookie @sharonxdevi who requested this here! and it’s such a good idea, tysm for trusting me with it<3
CW: the boys may come off as a little possesive, there’s a touchy douche in the club, mentions of alcohol, it ain’t spicy but surely it’s nsfw.
WC: 2.3k
A/N: so i’ve never even thought of writing poly!skz relationships until now, but i think it came out nicely! (and if you kinda recognize the title— i just spend an unhealthy amount of time watching skz edits on instagram lololol)
[🔹☆💠☆🔹]
The sign of the club glowed with bluish neon lights at the entrance. There was also a man, notebook in hand, receiving IDs prior to welcoming the long queue of people. Although it was not the most expensive nightclub in the city, you could see the difference between it and the rest of the clubs in town, in the sense that the establishment was very tidy and clean, with security personnel scattered around the corners, watching that everything was going out smoothly.
It was unusual for you to want to go out clubbing, but considering the boys’ schedule, any chance to make plans together was welcomed with open arms.
Especially by Minho and Chan, who would never force you to go out, but their lingering stares and their arms that would sneakily clung to your waist or your shoulders —and in some cases, to lovingly slap your ass or thighs—, were meant as a way of encouragement when you dressed up and went for it.
And a way to say that, as always, you looked fine as hell.
You had chosen a short silver-coloured dress that reached your mid-thighs, accompanied by a pair of matching mesh thigh-highs with cute little clips that allowed them to stay in place, only because you knew how to entertain your public, and loved every single second their eyes stayed glued to you as you danced your heart out.
The music pounded against the walls and reverberated through the floor, but not as much as how the booze traveled through your veins, only giddy enough to celebrate how well their last tour had gone, and merely to have some well-deserved fun.
Minho’s hands grasped you by your waist, pulling you off Chan’s arms and smirking as he pushed your back flush against his body.
One of his hands remained in place, but the other one moved slowly, tempting fingers heading down to your thighs, as if walking, the motion almost ticklish. You could feel his cat-like grin from behind you as you looked at Chan, who wasn’t mad at all, rather cheekily enjoying the other man’s antics as you kept dancing against him, following the rhythm of the music.
Chris got closer to the both of you, taking your arms and settling them on his shoulders as he approached even further, now the two gentlemen dressed in fine clothes towering over you.
“Our princess is feeling good today, huh?” His hand cradled your face, holding your chin in a tender grasp, unlike Minho, who started to play with one of the clips on your high mesh stockings.
You were about to say something, but Minho tugged at one of the straps and chuckled next to your ear, slapping it back. Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, feeling the blush rising to your cheeks, the light foundation you had applied not being able to cover it.
Chris snickered, and Minho lightly bit the shell of your ear, and they both laughed as you squirmed in between their arms.
“Ok, ok—!” You giggled, out of breath due to the tickling and else. You didn’t want to leave just yet, but didn’t want to stop teasing your boys either.
Tugging on Chan’s collar, you propelled him forward, his hands ending on Minho’s shoulders by reflex. You moved your body in between both of them, swaying your hips, playing with Chris’ hair as you turned your head to face the man behind you, and chuckled, biting his lip.
They both felt a rush of blood heading to their face—and downwards—, but you stopped Chan for pushing you against Minho even more, one of your soft hands nonchalantly moving from the back of his neck to his chest, cheekily stroking his toned upper body.
“I think we can use some more drinks, gentlemen.” Your tone was filled with an enticing mockery only powered by their presence, and you licked your lips, feeling Minho’s slender fingers playing with the rim of your dress, tapping your thigh gently.
“I think we should head to the VIP lounge.” He grunted against your ear, his breath tickling your there, but the gentle yet lust-filled kisses he left right below started driving you a bit crazy. “Whaddya think, Chan?” Minho smirked, swiftly lifting his head from your neck to stare at the older man.
With all the mix of bright coloured lights, you could notice slightly how Chris’ eyes grew darker. Almost so dark that they could fuck you themselves, and you squeezed your thighs at the thought.
“I think our little brat needs to learn that teasing won’t get her anywhere, hyung.” Minho’s slender fingers playfully traced mindless shapes on your thigh.
The older man swallowed hard, his breath deepening.
“Guess you’re on thin ice, princess.” He leaned in, and pecked Minho’s lips from above your shoulder. He then turned slightly, and spoke in your ear. “You have ten minutes to go get those drinks. Go up the VIP platform right after, like the good girl you are, mmh?”
His hum almost echoed through your body, falling into an endless pit of arousal that those two gorgeous men had created, now able to make you feel hot and bothered in just a cheeky wink or a deep look.
Making you oh so weak for them. Only them.
“Heard that, kitten?” Minho smirked, lovingly kissing your cheek, as close as he could to the corner of your lips. “Ten minutes. Tick-tock.”
You tried heading towards the bar without your knees giving out as they both moved away, and instantly missed their warmth and strong hold on your body. But before you could even try, Chris tsked, pulling you back to him and almost fiercely planting a deep kiss that lit fire on your body, and almost made you whine when he pulled away, biting your lip.
“Fuck.” He gasped, feeling breathless. “Make that five minutes for daddy, yeah?”
And with a tap on your hips and a teasing wink, he left, following where Minho had gone.
You were unable to wipe the giddy smile off your face, feeling your cheeks get hot, and you patted them, hoping that your slightly cooler hands would do something to low it down.
Shaking your head lightly, you waved at the bartender, a tall, blond and handsome young man, and he gave you a kind smile. You sat on the stool closest, and he approached you, leaning on the counter.
“Nice seeing you here for a change.” He said with a snicker.
“Wish I could say the same, Hyunjin.” You wiggled your eyebrows almost dramatically, making him laugh.
“Your three usuals, beautiful?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. “Comin’ right up.”
You watched as he gracefully started to show off his abilities, passing drinks and metal cups and bottles in flashes and zooms, controlling every move so swiftly.
But then, you felt a hand on your waist.
“Sorry, scooching up real quick…” said a low voice from behind you.
His hands brushed your back, making you shiver. But it was a bad shiver. One that swiped away the giddiness your boys had left, but not as quickly as your smile took off.
The bold man dizzily sat on a stool that could’ve easily been a foot or two away, and your body relaxed easily at the new-formed distance.
You stared at him in a mix of slight disgust and raw astonishment. Used to your boys and the rest of the group, or people like Hyunjin, one could easily forget that people weren’t always respectful, nice and kind.
He noticed your blank stare, and misinterpreted it as interest. With a wide smile, he bent down, grabbing one of the legs of the stool you were sitting on, and smoothly moved it closer to his.
Another shiver ran through your back, goosebumps showing on your skin.
He smiled, and you held back a frown.
“Besides looking that sexy, what else do you do for a living?”
…
yikes.
That line didn’t only give you the ick, but you also noticed Hyunjin physically flinched, which made you snort, quickly covering your mouth.
The man was so drunk. You could smell it on his breath, and the guy looked rather pathetic. You didn’t feel too sorry for him, but wanted him as far as possible, and you moved to the edge of your stool.
The man looked proud of your giggles, but grew restless when you didn’t reply, so he took a sip from the glass of whiskey in front of him, kind of as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while.
You sat up straight, glaring at Hyunjin so he’d call security if things turned complicated, and he winked at you as a form of reassurance.
“Do you, eh, come here often?” He blurbed out.
You looked at your hands, staring at your nails, and waited for a second before giving him a side-eye from above your shoulder, slender eyes looking uninterested.
Quickly going back to your nails, you shrugged. “Enough to know that you don’t.” You brushed off coldly.
If you did, you’d know that I’m happily taken.
He stammered, his breath hitched, and you could almost feel him start getting even more nervous, as well as slightly angry.
“Huh? Why’s that?” He scoffed, eyebrows raised at you, who again, didn’t bother to look at him, a bit wary of his moody attitude.
Hyunjin smiled at you, coldly glaring at the clueless man next to you as he swiftly left the three drinks in place, pressing the red button underneath the counter to call for help.
The man smirked, going back to a confidence you didn’t want to know where he had gotten.
Placing his arm sneakily on your waist.
Huh?
“All those for you?”
Before you could react and slap him for his unrequested bold actions, you heard a grunt behind you.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
At that moment, Chan wasn’t so sure if he was the pacific one in your relationship.
He trusted you and your ability to set your own boundaries, by any means necessary, even if it meant slapping someone across the face.
And he knew them by heart. He had watched how you grimaced, trying to take this drunkard’s hands away from you.
So he helped you by slapping them off your body.
As ‘gently’ as he could.
“Move aside.” He said in a low growl, failing to relax until you moved your hand and took his, squeezing it as a way of thanking him.
Instead of getting the hint, the man frowned.
“Hey, if you can’t tell, I was trying to—”
Minho scoffed, appearing behind the man.
“Keep babbling around our girl and I’ll give you a story to tell.” He said in a dark, low tone of voice, eyes and tongue so sharp that they could almost pierce right through the man. “Now shoo.”
Security came by a minute after and apologized for not taking care of him before, then fined him, following the nightclub’s rules and finally kicked the man out.
One of the security guys approached the three of you, and bowed swiftly, apologizing.
“I’m really sorry. This guy has already annoyed some other customers before. I’ll speak to the owner of the place and see if there is something we can do regarding his situation. As for you, miss…” He gave you his card, and you smiled at him, bowing your head gently.
“My name is Seo Changbin. If you ever need anything…” he sighed, a hand to his nape, the buff man slightly flustered. “Don’t hesitate to call me. I can’t think of another way to compensate you…”
Chan smiled, and shook hands with the security guard.
“No need to worry, mate. It’s fine now.” He stated calmly, his other hand still engulfing yours.
Minho bowed at him, his arm around your waist, as if trying to erase any marks or traces of the drunkard’s touch.
“Home, love?” He said in a gentle whisper, kissing your temple after you nodded. “S’okay.”
Minho opened the door to the car for you, and Chan’s hand never left your thigh the whole way back home.
As soon as you got back, you let out a tired sigh.
Chris hugged you from behind, and you melted under his touch. With a soft grin, Minho ushered Chan’s arms away from you, and swiftly took you in his arms.
“Sleepy?” The older one asked, but you shook your head. You didn’t want the night to end on this note. “Then I’ll go get something. You guys get going.” He smiled at you, eyes soft as he lovingly stroke your cheek, your face resting on Minho’s shoulder.
With a slight smirk, he patted Minho’s butt, and headed to his studio.
“Bang Chan!” He whisper-yelled, ears red, and you chuckled lowly.
“Cheeky little baby.” Minho cooed at you, heading to your shared room, and you giggled softly, hiding your head on the crook of his neck. “Let us take care of you, yeah?”
You moved your head from his neck and pecked his lips. Minho took you to bed, and tenderly took your heels off.
“Shower?” He asked softly, but you shook your head no, so he nodded, taking off your dress. With a cat-like grin, his fingers went back to your thighs.
“You have to wear these more often, you little tease.” He snickered, and you smiled, blushing softly. “You look so good in everything.” He said, stroking your cheek.
Chan quickly came back, fluffy blankets and laptop with him.
“Movie night!” He smiled, almost childishly, and both your and Minho’s heart tugged on your chests.
They took their fancy clothes off and put on sleeveless shirts and the matching pyjama pants you had gifted them for Christmas, who were at first meant as a joke, but remained being used just because how comfy they were.
There, snuggled between Chan and Minho, you smiled, taking both of their hands.
“I’m hungry.” You said, pouting unconciously.
“We can make popcorn if you want.” Christ suggested, pausing the movie.
You sat in your knees, looking at them with a smirk.
Minho smirked back, starting to guess where this was headed.
“What do you want to eat, kitten?”
You snickered.
“I want to have ramen.”
