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moonvis · 3 months

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IDIOTS IN LOVE

Steve Rogers x F! Reader

incl. Natasha, Wanda, Bucky and Tony

Summary: Being in love with Steve Rogers isn’t easy with all the dates Natasha sets him up with. One day you’ve had enough and ask her to set you up, something you’ve never let her before – and a certain blonde isn’t too pleased.

Warnings: Angst to fluff! Jealous! Steve and Jealous! Reader. Misunderstandings. Two blind idiots in love with each other. 4.3k words.

“Okay, I’m off to bed,” You said through a yawn and got up from the chair you’d been sitting in for the past hours, drinking and chatting with Natasha and Wanda.

Natasha took a sip from her glass, before asking, “See you in the morning for our run?”

“Count me in,” You nodded and walked towards the exit, your head facing Natasha, “Goodnight ladies.” The second you faced away, something tall crashed into you, making you trip on your own feet.

“Woah careful, doll!” A familiar voice said, as a hand grabbed you by your waist to steady you, “Are you okay, angel?”

“Steve! Oh- Thanks!” You felt a bit embarrassed as he was still holding onto you, his blue eyes looking down at you with what seemed like concern. His face was close, so very close, and his lips-

“Steve you’re back!” Natasha cheered from behind you, interrupting the moment, “How was your date?”

You immediately felt your heart drop at her question. Steve had been on a date. Again. You took a step away from the super soldier, looking down as he shifted his attention to Natasha, “It was good.”

You snuck out of the room in the blink of an eye, not wanting to hear about yet another one of Steves ‘good’ dates that never lead to a second one. Couldn’t he just choose one of the girls and make it official? That way you had no reason to hold onto the hope that he just might, someday, reciprocate your feelings.

You didn’t see the disappointment in Steve’s face when you suddenly disappeared out of sight.

You woke up in the morning with a burning headache. Partly because of the wine last night, but mostly because of Steve keeping you awake for hours. You always stayed to hear how his dates went, but it was always the same: “It was good, but there won’t be a second one, I’m afraid. Better luck next time Nat.”

Though what if it was different this time? What if he finally found the one? Your thoughts and feeling of regret were interrupted by a harsh knocking on your bedroom door.You knew it was Natasha and got out of bed. The floor felt extra cold this morning.

“I’ll be down in five!” You yelled trough the door and went to get dressed for your run. After swallowing some painkillers for your headache, you left your room to meet the redhead, desperately in need to get some fresh air.

You and Natasha jogged from the Avengers compound and ended up in the nearest park. As you felt the morning sun warming your skin, you felt a little relief lift off your shoulders. You needed this.

The two of you sat down at a bench, kind of like creeps, observing the civilians enjoying their own morning.

A dolled-up lady was walking her dog, or more like, the dog was walking her. You shared a laugh with Natasha at the sight. Your eyes followed her movements, watching as she passed a little girl blowing soap-bubbles. The little one let her tongue out to taste the bubbles, only for her nose to scrunch up in disgust.

“Cute.” Natasha commented from beside you. You smiled and let your eyes wander along with the bubbles flying away, which popped right next to an older couple holding hands. “Aww, look at them!” You commented.

The husband of the old couple, smacked his lady’s butt, growing a mischievous grin on his face. “Now, that’s cute.” Natasha commented this time.

“I know! Old people are the cutest.”

“I can only partly agree with you there. Buck and Steve are quite the old men,” Natasha laughed, “Wouldn’t call them cute.”

You chuckled lightly as your eyes left the old couple. To you, Steve was so much more than cute. He was the kindest, most caring man you’d ever met. He always listened to your small and bigger problems. He was always willing to drop everything to help you out. He was always by your side whenever you got hurt on a mission. You had no doubt he cared for you, and yet… he still went on all those dates like you weren’t even an option. He made you feel so special and loved, and you weren’t even each other’s. Oh, how lucky the one who wins his heart would be.

“Y/N? Earth to--”

“Oh, sorry!” You snapped out of your thoughts at Natasha trying to get your attention.

She gave you a concerned look as she spoke, “Are you okay? You seem down.”

“It’s just my head, it really hurts.” You excused, wiping away a tear you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m sorry. Should we walk back? We can take it slow.” Natasha asked and got up from the bench, lending you a hand.

You accepted her hand and cracked a small smile, “Thank you kind lady.”

Once you started walking back towards the compound, a familiar figure caught your eye. Steve, with a girl beside him, was walking in your direction.

“Would you look at that! Steve’s on a second date,” Natasha cheered at the sight of Steve and Sharon Carter coming closer, “He said yesterday they wouldn’t go on a date again.”

Natasha was clearly trying to share her excitement with you, but all you felt was a knot tightening in your stomach. You liked Sharon, you really did, but of course she, a Carter, would be the one to finally win Steve’s heart.

Natasha was waving at the pair, just to make sure they saw the two of you. The jealousy in your body didn’t help much with the headache, making you feel sick, “Nat, I’m just gonna go, okay?”

You weren’t in the mood to stand around and wait for Steve to arrive with his new love interest, you didn’t even bother to give Natasha a smile, “You can wait for them if you want. I’d like to have some alone time anyways.”

Natasha wasn’t sure how to react, starting to feel like it wasn’t just a headache bothering you, “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.” You left without taking another look back, leaving Natasha to start worry about you.

You didn’t see Steve’s expression go from excitement to concern as he watched you leave Natasha behind.

Back at the compound, you fall down onto your bed, soft sobs rocking your body. You’re tired of loving a man you’ll never have. You have his friendship, but your heart is still not satisfied. Now that Steve has found a beautiful woman like Sharon, maybe you can finally try to move on.

You roll onto your back, looking at the ceiling as your tears dry out. What are you going to do?

Then, it hits you. Natasha.

Just a soft knock on the door and a hug later, the redhead asks what she can do to make you feel better. You let out a sigh and ask away, “Could you help me, maybe… find a date?”

Natasha wasn’t sure she heard you correctly, but when you nodded, her face lit up in excitement, “Of course! It would be my absolute pleasure!” She didn’t even ask why you wanted a date all of a sudden, she was just happy you’d finally give her matchmaking a chance.

“Oh my god! I have so many guys in mind. They would all be so lucky to have you Y/N. I have to pick one worth your time though!”

You chuckled as you listened to Natasha ramble on about who to pick for you, a feeling of excitement growing in your stomach. You were finally ready to give someone new a chance.

As the moon shone through your window, you thought about what tomorrow would bring. Natasha had already picked out a date whom you’d meet tomorrow night.

Busy in thought, you suddenly felt your stomach growl. Slipping out of bed, you put on a pair of slippers and wandered out your door towards the kitchen. Truth be told, you had been avoiding going around the compound in fear of meeting Steve, which also meant skipping dinner.

You fixed yourself a bowl of cereal and let your thoughts wander back to your upcoming date. What dress would you wear? Maybe the blue one? No. What about the white, the one you knew Steve loved so much?

“Hey.”

The sudden sound of a voice made you jump in your seat. As you choked on your cereal, you felt a hand patting your back.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. Are you okay, angel?”

You looked up to find Steve looking down at you. Damnit. You managed to embarrass yourself in front of him again.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Your voice sounded hesitant, your eyes going back to your cereal. You listened as Steve made himself a cup of tea behind you, not a single word shared. You felt awkward.

You hoped he would just make his damn tea and leave - but of course not. The man sat down, right beside you, half facing you as he took a sip.

“So…” Steve began, and you felt yourself wanting to disappear. You were in the mindset of moving on a few minutes ago, but here he sat, the man you were so in love with, alone, giving you all of his attention. “How’re you doing? We haven’t talked much since, well, yesterday.”

Steve’s voice sounded hesitant, and you knew, that he knew, that something was up. The two of you hung out every single day, so not talking for 24 hours was unusual.

“I, uh… I’m okay. I’ve been a bit tired lately, that’s all.” You lied, and you didn’t sound very convincing either.

“Nat told me about your headache earlier today, at the park-”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You interrupted him, a hint of annoyance in your voice. You really didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not think about the sight of Steve walking alongside his new girl.

You hear Steve let out a sigh at your answer. You were hoping he’d let it go, though you knew Steve too well. The blonde put down his cup and turned his body fully towards you this time, “Y/N,” His voice sounded serious, “I know something’s up, more than just a headache, and it worries me. So, please, what is going on? Did I do something?”

You didn’t know you had it in you to be angry with Steve Rogers, but when you felt your blood boil, there was no going back. You jumped out of your chair and looked at him with rage in your eyes, “Why do you care, huh?”

You saw the immediate hurt in Steve’s eyes, his expression shocked at your sudden outburst. You didn’t care though, “It’s been a fucking day, and you’re worried about me because I haven’t talked to you yet? You haven’t even been home! The last time I saw you, quoting Natasha, you were on a second date with Sharon! Shouldn’t you be with her now anyways?”

“Y/N-”

“No! Why the fuck do you sit here and talk to me like I’m the only thing you care about, like it matters how I’m doing? It doesn’t make any sense! You’ve always been like this, yet I’m just a friend sitting around while you go out and fuck all the girls Natasha find for you!” Your breath is heavy, tears threaten to spill from your eyes,

Steve was reaching out a hand to you but retracted it as tears streamed down your cheeks. You pointed a finger at the man, your teeth gritted together as you spoke, “And lastly, I am under no obligation to tell you anything about my feelings! So please, stop treating me like I’m your fucking girlfriend!”

Without taking another look at him, you spun around and left the room. As you disappeared out of sight, you ran down the hallway to escape into your room, not wanting Steve to follow. It was when you shut your bedroom door, you realised what you just did.

You yelled at Steve, for the first time ever. Worst of all, he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. That night, never ending sobs were rocking you to sleep.

As you stormed out of the kitchen, you didn’t see the look of heartbreak in Steve’s eyes. They carried more worry than before, confusion and a load of regret as he started to catch on to what was going on with you. It was all a misunderstanding, and he felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

Getting ready for your date was supposed to be fun and exciting, but after you yelled at Steve last night, nothing seemed to cheer you up.

You regretted every single word you yelled at him. He came to check up on you, but all he got in return was your anger. Though maybe it was for the best, now he had no reason to care about you anymore. You were an asshole. The thought hurt like hell, but you chose to use it as an excuse to ease your feelings.

You dressed up in a white beautiful dress, paired with a pair of white heels. It was Steve’s favourite outfit of yours – he had told you so with words, but his eyes when he looked you, oh, they said so much more. That's were you got the nickname angel from.

It was time to give the outfit a new association, perhaps, the first outfit you wore out with your new potential love interest?

As you walked down the compound hallway to leave, familiar voices came from the kitchen. You knew snooping was wrong, but you couldn’t help listening as it was Steve talking.

“I’ve been a fool Buck,” Steve sighed, “What am I gonna do?”

“It’s all a big misunderstanding, right? Just tell her everything and I’m sure she’ll understand. Y/N always understands.”

“Yeah, tell her I’ve been going on a new date every week for the past year so that I can forget about her?” Steve groaned, “It sounds awful.”

It did sound awful. He really wanted to get rid of you huh? You didn’t understand why but his words hurt. “-so that I can forget about her.”

You sniffled and was ready to sneak past them, not wanting to hear anymore, but of course, both men noticed your presence. Stupid super hearing.

“Y/N?” Steve asked and walked a little closer to where you were standing, “Wow, angel, you look-” Steve gave you the same look as he always did when you dressed up. He looked at you in awe, which you usually loved, but now, you hated it.

“Princess, you look beautiful!” Bucky commented and walked over to kiss the top of your head, “Where are you headed off to?”

“Oh, I-” You looked at Steve, then shifted your attention back to Bucky, giving him a shy smile, “I’m going on a date.”

The words felt relieving to get out in front of Steve. Now he would know not to treat you like a girlfriend, since you were trying to see someone else, right?

“Oh, really?” Bucky sounded surprised, but you ignored it, “Have uh-” You noticed as Bucky gave a quick look at Steve, before plastering on a big smile, “Have a nice one then! Can’t wait to hear about it!”

“Thanks Buck,” You smiled, “I gotta go.”

As you rushed out of the room, you didn’t see Steve clenching his jaw and fists. He was irritated at himself for letting it come to this. The feeling of jealusy made him feel sick.

It was an hour into the date, and you were actually enjoying your time. The guy Natasha had set you up with was an agent you had met before during some mission, Christopher. He was cute and had such golden retriever energy - he made you genuinely smile for the first time that day. Apparently he had been smitten with you for a while now, and to no surprise, Natasha knew.

As time passed by, it was time to head home. Both of you had work in the morning anyways. Cristopher followed you all the way back to the Avengers Compound, giving you a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you for giving me a chance Y/N. I had a really wonderful time. Will I see you again?”

Busy with your date, you didn’t see Steve standing nearby, observing the whole thing. He was tense, saddened and growing more and more jealous as he watched you laugh with the other guy.

Steve had come out to get some fresh air, to clear his head, but was interrupted by your arrival. You looked so beautiful, and the sound of your sweet laughter made his knees weak. Oh, how he wished he was the one who caused it.

The morning after your date with Cristopher, you felt the best you had in the last few days. You hummed as you entered the kitchen, the smell of something delicious hitting your nose, “Oh, what’s that smell? It’s amazing.”

“’I made pancakes, so I hope you’re hungry!” Bucky cheered and handed you a plate. You accepted it gladly and sat down at the table next to Natasha and Wanda to your left, and Tony to your right.

“Hey girl, you seem happy. I’m guessing the date was a success?” Natasha asked as she took a bite of her breakfast.

“You finally went on a date with Steve? Rhodes owe me money-” Tony started at the information.

You almost chocked on your first bite of the pancake. Why would he even think that? Didn’t he know Steve was dating Sharon?

“No, Tones, wrong,” Natasha corrected him, “She went with that guy Cristopher. Remember that agent who wouldn’t shut up about her?”

“Oh yeah! The guy who was blabbering about Y/N almost as much as Steve does!”

Steve was blabbering on about you?

“Anyways, tell us how it went? When’s the next date?” Wanda asked, eager to know.

You chuckled a little nervously, “Well, you see--” You stopped talking as soon as Steve entered the kitchen, shocked to see his fallen shoulders and saddened eyes.

You observed as he grabbed a plate of pankakes, before heading over to the counter to make his morning tea. It was weird not hearing a good morning, or getting greeted with his soft smile. You had no idea what was bothering him, and it killed you inside.

"Y/N? You were saying?" Natasha questioned, as you had left them all hanging.

Your eyes didn't leave Steve's figure, even though he was facing away, "It uh... The date was good."

You watched Steve's whole posture tense as you spoke. Oh, how much you wanted to ask if he was okay. You just didn't feel like you had the right to. The last time you spoke, you were yelling at his face.

"Come on! Give us the details!" Tony pushed.

You shook your head, suddenly not wanting to bother Steve with details of your date. You plasteted on a forced smirk, "You'll have to wait and see if we weet again."

"No come on!"

As Steve was facing away, you couldn't see the tears forming in his eyes. You couln't see the absolute heartbreak on his face from the thought of having lost you. He really felt like he had lost the most important person in his life - and you didn't even know he saw you as such.

Over the past few days, you hadn't shared a single word with Steve, and it was starting to drive you crazy. You didn’t even face each other while in the same room - it was a good thing you hadn't shared a mission yet.

All you wanted was for Steve to be happy, and to be his friend again, so with that, you decided it was time to apologize for your behaviour – even if he wouldn’t forgive you for being such an ass, you knew it was the right thing to do.

Your palms felt sweaty, and your mouth all dried out as you stepped outside his room, “Okay… here goes nothing.” You knocked on the door, feeling your heart thump rapidly against your chest.

When he didn’t answer you knocked twice, then again and again. Giving up, you asked Tony’s A.I. for help, “FRIDAY, where’s Steve?”

“In the gym ma’am.”

You let out a sigh, “Is he… okay?”

“From what I can tell, he seems distressed and angry.”

You felt a knot in your stomach. It was 8 pm, and Steve never worked out in the gym that late unless he was upset, “Fuck… Thanks FRIDAY.”

Earlier that day, Steve had been walking past the door to your room at least five times, with the intention to make up. Though the super solider was way too nervous to bother you and chickened out. It was killing him not having your company every day. He missed you. So, with his emotions changing from heartbreak to anger, and the heavy regret from not telling you the truth and let your relationship come to this, he escaped to the gym.

You entered the gym and carefully closed the door behind you. It took you seconds to see Steve by the six destroyed punching bags on the floor, the seventh about to face the same faith.

Steve’s back was tense, and you could see the anger he was feeling in every punch. You felt the knot in your stomach from before tightening, your palms even more sweaty. Taking a deep breath, you walked up to him; it was time to face the music.

Speaking of music, before you knew it your ears were singing a high-pitched tone, your head hurt and your whole back was facing the cold floor beneath you.

“Oh my god!” Steve rushed to your side, worry in his voice, “Are you okay? I’m so sorry Angel!”

You blinked a few times before looking up at the concerned man above you. Putting a hand to your head, you groaned out due to the pain. Releasing deep breath, you let Steve help you up, “I guess I deserved that.”

You had been so smart to come up behind the Captain and stand in front of the punching bag. Because of Steve’s quick and hard punches, he failed to notice you in time, and punced the bag into you, sending you flying to the floor.

“Seriously, are you okay, doll?”