~kats, who hopes everyone understood that kdrama reference just now ;););););)
#im sorry#silly me hehe#for my pookie<3#sharonxdevi!#hope you like <3#lee minho fluff#stray kids imagines#lee minho smut#bang chan smut#minchan#minho x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids x reader#chan x reader#stray kids#stray kids fluff#kpop smut#stray kids minho#stray kids smut#bangchan smut#skz smut#soft hours#skz hard thoughts#skz hard hours#hard thoughts#chan hard thoughts#minho hard thoughts#skz scenarios#stray kids hyunjin#stray kids changbin
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birthday princess
stepbro!draco malfoy x fem!reader
masterlist
part one ;; off-limits
summary; it's your nineteenth birthday and your stepbrother gives his favorite girl a very special birthday present.
warnings; college!au, innocent!reader, dom!draco, sub!reader, stepcest, SMUT, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, lots of praising and (shitty) dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up everybody!)
author's note; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. i'm kinda obsessed with stepbrother!draco lately, so i'm gonna make this a series... hope you like it!
you were back in college, the new semester had just started after christmas break and you were forced to return to your usual rutine; which you didn't want to, because that meant draco and you would have to be apart for months till you both came back home for summer break; drawbacks of going to separate schools, miles away from each other.
today, it was friday, and it was your birthday. your roommate had tried to convince you, very insistently, to go with her to a frat party to celebrate, allegating that "it was supposed to be fun turning nineteen", but you were far too depressed to party, so she ended up going alone; you just missed draco very much. you knew that what you guys had was very wrong, but you couldn't stop thinking about that night in his bedroom. the way he had touched you, the way he had kissed you, the way he had made you feel...
gods, now you were depressed and horny.
a soft knocking on your door brought you back to reality and you sighed, rolling your eyes. you got up from your bed, thinking it was just your roommate again —she tended to forget her keys very frequently. but when you opened the door and saw draco standing there, you almost cried.
"happy birthday, princess," he said with that sultry voice of his that you had missed so much.
he was carrying a huge flowers bouquet on one hand and a white paper bag on the other. he was looking at you with the biggest smile on his face, and you didn't hesitate to throw yourself at him to hug him tightly.
"draco!" you shouted, your voice muted by his flesh as you buried your face on the crook of his neck, inhaling his expensive cologne.
draco chuckled, returning the hug instantly. "missed me that much?" he teased, kissing your temple softly.
"yeah, i did," you muttered as you nodded. you pulled back slightly to look up at him with a cute blush and bright eyes, "can't believe you came all the way here just to see me! you didn't have to..."
"well, i couldn't let my favorite birthday girl spend her day alone now, could i?" draco asked with a smirk, placing another kiss on your forehead that time.
he stepped into your dormroom slowly, picking you up with one arm as if you were nothing to carry you inside. then, he closed the door behind him using his foot.
"i love you."
you smiled big, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a chaste peck on the lips; you couldn't help but blush as you did so.
"i love you more," he whispered against your mouth, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
he then set you down gently, careful not to crush the bouquet between your two bodies; you quickly grabbed it, smelling the fresh scent of the flowers. you did not have a proper vase to put the bouquet in, so you just settled it carefully on top of your desk.
"these are beautiful," you said; the bouquet was made of pink tulips, your favourites.
"i bought you a little present too, wanna open it?" he asked, giving you the white bag.
"yes!" you giggled as you took it and ran excitedly towards your bed.
you sat down on it while draco stared at you adoringly. with shaky hands, you took a little box out of the bag; it was covered in a pretty silver wrapping paper that you quickly ripped open. inside the box, you found a gold necklace with a heart pendant; on the backside of it, it could be read: "draco's little princess".
you smiled big when you saw it. "it's so pretty, i love it!"
"i knew you would." draco smirked, walking over to you and taking the necklace from your hands. he sat behind you on the bed, saying, "let me put it on for you."
he gently pushed your long hair aside to place the necklace around your neck. after that, he leaned in, planting a tender kiss on your soft skin. you turned around to face him, kneeling on the bed while you pushed your hair backwards again to show him how the necklace looked on you, your thin and tiny white singlet doing nothing to cover your body.
"perfect," he breathed out, looking at you with such intensity that it made your heart skip a beat.
his eyes traveled down to your lips as his fingers traced the outline of the pendant resting on your chest. you blushed, averting his gaze, as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
"don't look at me like that." you chuckled shyly, covering your flushed face.
"like what?"
he smirked cupping your face to force you to look at him, he was still gazing at you like he wanted to devour you. you swallowed hard as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered about crazily. you let out a breathy sigh, your lips parting slightly.
"like you wanna eat me up..." you answered timidly, your voice was merely above a whisper as you did so.
"you have no idea how much I want to," he admitted, a small growl rumbling from his chest. he brushed his thumb over your full bottom lip, causing you to gasp softly, then he added, "been dying to taste that sweet pussy of yours, princess."
you were a lost for words as his blunt statement made your heart race like crazy, you could feel your face and ears heating up from embarrassment but also from arousal.
"don't be shy, baby," he purred, leaning in closer until his breath fanned across your neck and he peppered your skin with little kisses, "would you let me eat your beautiful pussy? wanna make my girl feel good on her special day..." he asked with a soft voice.
you squirmed and let out a little whimper as you felt his hands moving down to grasp at your creamy thighs, pulling you onto his lap. your head tilted to the side, giving him full access to your neck. all that attention he was giving to your body was making you really wet, your pussy aching to be touched, so you nodded in response.
"yes, princess?" he whispered against your skin, nipping at it gently.
he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, seeing the need and desire there.
"you want me to eat your pussy? use your words, baby," he questioned again, his voice husky with lust.
"yeah... want you to eat my pussy, dray," you muttered shyly, blushing at the dirty words that came out of your mouth.
"good girl," he praised you.
he gave you a small kiss on the lips before standing up with you in his arms to place you on your back on top of the bed.
"now, spread those beautiful legs wide for me," he commanded, gently caressing the back of your knees.
you obeyed instantly, looking up at him with big innocent eyes. your tiny shorts hiked up, barely covering your skin. he eased himself between your spread thighs, his hands trailing up your legs tenderly in search for the waistband of your pijama bottoms.
his fingers tugged at it to start pulling them down alongside your cotton panties. you lifted your hips to allow him to take off your clothes easily, and both items of clothing got stuck at your left ankle, but you just left them there, too eager to feel his touch to care.
now, you laid completely bare and vulnerable in front of him, your body shivering in anticipation.
"gods, you're so fucking gorgeous," he muttered, his voice low and husky.
he lowered his face to kiss your stomach, trailing hot kisses all the way down to your mound as his hands gripped your hips tightly. you whimpered at his compliment, your hand reaching to grasp at his blonde hair.
"draco, don't tease." you pouted, running your fingers through his soft strands.
"ask nicely," he purred, nipping at your inner thigh playfully, while he groaned in pleasure as you continued to tug on his hair, encouraging him.
"dray, please, need you so bad," you pleaded, your hips jerking forward; your clit was throbbing with need.
"very well, princess," he cooed, kissing his way up your inner thigh towards your sensitive pussy.
his tongue flicked out to tease your little bud before he sucked it into his mouth, groaning against your skin as he tasted you for the first time. you moaned in delight, pulling gently at his hair to push him closer to your cunt. the new sensation made your toes curl; you had never had your pussy eaten, and gods, it felt so fucking good.
"mhmm, you taste so fucking sweet, baby," he hummed against your cunt.
his tongue kept tracing slow circles around your swollen clit before he sucked it into his mouth, causing you to gasp and buck your hips. you cried out so softly, your pretty voice echoing in the silence of your dormroom, while your back arched from the bed.
"love those pretty sounds you make for me, princess," he praised between licks and sucks.
his hands gripped your hips tightly to hold you still as he continued to worship your pussy. you felt one of them sliding up and underneath your singlet to cup one of your breaths. you panted when his fingers toyed with your perky little nipple, that hardened instantly beneath his touch.
"draco," you moaned, grinding your pussy against his face.
"so fucking desperate for your stepbrother, huh?" he teased, "you gonna cum on my face, baby?"
he switched his attention to your other nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as he continued to eat you out. he lifted his eyes to look at you, his lips curling up into a predatory smile as his tongue flicked against your clit faster now, knowing that you were close.
"yeah," you muttered in response between needy whimpers.
you breathed out, your chest raising and falling rapidly as you felt your pussy clenching and pulsing around nothing; the coil in your belly tightened, announcing your upcoming orgasm.
"come for me, princess," he growled against your pussy before taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard. you moaned, your hips jerking up as he worked to pull your orgasm from you.
letting out a cry of pleasure, you came on his face while your whole body trembled. you couldn't help but arch your back from the mattress as you gasped for air. the feeling was so good that your vision went blank for a second. when you finally came down from your high, he slowly pulled away.
"that's my good girl," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
he stood up and helped you remove the last of your clothes before starting to unbutton his own shirt. panting, you reached to unbuckle his belt eagerly while he got rid of his dress shirt. your skin was flushed and your body still flustered from your recent orgasm.
"so impatient," he chuckled, pulling his trousers and boxers down before climbing on top of you.
he grabbed his hard cock to press the tip against your slick pussy, rubbing it teasingly as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. you moaned into the kiss, your hips bucking against him while he teased your clit with his cockhead.
"you want this cock, baby?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble against your lips as he continued to tease you. "want me to fuck you?"
"yes, please..." you answered, wrapping your legs around his hips to urge him.
with a smirk, he thrust forward, burying his cock deep inside you in one swift motion.
"fuck," he groaned, feeling your tight pussy clamp down around him. "you're so fucking tight."
your eyes rolled back at the feeling, his cock obviously too big for your tiny cunt, but somehow he managed to make it fit like he did the first time. he started to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he fucked you hard. you gasped out his name with each deep thrust, your nails digging into his back as you tried to get closer to him.
"you like that, huh?" he whispered, "you like your stepbrother's cock stretching your tight little pussy?"
your cunt tightened in response to his words, your face scrunching in pleasure while you nodded, unable to form any coherent sentence. your face was flushed as you heard the creaking from the bed and the filthy wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours.
"look at you, all fucked out on my cock," he growled lowly.
you truly were a sight for sore eyes; you looked so innocent, but at the same time you were taking his dick like a total slut, making him go bloody crazy. he grabbed your legs to pull them up so he could fuck you deeper. you cried out, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he went balls deep.
"you're such a dirty little thing." his dirty talk was making you so wet that you were dripping onto your bedding.
"oh, draco," you moaned loudly
your hands reached to grasp at your own thighs as he pushed your legs onto your chest; the new angle had your toes curling and your legs shaking. he was holding onto your calves, gently kissing your ankles. his grey eyes glazed with lust as he continued to pound into you, hitting that spot inside you that had you squirming under him.
"fuck, feels so good," he groaned, his teeth nipping at his bottom lip.
you let out a breathy whimper as you clenched around his thick shaft, saying, "i'm so close."
"let go, princess," he commanded sweetly, "cum on my cock."
he gave you one last hard thrust, sending you over the edge. your orgasm crashed down on you and you cried out in pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as your cunt engulfed his dick harshly. his eyes fluttered closed when he felt you pulsing around him, his whole body shuddering while you milked his cock, making him cum inside you with a low groan.
"happy fucking birthday, baby."
fuck you if that hadn't been the happiest birthday of your entire life.
#♡ ;; theosbaby#draco one shot#draco x reader#draco smut#draco lucius malfoy#draco malfoy smut#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy one shot#malfoy x reader#malfoy smut#malfoy#slytherin#slytherin boys#harry potter#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#tw stepcest#stepbrother!draco#stepbro!draco#innocent!reader#college!au
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What's Rightfully Mine
(Yan. Kairos! x GN! Reader)
A/N: OOuuuhh... I've read over this a billion times and I figure I may as well go ahead and upload it. ^^;;;;;;;;;;;; Matching artwork with the story...! Woohoo! (*´▽`*)
TWs: very graphic depictions of violence, disturbing yandere behaviors, mild gore, kidnapping, 18+ content....... Kairos being Kairos. Slight mention of virginity (but it's just Kairos' virginity)
MDNI.