The concern in Steve’s voice made you forget why you came her in the first place. You only nodded and let him lead you to sit down on a bench. He didn’t let go of your hand as you both sat down.

Steve let out a shaky breath. It was clear it had scared him when he saw you flying in the air, and it was all his fault too. You could see the guilt on his face. He still cared so damn much.

You had enough of Steve feeling so down because of you, he didn’t deserve a second of it, “Steve I’m okay. I’m the idiot for creeping up on you like that… Also, I kinda deserved it after how shitty I’ve been treating you.”

“What are you talking about?” There was confusion in the Captain’s eyes.

“Just… let me talk.” Suddenly you had the courage to just get it out. You took hold of both his hands and looked deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m so sorry Steve. I’ve been an absolute asshole towards you.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but closed it as you shook your head, “Let me continue. You’re my best friend and I have so much love for you. You’ve been nothing but good to me, and I was yelling at you for it. Thinking about how good you treat me, your friend, I can only imagine how good you treat Sharon. She’s very lucky and I wish you guys the best.”

Your gaze fell from Steve and down into your lap, “I… I’ve been jealous. With all those dates you’ve been on… Why couldn’t you just pick one the girls and get it over with? I…”

“Cause none of them were you.”

You looked up at him, shock in your eyes, unsure if you heard him correctly. Steve plastered on a small smile, his eyes so soft as he looked into yours, “Y/N, there’s nothing between Sharon and I. The other day, when you saw us at the park, we were walking back from visiting Peggy’s grave. It was only a coincidence we were there at the same time.”

“Oh… but what about your date the day before? You said it was good?” You asked, feeling almost ashamed.

“You left too soon to hear what I told Nat and Wanda. I had a good time, but I wasn’t interested. I’d have way more fun with someone else there with me…” Steve’s voice was low, his hand coming up to caress your cheek, “I can’t hold it back anymore Y/N. I love you; I always have. And those stupid dates?”

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at his confession. Never in a million years would you have thought he loved you back.

Steve chuckled lightly, a hint of sadness in his eyes, “I went on those to get you off my mind. I never belied you could love me back, you’re way too good for me, Angel. Though every damn date I went on, I just couldn’t get you off my mind. Every time they wanted me to come home with them, I only thought; No, I can’t do that to my best girl.”

“Steve…” You felt so stupid for not having confessed your feelings earlier. All this misunderstanding could’ve been avoided, “I love you too. I love you so damn much Stevie.”

Steve breath caught in his throat, not sure he was hearing you clearly, “What?” The word came out weak, like he was scared to wake up from a dream, “What about--”

“Cristopher?” You giggled, “Oh, I had a nice time with him, but you know, he wasn’t you.”

Steve laughed loudly and you joined in. Both of you realised how stupid and blind you had been. You loved each other.

Steve caressed your cheek again, his thumb stroking over your soft skin. The look in his eyes were different than before; you knew it was love. His features, his voice, all soft, “Can I… kiss you?”

You only nodded and let him lead you towards his lips. The kiss was gentle, but a firework erupted inside of you. It made tears fall from your eyes, his too. Pulling away, Steve kissed the top of your head before speaking, “My beautiful, Angel. I can’t believe I finally have you.”

You threw yourself forward and let him wrap his strong arms around you. His embrace felt like home.

It felt so right, and finally, your heart was satisfied.

You didn’t see the tears continue to stream down Steve’s cheeks. You didn’t see the huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. He was so damn in love with you, and he already knew that someday, he wanted to call you his wife.

THE END! Thank you so much for reading, feedback is very much appreciated <3

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #sebastian stan #chris evans #natasha romanoff #tony stark #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #captain america imagine #captain ameirca #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader

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luveline · 28 days

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could I request a Remus fic where he’s known and liked reader for a while and she’s recently had a glow up and is skeptical about her newfound attention? you don’t have to tho thank you <3

ty for requesting !! fem

You’re a cloud of dainty perfume as you flop down beside him. “That’s so weird.”

“What’s weird?” Remus asks, half-paying attention to you, his other half trying to finish the sentence he’d been reading.

“There was a boy at the front of the cafe trying to open the door for me even though I was already opening it myself, and then he, like, stood there holding it for a bit after I’d already come in.”

“Is it possible,” Sirius butts in, because of course he does, a cigarette between his fingers unlit, “that he was flummoxed by your beauty, lovely girl?”

You drive your face into Remus’ arm. “Not this again.”

“You’ve always been beautiful,” Sirius concedes, unaware or unaffected by your bashfulness, “but lately you’ve got quite the glow. I’ve been trying to hook you for weeks. Haven’t you noticed?”

Remus smiles at his friend, digging in his jacket for a lighter to throw him. Sirius opens his hand and catches it gracefully. “She’s always been beautiful,” he says agreeably.

“Be back in a minute.”

You lift your head only after his footfall has faded away, gaze first at the window where Sirius has gone to smoke outside, and then the table where Remus is laying his book to rest. “I can’t stand him when he does that.”

“Does what?”

“Acts like I’m prettier than I am.”

“When does he do that?” Remus asks, not quite monotone but getting there.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I? You’re lovely, and Sirius can’t not notice because he’s Sirius.”

“Can’t not attribute every weird man’s behaviour to my change in appearance.”

“You’ve changed,” Remus acquiesces. “And boys notice you more, but I think that’s more to do with your sudden propensity for smiling and walking around with your chin up than any haircut or lipgloss.”

“Oh, quite right, professor.”

He pinches your thigh, savouring the laugh that bubbles out of you and your little jump in your seat. “You’re a trollop, is that what you want to hear?” he asks.

Your face falls to your chin, and yes, Remus has liked you almost since he met you, and yes, your recent change in appearance has made you more eye-catching, but he means it when he says the pull of your demeanour is your new confidence. You’re stunning, the smile you give him, that hint of brightness in your eyes as you start to squint, it yanks sorely between his lungs. He wants to kiss you now more than he ever has before.

“You really think he held my door ‘cos he thought I was pretty?” you ask.

“I didn’t say that, did I? Sirius did.” He stands and stretches, feeling bold but not brave. “I think he held your door because you’re the most beautiful girl in any room you walk into, but what do I know?” he asks, grabbing his empty coffee cup from the small table in front. “I’ll get you a coffee.”

“You dick,” you mutter. Such a short sentence, and yet he can tell you’re flustered without turning around to see it for himself.

It’s a good thing —if he were to see you now, your shy smile, he’d end up telling you exactly how he feels about you.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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roosterforme · 2 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 52 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As the perfect weekend comes to a close, you start to feel anxious about the way everyone else will perceive the engagement ring on your finger. If you could just stay in your peaceful bubble with the boys, you'd be all set. But Bradley might be about to face something much worse than an unwanted opinion.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, pregnancy topics, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

From the moment you woke up on Sunday, Bradley had you melting. "Morning, Mrs. Bradshaw," he mumbled against your bare shoulder, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. His huge, warm body was pressed against your back, and his lips were soft as a breeze touching your skin.

You bit your lip when his big hand snaked slowly around to your belly, and you whispered, "Morning, Daddy."

His lips found the shell of your ear as he chuckled, and goosebumps rippled along your skin. "If you do want to change your name to Bradshaw, then we can order you a new credit card and new checks as soon as we get married. If not, will you at least consider my last name for the baby?"

You wriggled around in his grasp until he released you so you could roll onto your other side and face him. "I want to change it," you said firmly, kissing the end of his mustache and running your fingers through his hair. "I want to match with you and Noah." You could tell he sighed in relief as you added, "And of course the baby will match with all of us."

When you rolled him onto his back, his hands were on your butt, keeping you snug against him. His smile was cocky as he said, "I feel like rewarding you for making all my dreams come true."

Then he nipped at the tops of your breasts as they were pressed against his chest. "Oh yeah?" you whispered. "How are you planning to do that?"

His dark eyes looked a little dangerous as he said, "By doing anything you ask me to."

You squeezed him inadvertently with your thighs, and he smirked. He knew he had you. He was always going to have you. But you knew what you wanted from him, and you were about to say it when you heard another voice in your bedroom doorway.

"Mommy? Daddy? I'm hungry."

Bradley groaned as you rolled off of him and pulled the covers higher. "I should have known since it's eight o'clock," he whispered, kissing your cheek and then reaching for your hand to kiss your ring. "I'll go start breakfast."

Your eyes went wide. "Don't punish the child, Bradley."

He snorted and slipped out from the covers as Skittles trotted out of her bed to join both of the boys. Your eyes raked over Bradley's body and his snug briefs as he reached for a pair of sweatpants while Noah yawned. "Let's go, Bub," he whispered, picking his son up and turning back to you. "Take your time, but also don't be too long. I think he wants edible food."

Then they were gone and you took a few minutes to sprawl out in bed and examine your engagement ring. You just got it, and already you were wondering how soon you could feasibly get a wedding band to join it on your finger. "Oh," you moaned softly, realizing Bradley might want to wear a wedding band, too. "That would be hot."

You rolled out of bed, nearly falling to the floor as you quickly pulled on some clothing, and then you were rushing to the kitchen where Noah was eating some apple slices sprinkled with cinnamon. Bradley was leaning on the counter with baseball scores open on his phone while he brewed some coffee, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind.

"That was quick," he muttered when you made your presence known.

"Are you going to wear a ring?"

He turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face. "Like a wedding ring?"

"Yes," you replied quickly, because somehow knowing this information was extremely urgent to you. "Are you going to wear one?"

You must have sounded more aggressive than you meant to, because he told you, "I mean, I was planning on it, yes. Is that okay?"

Then your head tipped back and you moaned softly. "Oh my god, Bradley. That's sinfully hot. All of your old man stuff and your body and your voice. And you're going to wear a wedding ring, too?"

"Well, yeah. I thought we could get matching engravings inside our rings with the wedding date and a little crown." You had to press your lips together to keep from screaming, and he had the audacity to ask you, "Are you okay, Baby?"

"No! Obviously not! I hope you realize other women will see that ring on your finger and be jealous of me." You gestured to yourself, feeling like you had perhaps finally lost it over this man.

Bradley smirked. "They already are though. Look at you. So pretty."

You threw your hands up in the air and let them fall to your sides. "I can't really deal with you right now. Go sit with Noah." He chuckled so you added, "I'm serious. Get your coffee and go." You started to rummage around in the refrigerator so you could make pancakes with fresh whipped cream, still hardly able to believe you were both pregnant and engaged.

When you started setting eggs and cream on the counter, Bradley reached past you for the French vanilla coffee creamer and made your coffee exactly how you liked it. He left you the mug that said Noah's Dad as he muttered, "I'll have to get you one that says Noah's Mom."

"Maybe just wait a few months and get me one with both names on it."

"I can do that."

-----------------------

Bradley thought you looked tired as the afternoon wore on. It had been an exciting few days, but playing with Noah usually seemed to give you more energy, not take it away. After the three of you colored on the driveway and went grocery shopping and stopped at the park, he suggested you and Noah both take a little afternoon nap.

"Just a short one though," you agreed. "I wanted to talk more about weddings and babies." You yawned again and followed Noah into his bedroom. Once again, Bradley was left with Skittles looking up at him expectantly.

"Okay, fine. I'll get your leash." Soon there would be an additional pair of eyes looking at him and making him melt. It was bad enough there were already three that he was completely weak for.

He made it halfway around the block with Skittles' little bag of poop in one hand when two women in skin tight athletic apparel ran past him. They said hi in unison while he nodded at them, and then they must have paused right behind him.

He heard one of them mutter, "Big guys with little dogs do things to me."

"Ask him out," said the other woman. "I don't see a ring."

Bradley groaned softly as he tugged on Skittles' leash while she sniffed a cactus growing next to the sidewalk. You and he had literally had a conversation about rings this morning, and now it was too late for him to make a quick getaway without picking up his dog and sprinting down the block. Perhaps he was the one who really needed to be wearing a ring this whole time, not you.

"Hey," the first woman said, and he turned around a little sheepishly. "Your dog is literally so adorable. What's her name?"

He didn't know what he was expecting as he said, "Skittles," but it wasn't for both women to look at him like they were on the verge of getting undressed on the sidewalk.

"Oh my god, I'm obsessed with her! Hi, Skittles." Bradley swallowed hard and took a deep breath, opening his mouth to just end this thing, but she beat him to it as she knelt down to pet the dog. She looked up at him and said, "We're almost done with our run, and I'd absolutely love to take you out for some coffee if you're free."

All he could picture were the coffee cups he always brought home to you with Princess scribbled on the side. When he started to shake his head, she stood from the sidewalk. "I'm engaged," he replied. "But thanks for the offer."

Both women were pouting when he turned away, and one of them said, "Should have known," before they were on their way again. Bradley was immediately filled with that same feeling he had after he forced himself to go to the app dates. He just wanted to be back home where you were. Where everything felt easier. Where he could just be himself without trying so hard.

"Come on," he told Skittles, and she looked up at him with her tongue peeking out and started to trot down the sidewalk next to him.

When they got home, the sun was getting lower in the sky, and the house was silent. His bedroom was empty, so he doubled back to Noah's room. Sure enough, you were snuggled up with him, sound asleep, just like Friday night. He could have happily watched this scene for the rest of the night. He kind of wanted to squeeze himself into the twin bed, too. Instead he started working on chores and folding laundry.

It wasn't too much longer before you woke up and appeared in the kitchen with Noah who was whining about being hungry again. You still looked tired, but you also had a determined expression on your face. You shot Bradley a coy smile over your shoulder as you made grilled cheese sandwiches.

"What's that look for?" he asked as you sat down with the food.

"Well, first of all, thanks for letting me nap," you said, kissing his cheek. "I don't know why I'm so tired today. Maybe it's from all the excitement of the weekend, or maybe it's a pregnancy symptom?"

Bradley's face lit up. "Both options are good. We can go to bed early tonight."

"Yeah... about that. You know how you wanted to reward me? And give me whatever I asked for?"

---------------------------

A few hours later, you were honestly still pretty tired, but Bradley was on his knees in front of you on the bedroom floor, looking up at you with his addicting eyes. You were wearing just your paper crown and your underwear, and he was already naked and ready. But you wanted him to beg for you, and he knew exactly what to do.

His hands and lips were soft on your sides and your belly, and his cock was hard. "Please, Baby," he whispered as he ran the tip of his nose up along your ribs. "You're perfect."

You pushed your fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots until he moaned. As his hands slid around to your lower back, you said, "Tell me what you want, and I'll decide if you can have it."

Now his lips were frantic against your body, his kisses growing in need as his breathing got more rapid. "I want you," he gasped. "I want to fuck my Princess. I want to love you. Please."

You yanked on his hair so he was looking up at you. "I only fuck knights. And only the one I'm engaged to."

Bradley groaned and kissed your belly as he tugged down your underwear. "Baby, I'm so hard. Please."

You smirked, clearly just as turned on as he was, but keeping it together. "You better be good for me."

He scrambled to his feet and onto the bed, and you straddled his hips. He was poking you with his length, but you took his hands in yours and placed them on your breasts. You closed your eyes and listened to that gorgeous voice whisper please a dozen times as his rough hands worked their magic. His cock was eager, tapping against your thigh with each wave of his arousal. Finally you leaned down and kissed his lips softly.

"Okay, Daddy."

His stamina was commendable, as always. You rode him through two orgasms as he hit the sweet spot inside of you while he played with your clit. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were wide as he watched you come for him. And then he had to beg again.

"Please. Let me finish." But you shook your head and watched him pant. You weren't done yet. You needed another minute. "Please? Please? Baby, I'm begging."

His hands were tight on your thighs as you rolled your hips. "I'm not done yet. You have to wait."

The veins in his neck looked delicious, so you leaned down and licked them. The change in position had him moaning your name, so you whispered next to his ear, "You can come, Daddy."

You almost screamed when his hips jerked up, his cock pushed so deep inside you. He was babbling unintelligibly about a wedding and the baby as he bucked beneath you, filling you up until his movements finally slowed. His face was slick with sweat as you pushed his hair back from his forehead, and you were delighted as he kept begging.

"Stay with me forever, Princess? Please?"

You fell asleep with your body wrapped around him.

Monday morning hit you like a ton of bricks. You were exhausted and overwhelmed from the weekend, and you realized when you were in the shower that you'd probably have to see Casey when you dropped Noah off. The boys were eating bowls of cereal when you finally made it into the kitchen. Bradley had your coffee ready, and you briefly considered whether or not you should be drinking so much caffeine. Your movements stilled as you remembered all of the champagne you drank recently.

"You okay?" Bradley asked from his spot at the table. He'd been saying good morning, but you hadn't responded at all.

"Yeah. Just thinking about calling my doctor later."

He was smiling when you looked at him. "Great idea."

You needed to make a lot of changes, and you were starting to feel overwhelmed again. "Will you come to daycare dropoff with us this morning?" you blurted out.

You watched him check the time on the oven clock before he met your eyes again. It sounded so stupid; you and he worked out the schedule you had so that both of you weren't backtracking all over the city. He would be cutting it close to get to work on time, but he said, "Sure. I'll follow you there and then head to base."

"Okay, thank you," you replied, kissing the top of his head. "We'll leave soon."

"Not until you eat something." He pushed the box of cereal in your direction and finished getting Noah ready while you ate. The food made you feel a little better, but your engagement ring felt like it weighed a ton on your finger. You were going to get bombarded with questions and comments all day long, and you wished you could just stay home with Bradley and extend the perfect weekend forever.

But soon enough, you had Noah in your backseat, and you were heading for daycare in your scrubs. You had him out of his carseat by the time the Bronco coasted into the spot next to yours, and Noah was reaching for Bradley with his free hand. At least he seemed delighted that both of you were here with him.

Bradley held the door open and kissed your cheek when you walked past. "I've gotta run in a minute," he reminded you, but that wasn't going to be a problem. You didn't want to be here for more than a minute yourself, because you could already feel Casey's gaze on your body as the three of you entered the building.

"Hi!" she called out, clearly looking at only Bradley as she smiled brightly. "Did you have a nice weekend?"

"The best," he replied with a smirk in your direction as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Then you noticed the colorful prisms bouncing off the wall next to Casey as you stood in the sunlight shining in through the door. Your ring was massive and glittery and impossible to hide, not that you really wanted to. But you could tell second that her gaze landed on your hand, and a grimace settled on her face.

Bradley didn't seem to notice the showdown of sorts as he kissed your cheek before kneeling in front of Noah to tell him to have a good day. Casey looked at you with her sour expression, and you tried your best to keep yourself neutral, unsure whether you wanted to laugh or scream.

"Wow," she finally said. "That's a neat ring."

You nodded, and now you couldn't stop the grin that formed on your lips. It wasn't neat. It was perfect. It was stunning. You were about to say something when Bradley scooped Noah up in a hug and casually said, "Yeah, we're getting married."

Casey nodded, a jerky motion as she pressed her lips together, and then Noah turned and looked at her as he said, "And I'm going to be a big brother!"

"Noah!" you gasped as Bradley's eyes went wide. All of the baby talk during the weekend must have made an impression. You and Bradley had been talking openly about what was going on, and Noah must have picked up on things. He probably absorbed all of the information, including when you told Bradley that he'd be an amazing big brother.

"Yeah, you are, Bub," Bradley said with a laugh before he looked at you. "Well, that cat's out of the bag, I guess," he whispered.

"We were not at all discreet when we discussed things in front of him," you replied softly, happy that he was smiling about it.

"That's... neat," Casey repeated, looking like she just ate a lemon. "Wow." She handed Bradley the clipboard while she glared at you, and you avoided her by giving Noah a kiss.

"I'll pick you up later," you promised him, and then he was walking back into the classroom with Casey who had her nose in the air.

Bradley was checking the time again. "I need to go, Princess. You good?"

"Yes," you replied, watching Noah's little backpack disappear from view. "I'll see you at home tonight."

He grabbed you up and kissed you, giving a bit of a show to the family who just walked in to drop their child off. "I love you," he rasped before running out the door.

You also disappeared before Casey could return, and of course, it was a typically busy Monday at work. But Dr. Kelly gasped when she saw your ring, and the other nurses squealed when you told them Bradley proposed. Pretty soon you'd have to let them know you were pregnant, too, but since Noah wasn't here to blow your cover, you didn't mention it yet. You did however schedule an appointment with your own doctor.

You got to assist with stitches, clean up a scraped leg while a little girl cried, and fend off a single dad who was blatantly looking at your boobs while he asked you out. Then you got to clean up the floor after a kid peed in the first exam room. You were just bracing yourself for a disaster when Dr. Kelly called you into room two where a boy had bite marks on his arm. "Happened at daycare," she told you, and you got the antiseptic ready.

If that kind of thing ever happened to Noah, you weren't sure how you'd be able to stay calm. Then you thought about the baby, and it threw you for a loop. You felt so protective of both of them already. You still had the scars on your arm from when you fell running away from Meredith.

So you cleaned up his arm while you sang Noah's favorite song about dinosaurs, taking the time to be careful around the bruising. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, but he sat still for you. Then you let him have as many stickers as he wanted before he left.

You were exhausted and on the verge of tears when you left in your car at five o'clock. You should have known you'd be overwhelmed today, and you needed to get home and spend the night with Noah and Bradley like your sanity depended on it. Traffic was heavy, but when you finally made it back to the daycare, you rushed inside to get it over with.

Of course it was just you and Casey. She set the clipboard down on the edge of the counter but made no move to get Noah for you as you signed your name. Then a malicious looking smile found her lips. "He only proposed because you're pregnant. You know that, right?"

You already knew that's what people were going to assume. You even told Bradley as much. Casey must have been stewing over that information all day long, ready to try to make you feel bad about yourself. It didn't even matter, because you already knew the truth, but in that moment, you felt so damn petty.

"Bradley actually proposed before he knew I was pregnant, and it was by no means an accident. But nice try, Casey. Now, would you mind doing your job and getting Noah for me? I can't believe I have to remind you what your job entails so frequently."

Her smile turned to a scowl, and you were ready to go a few rounds with her if needed as you slid the clipboard toward her again. You had the upper hand here no matter what, because the Bradshaws were all yours. But she didn't respond, rather she turned away from you and went inside the classroom to get Noah. The idea of knocking all of her neatly organized paperwork to the floor crossed your mind, but you decided to be an adult and just wait for Noah. You were almost immediately awarded with the sweetness only he could bring to your day.

"Mommy!" he called out, running across the small lobby to get to you. "I painted Skittles, but I made her green and yellow!"

"Show me," you said as you bent to pick him up, and then he was holding out his picture as you kissed his cheek. "She's stunning, sweet Noah. I love her."

"We can hang it up at home. On the fridge."

You nodded and carried him outside without looking at Casey. She could eat dirt for all you cared. "The refrigerator is looking really full of your artwork these days, but I'm sure we can squeeze it in. Now, do you want ants on logs or fancy apple snails with your dinner?"

-------------------------

"Well, I fucking did it," Nat said with an exasperated sigh when Bradley walked across the tarmac with her.

"Did what?" he asked, already slightly concerned about where this conversation might be headed.

She flapped her hands in the air in front of herself like that was supposed to mean something. "With Javy! I turned it from friends with bennies into a thing."

"A thing?" he asked, getting more confused by the moment. "What kind of thing?"

"A relationship!" she hissed before clapping her hand over her mouth like she'd said a dirty word.

"Oh," he replied with a laugh. "You're dating him? Like actually dating him? Is this your first boyfriend?" She kicked him in the shin. "Fuck!"

"Come on, Bradley! You know this is a big deal for me! Even admitting to him that I like him made me feel filthy."

"Jesus," he groaned, taking a step to the side to get further away from her as he walked. "I literally can't fathom what he sees in you."

She glared at him. "I could say the same damn thing about your sweet girlfriend. She could have guys eating out of her hand, but she somehow finds you charming?"

Bradley didn't want to say it, but you probably technically found Noah charming. And if last night's activities were any indication, you definitely did have Bradley eating out of your hand. All you had to do was just mention you wanted him to beg for you, and he was on his knees. He'd been that way since the beginning. He had no problem giving you control when you let him know that's how you wanted the evening to go.

"She's not my girlfriend anymore," he replied, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye.

His best friend dropped her helmet and almost tripped over it as she reached out to wrap her hand around his forearm. She looked devastated as she softly said, "Oh my god, Bradley. She dumped you?"

His jaw dropped open as he came to a stop, and he glared at her. "Seriously, Nat? That's where your mind went? I proposed!"

Her eyes went wide. "She said yes? You're engaged?"

"Yes!" he insisted with his hands on his hips. "You're the worst."

But she didn't even hear him, because now she was screeching and stepping on his feet as she hugged him. "I'm so happy for you! That was quick, but holy shit, it just makes sense! Do I get to collect a finder's fee?"

When she kissed his cheek he said, "All you did was set me up on a bunch of miserable dates while she babysat Noah."

"Exactly! Mutual pining!" she replied with a laugh. "None of this would have happened if I didn't put the app on your phone, so you're welcome."

He tried to disentangle her from his arms so he could pull up the photo he took of the ring when he heard Maverick clear his throat. When he looked at his godfather, he didn't seem thrilled, and Bradley's stomach lurched when he said, "Rooster. We need to talk."

----------------------

Okay, well Casey is the worst. And Skittles is a chick magnet, but we already knew that would be the case. Now let's see if we can get to a wedding and a baby before disaster strikes. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 53

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callsign-datura · 28 days

Text

quit talking.

frustrated simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader warnings: smut, obviously. mentions of putting a muzzle on you, not dealing with feelings, unprotected sex, bro is def a tits man (he sucks on em), oral sex (f recieving), light choking, creampieee a/n: 1k? how the hell?? thank you! :)

If there's one thing you know how to do, it's piss Ghost off. It's not really fun to you, it's more of a competitive thing. He's been in this line of work for much longer than you have, but you've been in it for long enough that you should be treated like a valuable ally than an untrained soldier, or a rookie. But for Ghost, that nickname has stuck. "C'mon, rookie, get your head straight."

"Eyes up here, rookie."

"Are you listenin', rookie?"

Your blood boils every time the word slips from his mouth. Every time he does it, you keep yourself from snapping at him. You put a smile on and follow his directions.

But sometimes it isn't so easy.

He orders you around, and tells you what to do; like a lieutenant should. Yet for some reason, you feel your chest tighten when he gives you an order. You know damn well it's a personal issue. Probably some feelings you haven't dealt with yet that you aren't ready to deal with. But you butt heads. You can tell that your defiance pisses him off and the flicker in his eyes makes something in your heart surge; something you tell yourself is satisfaction. Recently, it's been worse... maybe it was the mission last month where you were stuck in a closet together and he couldn't keep his hands to himself, or the fact he acted like it didn't even happen after. Probably both.

---------------------- "Rookie."

That damn nickname again. You snap quickly, against your better judgment; but he can't blame you. It's been a hard day of biting your tongue. "How long have I been on this team, sir?" "Not long enough to be givin' me so much attitude." He snaps back just as quickly, and usually it'd be enough to extinguish that fire, but today, it's not.

"It's been two years." "Two years of you talking' like you've known us for ten. Sorry to burst your bubble," he barks, turning his body to you as you recognize that look in his eye that you shouldn't be messing with him today. "You haven't. I'll keep callin' you 'rookie' until you get that in your head." His arms hang at his sides, his fists idly clenching and releasing as he steps towards you. "You got a problem with that?" Your eyebrows knit together and you tilted your head back as he gets close, his upper body curling to lean over yours and stare you down. Cold, brown eyes staring into yours; something that would normally give you chills. But not today. "Yes, actually, I do. I'm not a rookie anymore, I've been working with you long enough to the point I should have earned the respect I deserve." The words are slipping out. You realize how stupid it sounds and how you should have just been quiet and stopped fighting, but it feels good to get it off your chest. So you keep talking. "I'm a valuable asset to the team. I'm a good medic, a good ground unit, I'm damn good with a knife and I have good survival skills. I think those are grounds for respect from my lieutenant. Everyone else treats me well, but you." He rolls his eyes so strongly that you think it probably hurts. "You wanna know why they treat you well, rookie?" He retorts, his voice low and husky and raspy. His face is inches from yours and your senses are flooded with him; it's almost enough to get you to forget about why you were fighting in the first place. "It's 'cause everyone else knows that bein' nice to you and lettin' you act like a proper twat is better than tryin' to discipline you. You act like a child and they let you because you're too damn stubborn to get through to." The words piss you off again, and you open your mouth to respond, yet nothing comes out. "Don't." He warns. "This is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? I just want to be respected." "Nobody gives you shit anymore, rookie, but me. It sounds like you're mad that I'm the only person who gives you shit and doesn't let you get off easy."

"Because it's bullshit-" "I only give you shit when you're actin' like this." The glimmer in his eyes changes, and it becomes something you can't entirely put your finger on. "I only give you shit when you're yowlin' about 'not being respected' when you know damn well you are, you're just angry that I'm mean to you." "'Cause you are!"

"I am because I know that's the only way you listen." He says, his voice returning to something stable. "It's like you hate me."

Oh. His eyes flare again, this time with recognition. "That's what this is about? You think I hate you?"

"Well, sometimes..." Your voice lowers and you avoid eye contact with him, trying to focus on anything but the monster of a man in your proximity. "Sometimes it feels like it."

"Really? And that's why you're constantly puttin' up such a fight with me? 'Cause you think I hate you?" His voice turns... amused. Jesus Christ, he's enjoying this. "Yes, and--" You try to retort, but you can't think of anything. Your mind blanks. "And..." Embarrassment burns hot on your cheeks and you shut your eyes. He chuckles quietly. "That's fucked, sweetheart. You're not gonna believe me, even if I talk till I'm blue,"

"As if I could see." You snap, looking away. "...N' even if I talk, you'll interrupt me." He chuckles again. His voice tenses a little as if he's irritated. He grabs your hand and starts leading you somewhere and you start talking again. "I don't know where you get off on being rude like that." He laughs, in disbelief. "I could ask you the same thing." "You haven't said anything to me about that mission," you begin. Your voice is shaky. These are untrod waters, but you want an answer. "Not a damn thing. Not a text, hell, you barely look me in the eyes." "Mm." He responds, his voice higher-pitched, once again with recognition. "So it's that, too." He glances back at you, and you barely even realize where he's leading you until he pushes open the door to his quarters and pushes you inside, stepping in too, and shutting the door behind him. "You're mad about that? That we haven't talked about that?" You open your mouth, but the surprise doesn't let you say anything. So you nod, looking around the room. It's bland. Very... Ghost. "I haven't said anythin' to you about it 'cause even thinkin' about it makes it difficult for me to see you in a professional light." He pauses. "It shouldn't have happened. If anyone finds out, it'd be me taking advantage of you,"

"That wasn't what happened, though. I was asking you--" "Quit." He snaps, his hand coming up to cup your chin and hold your jaw, urging you to stay quiet. "Quit interruptin' me, fuck. You talk a lot, you know that?" His other hand goes to the zipper of your jacket, pulling at it and unzipping it. Your eyes flicker down to watch his hand, and you stay quiet.

He chuckles again and shakes his head, his eyes wide with disbelief and amusement... some mix of the two. "Now you're quiet. When you're gettin' what you want. Dunno what I expected." He lets go of your jaw and pulls your jacket off, tossing it to the side and turning both of you, backing you up against the door.

"I don't hate you... Quite the opposite." He murmurs, his voice softening. You watch as his thumb hooks into the bottom of his mask, pulling it over his nose as he leans in and puts his other hand on your waist. He goes for your neck, and you tilt your head instinctively. More than happy to obey. "It's jus' the fact that this is entirely unethical. No matter how we put it... it's unethical." He kisses the flesh of your neck, lips dancing along the softness there, testing for any sweet spots. He nips when he feels you tremble. "...Now that isn't to say I didn't enjoy it... 'cause I did. I dream about it, pet," his voice shakes and his grip on you tightens. "Fuckin' dream about it."

The vulnerability at this moment makes your body heat up. Warmth is building in your lower stomach, and a soft noise leaves your lips as you tilt your head back against the door. Your back arches as his breath ghosts your neck.

"Dream about you... n' this body, n' your voice, and your whimpers. I look at you, and I remember." He starts kissing your neck again. They're rough, and his breath is hot. You tremble again as his lips travel down, stopping at your collar as he reaches and slips the strap of your undershirt off your shoulder, and kisses the span of flesh that's been uncovered. Tongue darting out, following the contour of your collarbone, teasingly; leaving tingles in its wake that send heat straight to your cunt. "Makes it so goddamn hard to treat you like you're my teammate and not a person who haunts my dreams."

Another noise leaves your lips, and his hands slide up your sides, bringing the fabric of your undershirt with it. You lift your arms to let him, and you lock eyes for a moment. His are sparkling with lust, and he chuckles before his hands travel up your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls it from your body and drops it to the side, and his lips are on your flesh again. He nips at certain spots, nibbling gently and sucking deep marks into the flesh. His kisses go from your collarbone to your breast, and his lips close around your nipple. Your body tenses and goosebumps prickle over the flesh of your chest, and you tilt your head back again, legs pressing together as his hands rub up and down your sides soothingly. His tongue laves over it, sending tingles of pleasure through you as your eyes flutter shut and he grunts against you. His teeth nip at it gently before he releases it, switching sides. His hands slip down your sides and move to your pants, undoing the button of your jeans and tugging them and your panties down around your legs, detaching from your nipple to do so.

His gaze is immediately dragged to your cunt, and he hums low in his throat before he looks up at you. "C'mon, dove. Give me a taste, mm?" He asks, teasingly; but meaning the question entirely. Your expression twists in embarrassment, but your desire for him overrides any hesitation. And you nod. One of his hands cups the underside of your leg, lifting it up and to the side as he litters kisses along the inside of it. Having him so close to you makes your entire body shudder and a moan leaves your lips, your hand coming down to cup his head as you watch him. It's a lewd sight, but the view makes you tingle. He bites down lightly and a whine leaves your lips as you lightly swat his head. He chuckles in response and looks up at you, pulling away from your thigh to litter kisses over your cunt. You're wet enough to the point he can fucking see it; and your face flushes a bit more in embarrassment and you tilt your head back. You shudder, tilting your hips forward and chasing a bit more friction... and he delivers. His tongue darts out, dragging up between your labia to catch your clit. Your body shudders and you give a sharp whine. The feeling is electric, and you already feel something building in your stomach, yet you try to suppress it in turn for just feeling the sensation. His other hand comes up and his thumb pulls at the flesh, lightly spreading you out for his convenience, his lips closing around your clit as he grunts and the vibration of it turns into straight heat and makes you twitch. He sucks gently and you mewl, your hips shifting away from the unfamiliar sensation, forcing him to detach before he pulls you back in and clicks his tongue.