Wordcount: 2300~
((And thank you @x-v0id-x for reading over the fic for me before I posted it!!! ☆:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:☆ ))
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Kairos never meant for this to happen.
He swears up and down that he never wanted to do it– he promises that he never intended to hurt anybody.
But he did anyway.
However… Can you blame him–?
You are Kairos’ one and only, his soulmate, his beloved, the reason he breathes, the reason he wakes up every morning, the reason why he’s still alive– you’re his everything! Was he supposed to just let you run off into the arms of another man without even attempting to fight back...?!
The way you looked at that filth– that disgusting, foul, no-good other man… It made Kairos sick to his stomach.
What even was that guy’s name...?
(####)? (######)? (######).
Yes, that’s his name, Kairos is sure of it.
It repeats itself in Kairos’ mind over and over again, piercing his skull like a blade that twists and twists until he’s left screaming for mercy at the top of his lungs.
“G-get out of my head! Get out! Get out get out get out! Leave me alone!”
Countless nights end in him violently waking up from the same nightmare– a nightmare where you and (######) run off together while he helplessly watches. And in the nightmare, you smile so brightly, but you’re only smiling at that bastard. It’s like Kairos is invisible as he desperately crawls towards you. He’s sobbing and begging for you not to leave him, but it’s as if you can’t hear him.
However, (######) can.
(######) spits on him, jeers at him, then laughs as he carries you far, far away.
In Kairos’ nightmares, the other man stomps on his neck as he spits out callous remarks.
“Nobody could ever love you.” He sneers.
“You’re nothing but a disgusting freak.”
Kairos knows he’s heard these things before– but he can’t remember who once told him that.
He feels so powerless when imagines you with (######) as he sleeps, and he can’t stop himself from thinking about it when he’s awake– it’s a never-ending tragedy that haunts every second of every day. The bags under his eyes have grown horrifyingly darker. Kairos had to make this stop.
He was desperate.
Kairos didn’t have a choice as he broke into that man’s house, sneaking in through the first-floor window and trudging down the darkened halls.
Kairos didn’t have a choice as he crept into the shadowy bedroom with a silver blade placed firmly in his hands, his back pocket harboring a rag soaked in chloroform.
The two of you were sleeping together so peacefully– you and that disgusting bastard.
That man looked so carefree; his chest rising and falling at a perfectly even pace. His arms were wrapped so warmly around you, holding you close in a tender embrace. The blankets covered your lower halves, and the man’s face was buried in the back of your neck.
The scene was so peaceful. Way too peaceful…
With tear-stricken eyes, Kairos couldn’t help but wonder: “why can’t that be me?”
Why does this man get to live a happy and carefree life, but not him? Why does this man get to hold you tightly in his arms, and not him? Why… Why…
Why does Kairos never get what he wants?
This feeling– this god awful feeling that Kairos is constantly haunted by: envy.
Envy… The one emotion he’s all-too familiar with. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore– for once in his life, he wants to have something, and not just yearn for it.
In this moment, he knows that the only way to obtain happiness…
Is simply to take it by force.
Kairos had to be fast– because if the man woke up before he could stun him, then he’d be quickly overpowered.
Before he focused on taking him out, Kairos tiptoed over to your side, his gaze softening for just a moment. He pulled out the rag from his back pocket and placed it gently under your nose, covering all your airways. He knew he had to wait a few minutes– he had to make sure that you won’t wake up any time soon. So, while he stood there, he lovingly petted your hair and left little kisses on your forehead. When he was certain that the chloroform settled in, his heart started to tighten in his chest.
Adrenaline struck him like lightning as he snuck around the side of the bed, his purple eyes locked in on his target. For the first time in his life, Kairos was no longer the victim.
Nervous sweat dribbled down the sides of his face as he held the blade up high, positioning the pointed end towards the man’s exposed throat. Kairos could have turned back– he could have easily put the knife away and let you both go free. But he loved you too badly. He needed you too badly.
This was it.
He jabbed the knife deep into the man’s neck, hoping that would prevent any screams.
And it worked.
(######) jolted awake in horror as his mind raced to figure out what was happening. He threw his hands onto the wound and tried so desperately to stop the bleeding, but it was futile. It was so, so futile. Gurgled sounds bounced off the walls as a bloody rampage ensued right beside you.
Seeing the red gushing out flipped a switch in Kairos’ mind. He doesn’t know why he lost control– he doesn’t know how it happened– but it did.
Kairos’ vision went black as he fully jumped on top of the bed, plunging the knife into (######)’s body over and over and over again.
Slash, slash, slash.
A horrifying symphony: the sound of flesh being sliced apart.
The man’s muffled cries were like music to Kairos’ ears.
He choked and he gagged, whimpered and wailed, but coherent words of pleas were unable to escape his mouth. Every time he tried to kick Kairos off, Kairos would stab him in his legs. Every time the man tried to push him off, Kairos would slash the palm of his hands. Kairos thought for sure that he’d be overpowered, but the adrenaline in his veins gave him strength that he never knew he had.
And there was blood.
Blood everywhere.
“M-mine, mine, mine… They’re mine...!” Kairos mumbled manically under his breath, his focus flipping back and forth between you and his victim. But– it wasn’t just Kairos that looked over at you. Your partner did as well.
His shimmering eyes stared at you longingly– so lovingly... Too lovingly.
It made Kairos’ blood boil.
Through gritted teeth, he spat out, “n-no, you don’t get to look at them...! Don’t look at them ever again!”
Then… Slash.
The silver knife plunged deep into his eyes– thick blood spewing out from the wound.
Kairos can barely remember what happened after that. All he knew was that, eventually, the man ceased to struggle.
His black hoodie was now soaked in blood- his quivering hands completely red. It dripped from his cheeks and onto the corpse beneath him– the entire world was spinning dizzyingly fast.
(######)’s body was painted in deep lacerations, and his face was disfigured to the point of him being unrecognizable. Something about it was so… So…
Exciting.
It was done now. It was over.
There was nobody in this world who could take you away from him.
And the thought of that made him smile.
Kairos laughed– he laughed so joyously, laughed so carefree.
Kairos’ mind was an incoherent mess. A horrible, horrible mess.
And he doesn’t know why it happened– he doesn’t know how it happened– in one moment, he was attacking that man, but in the next…
“M-mine… Mine… You’re f-finally mine!”
His pale hands were shaking as they savagely tore away your thin clothing. Kairos pushed your ex-lover’s corpse onto the floor as he kissed your lips with the intensity of a starved animal.
Your lips were so much softer than he imagined– so much sweeter, too. He couldn’t contain his excitement anymore– after all, this night marks the beginnings of a new and wonderful life!!
And now, he also just gave you his first kiss!
The silver light of the moon was glowing on his face, illuminating the dark red blood that stained his skin. He was a monster– a selfish freak that craved your love more than anything else.
There really was no rhyme or reason to anything Kairos was doing. At that moment, he just wanted to feel good; he needed to feel your warmth.
In one second, he was desperately humping your leg while holding your hips in place. In the next, he was kissing your stomach and fervently licking your chest. He knows that you can’t feel it, but that’s beside the point– he uses this time as practice, so that when you are awake, you’ll be feeling nothing but bliss! And besides… You just taste so good; he can’t help himself.
Kairos kisses and bites at your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a faint trail of needy marks. Without thinking, he pulls out his cock and begins to jerk himself off. He parts his mouth and rambles to himself.
“I’ll… I’ll m-make sure nobody finds you! Nobody!”
Kairos sticks out his tongue and licks over your left nipple; he does it a few more times before fully sucking on it. The lewd act sends a shiver down his spine.
It’s so hot, so naughty, and ultimately entirely new to him. He’s never been so turned on before.
“W-we’ll live happily together, alone in my apartment! And you’ll be s-so happy!”
He speaks as if you can hear him– and deep down, he almost wishes that you could. Kairos crawls up further onto the bed and digs his knees into your shoulders, the shadow of his cock looming over your perfect face. It’s so close to you– so, so close– god, he still wishes you were awake right now. But he knows you’d fight him off if you knew what was going on.
“I’ll f-feed you every day, and– And I’ll learn how to cook for you! I– I can watch videos online… I promise I’ll learn… J-just for you!”
He strokes himself even faster, soft wet sounds echoing off the bloodied walls. Kairos lifts the chloroform rag away from your mouth but keeps it over your nose. He presses his tip against your lips as he keeps going, his precum slowly dribbling down your chin.
“W-we can make love every single night...! I’ll… I’ll make you feel so, so good… I…” A shiver runs up and down his spine as a whiney moan escapes him.
“M-my virginity… It’s… It’s all yours...! Ahh…”
His eyes squeeze shut as a hot sting of pleasure surges through him.
“D-doesn’t that sound wonderful!? I’m all yours, my love!”
Kairos pushes his cock a little closer to your lips– but he does it a bit too aggressively, the tip of it scraping against your teeth. God, he would give anything for you to suck on it– even if only for a fraction of a second.
“Th-then we can have a family one day!! I’ll– I’ll get my job going, I… I’ll m-make more money! Lots of money! W-we can adopt… We can…”
With his one free hand, Kairos reaches down and begins to stroke your hair, leaving blood stains all throughout it.
“J-just us two, only u-us two… Nobody… Else!”
The pace of his hand quickens as his head starts to tilt backwards, his breathing growing out of control. His chest heaves as he erratically chases his high, yearning so badly to feel it hit him all at once.
He can’t help but imagine how wonderful the future will be– your all's future together. Then he imagines the way you’ll be all tied up in his bed, completely naked and vulnerable for him…
Just like you are now.
“F-fuck..!”
It’s all too much– Kairos’ cock twitches as he cums all over your face, some of it pouring into your mouth and on your cheeks. He squeezes as much of it out as he possibly can, craving to see you drenched in it. Throughout it all, you still sleep so peacefully… All thanks to the chloroform.
He can’t help but think that you look so cute when you’re knocked out and covered in his cum.
Ah… if only he could draw you in this state.
Even though he so badly wants to collapse by your side and cuddle you, he knows that he has to move. There is quite literally a dead body in the room and blood on his hands– he has to clean up.
And he also has to find a way to sneak your body to his broken-down car outside.
Very reluctantly, he kisses you on your forehead, smiling sweetly. “I’ll… I’ll be back, my love!”
After a while of stumbling, he finds himself entering the bathroom.
When he looks in the mirror, his eyes widen partially in horror. Kairos knew this side of himself existed deep within him… He knew there was a disgusting monster that laid dormant in his chest, but he had never before seen it come out so fiercely.
His pupils were small, his purple eyes hauntingly beautiful. And on top of that, he was grinning.
It was the first time he had genuinely smiled in weeks– maybe even months.
Kairos turned on the sink to wash off his face, but he only seemed to be making more of a mess. Blood streamed down the sides of the sink and pooled in the drain. Despite how macabre it all was, he just couldn’t stop smiling– because now he has everything he could ever want: you.
All to himself… Forever.
Until death do you part.
#teehee#silly kairos moment#yandere oc x reader#yandere#yancore#yandere male#yandere fic#male yandere x reader#yandere boyfriend#yandere x darling#kairos art
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fratboy/playboy!gojo takin readers virginity :3
hes manipulative :(( all is consensual tho
it’s truly a mystery as to how satoru got his hands on you. even suguru doesn’t understand how such a flamboyant person managed to get someone like you, someone so sweet and pure. satoru is aware of the curious eyes that stick to the two of you like glue, he knows what people think and he loves it. he enjoys knowing he has the last piece to the puzzle. when people try to map out how a fuckboy got his grimy fingers onto you, he becomes tight lipped, only offering a sly smirk.
it’s no one’s business to know that he was persistent in getting you一sometimes too persistent. he’d linger around your dorm room, he sat directly beside you in the one class the two of you had together, it was minor things that blossomed into you catching feelings for him. when you had briefly mentioned to satoru that you were new to the city and didn’t exactly have many friends, god一you’ve never seen him smile so wide. you were oblivious to inner musings; lewd, disgusting thoughts of innocent you.
of course he had ulterior motives. as beautiful as you are, satoru finds girls with a bit of fight in them more attractive than submissive girls. you weren’t exactly his type but your naivety strung him along. and boy, was all the waiting worth it.