"Come on now, pet. You wanted this, didn't you? Stay still." You whine in affirmation, looking down once again and gasping as he buries his face into you once more. He dips his tongue into you, and his eyes roll briefly as he grunts at the taste of you; something that he'd get addicted to easily. Hell, he's already addicted to you; why not? He pushes his tongue into you for a moment, groaning again. His grip on the underside of your thigh tightens and he brings it upward a bit more, resting it over his shoulder as his hand slips up your tummy, giving the pudge there a little squeeze before he switches his attention to your clit, lapping his tongue over it slowly and gently. Each swipe sends heat into you, your walls clamping around on nothing, moans leaving your lips as he keeps his head buried into you. The sensations are mounting and he laps his tongue a bit faster to elicit more reactions from you.

Your hips buck into the sensation and a squeal leaves your lips. His hand slips back to cup your hip, pulling you further into him as he laps at your clit again and again. The hand keeping your labia spread shifts downward, and you jolt as he presses his middle and pointer finger against your hole, circling the flesh to gather your slick. The movement of his tongue stalls for a moment until he pushes his fingers into you, and he laps again, but much faster this time, grunting out in satisfaction at the way your walls flutter around his fingers and suck them in more. Moans leave your lips and your body tenses up, a cry leaving the moan before you shift down a little to push into his fingers. He curls them, feeling along your inner walls slowly and gently to find that spot that'll make you quiver, and he does; your hips buck again and you cry once more, the pleasure overloading your senses and rendering you to a whimpering mess. He laps away at your clit again, eating like a man starved; curling those two fingers on your g-spot and rubbing his fingertips against it slowly, gently.

The sensation causes the cord in your tummy to tighten. It doesn't take more of his assault to throw you over the edge; he continues, with an increased fervor upon feeling you tense around his fingers and hearing your noises take on a desperate edge. He pulls you closer, grunting into your pussy as you cry out and ball your hands into fists, grinding a little into the friction as your vision goes white and you sob his name. You continue, riding out your orgasm and whimpering his name quietly. His movements stop after your noises quiet, and he withdraws his fingers and pulls back to look up at you, making sure you're looking at him before he pulls his fingers apart; showing you the string of your fluid that connects them between breaking. He chuckles a bit and stands up as he looks you over. Your eyes flutter shut and you whimper softly, tilting your head back. Your body relaxes, but not for long as you hear a zipper being undone. Your eyes open just as he turns you around and pins you against the wall. One hand against the wall between your waist and your arm, his lips on the back of your shoulder as his other hand comes to your waist, pulling back you back against him. You give a surprised noise and he chuckles. "What? D'you think we were done?" You don't respond, and he hums. "Good. 'Cause we aren't." He pushes against you as you arch your back, your eyes widening as you feel his cock pressing against your cunt; a whine leaving your lips before he pulls his hand from your hip to wrap around the base of him, adjusting himself to rest the tip of his cock against your hole, watching as you flutter around him. He chuckles softly at the sight, and puts his hand on your lower stomach, slowly guiding his hips forward. His cock slips into you with ease, and you feel a faint stinging pain from the stretch, but the full feeling his cock gives you distracts you from the pain. It's familiar, almost; like your body remembers how he fit inside you. Your slick coats his cock, making the fit a bit more easy. He groans softly into your ear, the feeling of you around him more than heavenly. "Fuck. S'fuckin tight. Mm... like you were made for me, hm?"

He grunts quietly as he feels you pulse around him, and he tilts his hips slightly, cupping your lower tummy as he grinds into you testingly. A whine leaves your lips, but you don't stop him. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you feel some sort of sense of relief at finally being filled; by him. His breath fans over your shoulder as he grinds into you slowly, rolling his hips into yours; pulling out a bit before pushing forward and rubbing his hips into yours. He continues like this, one hand sliding up your front and wrapping around your throat, a gentle hold that keeps your head still. Your eyes keep shut, eager moans leaving your lips as you push back into him. For a few moments he continues this movement, just reveling in the feeling of your cunt around him before he begins thrusting. Slowly, at the same pace, raking his cock in and out of you, sending shocks of pleasure through you as you tighten a bit around him, eliciting groans from him. His movements speed up and the hand on your lower stomach slips downward, his middle and ring finger rubbing circles over your clit. You lurch a little and give a little cry, still feeling a bit overstimulated from the previous activities.

That sensation leaves almost immediately as he thrusts into you quickly, the sounds of your bodies together filling the room amongst his groans and your squeals. You lift one of your legs, tilting your head against the wall and his grip on your throat tightens as he starts rutting into you; the feeling of you is getting to him as much as the feeling of him is getting to you. Your moans increase in pitch, and your mind is scrambled by the pleasure. Your walls quiver as he continues, bullying into your cunt. He's chasing his high, and the circles he draws on your clit also increase in pace. The cord in your stomach draws taut, signalling your incoming orgasm; you can tell by his pace that he's close too. "Fuck-- Gonna cum." He warns into your shoulder, yet his pace doesn't falter.

You whimper and your chest tightens at the thought of him pulling out; wasting his cum like that. "Inside," you babble out quickly, hands balling into fists against the wall. "Please, inside." You stutter over your words as he continues thrusting into you, but he understands you immediately.

You don't have to say it twice. After a moment, he bucks into you up to the hilt, and a shaky groan leaves his throat as he cums; hot, thick ropes that flood your cunt with his spend. The sensation, mixed with the feeling of him rolling his fingers over your clit is enough to make you cum as well, and you cry out, walls quivering on his cock before tensing, milking him. Your body trembles and he pulls his hands away, holding you close to him, hums of affection leaving his throat as he thrusts into you a few more times before his movements stall. There's a bit of content silence before his voice breaks it. "Still think I hate you?" You pause, then you murmur in response shakily, "Mnh-mnh. Thank you..." "You're welcome, pet. But next time you need my cock, say it instead of being a brat." "Then the next time you dream about me, tell me." "...deal."

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #callsign datura #ghost cod #simon riley

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after-witch · 22 days

Text

Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]

Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up.

Word count: 17,510

Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse

Thursday

Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you don’t realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before it’s too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away.

A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your mother’s purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs.

They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life.

It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but you’d never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didn’t want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.

Did it matter? You weren’t getting out anytime soon, anyway.

Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season.

The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.

The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.

The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town you’ve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dad’s test results came back) it gets wearisome.

Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, you’d be stupid to deny that it’s more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner.

That’s why you’ve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because it’s the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but they’re not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There aren’t gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because they’re parents didn’t understand the necessity of sunscreen; there aren’t groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.

It’s mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.

Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.

Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes.

And over there--the early birds. They’ve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New York. They’re attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and you’ve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more “authentic.’

Sure, there’s the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. He’s balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. They’ll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.

It’s time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably won’t ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip they’ll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and they’re spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago… he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.

It would have been terribly romantic.

Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces.

Maybe that’s why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.

With people watching in mind, you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running.

Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated during the day.

You don’t notice the stranger at first. It’s dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. What’s one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?

But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as… odd. He’s just standing there.

Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?

He’s wearing all black, and there’s some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but there’s something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.

What a creep.

It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldn’t be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if they’d be drinking.

Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild.

So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but it’s not fair to waste a night of good weather.

Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.

Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists don’t bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isn’t lit-up and there’s no particular reason to head out this way.

But you’d been to this beach in the evening before; you weren’t scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.

Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?

Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls out, penitent. “Did I scare you? I’m trying to get reception.” The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.

After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket.

He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. “Are you all right? I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. “Um, yeah.” You laugh, an empty sound. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”

The moonlight doesn’t give you a clear view of the man’s features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. “Jumpy?”

The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.

“Someone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.” You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. “He was staring at me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.”

The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, weren’t you? Maybe the guy wasn’t even looking at you in the first place.

“Can I walk you back to the carnival? It doesn’t feel right to leave you here alone.”

Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.

“No, that’s okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. I’m going home soon, anyway.” Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right?

The man doesn’t turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.

“You want me to walk you back to the carnival,” he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman.

Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway.

You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.

Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, he’s not really a stranger, is he?

And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. He’s cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark.

Even if you weren’t familiar with most of the town’s residents in one way or another, you’d know he was an outsider from the way he’s dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans… not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.

As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--”around.” He admits that he’s only in town for the carnival week.

“I figured,” you say lightly enough.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that easy to tell?”

You put your hands into your pockets and look around you.

“I mean, it’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.”

His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how it’s so charming in the first place. “That makes sense.” He considers you for a moment. “You like to watch the tourists, then?”

You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.

“I like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,” and as you’re saying it, you don’t know why you’re telling him this so openly. “Sometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where they’re from or what they do or a backstory like they’re from a movie or whatever.”

Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? You’ve got to get out of this town more.

But he doesn’t seem like he’s judging you. If anything, he looks interested.

“And what would you imagine for me?”

The question is unexpected.

“I think…” You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? He’d be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe?

“I think you’re some sort of… librarian. Or a curator. A collector?” You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. “The point is, you’re traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought you’d take in some local culture.” You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. “But walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,” you add, with a cheeky grin. “To come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.”

He doesn’t smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way.

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “May I have yours?”

Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story.

Maybe you shouldn’t give your name. But there’s a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.

I mean… a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? You’d be stupid to say no.

So you give it.

At that, he finally smiles again.

“Well, then,” he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope he’ll say it again in the future, “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Help! Someone help me! For God’s sake!”

Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasn’t loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.

He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes.

His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness.

Jake Jensen died screaming.

Friday

You tell yourself that you’re only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didn’t come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night.

The sun has just set, and it’s a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner… Jake Jensen isn’t in his usual spot at the games, but maybe he’s sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.

“Hello again.”

Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.

“Hey,” you say, coolly, like you didn’t just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesn’t last long, but you fill it anyway. “You um, want some popcorn?”

But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like he’s never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?

Better to fill the silence again.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. “It’s my favorite because it’s fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.”

Chrollo hums in agreement. “I see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.”

You decide on the spot that you’re going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. “No biggie. Buuut… you will owe me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh? And what will I owe you?”

It’s your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. “A ride on the Ferris wheel once it’s properly dark would be nice.”

A snort, though his nose. “I think I can manage that.”

He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.

Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. He’s great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse.

You learn other things, too. Like, he’s a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesn’t interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear he’s not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows he’s actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere “private” like some other guys.

It’s nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town who’s so thoughtful.

The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and you’re one of the last rides of the night.

When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. It’s a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.

But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.

“Are you scared?” Chrollo’s voice is low--you could swear he’s teasing, but there’s something else in there, too.

“Yeah,” you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. “Of course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?”

Chrollo tilts his head. “You’d be dead.”

You can’t help but grin. He’s so to-the-point sometimes. It’s charming in its own way, although you can’t exactly describe what “its own way” means with Chrollo. It’s like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.

“And I don’t want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.”

Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. “No? How long do you want to live, then?”

The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe it’s not so bad. He’s good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place.

Maybe it’s the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe it’s the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like you’re in some wonderful haze of a dream.

Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.

“Long enough to achieve my dreams,” you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. “Whatever they might be. I haven’t figured them out yet.”

Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them.

Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. He’s looking right at you, and it’s no mistake or figment of your imagination.

Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger.

“There--look! Look!”

Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.

But now--there’s no one there.

“What do you see?” He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.

“The man… the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.” Your chest hurts; fear hurts.

Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.

“You’re all right. I’m here.”

He holds your chin in his fingers. “You’re safe, do you understand?”

The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesn’t even seem strange that he’s touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand.

Chrollo smiles.

“Let me kiss you,” he says simply.

And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do?

But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.

“Wait.” You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and he’s been so thoughtful all day, and now he’s here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.

A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all.

“Yes,” you answer, simply. “I would.”

Chrollo’s finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind.

The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.

Well, to the dying woman’s credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.

No one did.

Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me?

The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.

This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth.

Her husband didn’t seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--”Don’t fucking waste it, Uvo”--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.

The husband, like the wife, would be shared.

Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.

There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.

There would be enough to gorge.

Saturday:

Three people are dead.

You didn’t know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.

Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--”Due to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,” said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the diner’s singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.

People die all the time. Sure. But… dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd.

Yet now, in one morning, there are three.

Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.

And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.

“Mighta been a bear,” says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.

“I heard they were drained of blood!” Your head--and others’ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. It’s not a local. Someone who’s far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your diner’s less than stellar fruit salad option. He’s oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. “Two puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.”

Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.

Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.

If they were murdered--and it’s an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just don’t happen in your town--then… could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one who’s been following you around the carnival?

Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.

It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.

And you’d be seeing him again tonight.

They weren’t canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. It’s sad. But life is sad.

You don’t want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasn’t the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that you’d flirted with back. He was the first one that you’d ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.

So.

You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight.

And you can’t do that if you’re thinking about Jake Jensen’s body washing up on the beach or if there’s a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--

What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?

You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days.

There’s no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, there’s room--your stomach growls--but you can’t imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrollo’s lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).

You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But that’s not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didn’t really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you can’t even focus on a hot date.

Fuck.

“Daydreaming again?”

The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s hand on the first day of school.

He’s holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar he’s holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.

Perhaps there’s bitterness in it, because as soon as you’re standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.

“Are you all right?”

Well. You don’t want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldn’t it? It’s better to get it out of the way.

“Sorry, it’s… I don’t know if you saw the news?” He says nothing, and you continue. “Those people that they found dead this morning.” Your lips press together. “I mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasn’t a jerk about it.”

Chrollo hums.

“I can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.”

Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. “For you too though, right? I mean, it’s not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news.

“Shit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?” A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.

“Something like that,” he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.” He looks at you a little curiously. “But I can see how it would rattle you.”

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.

“Come on.” Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. “I know what might take your mind off things.”

For once, you’re glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game.

You’re even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isn’t so much “glory” as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.

Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadn’t been replaced in the many years you’d been coming here in the summer.

You tug on Chrollo’s arm and point the man out. “What do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thing…”

“I don’t doubt it.” Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesn’t linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival.

The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes.

You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and won’t go in.

“Are you scared?” You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.

But Chrollo doesn’t smile or laugh. “They make me dizzy,” he says, quietly. There’s something behind his words, but you don’t know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, you’re not sure. “Think nothing of it, dear.”

Dear.

You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again.

This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him?

It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose.

He’s standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.

And he’s staring straight up at you.

You don’t think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: “There! He’s there! Look, look--look!”

And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.

Your goosebumps remain.

“We should talk to the police,” you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.

Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The “Do you really think the police will do anything about this?” sort of look.

“I’ve been thinking…” You squeeze Chrollo’s hand and he squeezes back and that’s all you need to keep going. “That maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?”

Chrollo’s eyes widen just a little. It’s both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if it’s only a bit.

“I heard…” You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldn’t feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasn’t given you a reason to feel like you can’t tell him things. “Someone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe… like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I don’t know. But maybe they were killed.”

“Perhaps he’s a vampire,” Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. “Well. He wouldn’t be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?”

At least he didn’t say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.

He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ll inform the police,” he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing--to be watched and protected.

You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guy’s a killer, they’ll catch him. If he’s not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer.

Things will be normal soon.

When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you don’t mind, that is.”

You don’t mind at all.

“Do you like trails?” You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. “It’d be a bit more private. As long as you’re not scared of the dark.”

Chrollo chuckles. It’s a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you.

“I’m not if you aren’t,” is all he says, and that’s enough for you to point out the way.

Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights.

“I’m surprised to see these,” Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since you’d been up here more times than you could count.

“Mm,” you murmur. “Locals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.” Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know about your high school escapades. “They added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.”

“Clever,” he says.

The waterfall is loud when you’re this close; so loud you can’t hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that it’s lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though you’ve never been certain if it was a true story or not.

Regardless, you’re not sure you want to stay. No--you know you don’t want to stay.

This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you don’t really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.

Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where there’s more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, you’re just being smart!) he won’t mind.

“I think we should go back,” you say, but Chrollo can’t hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. “I think we should go back!”

You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, you’d rather wait until you’re back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.

“It’s all right,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. “You know that you’re safe with me. You don’t want to go back yet.”

How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didn’t even show him the best part yet.

“Come on!” It’s your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes.

“Is there a cave?” Chrollo asks--and again, you’re struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you.

“You sure know your way around local watering holes,” you jest.

He merely smiles. “I travel a lot.”

With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.

The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less.

“Do you like it?” You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadn’t been in for ages? The same reason why you’d spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didn’t brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.

Chrollo was so different from the others you’ve met at the summer carnival.

Maybe that’s why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.

It’s just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.

It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening.

But… it didn’t have to be the end of the evening, did it?

You ask him, this time.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“I do,” he says. “Very much so.”

This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.

Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags.

Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.

Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monsters’ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water.

“This is a lovely spot,” said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it. “The waterfall adds a nice touch.”

The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess.

The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled.

“It came highly recommended.”

Sunday: The Final Day

Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought he’d be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.

Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex.

You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.

But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room.

Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didn’t he? Just like the others, just like--

But just when you’re about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.

Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand.

Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note.

Dear--

Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.

I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, won’t you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.

Of course he didn’t fuck and run. He wouldn’t do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.

The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didn’t tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.

It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.

But he didn’t, so you’re left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, that’s wrong. That’s not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parent’s house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.

But… was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didn’t want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.

It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.

Although you don’t really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.

Somehow, you don’t believe that. You just know.

Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--

And if it was that same man… the one who was staring at you, stalking you… how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?

Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all.

You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, it’s hard to feel too enthused.

Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, he’ll see how nice it is here (it’s not) and maybe he’ll want to settle down (he won’t).

Oh, how stupid. It’s like when you’d meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and you’d beg their parents together to extend their vacation.

It wasn’t going to happen. You’ll never see him again after tonight, and you’ll go your separate ways, and that’s that.

Reality sucks sometimes.

You’re still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrollo’s now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of “your” plural.

You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.

Chrollo, to your surprise, doesn’t smile back.

Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like they’re something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.

“You seem a bit sad,” he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. It’s not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and you’ll never see him again.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.

“I’m just sad that you’ll be leaving.” He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. “That we won’t see each other after tonight,” you clarify.

You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, “We’ll just make the most of it.”

Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.

“We don’t have to part, you know.”

It’s your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. “You could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?”

Chrollo finally smiles at you.

“My life is flexible. But,” and now he pulls you up so that you’re standing. It’s a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--he’s stronger than he looks. “I was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.”

The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.

But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments.

“What? You’re not serious.” You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like it’s plastered on and cracking underneath. There’s a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know that’s not what he’s talking about.

This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue.

Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that you’re keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and he’s smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.

Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game.

Chrollo’s voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming.

“We can talk about it later, if you’d like. Let’s go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.”

That would be nice.

“I’d like that.”

And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesn’t take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.

If you weren’t so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.

The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. It’s nice, this extra time with him--it’ll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all.

What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?

The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you can’t see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.

All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.

Chrollo’s grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says softly.

Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable “we’ll never see each other again but it was a blast” speech. You knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?

“Me too,” you say, and it’s not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was… well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didn’t even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.

He was good in bed, too, wasn’t he? You blink and realize you don’t actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasn’t there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--

It’s all fuzzy. But you weren’t drunk. So why--

“Have you thought about what I said?” He asks, and once again you’re pulled away from your thoughts, although this time you’d like to focus on them. Why couldn’t you fully remember last night?

When you don’t answer, he raises his eyebrows.

“About coming with me,” he says, a bit louder, as if you can’t hear him over the carnival din.

You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.

“You’re serious?” You don’t mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. “Sorry. I just--I didn’t know if you really meant it.”

“I am,” is all he says.

You didn’t like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because there’s some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.

“Chrollo, I can’t do that. I have a job here. A life.”

Chrollo doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense.

“A job at a local diner slinging hash browns,” he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You can’t tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.

“Don’t you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?” One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. “You could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.”

An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--

“My family,” you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that you’ve spoken.

His lips press thinner. “You could write to them, call them. No matter at all.”

Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as he’s done every time.

You wait until he’s escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him.

“Chrollo, I can’t--” You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. “I don’t know you. Not… really. Not enough to give up my life here.”

Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because you’ve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway. You wish he hadn’t asked again before the night was over, but there’s no way to fix it now.

You’re ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears don’t come. You’re prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--

“Come along,” is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?

But you take his hand anyway.

“It would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.”

His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe you’re imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.

This doesn’t feel right, suddenly. He’s upset, that’s why he’s holding you so tightly. Or maybe you’re upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that it’s better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you yell over the crowd.

Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust.

“And miss the grand finale?”

You should insist on going home. Everything’s gone shitty. It’s too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--

“Come to the concert,” he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, you’ll go to the concert. What else would you do?

He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving.

Booze, sweat, and popcorn. That’s all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band you’ve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.

Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although he’s not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.

You feel bad. That must be why there’s a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course he’d ask you to come with him--if he’s the type to live so freely, he wouldn’t think twice about making the offer. He just doesn’t understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.

You can’t hold something like that against him, so you don’t.

Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one last…

All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. He’s standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms.

And he’s looking right at you.

“Chrollo--” There’s no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.

But he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.

“What is it, love?”

The nickname doesn’t even register.

“That--the man--the guy from before--he was there.” Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. “Can we leave? Please?”

Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesn’t tell you that of course, we’ll leave, of course, I’ll get you somewhere safe, of course, let’s talk to the police.

“Hush.” One hand begins to pet your hair. “Not much longer now. It’ll be over soon.”

“What do you…”

Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--he’s standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. He’s not looking at you, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving.

Your eyes dart over the crowd.

There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you can’t describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.

And then in a few blinks, they’re all gone. Like they were never there.

Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, it’s just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic.

“Chrollo,” you manage, voice shaky. “Something’s wrong. There’s people, they seem--it’s---I don’t know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--”

Chrollo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.

“You’ll miss the concert,” he whispers in your ear.

Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why he’s not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.

The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.

“Dude, what the fuck, we’re playing up here, you can’t just--”

Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singer’s head off with a single punch.

The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage.

There’s a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.

And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until it’s gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.

It’s that moment when people finally begin to scream.

Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and she’s there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someone’s neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve.

You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someone’s arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood.

That’s not all he hit. The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.

You’re not entirely sure if you said Chrollo’s name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, he’s simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.

Like people aren’t screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isn’t flying. Like you aren’t seeing things that you’ve only seen in shitty horror movies.

He’s in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.

“Chrollo! We have to go! Now!”

He doesn’t move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you.

He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.

“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you? Will you stay with me?”

Oh, he’s definitely in shock. That doesn’t stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Let’s go!”

You don’t register what’s happened until you’ve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.

There’s a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when you’re on your own two feet, he’s not there anymore.

You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if he’s nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.

There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and you’re not sure of anything in the world because he’s there.

Standing in front of you.

Close enough to touch.

Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and it’s not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what you’re seeing.

He’s got fangs.

Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck.

They’re vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires.

There’s a brief, panicked thought--where’s Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and you’re scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.

If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.

But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.

You didn’t dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldn’t work: you couldn’t run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and he’d catch up with you even if you weren’t panicked and in pain.

You had to hide. But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.

Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.

It’s this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.

The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. It’s hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.

You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which you’d forgotten about; but it wasn’t your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadn’t actually been inside a fun house in years.

The glass maze. All-see through panels that you’d smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it… something, behind you.

No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away.

You can’t tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:

He’s there--he’s here--he’s going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.

You scream, at some point, and it’s dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.

Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe you’re just good at completing mazes when you’re in fear for your life; whatever the reason, you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until you’re at the end of the hallway.

A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope.

You don’t try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.

The second floor isn’t entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and there’s a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.

It’s not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. It’s what’s down below.

They’re all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like they’ve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways.

All of them have blood around their mouths.

Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up.

You don’t wake up.

Instead, you hear a metal clang.

Then another.

And another.

Someone is coming up the stairs.

Thoughts dart here and there, but there’s nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. There’s a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. There’s still a monster waiting to kill you.

The metal clangs again, and again, and again.

He’s coming up the stairs and he’s going to kill you. You’re going to die. Today. Now.

Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--

It’s not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs.

It’s Chrollo.

It’s like you blink and you’re in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesn’t look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises.

“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re okay,” you say, reflexively. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”

Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, “God? An interesting choice, my dear, considering…”

You aren’t even really listening. You’re just happy. Delirious, even. Chrollo’s here. He’ll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow.

There’s an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.

You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrollo’s arm.

“We have to get out of here. Somehow. I don’t--maybe we can distract them?” Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if he’s too far away for you to properly make them out.

Chrollo doesn’t move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you won’t make it a step off the slide before being attacked.

The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.

Your hand tightens on Chrollo’s arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I won’t die alone.

Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man who’s been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.

Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man.

“Wait a moment, will you, Feitan?”

There were many things you might have said in this moment. Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is:

“Huh?”

And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you don’t think you’ll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers.

Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. You’re stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material.

In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all.

When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, he’s no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while.

He’s a vampire.

“I advise you not to run,” he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically.

You do, because you aren’t a fucking moron. Though you don’t make it far, as it doesn’t do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.

He’s faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain don’t care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.

In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.

He doesn’t. It doesn’t. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.

When you’re aware of the world again, there’s still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.

Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy.

“I know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you don’t listen to my orders. Do you understand?”

The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrollo’s expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and you’re having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.

And you have. You’ve learned that he’s a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that he’s not even a person.

“I understand,” you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, “that you’re a fucking monster.” You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin.

At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.

“You didn’t speak so crudely to me earlier this week.” A little smile. “Last night notwithstanding.”

Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--

“I didn’t know you were a… a… fucking vampire earlier this week.”

Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts.

Chrollo doesn’t look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.

“Regardless,” Chrollo says, “respect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?” There’s still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest.

“Fuck you.” This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.

The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.

Feitan’s hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--

He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole.

You cry out, you shriek, but he doesn’t let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. You’re shoved towards Chrollo, who doesn’t grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.

When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a shark’s.

“I’d like you to stay put this time,” he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. “And not run away from me. I’d like you to listen, and refrain from being… impulsive.”

He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. “I could make you do it, you know. I don’t have to ask.”

Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times he’d told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him?

And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.

“Like hell,” you mutter.

Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper.

“Like. Hell.”

The slap you give him is weak. You’re surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered.

But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.

You don’t have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, you’ll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe you’ll get away, someway, somehow.

You don’t get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldn’t be there, something taught and thin. A wire?

You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldn’t be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground.

Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but it’s hard to tell, over the pain.

Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not.

Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and you’re left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this.

Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; it’s like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--he’s looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.

It’s Chrollo who speaks.

“I would like an apology for your behavior.”

If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.

And he wants an apology?

You want him to go away. To not be real.

You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.

So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.

Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once.

When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping.

“F…fuck you.”

Stupid words, you know. But you’d rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood.

Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:

“Want me to do it, boss?”

Your eyes dart around, but you can’t see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.

Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.

“No,” he says, finally. “Feitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.”

Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesn’t disagree.

The words reach you, but you don’t take them in for a slow moment.

Break… break… what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--

There’s a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. It’s Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.

When he pulls back, you see him move, but don’t know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitan’s boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.

Time itself is hot and painful. You’re not sure how long it goes. You’re only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they don’t move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up.

It’s not like you could run, anyway.

At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? There’s no hope in your chest, no thought that they’ll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them.

Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like they’re being spoken through water.

“Take care of them, will you? We’ll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.” A question from someone. A pause. “Yes, I’ll handle her.”

The voices fade away. Either because they’ve walked away, or you’re finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.

Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish you’d let them kill you quick.

Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. He’s a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.

He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.

“Kill you? Of course not.” He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. “I do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.” An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.

“She’s still in there, no doubt.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. “Buried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.” He smiles nostalgically. “But those can be remedied with time.”

He’s crazy. I mean, you know he’s a vampire, sure. But he’s also fucking crazy.

“I want to go home,” you croak. Even though you can’t reason with crazy. “Please. Please.”

His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous.

He doesn’t mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.” There’s some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. “And from now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”

Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You don’t have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you won’t say yes, either. You can’t.

“Well. I can make you obedient, if you’d rather be stubborn.”

You’re about to ask--”What?”--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely.

You’re afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes.

And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand. Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.

You’re dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you can’t really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but there’s a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?

There are more screams now--from the beach. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s like you can see it in your mind although you’re flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood.

The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while you’re dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too?

Chrollo’s mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. He’s blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. It’s cold, vile.

A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.

But what did you know about vampires, anyway?��

You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.

At least, you think, this is finally over.

You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.

You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open.

The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, he’s not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but he’s still around. His fingers twitch and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.

You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think.

The world seems to come into more focus then.

You are, as far as you can tell, alive. You’re propped up against a tree. It’s night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize you’re awake, but no one says anything.

Strangely enough, you’re not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but there’s no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.

How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?

Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. It’s heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood.

You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.

Someone nearby laughs. “Picky princess, huh?” You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a man’s head off at the beach.

Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.

“You’re finally awake, I see.”

You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run?

Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isn’t horrifying or unusual at all. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There’s nowhere to go.”

Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.

“Where… are we?”

If you’re close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help.

“Far away from that little town, I assure you.” Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. “We won’t stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.”

Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find?

You could ask all of these things, but you’re not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry.

“None of that,” he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. “Don’t waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. You’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you didn’t know me well enough to leave with me,” he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. “You said you hadn’t had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. We’ll have eternity, after all.”

Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.

Eternity.

“Did you… am I… did you make me--”

Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But there’s nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film.

He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort.

“No.” A pause. “Not yet, not quite.” He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isn’t trying to make fun. “That may come later, if you behave. For now, I’ve made you…” Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. “… let’s say, mine.”

You shiver. From fear, and from cold.

Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.

“You must be cold. I don’t want you catching a chill so soon. Why don’t you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?”

You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.

He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness.

“Go sit in front of the fire,” he tells you.

And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down.

It’s like before, at the carnival, but different now. There’s no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and that’s that. When you try to push yourself up, you find that you simply can’t make your body do it. You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.

“I’d prefer you to do things willingly,” Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. “But I don’t mind giving orders either, love.”

Love.

You’re not sure he knows the meaning of the word.

But neither do you.

Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s everything that the monsters around you aren’t; and you aren’t one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this.

The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down.

It’s lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasn’t a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world.

Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference.

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #afterwitch writes #this fic is my baby /wraps it in a blanket

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lovifie · 1 month

Text

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 9: Soap’s Date

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Soap x Reader (+ Ghost), sex on the exterior, lots of butt stuff, oral sex, anal sex, phone sex, Soap being an absolute mutt as usual, voyeurism. I think that's it.

“Tell me again, Johnny.” You say yawning, looking back at Johnny as he finishes getting everything in the car. “Why are we leaving so early? The sun is not even out.”

“Because, mo ghraidh, I only have a day with you for myself alone.” He says once he has secured everything, he closes the boot and opens the driver's side door to sit down behind the steering wheel before he keeps talking. “And we have already wasted 4 hours.”

“I wouldn't call it waste, you know? Taking into consideration humans are supposed to sleep 8 of them.” You say chuckling when you see him pout and you move your arm over his seat to rest your forearm on his shoulder and caress the back of his head.

“Do you no longer love me, bonnie?” He asks, dramatically sighing and covering his eyes with a hand.

You playfully slap his shoulder. “If the military ever fails you should pursue a career in acting, Johnny.”

“Will you be my date when I get my second Oscar?” He asks, completely dropping the act of being sad to look at you smiling.

“Your second?” You ask chuckling.

“Yeah, sorry, I already promised my first to Gaz.” He admits, making you laugh out loud.

“Fine, fine. Second Oscar for me then, got it.” You say smiling, taking your arm back to fasten your seatbelt when Soap does the same.

The sun is just starting to rise by the time he turns off the engine at the top of the cliff.

“What you think?” He asks, smiling when you lean down resting on the dashboard to see more clearly.

“Almost as pretty as you, Johnny.” You say cheeky winking at him.

“Hey, you stole my line!” He complains, a little pink blush on the top of his cheeks. He opens his door to get out making you chuckle at his escape attempt.

You try to open your door, setting a foot outside just to be pushed back inside by a hand on your face. Once you are back inside he closes the door, waits a second and opens it back again holding a hand for you

“Oh, my. Such a gentleman, Johnny.” You say sarcastically making him chuckle.

“I know, right?” He says with a boyish smile that makes you want to squish his face.

You finally step out, letting him close the door behind you. He goes to the back, opens the boot and hands you the bag with food so he can take the tent out.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to sleep in the car?” You ask, seeing him pick up everything else.

“To sleep maybe, but to do to you what I'm planning to do… the tent is better.” He says, winking at you and making you blush this time.

“Oh, wait, what you said yesterday…” you trail off.

“I meant it.” He says chuckling. “As long as you want, of course.”

“Yeah, no, that's not it…” you say, a nervous feeling bubbling up in your stomach. He quickly catches it, dropping everything on the floor and walking up to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you softly. “Don't worry your pretty head about the bureaucracy, love. I'll make sure to eat you out long, and sweet, and nicely.” He says between kisses making you melt in his hands. “And I'll make you cum again, and again, and again. I'll get all soft and needy, by the time I get my dick in your tight little ass you'll be such a mess the only thing you'll be able to think it's about how good it feels.” He says, looking at your eyes. “Sounds good?” He asks, and you quickly nod as if you couldn't feel your panties starting to get moist. “Perfect, let's get everything set.”

He pats your head with a kiss to your forehead and picks everything back up, turning around the car to where he wants to set the tent and you are left stunned for a moment before you pick yourself up and walk after him.

He sets up the tent with ease, giving you orders to help him when a second person is needed (not that he couldn't set it on his own, he could easily. But he uses it as an excuse to walk behind you, grinding against you as he does; his hand travelling up and down your body) and by the time the tent is ready and everything is tidy; you are already an absolute mess. Grumpy with need and bothered by his apparent lack of effect.

“What has your knickers on a twist, bonnie lass?” He asks, chuckling when he sees your arms crossed.

“You!” You say simply, sitting down on the mattress.

“Me?” He asks smiling, laying down next to you propping his head on his flexed arm. “Or the thought of me fucking you silly, mo ghraidh?”