“t-toru.” you gasp his name dumbly. your pretty eyes glance down to where his thick cock was stretching your pussy. your long square shaped nails dig into his shoulder blade. “t-thought you said it wouldn’t h-hurt..” you sniffle.
“‘m a guy, baby. i’ve never had m’cherry popped.” he huffs out a chuckle. his chuckle is quieted once he bites down on his lip and concentrates on pushing his cock deep inside of you. once his hips are smacked against the fat of your ass, he takes a moment to look at you.
you feel so full of him. you could feel every vein, every ridge, the feeling of his cock pulsating inside you. it was almost too much of a feeling. “can we take a break, toru?” you remove your hands from his shoulders to cover your face.
luckily, you weren’t able to see satoru roll his eyes at your question. “princess, really? we’ve gotten so far. i一jus’ look at how your pussy’s squeezing me.”
“it’s.. w-we don’t have to stop jus’ a little break, toru.” you try to reason. satoru sucks his teeth in response. his cock is throbbing and he just wants to start pounding his way through your walls, giving your pussy the treatment it deserves.
“fine. i guess i’ll have t’call another girl to一” he’s cut off by you gasping.
you quickly uncover your face and grab at his forearms. your eyes dart to the silver infinity chain that hangs from his neck and threatens to rub against your forehead. “no! please, no. we can do it! no breaks, kay? you hear me, toru?” you wrap your legs around his waist as if you’re showing him that you mean every word you say.
“nah, it’s good. unwrap your legs.” satoru has to fight himself, repeating in his head 'don't smile'. he’s got you where he wants you.
tears adorn your eyes as you look at him with apprehension. “p-please, d-daddy. i don’t wanna take a break. don’t go, please.”
“well.. i guess we can finish.” he places a soft kiss on your lips before pulling his hips back and thrusting into you.
you’re satoru’s little delicate thing, he’ll make sure he has his fun with you.
#pwinkprincess ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა#₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ#toruuu ᡣ𐭩 ୨୧ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶#jjk ! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#jjk x reader#jjk#gojou satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#jjk satoru#satoru x reader#gojo x y/n#satoru x y/n#jjk smut#fratboy/playboy!gojo
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Under New Management
The smell of sweat hits hard when I enter the gym. I haven't been in a gym in years, but just the smell is enough to bring me back. There is a jacked Arab dude sitting behind the reception, I just tell him I'm here for an interview and he lets me by.
I felt so out of place here. I'm this skinny white guy walking through a gym filled with built Arab guys. I start to wonder how good my chances are of getting this job. I figured my degree in business and experience managing other businesses would be enough, but now I'm starting to wonder if I'm too much of an outsider.
I tell myself this isn't the time to overthink as I make my way to the office. I have to walk past the locker room to get to the office. I see a white guy getting into the showers, probably one of two non Arab guys I've seen here so far. I also walk past an older Arab guy who seems to be checking himself out in his phone's camera.
I find myself staring a bit too long and the man looks up from his phone, making eye contact with me. I quickly look down and continue walking.
"Are you here for the interview?" The man asks. I stop in my tracks and nervously say yes. I feel the butterflies fill my stomach as I realize he's the manager of the gym. I'm already off to an awful start. "Go ahead son, I'll get dressed and meet you there." The man points to his office down the hall. I just nod and walk away.
A few minutes later, the man walks in wearing a nice black suit and expensive looking jewellery. He sits down at his desk and gets right into the interview. I get more and more confident and the interview goes on. He seems quite nice, if a little intimidating.
"You know..." The man sounds more genuine, "I am getting too old for this job. How do you feel starting right away?" He asks. My heart sinks, I have to think quick. "Of course!" I blurt out.
"Great" he says, "it is tradition in this gym to pass down this watch through management." He takes off his expensive looking silver watch and passes it to me. I hesitate for a moment before grabbing it and sliding onto my wrist. The watch feels good on my skin, the cold of the metal is refreshing. I look at the watch and admire its beauty when I see something changing. My hands are... growing. My hands crack as the bones grow, making my hands wide and my fingers long. My thin fingers thicken as muscle and fat pile into them, and callouses cover my palms. My forearms start to thicken as veins start to surface under my skin. They grow until they burst through the button on my sleeve. I also notice my skin start to darken into a tan colour, resembling that of the man who interviewed me. Thick dark hair starts to sprout on my hands and my forearms, giving them a touch and ragged look. I feel the transformation move up my arm and to my biceps. They grow and grow, making my sleeves tight as skin around them. My shoulders broaden and my chest pumps outward, popping off the top couple buttons on my shirt. My shirt strains further as I grow two massive pecs with a thick pelt of hair covering them. The fat in my stomach melts away, revealing a defined six pack that also gets covered in dark hairs.
I feel my pants tighten as my ass perks up and my thighs thicken. I grab my crotch with my massive hand and feel my dick grow larger and larger until a visible bulge forms in my pants. I feel the scratch of hairs growing all down my legs. Suddenly my feet burst from the dress shoes I was wearing, revealing my massive hairy feet.
Finally I feel my face shifting around. My brow bone becomes more prominent and my nose becomes larger. I feel my face sliming down as a big bushy beard grows on my face. I also feel the hair on my head recede until it's only a short buzz cut.
I sit there for a moment, getting used to my body as memories flood into my head. My childhood in Pakistan, moving to America when I was a young man with my father. He bought this gym, allowing me to workout constantly. And now he is passing the gym onto me.
"I am proud of you son. I'm happy you get to take over the family business." Father says to me.
"Thank you father." I respond in a deep voice with a heavy accent.
I walk out of the interview room, and back through the locker room. As I walk through, however, I see that American man getting out of the shower. I would normally be okay with the occasional American being at the gym, but today I was not feeling as generous. I approach him as he is drying off outside the shower.
"What the hell are yo-" the man tries to say, but he pauses as I forcefully grab his wrist. Suddenly the once skinny man begins to rapidly grow. His biceps became massive, his pecs thickened, and his stomach fat melted away revealing a defined six pack. Every part of his body continued to grow, his ass grew fat and round, his dick doubled in size, now being the thickness of a pop can, and his thighs thickened until they rubbed together. His skin started to darken, going from a pale white to an almost bronze brown colour and thick dark hairs sprouted all over his body. A thick forest of hair quickly covered his chest, stomach, arms, and legs. His thin blonde hair became a wavy jet black buzz cut as his once clean shaven face grew a thick beard.
"Good workout brother." I give him a firm tap on his shoulder and he nods back at me. He is a beast of a man, and a loyal customer at the gym, one of many good men who come here.
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pookie pie i need a lando fic where lando and reader are bffs, literally since day one, and oscar notices lando suddenly acting different BC HE'S FALLING FOR READER but obviously lando won't admit it yet, and oscar could accidentally spill to reader why lando's acting so weird
oblivious — l.n
pairing: lando norris x fem!bestfriend!reader
summary: lando is oblivious to the fact that he’s in love with his best friend, so oscar takes matters into his own hands.
warnings: pov changes, kissing, and that’s it
a/n: bestie requested, i shall deliver.
—
me and lando have been attached to the hip since birth basically. we’ve managed to keep close in contact through the entirety of high school and even now with him being an f1 driver.
lando invites me to his races all the time and of course, i’m always there. i’m there so often basically everyone in the mclaren garage is fond of me.
as of now though, it’s the week before the silver stone race and lando demanded that we hangout all week to distract him from the nerves since it is somewhat of a home race to him.
“y/n, can you come here for a sec?” lando calls for me and i oblige, standing up from his couch to walk to his room.
“you called?” i say, stepping foot into his room. “i don’t know what hat to wear, i have too many. what color goes best with my outfit?” he asks. looking him over, he’s of course covered in almost all black so i pick up the white mclaren hat and place it on his head.
“this one. easier said than done. don’t overthink it.” i pat his head and giggle. he rolls his eyes at me, “yeah yeah, ready to go?” he asks and i nod my head as we head out of his house to go meet up with oscar and his girlfriend.
once we meet up with oscar and lily at the mclaren event, i started to feel a bit out of place since there was so many people here i didn’t know. of course there was the mechanics and others from the garage but it was triple that at this event.
“y/n, you okay?” lando asks me as we make our way to sit down at a table. “yeah, i just, there’s a lot of people here.” i laugh nervously and he he grabs my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“i know there is, love. it’s just a charity event, nothing to stress about. i wanted to invite you along next to me, didn’t wanna third wheel all night with them two.” lando says and points next to him where oscar and lily are sitting.
“hey! we don’t make you third wheel, you just wanted her to come along so you’re using us as an excuse.” oscar says and i squeeze lando’s hand, laughing, “you’ve been caught.”
lando huffs and rolls his eyes at us, “whatever helps you guys sleep at night.” he grumbles and me and oscar laugh together.
as the night goes on, lando helped calm my nerves and would sneak touches and glances at me all night.
“im sorry for making you come, i know its boring but its something i have to attend.” he whispers to me as the owner of mclaren talks to the crowd.
“it’s okay, i’m here with you.” i turn to look at him and he gives me a smile. i look over at oscar and lily and oscar is staring at us with a smirk on his face.
—
“mate, you can’t keep hiding it anymore.” oscar says to me and i have no clue what he’s even talking about.
“what do you mean?” i ask and he face palms. “god, you’re oblivious.” he grumbles, “i’m talking about you having feelings for y/n.”
and that’s when i feel my heart nearly stop.
“what? no i dont.” i deny but oscar refuses to believe it, “lando, you guys are attached to the hip. im not stupid, i saw the way you were looking at her tonight.” well he’s not wrong.
“i wasn’t looking at her in anyway. you’re just delusional.” i brush off his comment and walk out of my living room wanting to avoid this conversation.
“lando, im not letting you run away.” oscar says as he follows me into the kitchen, “i know you’re refusing to believe me or listen to me but i think she is the one for you, she has been the one for you. you guys grew up together, you guys always hangout, you support eachother like no other, and the way you both look at eachother says it all. for once, don’t push this away. i think y/n is what you need in life. i think she’ll be the best you’ve ever had if you let her.”
i stand there in my kitchen, hands gripping the countertop, completely dumbfounded by what oscar had said. he just stands there staring at me before saying, “let that sink in and maybe you’ll listen to me for once and it’ll open your eyes.” before walking out of my house and leaving me to drown in my thoughts alone.
—
i wake up at 8 the next morning, in lando’s spare bedroom that i’ve basically claimed as my own. last thing i remembered was oscar being over and them talking about the event. i headed to bed since it was already late when we got back.
i get out of bed and get ready for the day, when i make my way out of the room, i did not expect to find breakfast to be made.
“oh my god? you made pancakes!” i nearly yell and run over to hug a cooking lando.
“yes, i did. you’re welcome.” he laughs and squeezes me with his good arm that isn’t being occupied by flipping the batter. “you’re literally the best.” i tell him as i let go of him and take the plate that’s already made.
“yeah, i know i am.” he smirks at me but i just bust up laughing, “oh god, i boosted your ego.” i groan and pour syrup on the pancakes.
“nah, babe. the ego was already there.” i feel my cheeks heat up at the pet name, thrown off by it, but i continue to go with the flow.
“you f1 drivers are something.” i shake my head at him and begin eating the fluffy pancakes lando made for me.
after awhile, lando ends up dragging me over to oscar’s since he invited us to watch a tennis match.
now who watches tennis in their free time? i don’t question it, just enjoy the fact that i get to hangout with them.
once we get there, lando opens the car door for me and i thank him. “i saw that!” oscar shouts at us, and i giggle. “shut up!” lando shouts back as we walk up to where oscar is standing at the door.
“ready to watch some tennis?” he asks me and i just shrug, “i mean, im spending time with you guys so it evens out.” and oscar laughs.
halfway through the match, lando gets up to make food in the kitchen. “so, when are you going to stop being oblivious?” oscar looks over to tell me. i furrow my brows at his question, “oblivious over what?”
“lando. you guys are both oblivious.” he sighs and runs his hand over his face. “i’m over here playing matchmaker for the both you.” i just stare at oscar with a emotionless look on my face cause i didn’t expect this conversation to ever happen.
“last night after you went to bed, i think i finally talked some sense into lando. he likes you, y/n. it’s so obvious and it’s crazy to me that neither one of you have tried to do anything about it. i mean, the way you look at eachother speaks volumes and everything he does for you, says it all. i’m just tired of seeing you both do nothing about it so im finally taking matters into my hands to talk some sense into the both of you.” he confesses.
“i- honestly. i never expected this conversation to ever happen.” i say and he nods, “i get it but it’s happening now because im tired of you guys being clueless with how much in love you are with eachother.”
in love? with lando? me? no, that’s crazy.
unless…
it was then that everything clicked into place. the realization hit me like a thousand bricks and i all of a sudden had the urge to cry. everything lando does for me isn’t something a normal boy best friend would do. he wouldn’t call me pet names, cuddle with me, hold my hand, make me food, and invite me to every event he was to ever attend.
lando does like me.
and i like him back.
it was then that lando walked back into oscar’s living room, carrying a bowl of chips and salsa, “did i walk in at a bad time?” he asks and the tension in the room could’ve been cut with a knife.
“no, i think i finally got y/n to realize you’re in love with her.” at oscar’s ststement, lando drops the chips out of his hand, “you did what?!” he raises his voice, completely shocked.
i’m still sat on the couch zoned out, “yes, it’s about time you both opened your eyes!” oscar says to lando.
“oscar what the hell? you’ve probably made her upset.” lando says as he walks over to me and grabs my arm that’s perched on my knee, “are you okay?”
i stare up at him and ask “you do love me, don’t you?” that seems to catch him off guard because he lets go of my arm and i’m already missing the warmth of his touch. i see oscar take this as a cue to leave as he gets up and walks out the living room, leaving us alone.
“i- i love you as my best friend.” lando whispers to me but i know it’s a lie, “lando don’t lie to me.”
i feel tears brimming my waterline, why the hell am i about to cry?
“okay, fine. i do love you. i’ve been in love with you since we were kids, y/n.” he confesses and that’s when i feel the tears fall.
“hey, hey, hey. why are you crying, pretty girl?” he grabs my face and wipes the tears away, my body heating up at his touch and the pet name.
“i’m just- i’m overwhelmed. my feelings for you are overwhelming and i just never thought we would be in this situation. i’m not mad about our situation, im more than happy because i know there’s no one else out there for me. you’re the one for me, i guess oscar has just got me to open my eyes and now my feelings are everywhere.” lando smiles at me, “you’re too pretty to cry.”
i smile at him and reach up to grab his face, “i can’t believe you’ve been such a coward to confess that you’ve been in love with me since we were kids.” he laughs at me, “i’m sorry, you know i am. and i will apologize till the end of time. i just never wanted to ruin what we had even though i know it was alot like we were dating, but that’s besides the point, because now i can at least kiss you.”
“are you asking to kiss me, norris?” i tease him and he nods, “yes, because i’ve waited over a decade to do so.” i gasp and bring his face closer to mine, “well, i love them loyal.”
and suddenly lando’s lips came crashing down onto mine and it was like the world stopped moving. this felt right.
his hand reached down to my neck to pull me in closer as the other cupped my face. i smiled into the kiss, “congratulations on being my first ever real kiss.” i tell him and he laughs, “it’s an honor, good thing i’ll be your first and last.” he says as he pulls me in for another.
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So i saw of a guy getting lipstick kisses on him and im just obssessed with it. I want it with Luke but maybe we could have Luke put our lipstick on to mark us with kisses? Thanks for the lovely Luke fics ;3
revenge is best served red
luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
[fem!reader, from any cabin]
summary: little pranks are a great way to keep a relationship fun, and if they involve lipstick? well, neither of you are going to complain too much.
warnings: kissing, reader wears makeup (lipstick mostly stated), slightly suggestive content
word count: 786
(hiiii!! i love this request it’s so cute! thank you for the awesome request, i hope you like it!)
——————————————
one thing new campers often noticed about luke castellan were the lipstick stains on his collar and skin and the silver bracelet on his wrist, both a perfect match to your lips and your own wrist. he wore both with pride, always one to wear his heart on his sleeve and, well, your lipstick on his shirts.
you’d never tried to hide your relationship. how could you, after all, when luke stumbled out from behind your cabin with lipstick marks all over his face and you followed him not long later, makeup smudged and hair messy? that was a pretty good giveaway that you were together.
luke had always liked revenge. good, cold, sweet revenge. but you had never been a target. nope. never.
until he drew a heart with an ‘L’ in it on your cheek while you slept one night, and you went around camp as usual for three hours before you realised it was there. then all bets were off.
you wore your brightest, boldest lip looks, pressing kisses to his cheeks, to his hands to the corner of his mouth. he wore them with pride.
“you’re never embarrassed,” you’d whined to him one day.
he’d wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, smiling. “i’d never be embarrassed by you. how could i be?”
that had been enough for you to shut him up with more deep red kisses for a while.
revenge came to you one day though. cold and sweet.
you went simple. and cold. definitely cold.
a bucket of ice was tipped over luke just before he was set to start training, courtesy of you, of course. what you hadn’t expected, was getting chased by a soaked, cold, luke, and hugged tightly as the ice permeated through your clothes too. regardless, he admitted that you’d got him, and finally, you could relax. pranks had never been your strong suit anyway.
as time went on, all of that took a backseat. more than anything else, you were just… happy.
luke was, first and foremost, a picture perfect boyfriend. always opening doors for you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and lips, carrying your bags and always respecting you. but he was so annoying sometimes.
like now, as he sat on your with your makeup bag in front of him, tipped out onto your sheets.
you were sitting on the floor with a colouring book as he sorted through your products, studying some of them and swatching them on his hand and wrist. you weren’t quite sure was he was doing—you had your back to him—but whatever it was was making you slightly nervous. he hummed every now and then, either in confusion or satisfaction, you weren’t quite sure. that was the only thing that broke up the silence in the otherwise empty cabin.
“hey, babe,” he said suddenly.
“yeah?” you didn’t look back at him.
“what colour lipstick do you think would suit me best?”
you frowned and turned around, then covered your mouth with a giggle. “oh my gods.”
luke’s lips were painted in a deep red, messy and over-lined more than kylie jenner. he was smiling goofily. “what?”
“you look like the joker. and not the cool one.” you giggled, hand still over your mouth.
“so not this colour?” he grinned.
you shook your head, lowering your hand with a laugh. “no, not that colour.”
“hm…” he looked in a handheld mirror and pouted dramatically. “guess i’ve got to take this off then.”
you were about to reach for your makeup wipes when his lips landed on yours. you were confused for a moment, before you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss as the lipstick rubbed off onto your lips and face.
he pulled away and smiled. “i see why you like doing that.”
“like doing what?” you asked breathlessly.
his thumb smeared the lipstick just below your lips slowly. “making such a mess.”
he kissed you again, slowly guiding you up and pushing your makeup aside so you were on your bed with him, then pushing you down gently so you were lying below him.
he peppered lipsticked kisses all over your face, eliciting giggles from you, and, when he finally pulled back, your face was more red and pink than anything else. he smiled down at you, his hand resting on your waist as he shifted his weight to the side. “yeah. i get it now.”
“i hate you.” you teased.
“yeah, i hate you too. but revenge is sweet. at least i’m not freezing you right now.” he grinned, his lips meeting yours again as you both laughed. you didn’t even mind that he was wasting your lipstick. with luke, nothing was a waste.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo x reader#luke castellan x you#charlie bushnell
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CONGRATS ON 500, you 100% deserve it and more !!! 🥹🌷💐 i just love your art and work so, so much!!
if it's alright, can i request 37 with könig? my husband, i need him !!!! 😮💨
Masterlist
List of prompts
What? An author, who practically inspired me to come here and start writing? An author, who gifted me the biggest brainrot for many sides of König? Sends me a request? Orla, I am such a huge fan!!!!!! I love your style, love your bold, picturesque oneshots, love your eagerness to discover so many themes. I owe you so much, you don't have an idea. I made a text and a picture in case, you don't like the text. Sorry, I'm fangirling and I'm nervous)
Does it make you nervous, when I stare?
Pairing: KonigxReader
Warning: this is NSFW. And König here is not the shyest guy on Earth, because this is colonel edition.
Oh, the things, you would let this man do to you. Unspeakable, ungodly things. Things so unhinged, you wouldn't mention them even after a few rounds of shots with your besties.
One sight of his fingers tapping the tabletop during the debriefing, and you can't think about anything other than the salty taste on your lips, left by his thumb. It would take him just one word, or maybe even one glance to make you cover his index and middle finger in saliva, as he would slide them against your tongue. You'd be so good - standing on your knees for him, sucking his fingers so eagerly, fighting your own gag reflex.
One glance thrown at his forearms, tightly hugged by black cloth, and you imagine his massive hands picking you up like you weigh nothing at all. You'd freeze, learn to hold your breath for as long as he wants, until you'd feel only the brush of his mouth against yours and the grumble of his impatience when he pushes in. The intoxicating thickness of his tongue against yours would be a taste that would rocket to your core and melt you from the inside, as he'd hover over you, pushing apart your legs with the brush of his massive thighs between yours. He'd take and take and take. And how obediently will you keep giving him anything, he demands.
Looking at his hips is a serious danger. Slick outlines of his muscles, his fingers brushing up and down his lap, black holster straps spanning his thigh make you go absolutely feral. You'd be standing still, feeling his low growl with your entire body. You'd hold your hands high against the wall and arch your back, so he can have access to every single part of your body. You'd accept him reminding you, with each his hungry thrust, where your place is: wrapped in his arms while he rubs you senseless, his teeth on your neck leaving you on the edge of pain.
All that fantasies you could hide from König, if it wasn't for his eyes: deep cold silver light, sparkling with interest, every time, he caught you staring. You couldn't make yourself look away: his stare was a predatory gaze, luring you closer, easing you into a thought of coming closer, stripping you of any bit of self-preservation instinct. Yes, when he caught your eyes - König took his time, ravishing in a sight of your desperate blush, letting go of you and turning his gaze away only when you were literally choking with shame, trying to drive away the visions that he awakened in your mind. This man was to become the end of you, and every next day it was only harder to fight that feeling off.
So when you hear, he is expanding his team, it feels only natural to surrender and use this ghostly opportunity to get closer to him. You know, your chance to join the team, his inner circle, is almost zero. By no means, you can be considered a poor professional, but the Colonel is a legend here. He doesn't want just 'the best' he wants those outstanding even from the best. And your personnel files scream 'just good' at best. But you have a motivation, the one so strong and specific, that maybe only you here have. Your obsession with König is pushing you to the darkest void, you were too scared to come to earlier - the threshold of his office.
"Come in." His voice at it finest: not too loud, not too harsh, all honey and slumber. When he wants, he can be mesmerizing as a siren.
You clench your hand into a fist behind your back, thus trying to calm the trembling that is rolling up to your knees.
"Just don't look him in the eyes, and it would be ok. Hands, yes, you can bear looking at his hands and not lose it. Afterward you can have whatever you want - your toys, your fingers, your cushions... Just look at his hands, breathe deep, and it all will be alright." Your inner monologue is interrupted only when he is pulling a folder from your hands, obviously tired of waiting for you to finally give it to him.