“Johnny!” You exclaim, trying to slap his chest but he catches your hand pulling you on top of him. “Don't be nasty…”

“Oh, love. Don't play coy on me now, I know you love it when I speak pure filth to you.” He says, his hand pulling your leg up so you are resting closer to his face. “Am I wrong?”

You advert his gaze, looking at his hand on your thigh. “I don't know what you are talking about…”

He laughs, shaking you with him. “You are a smart girl to try that with me, if you tried that with Price he would have you crying already for spanking you like a brat, you know?”

“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Johnny boy.” You joke smiling looking at him, thinking he is just bluffing.

“Oh, I do.” He answers right away, smiling at the memory. You look at him with an eyebrow raised, the mental image of Soap lying on Price's lap getting his ass beat is interesting if anything. “Ha… you wanna see it, don’t cha, nasty girl?”

“You know what? I may get you in trouble just to see it.” You joke, saying it only to get a raise out of him.

“Keep being naughty, and I'll be the lucky one seeing it.” He says, grabbing a handful of your asscheek and gripping it hard until you whine about it. Feeling as if you just got slapped on the ass without the kinkiness of it. “Take off your clothes, love.”

It takes you by surprise the sudden change in action. “Like that? Just… straight at it?” You ask, a bit dumbfounded.

“Well, we can go on a hike if you prefer it.” He says chuckling when you put a disgusted expression on your face. “Then get naked.”

You oblige, trying to keep the facade of mild annoyance, while he takes his clothes to sit down and you can't help but stare at his jet to get hard dick.

“You are not even turned on, Johnny.” You say, looking at him with a smirk. “Need a hand?”

“Oh, no, don't even worry about it, love. It's just a matter of time, and the earliest I get my mouth on you the earlier it'll get hard.” He says smiling, his hands pulling you closer and down on your stomach on the mattress.

“Wait.” You say, propping yourself on your elbow to look back at him. He raises his eyes that were looking at your naked ass to look at your face with a worried expression. “If I don't…”

“If you don't like it.” He cuts you off, leaning forward close to your face. “I stop. If you don't like the ass attention but want to keep going I'll humbly go apeshit crazy on your godly cunt and if you simply are not in the mood for action, I'll go behind a tree and fuck my fist like a monkey.” He says, exaggerating his choice of words to make you smile; you cup his face when he gives you a peck looking into your eyes for reassurance. “Alright, love? Talk to me, alright? I'll have my mouth busy, not my ears.” He jokes, taking away the little nervousness left on your body. “Get your ass up, on your knees. I want to taste that delightful cunt of yours, love.”

You smile, softly slapping his face with playfulness and get on your hands and knees, bending down and crossing your arms to rest your head on them; arching your back leaving Soap the full view of your cunt and ass when you slightly spread your legs.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, birdie. What kind of ring do you want? I'll buy it for you tomorrow, you just gotta ask.” He mumbles, feeling his breath getting closer and closer to your wetness. A sigh escapes your mouth when you feel his tongue go flat from your mount up to your ass leaving a kiss on the small of your back at the end. “Fucking delicious, bonnie.”

He does again, and again, and again; you look between your legs and you see a glob of your arousal mixed with his spit stretching down from your cunt right onto the tip of his hardening tip making him grunt at the same time you moan because of the filth of the image.

He plants both his hands on your ass, spreading it to have better access to your crying cunt; shoving his face against it but still delightfully slow. It catches you by surprise the calmness with which he is doing it, it is still by no way methodical, but it is not as chaotic as you expected. It's slow, tongue hard against your fold making you feel every twitch of the muscle and groans that leave his throat which accompanied by the way he’s thrusting the air unconsciously makes you wonder who is enjoying more. You feel your orgasm approach, surprising you again, there has not been an increase in the speed or a change of focus from him. Just lazy swipes of his tongue on your cunt up to your asshole, but you shudder when you come; ecstasy flooding your nerves and making you moan his name. But it's not the kind of orgasm that leaves you shaking and silly-minded, is the type that makes you move your hips back looking for more, angry at the betrayal of your body for coming so fast.

“That's a good fucking girl.” Soap groans against your pussy and you hear the smile on his voice. “Thank you for coming so fast, dear. I couldn't wait to get my tongue inside your ass.” He says, biting down on your asscheek making you whine.

He moves back, sitting down between your legs and he moves his hands under your body pulling you back against his face before he licks right on your hole. You moan at the feeling, the nastiness of it all only fueling the pleasure. “Ghost is going to be so fucking jealous I get your arse all for myself, birdie. You have no idea.”

“Fuck, Johnny…” you moan, pussy throbbing at the lack of attention. You try to reach it with your hand, needing to feel something inside.

“Now, what in the hell do you think you are doing?” He asks, annoyance in his voice when he slaps your hand, your pussy getting slapped in the process as well making you hiss. “Are you so greedy you can't even let me get my fair share of your ass? You just came, birdie. You just can't simply wait to get stuffed, right?”

You whine, too embarrassed to admit it but horny enough to push your ass back against him. He lands a hard smack on your ass making you cry, grabs both of your hands making you rest your body weight on your face when he moves them both behind your back and dives back on your ass making you moan.

He has you bent almost in half, your thigh pressed against your chest squishing your tits which Soap takes to his advantage when he starts to thrust forward rubbing his tip between them almost edging himself with the light touch.

He groans against your asshole, the tip on his tongue probing again and again, slowly but surely getting deeper until you feel his teeth on your skin, tongue as deep as possible making your eyes roll back when he moves it in and out, thrusting his tongue onto your ass.

His tip pouring a droplet of precum down between your tits up to your neck like a delicate necklace and you twist your wrist needing to grab his hand. He interlocks his fingers with yours, and if the situation was different you would laugh at how it feels more intimate to feel his hand on yours than to feel his tongue inside of you.

You are a babbling mess by the time he decides he has had enough, mind so blurry you can't even tell if you came again. He ate your pussy as if he was kissing it, soft, gentle and calm. But at some point after that, when your ass got into the mix, it changed into a Soap with almost a primal need to get as deep as possible inside of you.

He lays you on your stomach, still not letting go of your hands. You hear him look for something in the bags, and he drops it beside your head a second later. You turn your head to the side and you see what he found; a bottle of lube and his phone currently on a call.

“Who-” You question get cut off by a gasp when you feel Soap's tip rub your clit.

“Pickup, c’mon, pickup, pickup, pickup.” You hear Soap mumble over you, the ringing of the call still going.

“What, Johnny?” The unmistakable sound of Ghost's voice erupts from the phone and you furrow your eyebrows.

“Fucking finally, Lt. Look out the window, now.” The scotsman orders, which makes the mancunian chuckle at the desperation.

“Johnny, what are you-” Your question gets cut off by a moan that could easily classify as a scream when Soap bottoms out inside of your cunt in one swift thrust. The stretch making little white dots appear on your vision and you damn well if you were not dripping with arousal he would have broken you in two.

“Oh, hi, birdie. I see you are having fun.” Ghost says chuckling. “Go easy on her, Johnny.”

“I can't…” Soap mumbles, his head resting on top of yours. “So fucking tight, I just know her ass is going to choke my dick so nice.”

The two men talk about you as if you were not even there, the stinging sensation quickly dissipates when he starts to thrust; slowly as if asking for forgiveness for his lack of control just a moment ago.

Soap bends down, moving a hand under your jaw to pick your head up. “Look at the window, birdie.” He says. You are completely confused for a second, barely able to see the building in the distance, let alone a window. “Do it, Ghost.”

In that second, an almost missable flint of lights appears on one of the windows catching your attention. “Do you see me, birdie?” Ghost asks through the phone. “Because I can see you.”

Soap groans over you. “Oh, she sees you, Lt.” He chuckles. “And by the way she's clenching. She likes it.”

“Aww, does our little bird like to be watched?” Ghost coos, amusement in his voice.

“Hmm, ‘s you.” You mumble between moans, struggling to articulate the words.

“What is it, love?” Soap asks, bending down to kiss your shoulder as his hips slowly stop to let you talk.

“I like it… cause is you…” You half whine, embarrassed to say it more clearly. But it is more than enough for Ghost, who feels his heart and dick throb at the declaration.

“Johnny.” He groans.

“Yes, Lt?” Soap answers, same struggle as you.

“Do me a favour… fuck her nice… and turn on the camera.”

“Gladly, sir” He says straightening himself, picking up the phone and the lube on his way. He turns the camera on, pointing it to where the two of you are connected; opens up the lube bottle before dropping a blob over your asshole.

“I bet you wish this was you, ah?” Johnny smiles as he teases Ghost, his thumb pressing down on your hole slowly before entering with ease thanks to the lube and the fact you are already fucked out of your mind.

You moan softly when he does, pressing his finger down against the thin wall between his finger and his dick that is still inside of you. He grabs your asscheek, thumb still inside, spreading you for Ghost to see.

“You are a bloody lucky bastard, Johnny.” You hear Ghost groan, sounds of clothes being moved around can be heard from the phone. “But don't test it.”

He removes the thumb, getting his index in instead; moving it in when he moves his dick back, and the finger out when he moves his dick in. It's such an alien feeling, the stinging from the stretch long gone and replaced with the arousal of his finger and dick moving in and out.

“Hold the phone for me, love.” Soap says before changing the camera to front view, you hold it over your shoulder letting Ghost see the way Soap is working you open on his fingers.

Soap grabs the lube again, spurring it over his finger generously before adding a second one; the phone shaking on your phone when you moan at the stretch. He scissors his fingers opening you up, his dick still moving slowly inside of your drenched cunt; more to keep your mind busy with pleasure than for his own.

There is something so filthy about the whole ordeal, doing something “prohibited”, the sound of Soap shaking the lube bottle, the sound of the lube being squished onto your body, the sound of his fingers fucking it inside of you, the sound of your pussy sucking his dick in.

He takes his time, making sure you are stretched nicely and loose, wanting to make you feel nothing but pleasure when he finally fucks you. It takes him four fingers inside of you to feel like you are ready for him. By that time, you are an absolute mess; using every bit of strength left to hold the phone.

And your mind can't help but wonder about how it would be if Ghost was also in the tent, if Soap was not opening you up for himself but for his lieutenant. How it would be to be in between the two men.

“Johnny…” you moan, desperate for more. “Please…”

“Sshhh, birdie.” He shushes you when you cry for him. “I know, baby, I know.” He bends down, kissing your back and slowly taking his fingers out. “I'm gonna do it slowly, alright? Don't hold your breath, just relax.”

You nod eagerly, needy of the feeling of his hips hitting yours. Johnny moves your hand with the phone, holding it down so he can see your face on the screen when he fucks you.

And when his tip catches your puffy hole, your eyes close and your jaw falls open leaving your mouth in an o shape. But you do just as he said, relaxed taking deep breaths as you feel the man split you open.

“C’mon, bonnie lass. Let me in.” Soap grunts in your ear when you clench down out of pleasure. He kisses your neck, under your ear, making your eyes roll as you bite your lips; relaxing and allowing him to keep pushing his hips.

Mumbles can be heard from the phone, the man struggling to stay quiet at the sight of his lovers getting their brains fuck out together. He has had his dick out for a while now in the solitude of his office, not wanting to touch it leaving it red and angry. But the sounds of your and Soap's moan in harmony is enough to have him fisting his dick, squeezing his tip, milking the firsts bead of precum out of it.

Soap thrust shallowly, wanting to move but hating the thought of leaving your warm body. You can feel him drool on your shoulder blade and you would make fun of him if you weren't on the same train.

“Let me see it, Johnny.” Ghost grunts, the sound of spitting in the background of the call.

Soap whines, hating his devotion to the british man that makes his body move before he can acknowledge it. He holds your thigh raising it and turning you to lay on your side with a leg in the air and Soap lying behind you. He picks the phone from your hand, resting it on the lube bottle so Ghost can see the way he fucks you and both their faces at the same time.

Ghost groans at the sight, his fist moving faster; the image on the phone shaky with the speed at which he fucks his hand. But the way you moan when Soap begins to thrust inside and out of you is enough to have Ghost pull his head back with a groan.

Soap sees the way you furrow your eyebrows, such an exquisite feeling but still needing the extra stimulation of a hand on your clit. And you have been such a good girl? How can he not obey your needs when you have been so good?

So he uses his lubed hand, trapped under your body, and moves it down to rest on your puffy clit, rubbing circles on it. Slowly at first, just as his thrusts; rising up the speed of both at the same time.

It has you curling your toes, moaning his name to the cliff just outside the tent. He locks his arm under your knee, pulling it closer leaving you even more exposed and he starts to kiss your body. On your knee, your thigh, your temple, your cheek. He can barely do it, just smearing his spit-covered lips over your body leaving a sticky trail of saliva over you; whining when he can’t manage to kiss you on your lips fast enough.

Ghost is edging himself, he knows it, he's slouched on the chair; having slipped down on it when thrusting up to his fist. His feet hurt with the way they are arched to keep him seated and his elbow is in an awkward position under the armrest. Still, his hand is moving so fast is just a blurry image and he knows that the moment either of you comes he'll follow.

So when he finally hears you moan, loudly enough that if he wasn't on a phone call he would have heard it from the window, making Soap grunt as he bites down on your shoulder as he comes as well deep inside of you. Ghost can't help it but to moan, throwing his head back, phone falling on his chest as he needs the extra hand not to fall from the chair as he cums over his hand and onto his abdomen. Phone rising with his breath, finally seeing the way your legs shake after you cum; Soap letting your leg down to rest and hugging you tightly against him as he kisses your face. Smiling when he sees you melt into his arms, and the two of you look like cats grooming each other.

“Thank you for calling, Johnny. Enjoy your date, birdie.” He says, still breathing hard before hanging up, struggling to find the energy to clean up and get back to work.

“You did so good, birdie.” Soap says, kissing your cheek. “Did you like it, lovie?”

You nod, unable to speak with your eyes unfocused on the ceiling of the tent. “Yeah… yeah I did…”

He chuckles behind you, kissing you again and again, his softening cock still inside of you and with no plan of leaving.

It turns into a comfortable silence, enjoying each other warmth. You look up to him, smiling when you see him look down at you with a stupid smile on his face. You cup his face, smiling fondly when he leans into the touch. “Johnny…” you call, only getting a “hm?” as an answer. “Is it weird if I think I'm starting to fall in love with you guys?” You say, before realising you have just declared your feeling to most likely the worst of them to do so. Especially when you see his face shine in mischievousness, he laughs loudly before crushing you in a bear hug that has you ready to hear a bone pop.

“AW, BIRDIE, I CAN'T WAIT TO TELL EVERYONE YOU LOVE ME THE MOST!”

“JOHNNY, THAT'S NOT WHAT I SAI-”

Your attempt to defend yourself gets crushed when Soap kisses you harshly, making you whine and letting his tongue inside of your mouth. It is not much longer before you feel his dick get back ready into action, and let's just say you were really glad that Soap packed isotonic drinks for when you are finished that day.

Hi, my lovelies!! 💗💗💗

How have you been?

I already have the next one written, hehe. My plan is to write the rest and post it as I go, maybe work on some requests. Those of you waiting for Spidey and the new series, please just be as patient as you have been for this one it really means a lot to me ❤️

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @cassiecasluciluce @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tired-writer04 @evolutionarry @prettykinkysoul @pagesfalling @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @sodavrr @anirok2 @lilliumrorum @ladyxtiger @multy-fandom-lover @thriving-n-jiving @lotionlamp @spicyspicyliving @xxeiraxx @vampirekilmerfic @keiraslayz @risingofjupiter @witchthewriter @soupinasock @phantomly27 @arbesa-mind @multifandomheathenannie @spadekip @cmbghost @herefor-tojis-tits @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @mothsdrabbles @cod-z @l0velifehatey0u @bunnysdaydreams @contractedcriteria

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honeyedmiller · 3 months

Text

An Ode to Forever | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: mostly pwp, sex in a bathtub with lots of feelings, fluff, tenderness, they’re both so sickeningly in love, smut (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, joel is handsy af, some butt stuff [lol]), light alcohol consumption, sort of erotic food consumption(not really tho???), use of daddy twice in this (idk what came over me), joel doesn’t have kids in this, no use of y/n.

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: after an arduous day, joel draws a bath to help you both relax.

an ode to how much you love joel miller, and he, you.

a/n: this is a lil valentine’s day one shot i wanted to put out. slowly getting my writing juju back. this is also a follower milestone celebration. thank you to everyone who supports my work. love you all <3

divider by @saradika-graphics

It’d been a rough day.

A day where bones ached, minds were exhausted and all that was yearned for was to be home with each other.

You’d texted Joel that you were stopping off at the store to get some wine because hell, you needed to relax. He instantly texted you back to be safe and that he loves you.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

A true love like this is something you’d never in a million years think you’d ever have to yourself. Someone who cares so much. Someone you can cherish. A love that was all your own. You were so wrapped up in the bliss of Joel Miller, and he, you.

It was the kind of love that was terrifying and beautiful and gut wrenching and so fucking rare. A love that made you feel like you were floating in the clouds, euphoria pumping through your veins every time you looked at him. The kind of love that was a forever thing. Something you never, ever thought you’d have.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

The lights were off when you got home. You call out his name, hanging your keys on your designated hook before toeing off your pumps.

“Up here.” He calls back, voice cascading down the stairs. You make your way up and into the bedroom, setting your work bag down before you look around in confusion.

“Joel?” You call out, and his broad frame emerges from the bathroom.

“Hey baby.” He says. You smile softly at the sight of him, body visibly relaxing in his presence. Joel notices and the corner of his mouth twitches upward into a smile.

“Hi.” Your voice is as soft as your expression, allowing him to envelope the whole of your being into his strong, warm arms. He kisses your temple before gently taking the pinot grigio out of your hands, humming at your wine choice.

“Take your work clothes off and meet me in the bathroom.” He gives your forehead a kiss before disappearing again. You cock your eyebrow in confusion, but oblige to his request anyhow. You strip off your clothes, leaving your body clad in just your bra and underwear. The plush carpet beneath your bare feet feels heavenly after a day of wearing those pumps for work.

The cold tile of the bathroom sends a chill up your spine, but you ignore the sensation when you take in all that’s in front of you—a bubble bath with rose petals scattered atop, candles lit on the side of the tub, and a small tray of chocolate covered strawberries waiting to be devoured. Wine glasses filled with two cubes of ice each sit perfectly next to the strawberries, along with the pinot grigio.

You feel the sting of tears immediately. Your eyes move over to Joel, who’s standing with his hands behind his back and a boyish grin adorning his handsome face.

“What—what’s this?” Your voice is meek, eyes glossy and bottom lip slightly trembling.

“I know we won’t get that much time to ourselves on Valentine’s Day, so I thought we’d celebrate a little early. Y‘know, a nice way to relax after a tough day.”

“Joel, honey, this is perfect.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

You turn to face him fully. “I love it. And I love you.” You close the distance between the both of you, pulling him in for a tender kiss. He hums against your lips, enveloping your body into his arms. He slides his hands down to your ass, giving it a playful tap.

He unravels his arms from you before taking a small step back, shucking off his shirt and his pants. He looks at you as you watch him, desire for him pooling your eyes. A glint of fascination crosses his gaze as he studies you studying him.

“One more thing.” Joel says before stepping out of the bathroom. A minute later, soft tunes of Frank Sinatra wafted throughout the bedroom and into the bathroom. He comes back in with a smile on his face as he grabs your hand and twirls you before kissing you. You couldn’t help but smile against him.

He pulls down his underwear and climbs into the tub, groaning at the warm water against his achy bones.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” He nudges his head, holding his hand out to you. You smile and remove your bra and underwear, climbing into the tub with him. The warm water eased the tension that was left in your body, rolling off your shoulders and dissipating into the aroma of scented bubbles. Lavender, you think.

Joel pulls you back against his body, warm and inviting as you lean on him and close your eyes. You sit like that for a minute—still, calm, and silent. It’s what you both needed. Days like this could be more than overstimulating, and Joel knew that. You both basked in the fact that you could sit in silence in each other’s presence and be perfectly content.

You felt movement behind you, only to see Joel reaching for the wine bottle. He opens it with ease and pours the wine into the two glasses, clinking his with yours in a soft ‘cheers.’

Joel set his glass down on the edge of the tub, hands landing on your shoulders. Water sloshed gingerly with his movements. He started to dig his thumbs into the tense muscle. You couldn’t help but groan, head lolling to the side slowly.

“Feel good?” Joel chuckles close to your ear, goosebumps raising at the low vibrato of his voice.

“Mhm,” You manage.

Joel leans his mouth down to the base of your neck, leaving tender kisses in his wake. Your nails trace patterns on his thick thighs, the slow drag pulling at the need for you within him.

Your touch, your smile, your voice, your laugh, you. You drove him absolutely crazy. This man loved you more than life itself. If he could give you the whole world, he would—but for once in his life he knew he was enough.

“I love you, darlin’.” Joel’s voice is nearly a whisper. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your soft flesh repeatedly.

You crane your neck to face him and his hands drop to your arms.

“I love you more, cowboy.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Not possible.”

“Mm.” You muse, leaning in to kiss him. Those same rumbling butterflies stir in your stomach, heart strings pulling at the softness of his lips and how perfect they feel slotted with yours.

His tongue easily made its way into your mouth as you slid a hand into his slightly graying curls. You moaned into him, your other free hand gripping his thigh tighter as the neediness ignites within your body.

See, that was the thing. Joel had you wrapped around his fingers. He knew exactly what made you tick.

His hands slowly slide to your breasts, kneading them with such care before pinching both of your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. You gasp into the kiss at the sensation as it travels down like hot liquid to your core, already pulsing with aching need.

Joel’s small chuckle separates the kiss, and you lean your forehead against his cheek as he continues to toy with your pillowy flesh. Your breathing begins to stagger, mind clouded with the carnal desire for the man who’s stolen your heart.

“Joel,” You’re breathless, legs mindlessly rubbing together for any friction you can get. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” His chest rumbles with the low vibrato of his voice, goosebumps erupting on your skin once more.

“Fuck. Touch me. Please, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ love when my girl uses her manners. How do you want daddy to touch you?” His voice is a low growl, one hand easily gliding down the curves of your body before his fingertips brush over your mound. You can’t help the soft whimper that escapes you as he easily spreads your legs with his hand, running his middle finger down your slit. “Like this?”

You suck in a breath behind clenched teeth, head dropping back onto his shoulder as he starts to slowly drag his fingers over your slick sex. Even underwater, Joel could feel how aroused you are.

“Answer me, sweet girl. Tell me.”

“Y-yes. God, yes–please—fuck me with your fingers.”

You’ve come to learn how to be more vocal with Joel, always shying away from telling him what you wanted when it came to your pleasure at first. He eventually coaxed it out of you, telling you that there’s no reason to be shy around him. He’d take care of you all the same.

You knew that, but you were still grateful for the man being patient with you when words would get lodged into your throat, seemingly unwilling to be vocalized. It got easier over time, and the confidence you radiated when you and Joel initiated anything intimate was a show he’d always want a front seat to.

You moaned as he easily slipped a finger into you, disappearing down to the knuckle. It was a welcome stretch, his fingers always reaching places yours never could. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“Another one, please.” You sigh, rutting your hips down to grind onto his hand. He easily complies, this time a little bit more of a tight fit. You moan at the sensation, and Joel has a crooked grin on his face as he starts to languidly pump his fingers in and out of you. He was teasing you, you think, because he wanted to hear you beg him to go faster. And, truthfully, you weren’t above doing so.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me, baby,” He starts to pick up his pace, and you subconsciously bite your lip to quiet yourself down. “Uh uh, don’t go all shy on me now, darlin’. Wanna hear you. Wanna hear how I make you feel.”

“You know—shit—you know how you make me feel, Joel,” You reason with him, “You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Good.”

That was all he said before he picked up the pace of his fingers, curling them to press against the spongy spot in you that had your eyes rolling back and your toes curling. He swiped his thumb over your clit, finding a steady rhythm with his fingers.

One of your hands had his thigh in a vice grip, likely to leave scratch marks on his tan skin while the other held onto the edge of the tub. That same liquid heat traveled throughout the course of your body, pooling at the bottom of your spine. Waiting. Wanting. Begging to be released. You grind your hips down to match his pace, just needed a bit more of a push.

The whimpers and moans that eluded you only added to Joel’s own arousal, the occasional grunt from him reverberating off of the bathroom walls. His cock was solid against your back, and you couldn’t help but think how much self control this man had.

“Can feel your pretty pussy clenchin’ my fingers, sweetheart. You gonna come on them? Hm?” His lips are at your ear now, poking his tongue out to lick your earlobe before nibbling on it.

“Yes—oh, fuckfuckfuck. Right there, Joel, please don’t stop. Pleasepleaseplease—” You’re a begging, whimpering mess before you come undone, whole body shuddering as your orgasm washes over you so intensely.

“There you go. That’s it. My girl always does so well, hm? So fuckin’ well.” Joel praises you, slowly sliding his fingers out of you before running them over your slit once more, featherlight and meticulous. You shudder at the sensation, a choked moan escaping the hollows of your throat.

“What do you say?” Joel teases, riling you up.

“Thank you, daddy.” You laugh softly, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze.

You sit up and turn yourself around, careful not to slosh any water outside of the tub. Joel has an amused look on his face and you huff a laugh through your nose before kissing him. It was passionate, like something you’d see in those romance movies on the big screen.

It’s a silent promise, something that can’t be put into words. It surges through your veins and exists in you all the time, heightened by the very man that made you feel these things again.

You pull apart from him, rubbing your nose against his before you lean back to take in his handsome features. His dark brown eyes gleamed with budding love.

Your gaze shifts to the untouched strawberries, and you pluck one off of the plate before taking a bite. It’s sweet; the mixture of chocolate and the fruit dancing on your taste buds. You hold the rest of the strawberry to Joel’s lips, and he grins before taking a bigger bite. You place the calyx back on the tray, gaze drifting to Joel again.

You grin when you see some chocolate on his bottom lip.

“You got a little…” Your words die in your throat as you lean forward, licking his bottom lip before kissing him again. You move to straddle his lap, hips flexing to fit around the broadness of him.

“Be mine forever.” He whispers against you.

“I’m already yours, Joel. You’ve always had me.”

You trail a hand down his chest, toying with his hair before sliding your palm down his torso as your nails slightly scrape his flesh. You plant soft kisses all along his collarbone, tongue poking out to lick his already wet skin.

Your wandering hand brushes through the tuft, wiry hair that sat atop his aching cock. You hum against him and wrap your hand around his length. He pulses in your hand, heavy and waiting to be relieved. You begin to slide your hand up and down his silky flesh, nipping at his collarbone as you did so.

Joel sucks in a breath behind clenched teeth, eyes closing in pure bliss as he tries to refrain from bucking up into your hand.

“Such a pretty cock. Love it so much.” You muse, and Joel groans at your words. He’ll never get used to you worshiping him and his body the way you do, he thinks.

But, he loves it all the same. It makes his heart fucking flutter, and even though he’ll probably never openly admit it, he loves it. It makes him feel worthy. Wanted. Loved.

“It’d look even prettier buried in that perfect pussy.” He says, and your movements falter for a split second. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his filthy mouth, but it was something you couldn’t get enough of.

You look down at him with hooded eyes and a satiated grin before lifting your hips up to hover over him, swiping his tip over your folds before sinking down on him. You’re slow with your movements, wanting to feel every ridge and vein his pretty, pretty cock has.

You both moan in harmony as you reach the hilt.

“So-fuckin’-perfect.” Joel grits, head lolling back as he takes in the sensation of your warmth wrapped around him so perfectly, like you were specifically made to be there. And you are, you think.

Your hands rest on his shoulders as you start gliding up and down on him, the stretch so welcoming every time you fully sink back down. Joel’s hands settle onto your ass to guide you into a steady pace. He wraps his lips around one of your nipples, giving it a soft bite, and you gasp at the sensation. Joel could feel you clenching around him with every pass of his tongue on your sensitive bud.

One of your hands tangles itself into his curls once more, giving them a little tug. His eyes pop open and he lets go of your nipple with a small ‘pop’, gaze never wavering from yours. You toss him a saccharine smile before kissing the tip of his nose.

“So handsome.” You whisper, kissing every high point of his face before resting your forehead against his once more.

“Yeah?” He asks, fingers grazing down on your ass slotting themselves between the crevice of both cheeks.

“Mhm.” You bite your lip, knowing what was coming. It was something new that you tried around a month ago and really liked, so Joel would implement the action whenever he could.

The tip of his middle finger circled around the tight ring of your asshole, a wicked grin on his lips as your hips stuttered.

“Gotta fill you all the way up, darlin’.” He chuckles as he pushes his middle finger into your tight hole.

Your eyes clamp shut tight, feeling so full of the man you love.

“Fuck, god, Joel– feels s’good.” Your words are slurring together and you’re trying your damnedest to keep the pace of your hips steady, maybe even riding him a little faster if that means his finger in your ass will pump faster, too.

“I know, baby. Doin’ so well. So good for me, hm? Takin’ what I give ya, so full n’ all.” He cooes, nosing at your jaw as your mouth falls slack and eyebrows thread together.

The pleasure coursing through your body is devastatingly euphoric, the sensation of him everywhere driving you crazy in all the right ways.

You know it wouldn’t be long before you fell apart at the seams for him once more.

That deep, throaty growl he does while his eyes are shut in concentration, and the pulsing feeling of his cock is a dead giveaway that he’s going to fall apart for you, too.

“‘M close, Joel.” You’re clawing at his back now, his finger curling inside you as you bury your face into his neck.

Your hips burn from straddling his wide frame, desperate for a break, but you won’t stop. Not until You’re falling apart for him and he, you.

“I know, sweet girl. Can feel ya. Give it t’me, c’mon.” He groans, fucking up into you. His jaw ticks as his teeth clench, feeling you pulsing around him as you cry out his name in pure bliss. Another orgasm crashes through you, eyes rolling back as your body goes limp on his.

It only takes him a few more thrusts before he’s coming, filling you with everything he has. He moans with every stutter of his hips as his chest heaves up and down, body following suit with yours and going completely limp. He removes his finger from you slowly before you lift yourself off of him, already missing the feeling of being so full.

You stay wrapped up in eachother for a few minutes, giving yourselves the chance to catch your breaths. You kiss his chest repeatedly, placing your hand over his rapidly beating heart.

“I love you. So fucking much, Miller.” You laugh softly, tracing patterns on his chest as your head presses against the solidity of it.

The feeling of his beating heart surges life into you. Knowing that you get to exist at the same time as this gorgeous, loving man is a feeling you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. There really are no words for it, you think. At least not strong enough to describe the feeling.

“I love you too, darlin’. Forever.”

And then you think to yourself, you’d do life over and over again if it meant you got to meet Joel in every single one of them.

i’m such a fucking sap dude. lmfaooo anyway, hope y’all enjoyed <3

tags: @nostalxgic ; @ilovepedro ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @joelsgreys ; @pamasaur ; @cool-iguana ; @joeloverture

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you

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lizzieisright · 24 days

Note

omega abs ? 😣

oh my fucking god yes

female alpha!reader x omega!abby

Palestine: what can you do

Summary: Abby is sure she will never meet her dream alpha after what happened with Owen. And then she meets you.

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, descriptions of smut (heats/ruts), Owen is a piece of shit, reader is a sweetheart. Also I'll always make Ellie and Abby friends because their dynamic cracks me up every time.

Notes: this one is genuinely weird in terms of my writing style. It's 6k long for no reason except that I wanted to see how everything will play out and build some kind of omega!abby lore. Also it was meant as a bullet point thingy like hcs, but then it got too long, so the sentences might sound weird.

If you guys want something specific with omega!abby, reqs are open.

Me: *slaps the title of the fic* this bad boy can fit a whole multichapter in it.

/-/-/-/-/-/-

There's one thing Abby knows for certain when she turns 19: she is not a typical omega.

Abby's scent is not too sweet: she smells more like fresh roses than vanilla. All other omegas have more prominent scents, and Abby sees how alphas favour them. She is insecure about her scent, and she is not too prideful to admit she wants alphas to like her. Like any other omega Abby feels pressured by society to look a certain way - and she is already tall, so she starts going to the gym to get fit, to look more attractive, to grow that bubble butt everyone's talking about. She just started university and she wants to be cool.

(Ellie tells her it's all bullshit. Ellie is her biggest supporter and she is the one who growls at other alphas when it's needed. It's hilarious, because Ellie is fucking tiny. "I'm still an alpha, Anderson!" Ellie whines usually and Abby flicks her forehead.)

The gym works: she gets more attractive. Her butt is round, her arms are toned and her shoulders balance her hips, making her waist look thinner. Abby meets Owen and she thinks he is the one. He is the first alpha she spends her heat with. And well, maybe it's not how she imagined it would be, but Abby doesn't complain. After all, perfect alphas only exist in books and movies, not in reality.

(she dreamt about feeling safe and protected with her alpha, feeling loved and taken care of. Owen is all growls and bruises.)

Ellie hates Owen's guts. There's always some sick smell when they're in the same room, and Abby is doing all she can to manage it and make two of the most important alphas in her life like each other. Owen tries to convince Abby that alphas and omegas can't be friends - and it works. Abby stops spending too much time with Ellie, tricked into thinking that Ellie actually has feelings for her. Ellie lets it happen.

(Owen is so much more violent during ruts. Abby knew this too: alphas are ruthless in ruts, but she didn't expect being borderline assaulted. Again, she doesn't complain. She is in love, and Owen knows better.)

Abby keeps going to the gym, and in time her muscles grow and show more. Abby is happy - she put so much work into her body and it shows now! She is so much stronger now, and she doesn't mind that her waist is not so tiny anymore. Abby feels powerful.

Owen, however, gets grumpier with every pound of muscle on Abby's body: he doesn't like it. He doesn't support her when she shows how much progress she made.

Then he starts joking about it. He tells her it makes her look less like omega. That she is almost as big as he is. That people won't be able to tell who is the alpha in their relationship. Abby swallows everything and starts doing more cardio. She wants Owen to be happy. She wants to be his mate one day.

And then one day Abby catches Owen with another omega.

She is small and smells like coconut, she is everything Abby isn't.

Abby wants to die.

Abby calls Ellie for the first time in months, sobbing violently. Ellie picks her up and spends the night soothing Abby, and the next day beating the shit out of Owen. Yes, she is tiny, but alpha strength is alpha strength, and Ellie is furious.