"What do we have he- oh..." Your breath hitches, you practically hear an uncanny smile spreading across his face.
"Die Kleine will in meinem Spiel?*" König sounds amused. And although you don't entirely understand, what he said - you get the message and nod, not daring to look him in the eyes.
"Very good. I could use such a treasure..." He flips the pages and clicks his tongue when some of your personal indicators impress him. And before you manage to exhale, he adds: "But I'll need to test you. See, if you are... ready."
"Anything, Colonel!" You blurt it out and immediately shut your mouth, realizing that it might sound ambivalent. But that's enough to make König raise from his seat and lead you from offices to firing range.
You blame it upon a rush of blood to your head, but you pass his test with flying colors. Physical tests, advanced weaponry, strategy, even sparing with König leaves you alive and just a little trembling.
The thing, that breaks you, is not even a test or a check. It happens late in the evening, when you two end up in the locker room. You just need to remove one layer of the tactical gear you were using, you'll still have your shirt and jeans on. But you stop, paralyzed, seeing out of the corner of your eye how König leans against the wall, arms folded on his chest. His gaze, you feel his gaze: lingering and hungry.
"What's wrong, treasure? Are you hurt?" You are afraid to answer and reveal your trembling voice, so you just shake your head.
"You don't know, how to loosen those straps? Want me to help you?" Again: you only shake your head, hiding your gaze.
"Is it my eyes, that make you that nervous, Schatzi*?" His accent thickens, voice drops low, as he steps closer.
You instinctively lean back, but hit the wall behind you. He takes one more step towards you and places his hand between the wall and the back of your head, so that you don't hurt yourself occasionally. But very soon, he guides you to finally look up at him. There it is: silver light, that you can never look away from, once you saw it.
"Talk to me. There can be no secrets inside my team." His voice is soft once again, but you know, it is a trap. And you fall for it.
"I just get distracted. Don't worry, Colonel, I'll learn to ignore it or to live quietly with it. Sorry..." Your voice, your entire body, is trembling.
"There's nothing to apologize for." Something sparkles deep inside his eyes. He moves his veil up, so you can see his lips, and leans right to your ear. "In fact, how about you come at the same time to my office tomorrow, treasure? After all, you've proven, you can be so good for me... It's my turn to convince you, I too can be good for you, Schatzi."
Die Kleine will in meinem Spiel? - Little one wants in my game?
Schatzi - little treasure
#konig mw2#cod modern warfare#cod#cod mw2#könig#cod x reader#konig#könig cod#könig mw2#konig call of duty#cod smut#konig smut#konig modern warfare#konig x you#konig imagine#konig headcanons#konig scenario#konig x reader#konig x y/n#könig x reader#könig headcanons#könig smut#könig call of duty#könig x you#call of duty#mw2
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White Lies (Joel Miller x Reader)
Masterlist | Request here!
Summary: Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: violence, Joel kills 3 dudes (what murdaaah?), descriptions of blood and wounds, stitches, Joel feels guilt and shame but is also very soppy and very in love, fuff and angst all tangled up, descriptions of chronic pain
A/n: I have had a bloody nightmare the last few weeks with suspected endometriosis, which is what inspired me to write this. In my head, reader has endo and the medicine is some sort of contraception or strong painkillers to help her manage it. But it isn't explicitly mentioned so you can imagine whatever you most relate to. Please do let me know what you think, and as always, requests are open!
It’s a harsh winter, even by Boston’s standards.
The QZ is coated in a veil of thick snow, the blizzard that took hold weeks ago now bruising the streets with an icy fist.
Joel pulls his coat tighter around himself, grateful at least for the cover the snowstorm offered, the skies foggy and grey. He can slip through the alleyways much quicker, much quieter beneath the frost. His footsteps are erased almost as soon as he leaves them, and when things get messy, he can soothe his wounds in the freeze.
Which is good, because things get messy a lot.
Not that he’d tell you that. You were too pure, too gentle; not unlike the snow that paints your doorframe now.
No, Joel keeps those things from you. The world has been unkind enough, and if he has one purpose now, it’s to protect that sweetness of yours. To collect it, each golden ray of sunshine that so easily radiates from you, to give it back and let you bask in the warmth of your own soul.
No one deserves it more than you do. Least not him, and yet you’d given him more love, more sweetness, than he could ever dream of.
That’s why he told you he was working a late shift today - sewage, he thinks he said - rather than where he actually is at 3am, catching his death in an old littered alleyway.
He occasionally shifts to avoid the silver moonlight dripping from the gaps in the fire-escape stairs above him. Tonight’s meeting should be a simple one, free from FEDRA’s strict patrols; he’d done this long enough now to know when, and where, was safest for these things.
He stays on high alert, though. Just in case.
Marco’s late. He isn’t known for being the most competent of dealers, but Joel was getting desperate now, and he was the only crook in the QZ who could get what he needed. He was a small man, a bit pathetic looking, really. But he was smart, and he had connections that even Joel couldn’t make for all his smuggling and dealing.
So when Joel’s supplier told him he couldn’t help him anymore, he didn’t have a choice. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.
“Miller, there ya’ are.” Joel’s snapped out of his thoughts, his looming regret of this whole situation, as Marco strolls down the alley. He grins, in the same cocky way he always did, the sort of grin a man who couldn’t win a fight but has enough men who could wrapped around his finger, doing the dirty work for him.
Joel insisted he come alone. Not because he couldn’t handle his goons; he knew he could. Maybe. But it would cause a scene, and draw attention, to something he very much wanted to keep under wraps.
He’s semi-surprised to see the two men walking behind Marco. Deep down, he’d had some faith that the dealer would stick to his word.
“Quiet the fuck down,” Joel warns, seething through his teeth as his eyes search the alley behind them, making sure they hadn’t been heard. “Who are your friends?”
Marco follows Joel’s gaze towards his companions. “They’re just here to observe.”
The men are the same height as Joel, maybe a little taller. He recognises both from the sleazy speakeasies that lie beneath the floors of the QZ. Where the bad guys go.
One is bald, with a jagged scar carved across his cheek and over his eye. He’s scowling, unlike Marco and the other man, who looks somewhat softer with thick hair grown to his shoulders and brown eyes that stayed on Joel like bedrock.
“That’s not what we agreed,’ Joel growls.
There’s tension in the air, thick, and they must feel it too because Marco’s henchmen each have a hand hovering near their sides, where silver blades reflect the white of the snow.
“I recall us also agreeing that you’d get your meds in return for the money. But we’re doing things a little differently today.” Joel remains stoic, though his eyes turn dark and angry, the moon’s light no longer illuminating his features. Marco tiptoes slowly towards him, getting so close that Joel can feel his breath and raising a hand to pick a piece of lint from his flannel shirt. “I want my money. But you might have to wait a little longer for your meds.”
Joel reacts then, squaring up to him, stepping forward and clenching his fists. The other men wrap their hands around their blades, anticipating a fight. Marco just laughs.
“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, though they all know he understood what was going on.
“You’re gonna give me the amount we agreed. And then, you’re gonna speak to one of your guard friends, and cut me a deal. Then you might get your meds.”
Joel’s anger swells inside him like a beast, his previous care to stay hidden long gone as he imagines driving his fist into Marco’s smug, son of a bitch face again and again and again.
He has to think this through, though. He needs those meds. Marco can see the cogs turning. “Just give me the money, Miller. Don’t make this difficult. You can’t take three of us.”
“No?” Joel retorts, already decided in what he’d do next. “I don’t think it’s worth findin’ out. Give me the meds.”
Marco sighs, dropping his head and stepping away from Joel, leaving him to face his men. “Shame, Joel. You really coulda helped us.”
He nods to his men, who immediately draw their blades and attack. The first lands a punch on his face, the weight of it surprising him as he falls back into the railing. Before he can recover, the other has already plunged a blade through his stomach, right below his ribcage. He controls himself, swallows the yell that claws its way up his throat, tries to think. The cold steel of the rail stabs into his back, and when another fist collides with his cheek and sends him to the floor, he uses it to haul himself up and tackle one of the men - the softer one - to the ground with him.
Marco only stands and watches as Joel throws his weight onto the man and smashes his head into the stone floor. The other grabs his shoulder, spinning him round but Joel’s prepared this time and he dodges the swat of his knife. Instead he throws a punch into his stomach, making him double over which gives Joel the opportunity to grab the knife strapped to his calf and drive it through the bald man’s throat. He stumbles, collapsing to the floor with a choked cry, and Joel turns back just in time to see the other man trying to stand, though the injury to his head makes him dizzy. Joel stands first, easily pushing the man to the ground, and stomping on his head with as much force as his steel-toed boots would let him. Both men stay down.
Marco has regressed into the darkness of the alley, and he looks somehow smaller than usual. He’s pathetic, and if this was any other job, he’d laugh. But this wasn’t a laughing matter, and there was only one target for him; the medication.
The smaller man reaches into his pocket, searching for his gun, but Joel anticipates the move and has already reached him and thrown him against the wall before he can find it. His movements strain the wound in his abdomen, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t feel it.
Joel’s fist pins Marco to the wall by his throat, making him splutter and flail like a fish out of water.
“Where are the fuckin’ pills, Marco?” He just continues to flail, trying to pull Joel’s hand off of him with both of his own, to no effect. Joel scoffs, throwing him to the floor and dragging his knife out of the now dead henchman’s neck. “If you won’t tell me, I guess I’ve got no use for ya.” He uses his shirt to clean the blade, the flannel already soaked in blood, his own.
“For fuck sake, Marco whines, slightly out of breath. “They’re at my place.”
“There anyone else there?” Joel asks, so nonchalantly that it almost sounds like a passing thought.
“No, no one there. But you’ll need me to get you in.”
Joel looks up again, the now-clean knife held in his fist with a vice-like grip. He stalks towards Marco, ignoring his desperate pleas.
“Shouldn’t be a problem-”
With that, he stabs him in the chest, letting him choke and gasp on the floor and searching his pockets for a key. He finds it, and does a quick, final survey of the alleyway. The once perfectly settled snow is disturbed, kicked up in the fight, and deeply stained with blood.
Joel curses, but leaves, only now noticing the burning pain from his torso. He leans against the wall, now stood out in the street, open; but there are no guards. He doesn’t think he’d care. Instead he grabs a fistful of the snow around his feet, packs it into the wound, hissing at the sharp pain of the ice but quickly feeling relief as it numbs him.
This was going to be a long night.
—------------------
It’s another couple of hours or so before he returns. There were, in fact, people at Marco’s place - but Joel knew that would be the case anyway. They weren’t a problem.
He’d showered in Marco’s flat, after taking out the men hanging out in there. Protecting it, he assumed. And he’d found a med pack that let him stitch up the wound to some degree; it was a hack job, but it should do the trick. He’d had worse.
The most important thing was that he found the meds.
The old door of your place creaks as he steps inside, quickly closing it behind him before the cold could enter. It’s futile, really; the wooden pillars are rotten, decaying so badly that the wind sweeps through the cracks with ease, and he can see dustings of snow on the floor around your windows. But he tries anyway.
“Joel?”
There you are.
It’s scary, honestly, what your voice does to him. Even so quiet, so distant from the bedroom upstairs, it lifts the weight from his shoulders that he thought he’d carry forever.
“I’m here, baby. I’m comin’.” He pulls off his shoes, placing them neatly beside the door just how you like, and heads upstairs. His bloodied shirt is long gone, buried in some forgotten corner of the QZ, where he has a collection of discarded items by now.
You don’t reply, he doesn’t expect you to. He reaches your bedroom, gently opening the door and sighing at the sight of you lying there, curled up between mountains of sheets and pillows.
He’d almost think you look peaceful if he didn’t know how much pain you’re in.
“Oh, honey,” he laments, crossing the distance from the door to you and kneeling down beside your head. You open your eyes, though they’re weighed down by exhaustion, and a small smile creeps onto your lips at the sight of the man before you.
“Hi,” you whisper, letting a gentle hand poke out from the duvet and brush his jaw. He can’t help but grin back at you, the total mess that took place just hours ago wiped from his mind completely, and he leans into your touch.
The both of you just stay like that for a moment, your thumb sweeping across his cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. Then you wince, and no matter how much you try to hide it, he can see the wave of pain inflict your body.
“I’ve got your tablets, sweetheart.” He reaches into his pocket, a desperation to his actions now; he hates seeing you like this. You just nod, pushing a meek but honest “thank you” past your lips, so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear it. His heart swells.
Joel presses out one tablet and hands it to you, then picks up the glass of water that stands on your side table, making a mental note to replace it later. You take the pill, grabbing hold of his hand before he can pull it away, and give it a gentle squeeze. He follows your lead and tips the water to your lips once you’ve placed the tablet on your tongue, gently helping you swallow and squeezing your hand right back.
A look of relief washes over your face, and he finally lets himself relax. He stands, letting go of your hand and leaning over to kiss your forehead, before pulling off the clothes he’d taken from Marco’s wardrobe and climbing in beside you.
He only knew heaven in these moments with you, late at night, when your hands reach for him beneath the sheets and your head nuzzles into his neck. It’s no different tonight; he’s quiet, unsure if you’d fallen asleep in those few seconds, and as much as he wishes you’d rest, he can’t deny the way his lips curl when he feels your gentle touch wrap around him.
“How was today? Doing the sewage?”
Joel swallows. “Yeah, yeah. It was fine. Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” His arms envelop you, holding you tight against him, one hand drawing gentle circles on your back. He’s lost in the bliss for a moment, letting it wash over him in waves, when your hand brushes his haphazard and you freeze. So does he.
“Joel,” you say; it’s still a whisper, but not the tired kind you’d given him earlier. It’s like you’re too scared to ask. “What’s that?”
He panics, holding you tighter, trying to think. He can’t believe himself for not remembering to cover it, to make sure you didn’t see.
“There was an accident today. I did some building work before I went to sewage, a pipe fell. Nicked me real bad-” you gasp, forcing yourself to sit up with shaky arms. Joel immediately pulls you back down, his hands grasping your face, staring into your eyes like they held the world inside them. It’s dark, but they glimmer, and he just hopes you can’t see his fear.
“No no. It’s fine, baby. I’m fine. Got seen by the doc, got a couple ‘a stitches. Says i’ll be all good by tomorrow.”
“By tomorrow? Joel that doesn’t sound right-”
He interrupts you. He hates this. “I promise, baby. That’s what she said. I promise.” He wipes a thumb across your cheek, and the way you seem to settle, to believe him, makes him ache. He hates this.
You nuzzle back into his side, placated. You trust him, endlessly, and he hates that he abuses that trust just as much as he needs to protect you. A means to an end, he thinks.
The two of you are silent for a few moments, your hand lay gentle over his wound. Like you’re trying to heal it. He thinks it’s working.
“Thank you for picking up my medicine,” you say.
“It’s okay.” His words are quiet, muffled; he’s got his face buried in your hair now, revelling in your scent, and really, he doesn’t want to talk about this with you. He doesn’t want to lie anymore than he already has.
You’re still oblivious, though. Still sweet.
“I’m so glad you can make my rations cover it. I don’t know what I’d do if they made them more expensive.”
Oh, babygirl, he thinks.
Because your rations don’t cover your medicine. Neither did his. Even combined, they’d hardly cover a drink in the bar these days. He’d seen you work and work and work, in spite of the pain that bloomed in your abdomen and tortured your bones until you could hardly stand up anymore, and he saw the way they laughed in your face and turned you away when you tried to get the help you needed. When you tried to trade your labour for medicine. You were nothing to them.
So he told you he could barter the price down. That it was best if he goes from now on, to make sure you’re not taken advantage of. He takes your rations, stuffs them right back in the savings pot you keep above the shelves in your kitchen, and leaves to make whatever underground deals he needs to in order to get those meds. And you didn’t know a thing.
He must’ve been quiet for a while, because you continue. “And I’m glad you don’t do those scary things anymore.”
That gets his attention. “Scary things?”
“Yeah. Like, the smuggling and stuff.” You take a breath, tighten your arms around his waist. “I mean, I know why you did it. I’m glad you were able to look after yourself.”
Joel curses to himself, unable to wipe the tears that brimmed in his eyes as you spoke, because that would mean letting go of you.
“But I’m also glad you don’t do that anymore. You go out, and you work, even the horrible sewage shifts like tonight.” You giggle, but Joel can’t even force himself to smile. Shame consumes him.
“I’m proud of you, Joel.”
He’s silent. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like shit.
If you notice his stillness, you don’t mention it. That alone makes his heart ache; you’d always been so understanding, so careful to make sure he’s okay while knowing exactly how to handle his feelings.
It’s odd, really, how fiercely you protect one another. He doesn’t let the darkness of the world so much as touch you, and you extract the horrors from his veins like a vacuum, making him forget the damage was ever even there.
His eyes flitter down, watching you drift asleep, finally at peace and free from pain. He exhales.
He’d never feel good about lying to you. But some things, he thinks, are worth it.
You are worth it.
And so he brushes away the hair that’s fallen over your eyes, trying to fight the droopiness of his own so he can keep them on you for just a second longer. But sleep overtakes him, and the only reason he lets himself fall into dreamland, is because he knows he’ll find you there, too.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x yn#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fluff#joel miller#pedro pascal x yn#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x y/n#my writing#poeticbarnes#poeticbarnes writes
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orange colored sky (older!modern!eddie)
older!modern!eddie - setlist
inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i got to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. manip by my fave @eddiemunsons-missingnipple
tw: nothing really, very much a meet cute at a grocery store. eddie is in his early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s.
lemme know if you guys want this to be a whole thing.
the automatic doors rush cool air into your face, a sweet reprieve from the sticky heat of this summer. a much muggier july than you remember having as a kid. but then again, you don't remember that much about being a kid these days. trader joe's is a little busier than usual, which makes sense with the holiday weekend coming up -- but you hate when it's busy. there's already too many sounds -- some summer 90s playlist and the squeaks of the carts, people in their hawaiian shirts milling around with boxes and box cutters. you just want some snap peas for god sakes.
you grab a basket and adjust your canvas bags on your shoulder, tossing your headphones in them for later. you feel 'running errands ugly' but everyone seeing you in the bike shorts you threw on this morning doesn't think that view is ugly at all. your music drowned it out on the train ride over here. you're already sort of annoyed. people just don't know how to do anything anymore -- why are we just standing in front of produce. get what you need and go! you think hastily. but you wait for people to stop gawking at the produce and make their selection before you grab the romaine, snap peas, and shredded brussel sprouts you need. when you turn you almost walk entirely into someone's cart, eyes flitting up briefly and muttering a 'sorry, s'cuse me'.
can everyone just get off my fucking ass? you huff to yourself internally. you maneurver over to fruits, a few stands in a row -- citrus, apples, berries. all separated by category in large cargo looking boxes. you snag a big box of cherries, the three pound one, knowing you'll go through the small ones too fast. you frown over the lack of watermelon, continuing along while someone turns the corner into your aisle. you look up for a moment, just to scan your surroundings, to see who it is.
you've never seen him before, but you've never seen anyone here before. it's not like there's regulars at the grocery store in a city like this. his hands hang over the handle to his cart by the wrists, knuckles tattooed in shapes you can't make out. you follow the leather banded watch up to a full sleeve of ink, only obscured by the start of a cuffed t-shirt sleeve, a crisp white that blinds against the black of the elvira pin up tattoo on his tricep. horror icons blending into each other seamlessly. you can see more black and color peeking out from the collar of his shirt --vintage judas priest, mint condition, tucked comfortably under a well perserved denim vest covered in patches of bands you've never heard of. you're surprised by the black chino shorts on his bottom half, not expecting someone who was clearly still stuck in their grunge phase to wear those over cut off jeans. the busted up reebok's on his feet make up for it though -- pairing nicely with the tattoos on his calves and thighs, not quite sleeves, but enough to make a statement.
you grab a box of strawberries and pop them into your basket, surveying the mangos on the top shelf at your eye level while he maneuvers behind you. you think he's cute but you don't take too much stock in it -- it's so like you to have a 'train boyfriend' or 'trader joe's boyfriend' for a brief moment in time. someone cute that you spot outside and never speak to. it's one of those days.
he has brown eyes and thick lashes, hair dark wrapped in a bun on the top of his head with streaks of silver poking through, bangs in his face. some curls stick to the heated skin by his neck and jaw. not that you're looking. the scruff on his face is littered with salt and pepper -- maybe that part of him aging more than the rest. he grabs a heap of bananas to his nearly empty cart. he also has a big box of cherries in there. he wears a cologne with spice and suede in the notes, it's familiar, a little smoky. maybe an old boyfriend used to wear it. you shrug it off, grabbing a mango or two and popping it in a produce bag before hocking it in. more veggies for a greek salad. an onion. some pre-packaged turkey slices.
you turn into the first frozen food section, weaving through more people who just stand there and you grit your teeth. you snag some frozen broccoli, the coolness bringing you a moment of calm so that you don't lose your mind inside the store. more like traitor joe's. you grab a few more things, a veggie medley for a tofu scramble, some scallion pancakes that you’ll use as meal replacement because no matter how many times you think you’ll food prep you never do. you see him at the end of the aisle, rifling through bags of frozen shrimp to find one he likes. you notice he has a ring on but it’s on his pointer finger, two more rings on the hand that holds his cart by his hip – a silver chain dangles from what you assume is his wallet in his back pocket. his keys jingle from a carabiner by his front belt loop. slut, you think to yourself. you grab a bag of small frozen salmon filets, not paying much mind to your grocery store boyfriend of the week when you turn the corner to the next frozen food aisle. he’s there not soon after you, grabbing frozen fruit medleys and a few bars of chocolate on the non-frozen shelving above. you aren’t sure if he sees you, but you see him. you can smell the suede and spice of his cologne as his moves past you to the other end.
bread is on the back wall of the store, you want to get sourdough but you know you’ll just eat it plain and not make sandwiches so you opt for the tuscan loaf instead. you snag a bag of mini bagels, forgoing the small baguettes this time. you can’t afford the good burrata this week for any special girl dinner you come up with, so it’s best to not have it around if you can’t pair it with anything pretty. further down the back wall you get to snacks and don’t ignore the bag of yogurt covered pretzels – a basket must. seaweed snacks for salmon rice bowls. plantain chips. Your basket feels a little heavy but at least this errand is almost over.
you turn down the pasta, beans, and rice aisle and there he is turning down the other end. you both catch each other this time, because this time feels like it’s not a coincidence. you both break eye contact as quickly as you make it, both of you looking down and smiling to yourselves. you feel the heat on your cheeks but you don’t see his blush, both of you too preoccupied with whatever you have to pick up to pay attention to the other. you smell the suede and smoke even after you lose him to the next couple of aisles.
pre-packaged tortellini, lox, shredded cheese. chicken thighs. a six pack of some pretty sounding beer you’ve never tried. your basket overflows but it’s fine. the errand is over, at least here, before you need to run into target which for some reason is far less overstimulating. he’s a few people ahead of you on the opposite line, still leaning over the edge of his cart with his hands hanging, one thumbing a text to someone before he stands up fully to push the cart ahead. he looks over his shoulder and your eyes briefly meet for a moment – heat on your cheeks – before he moves ahead to turn down the long row of cashiers to pay. you don’t see him when it’s your turn and by the time you’re done paying you’ve already forgotten about him, lost in a flirty conversation with the guy ringing you up.
target only has half of what you need and that’s fine because nothing else will fit in the big canvas bags you brought with you for your groceries and it’s at least an eight minute walk back to the train. you groan when you get back out into the heat, the boiler room of the subway cooking you as you make it down to the platform. a pleasant sigh passes your lips when you see it’s at least only a four minute wait until your train makes it to you – only a few more minutes of suffering before you’re on your way back to your air conditioned studio apartment.
you look across the platform where some old lady’s push cart rattles as it makes it down the stairs on the other side. her little body walking ahead, a voice saying ‘i got it, ma’am don’t worry,’ echos down into the chamber of the subway.
there he is. a canvas bag on each arm filled to the brim and the push cart lifted in front of him. while you can’t see from this distance, you have a feeling you’d like how his arms looked at full capacity like this. the cart’s metallic jingle continues when he places it on the concrete ground, pushing it over to the woman who now sits pleasantly on the bench. you watch their conversation while they say quiet ‘thank yous’ and ‘your welcomes’ to each other and he checks his phone while he finds a spot to stand, waiting for his train on the opposite side.
you check your phone just the same and look up again as he puts his phone in the pocket of his vest. his attention catches on you from across the way.
he gives you a small wave and smiles. he has a nice smile, infectious.
“hi.”
you wave back with two fingers, a small salute, “hey.”
“i’m eddie,” he starts as the red glow of the light on your train starts to pull in.
the chug, chug, chug starting to drown him out. he raises his voice with a boyish grin, you hear him just before the train obscures him from view – whooshing past you as it pulls into the station.
“i normally go to trader’s on wednesdays!”
you get on the train when the doors open, seeing him still on the platform, searching for you in the windows. you put your hand up again in an awkward wave and he grins when he finds you.
‘stand clear of the closing doors, please!’
he puts a hand back up with two fingers, mouthing out a message.
‘wednesdays around two.’
you give him the okay symbol with your fingers and nod at him, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation, he chuckles too. his smile is pretty, lips are full. his two fingers point to his eyes and then at you – ‘see you then’.
the train pulls away before you get a chance to reply.
next
#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#older!eddie munson#old!eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fan fiction#stranger things#stranger things fan fiction
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Can you make like...How do you think the avengers would react if they found a Flashdrive witn Y/n modeling pictures... after she forgot in a table
I’m not technically taking requests right now, but I’ll give this one a shot:
“I thought you said we weren’t supposed to stick unknown flash drives in our laptops,” Steve points out as Tony spins the silver flash drive with a coating of chipped red paint towards himself.
“I said you guys aren’t supposed to,” he says, “But I can do whatever I want.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re still putting everyone at risk if–” Steve continues, as Natasha rolls her eyes next to him and wonder why he’s even putting up an argument.
“What do you humans keep on those tiny sticks anyway?” Thor asks, his entire hand shoved into a nearly empty box of Poptarts.
“We’re about to find out.” Tony connects the flash drive to his laptop. He opens the drive to reveal a single folder. Steve, Natasha, and Clint crowd closer to him to get a better view, while Thor discards his box of Poptarts and goes hunting through the cupboards for another snack.
“It looks like a bunch of pictures and some videos,” Tony says, reading off the file names. But the thumbnails are too small to tell what they are, so he double clicks on one, opening a very high-resolution photo of you in black lingerie, posing by a stripper pole on some kind of stage.
“Oh no,” Steve squeaks, turning away as if to protect your modesty.
“Hell yeah,” Clint says in approval. “Go Y/N.”
Natasha feels her mouth go dry as she stares at your hardly covered body.
“Is this what Y/N does on her days off?” Tony says, clicking through the photos. The photoshoot seems to have no end, as you move from posing on the stage to lying out on a couch, progressively losing more and more of your clothing until–
“Yep, that’s enough for the day.” Tony shuts the lid of his laptop. “Someone should tell Y/N to at least password-protect her flash drive.”
“Let me make a copy first,” Natasha mutters.
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AN: This is a Nat x R blog after all, so hopefully you didn't expect anything less. :)
#anon ask#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff imagine#avengers react#black widow#natasha romanoff x reader
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i love your interactions between reader and quickie soooo much omg. would you be able to write something where either quickie or reader are being super needy and the other is just like amused by it/teasing/making fun of them for it idrk im bad at requests ahh
𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 || 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
༄ summary: you do your best to subtly hint towards what you want to do with peter, but he knows you too well and catches on fast (he thinks he’s the funniest man on the planet
༄ warnings: smut, teasing, piv, fingering, oral (fem receiving), lack of protection 🤡(great way to come back after a month)
༄ notes: WHAT ILY AND THIS (has anyone picked up to the fact that the notes are literally just me interacting with the anons) (also i missed you guys 😘)
peter never really could sit still, it was something you’d quite literally never seen. even in his sleep, he would roll around, kick you, sit up abruptly, or just mumble. that was why you weren’t surprised that he payed you little attention, though he’d been the one to invite you over. he stood in front of his (awfully loud) pac-man machine, eyes fixed on the screen, hands moving quickly to keep himself from losing. to be completely honest, when he called, you’d expected to get dicked down as soon as you stepped foot in the basement.
yeah, that hadn’t happened.
while it was sweet that he just wanted to be in your presence, you wished that he would, at the least, pull himself away from the game that kept his attention longer than you did. you knew it wasn’t anything against you, he just wasn’t typically a ‘sit down and hang out’ kind of guy. while that could be the case on occasion, he preferred to hop around his room like he’d never been in it before.
standing from your place on his couch, you make your way behind him, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. he doesn’t even flinch, eyes flickering across the paths of the pink and blue ghosts. “hey,” you say, resting your head in between his shoulder blades, the skin of his back bare warm, shirt having been discarded hours ago. “hi,” he responds, letting one hand come back for a split second to gently brush against your arm.
you sigh, giving a quick eye roll. you weren’t annoyed with peter, more annoyed at the fact that he hadn’t picked up on any of the hints you’d dropped. except he absolutely did. he knew exactly what you wanted, but he was playing a game. he wanted to see how long it would take for you to just say that you wanted to have sex. he always thought it was funny how you’d beat around the bush until he gave in, but this time, he wasn’t going to just hand it to you on a silver platter.
pun intended.
“will you be done soon,” you ask, tone sickly sweet. he did his best not to snicker at your desperate attempt to gain his attention, keeping his face forward. “if you want me to be,” he answers, purposefully losing the game. he turns around and wraps you up in his arms, kissing the side of your head. after a few seconds of silence, he pulls away, hopping over the back of the couch and landing in a laying position, turning on the tv. you follow, crawling into the tight space between your idiot boyfriend and the couch.
“what do you wanna do,” he hums, flipping through channels of shitty tv shows. “i dunno,” you shrug, trailing your fingers down the side of his arm. he cranes his neck to look at you, eyebrows raised. “you can’t think of anything?” you could hear his smirk in his tone of voice, it dawning on you that he definitely knew every move you’d been making. you scoff, smacking him upside the head. “you asshole,” you laugh, shaking your head. “what? i didn’t do anything!” he defends, a silly smile on his face as he covers his head.
when you’d finally figured out that this had all been some sort of game to him, you could feel yourself growing a little bit embarrassed. “peter,” you groan, nudging him. “what?” he asks, the smirk from before still there. you simply blink at him, pursing your lips. he was really starting to piss you off, but at the same time, it made you need him even more. “if you don’t want to do anything, i’m gonna take a nap,” he says, getting more comfortable.
you throw your head back and internally screaming at him. “peter, stop being a dick. just… please,” you huff, shaking him as if he’d already fallen asleep. “please what? please have sex with me because you’re so sexy, funny, and strong? is that what you were going to say?” he teases, turning around to face you now, that shit eating grin you were so used to making its way onto his sneaky face. “no, i would never say those things about you,” you say, deadpanning.
“oh, okay. goodnight, then,” he says, shutting his eyes and dramatically pretending to snore. “no, no, no, peter,” you whine, smacking his chest. “just admit it and i’ll wake up. i know you want me, you don’t have to be so stubborn, it’s not like i blame you. i am pretty damn sexy,” he says, not moving an inch. “oh my god, i hate you.”
you had expected him to just give up, open his eyes and let you have it, but he didn’t, adding to your frustration and the dull ache in your core. he was being mean, purposefully, and it was getting you riled up, despite how much it pissed you off. “fine, i want you, peter, please, i need you,” you sigh, voice monotone. he keeps his eyes shut, though his eyebrows raise as if to say, “try again.”
“okay, you win, i need you, just fuck me.”
his eyes fly open, smile never wavering. “wasn’t so hard, was it?” he snorts, sitting up. you were now in his spot, peter hovering over you, a hand by each side of your head. he peppers your face with kisses, a hand coming up to push your hair out of your face, lips finally landing on yours. “can we speed this up a little bit? you’re supposed to be super fast, aren’t you,” you say, silently begging him to just slam into you. “little desperate, but if that’s what you want,” he jokes, grinning against your cheek as he reaches under your (his) long shirt, fingers hooking in the waistline of your panties and sliding them down your legs, holding them up like a prize.
“very cute, have i ever told you how much i like pink?” he hums, stalling just to aggravate you. upon seeing your unamused face, he stuffs the underwear into the pocket of his sweatpants. spreading your legs open to get a better look, laughing at the sight before him. “you’re already wet? i haven’t even touched you, yet.”
if this man didn’t just move on already.
like he could sense your thoughts, he wasted no more time, sliding a long finger into your near-dripping cunt, finally giving you a sense of relief. with you letting out a heavy breath, his eyes find yours again. “all this just from thinking about me?” he asks, sliding another finger in, slowly dipping his head under your tshirt, lips connecting with your attention deprived clit. “you’re an asshole,” you grunt, hand finding his silver locks. he chuckles against you, the cool breath from his nose tickling your warm skin.
“you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he groans, pulling his hand away and sucking the slick off of his fingers. his hard dick pushed at the fabric of his sweats, wanting so badly to escape its confines. “i might just need you more than you need me,” he huffs, sitting back against your shins, untying the strings of his pants and pushing them down his thighs, briefs following. once they’re down his legs, he strokes himself, the sight of you looking so pretty making him twitch.
“peter, please.”
you’d lost count of how many times you’d said that in the last few minutes, but you didn’t have time to count when you were so close to getting exactly what you wanted. “i know, i know,” he nods, pushing your shirt up and moving your hand to tell you to hold it. he tugs at your bra a bit, just enough to let your tits spill out. he leans down, placing a sweet kiss to your stomach, looking up and giving you a wink, before gently pulling your hips up. “turn around for me,” he instructs, turning you around. hands still on your hips, he pulls them upwards, your ass in the air.
scooting up behind you on his knees, he places one kiss to your ass, pumping himself, and lining up, head of his cock pushing into the folds of your pretty pussy. once he’s all the way in, he thrusts in and out slowly, one hand on your hip, the other on your asscheek. “faster,” you mumble, face pushed against the couch cushion. “you sure?” he teases, but listens, picking up his pace.
his room felt humid, the slapping sounds of your skin meeting filling your ears. he practically rams into you, your loud moans making his hips stutter. “shit,” he whispers, reaching down to rub at your clit with rough fingers. “oh my god, peter,” you whimper, reaching back for the hand that was on your ass, squeezing his fingers. the tight squeeze of your cunt when you came made him lose his steady rhythm, burying his cock deep inside of you. his release fills you up, his fingers finally intertwining with yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the back of your hand.
“didn’t know you needed me that much.”
“do you ever shut up?”
“not that i know of.”
i’m back hello 😻💋 feel free to continue to request, i’ll be writing again 🎀 try not to be so vague yall i have one that quite literally only says “smut pls” 😞
#x reader#peter maximoff#peter maximoff x y/n#peter maximoff x reader#peter maximoff smut#evan peters#evan peters smut#evan peters x reader#xmen#xmen x reader#xmen apocalypse#xmen dark phoenix#xmen days of future past#wandavision#kai anderson x reader#tate langdon x reader#james march x reader#jimmy darling x reader#kyle spencer x reader#kit walker x reader
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