Abby doesn't really recover from this. She thought Owen would be her first and her last, but now her dreams and her self-esteem are in ruins.

Abby blames herself for Owen's cheating. She blames herself for building her body, for not being omegy enough, for having a weak scent, for not being what he wanted.

So Abby grows distant, believing she has no worth as an omega. She avoids alphas, she doesn't recognize when someone's interested. She doesn't let herself smell other people. The only alpha she still talks to is Ellie, because Ellie is Ellie. Her best goblin friend who doesn't even react to her heats, because she is so used to Abby.

(it actually breaks Abby's heart a little: is her scent so weak it doesn't affect alphas at all?)

Her younger brother, Lev, moves to the city for university when Abby is in her graduation year, and Abby puts her energy into taking care of him. She comes to his place from time to time, bringing food or snacks for him. They have movie nights as well. It makes Abby feel less alone. Less useless.

One day Lev asks her to come to the party with him: it's his first time going to a party and he has no idea what to do, especially since there'd be really cool people who are his seniors and he doesn't want to have an egg on his face.

"Can you ask Ellie to come as well? Please? I need more cool people on my side."

Abby laughs and makes sure Ellie is going to come. Ellie adores Lev, so she agrees immediately.

This party is on another level, Abby thinks. It's not frat bros and awful alphas like it was when Abby went to parties with Owen. This party looks like all smart and successful people in the uni decided to get piss drunk, and it is as cool as it is hilarious. Abby knows some of them - she waves at Nora and hugs Manny when he sees her: they're only people Abby kept in contact with after breaking up with Owen. They stopped being friends with him the moment they found out what happened.

Lev is very nervous. He clings to Abby's arm and she laughs kindly.

"Hey, relax. You're supposed to have fun."

"Yeah, I know." Lev says, a little irritated, but it makes Abby and Ellie laugh again.

Ellie takes everything in her hands and comes back with three beers, opening them for Lev and Abby. Abby chuckles at her typical alpha behaviour, but doesn't tease her. They share a drink, and Lev is still nervous, so Ellie takes him to the dance floor and he finally relaxes next to his second favourite person and his first favourite alpha.

Or so Abby thinks.

She watches another person come to them, and by the way Ellie tenses Abby guesses it's an alpha. Abby tenses too: the protectiveness kicks in.

But the alpha smiles and hugs Lev like Abby does: like if this alpha was Lev's older sister. They talk for a bit and then Lev points in Abby's direction. The alpha nods and waves at Abby. She waves back, confused.

And then this alpha makes her way to Abby.

Abby is caught off guard: the alpha is hot. She is also friendly judging by the smile and the way she treated Lev, and Abby can’t decide how to behave around her. She is not bitter after what happened with Owen, but she is definitely out of practice of talking with hot alphas.

You watch Lev's sister's face go through a variety of emotions, and it makes you chuckle - you too would be confused. But you want to meet her and make sure she knows Lev is taken care of: he is under your wing. He is a sweet kid, shy one, and you know how nervous he is about everything, so you want him to have this safety net.

"Hi!" You say cheerfully and give your hand for a handshake. You try not to think of how beautiful Lev's sister is, how much her blue eyes hypnotise you. She is fucking adorable, that what she is.

"Hi?" And her voice is soft too. You blink to clear your mind and tell her your name. You can’t smell her, but you’re pulled to her like a magnet.

"I'm Lev's student guide." Abby nods, not sure if she is okay with an alpha around her baby brother.

"I'm Abby, Lev's sister." You beam at Abby and she feels her stomach flutter. Abby quickly tries to kill the butterflies, but you seem so genuine. She can't smell you when there's so many people around, and maybe it's a good thing.

“Lev gave me your number as an emergency contact, and I just wanted you to know if an unknown number texts you that Lev is puking after doing beer pong, it will be me.” Abby can't help her chuckle: you do sound genuine. Abby feels like you really care about her brother and it makes her feel better.

Lev and Ellie come back and Abby looks at how Lev's face lights up when you smile at him. Oh no. He has a crush on you. It breaks Abby’s heart: she sees how you treat him like a baby brother, and Abby knows Lev has no chance. She also thinks if she looked like this when she met Owen, all star-struck and hopeful. At least you look like a better person.

Abby also feels how tense Ellie is around you. Another alpha thing, but this one is annoying - Ellie’s protectiveness is borderline territorial, so Abby glares at her. Ellie glares back, but some of the tension goes away.

You ruffle Lev’s hair and ask him to enjoy the party and find you if they need anything. Ellie only fully relaxes when you’re lost in the crowd.

“She is the coolest.” Lev tells them and Ellie huffs. “She always helps me around. Saved my ass a few times as well.”

“Well, kid, I don’t want you to get hurt by her, okay?” Ellie says and Lev blushes.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I know nothing will happen.” Lev smiles. “She likes people on her level. Someone like you, Abby.”

Abby’s heart skips a beat in pain. There's no way an alpha like you would like an omega like her.

Or if there is, then there's something wrong with you and you shouldn't be around her brother.

“She doesn't seem too bad.” Ellie says almost through her teeth; she is as annoyed at her nature as Abby is, but she tries to have a clear head. “But if she hurts you, I'll kill her.”

Abby would laugh, but the image of Owen's bloody face and a broken wrist don't let her. It's a good thing he didn't press charges, too humiliated to admit he got his ass kicked for cheating.

Abby forgets about you until she is getting ready to sleep tonight. She puts her palm under her cheek, blissfully unaware, and takes a breath that is full of your scent. It shakes her, having an alpha scent on her, and Abby can't control herself.

Abby's cheeks burn, her heart picks up speed. Her cunt throbs.

You smell amazing. It has an edge, like any other alpha’s scent, but it's not suffocating. Well no. It is, but it doesn't feel bad, it makes Abby bury her nose in her palm and take a deep sniff. It makes her feel safe.

And Abby is terrified. She can't like your scent. It's dangerous, she can't risk herself like this, it's stupid. Lev has a crush on you, for god's sake! And even if she could, you'd never look her way. You're a good alpha and good alphas like pretty, small, sweet smelling omegas. Not Abby.

She doesn’t know that she also left some of her scent on your palm. She doesn’t know you’ve been smelling it the whole night, addicted to the smell of fresh roses and memory of pretty blue eyes. She doesn't know that you struggle to control your eyes from changing to alpha red the whole time.

You're ready to claw walls after meeting the prettiest omega of your life that you know is sweet and kind and smart: Lev really can't shut up about his sister. It's fucking eating you alive.

And you have no idea when you'll meet her again, but then you remember that both of you are in the same university. So you start trying to figure out her schedule. You know she is a med student, so you take a chance at going to the library.

And you're not wrong: Abby is there, looking miserable as she takes her notes. Your instincts kick in and you try to think of a way to make her feel better, but you get your shit together: it would be creepy.

So you just walk over and ask to sit next to her. Abby is surprised, but she lets you anyway.

It's awkward. You both are trying to not inhale too much, but the scents are respectively addictive: you smell her fresh roses and she smells your spice and safety. You want to bury yourself in her neck and mark her, scent her, make her yours, but you push these thoughts away.

“How's Lev doing?” Abby asks, not being able to concentrate anymore. It's even more embarrassing that you both smell of attraction, but it doesn't really mean anything: it was proven to be an instinct thing, therefore not reliable in human society. It just makes everything awkward for everyone.

“He is excellent, honestly. He got interested in charity work and I think he will soon be cleared to volunteer at animal shelters.”

“Good. Thanks for looking after him. I don't want him to get hurt, you know?” Abby didn't mean to say this, but you catch the meaning of her words anyway. She can smell a faint hurt coming from you, but it's not big enough.

“I'll do whatever I can to make sure he is safe.” You promise Abby and her attraction grows. You blink, but get back into conversation, trying to find more about Abby.

Abby is.. reluctant. She is polite, but her answers are short, and you're not an idiot, you can take a hint, so you apologise for taking her time and go.

Abby watches you go and gets filled with sorrow. You seem so sweet, and it scares her. She can't understand what is your angle and why are you bothered with her. She is sad because she wants you to be bothered with her. She wants you to like her; but Abby's brain doesn't even entertain the idea of it. Plus, Lev is crushing on you, it would be absolutely unfair of her to like you.

The sour smell of sadness makes Ellie restless when she gets to the library half an hour later for their study session. She looks Abby over and tries to piece together what's wrong.

“Did something happen?”

Abby is also reluctant to tell Ellie, but she does it anyway. Ellie frowns the whole time, not pleased with another alpha upsetting her baby. Abby is quick to defend you and say that it's she who is the problem. Ellie kicks her under the table.

“You are not a problem. It's Owen in your head again! Let go of this asshole. There are better alphas than him, fuck, any decent alpha is better than him. Don't assume shit.” Ellie tells her and Abby nods.

Abby decides to try. Maybe at least she can make a friend. So the next time you see her in the library, she actually smiles at you.

You swallow. Hard. Abby is gorgeous.

So you sit next to her and surprisingly, the conversation flows so much better than the last time. You think she was just super busy back then.

Abby is so fucking oblivious it's not funny. She talks to you like she'd talk to Ellie: she doesn't believe your scent, convinced it's just nature and alphas are like this sometimes, so she is relaxed. You can be friends, she thinks. You're great and smell amazing, so you can be friends.

You're almost salivating the whole time. Abby is cute as fuck, and she is hot as fuck: she takes her hoodie off and stays in a tight crop top, and you ogle at her arms and shoulders. She is incredible.

“I know we've just met, but I can't leave without asking. Would you go on a date with me?”

Abby's scent spikes in surprise, and then anxiety. An awful, sick smell that makes you back off.

“Oh. Oh, I'm sorry.” You tell her, eager to get rid of this stench, to keep Abby calm and safe.

“Are you sure?” Abby asks, not really believing her ears.

“I mean, I really want to get to know you better.” You admit.

“Lev has a crush on you.” Abby blurts and you laugh kindly.

“I know. We talked about it with him. I don't let this stuff slide when it happens.” It makes Abby feel a little easier. “But if you're uncomfortable, I totally get it. I'd love to be your friend as well.”

“...I need to talk to Lev first.” Abby admits, her cheeks feel hot.

“Of course. Let me know then.” You smile sweetly, your scent is so full of attraction it's hard to find an excuse for it, so Abby just ignores it.

She smells excited now and you beam. “You’re so pretty.” You blurt before you can stop yourself, but Abby starts to smell so sweetly and her cheeks are rosy now, you feel on cloud nine.

“Thanks, I guess.” She says, shy, and you nod. You say your goodbyes and leave Abby to study.

Abby thinks she's gone insane. Or you've gone insane. There's no way you actually asked her on a date.

But Abby wants to go so much. She didn't admit it, but she was getting lonely, and then suddenly you came along and made her heart beat faster.

So she gains courage and talks to Lev. He gets sad, but not the sour kind, the faint lavender of regret.

“I told you she would like you.” Lev smiles and Abby hugs him, trying to comfort him. “She is good, I promise.”

“I'm sorry, Lev.”

“Don't be.” Lev chuckles and they spend the evening watching the movie.

Next day you text Abby to find out if everything worked out and she gives you a positive. You grin like an idiot the whole day and plan the date.

You don't get all romantic on your first date, since you feel like Abby might get anxious, so you two just go to a bar and have a game of pool.

It's perfect: you both are competitive, you get to see Abby bend down and you get to flirt a lot after a drink. Abby is wearing high waisted jeans and her bubble butt looks amazing in them. You don't know this, but Abby was desperate to make herself look more like an omega, and even if she couldn't hide her shoulders and biceps, she wanted to compensate for it, showing off her butt.

Abby is oblivious to your hungry eyes when she takes a hit, but you're struggling. Abby is sweet and she smells so fucking good. You're itching to touch her, but you keep yourself in check. So instead you compliment her. A lot.

Abby is flustered: no one ever talked to her like this. No alpha made it clear to her that they found her this attractive. But you keep your mouth running. “Your shirt looks so good on you.” “Sorry, I can't stop staring at your shoulders. They're very nice.”

Abby laughs at this one and feels more comfortable in her own skin. So she opens up. “My ex didn't like that I work out so much.” She chuckles, and you look at her in mock offence. It makes her laugh.

“What a fucking idiot. Only cowards don't appreciate muscle mommies.” You scrunch your nose and Abby laughs harder.

“God, what is this nickname?”

You get flustered and Abby feels all giddy. She didn't expect any alpha to get flustered, especially not because of her. “You know. When girls, especially omegas, build up a lot of muscles? People really dig it.”

“Do you?” Abby asks, coy, and she sees the red flash in your eyes. It makes her press her thighs together.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” You say and there's a hint of an alpha voice. Abby's chest is going to explode.

You don't kiss Abby properly tonight, instead opting to kiss her hand: you like her, and you don't want to rush it. Abby gets flustered and you can't help the spike in your scent that makes Abby's cheeks red.

(No, you don't get off on her scent when you come home.)

(No, Abby doesn't fuck herself on her fingers when she comes home, burying her nose into her palm where she can catch your scent.)

You both take it slow. You kiss her for the first time on your third date and Abby folds in your hands while you purr and knead her sides.

Abby starts spending more time at your place, where you just cuddle and watch something. You start catching her scent all around your apartment, and it's driving you crazy. You want Abby to be yours so desperately, but you make yourself think with your head and not with your dick, so you don't rush.

You're in your class when you get a call from Lev. You don't pick up the first one, but when he calls for the second time, you walk out of the class and take the call.

Lev is crying.

Turns out his heat came during his class and now he is scared of going home on his own. Your instincts kick in and you grab your shit at a lighting speed before storming to Lev. You text Abby while you're running, and then your mind shifts into protective mode.

It's hard being around an omega in heat: it's hard for the both of you. Lev clings to you while you wrap your arm around his shoulders and walk him from campus to his place. You know your eyes are red and you're low-key growling, but you keep comforting Lev.

“It's okay. I'll get you home, and Abby is going to be here, okay? I'll keep you safe, don't worry. You're doing great, just a little more, can you walk a little more for me?”

Your voice soothes Lev and you make it to his place where Abby is already pacing in worry.

She takes a look at you and her breath hitches. Your eyes are red and so hungry, Abby feels horny and sorry for you: she doesn't know how much willpower you need to keep your head straight when there's an omega in distress and in heat.

You both get Lev inside his apartment and you retreat to the kitchen while Abby takes care of Lev. She fusses around, gives him pills and sends him to take a shower. You sit straight, your firsts tight as you watch your girlfriend being all motherly. This mixed with the smell of heat makes you feral. It gets harder to control, especially when Abby stands in front of you, her gorgeous scent in your nose.

“How are you?” She asks, compassionately. And you grit your teeth.

“Can you-” You start with a growl and you smell Abby's arousal. “Fuck. Can you come here?” You pat your lap.

The moment Abby sits down you grab her and bury your nose in her neck, your arms are tight around her back. Abby yelps when you press her closer and her scent spikes with arousal, making you growl.

“I'm not- I'm not going to do anything. I just need a moment.” You growl and Abby swallows. Her arousal tickles your nose and you growl louder, pressing your nose closer to her scent glands.

Abby is so wet in her pants she is afraid she will leak on you, but she can't help it: you're usually so sweet, hiding your nature, and now you're acting so alpha-like, and it does things to her.

“Shit. We can't-” Abby's arousal gets mixed with anxiety and you want to sneeze to get it out of your nose.

“We're not doing anything. Not like this. I just need a redirection.” You take a deep inhale full of Abby's scent and you finally settle down. Your voice returns and you feel like you can control your eyes again. You ease your hold on Abby and the anxiety goes away. “Did I scare you?”

Abby is baffled. It's such a big contrast to how Owen treated her before, she is lost for words. You're worried if you sniffing her scared her while Owen didn't care if he left bruises.

The air gets filled with the smell of fresh bakery - the scent of love and affection - and you almost tremble under Abby in excitement.

“A little. I was worried if you'd stop.”

“I have excellent self-control, baby.” You wink at Abby and she slaps your bicep.

She moves a certain way that makes her pelvis move against yours and you grunt: the scent of Abby's arousal got you half-hard already, and you're kinda sensitive now.

Abby also feels it. She grows red and you giggle, kissing her cheek.

“Lev is going to be out of the shower soon, I should go.”

“Okay.” Abby gets up from her seat on your lap and you pout. “Do you want-” Abby shakes her head. It's a stupid idea.

“Do I want what?”

“Something with my scent?”

You swallow and nod. Abby stands for a second, thinking, and then just takes her shirt off, letting you see her in a bra. You see her small tits covered by her lacy bra and adjust your pants. She is so fucking hot and this is so not the time, but your cock twitches and gets harder with every second while you stare at the most beautiful omega in your life.

“You're a fucking menace.” You growl again and kiss Abby with hunger, the rumbling in your chest resonating in hers. Abby goes pliant and kisses you back.

It takes you two tries to get away from her, but Abby is so delicious it's insane.

You spend the evening in your apartment, getting off on Abby's shirt, fantasising about her going into heat and how you would take care of her and how good you would make her feel.

You're together for a few months now when Abby's heat comes. You can smell it on her the day before, when she is all whiny and tired, sleeping for the bigger part of the movie on top of you. Her usual rose scent is getting stronger.

“Are you close to your heat?” Abby hums in agreement and you swallow, staring at the ceiling. “Okay. I can smell it.”

“Oh.” Abby is surprised. She doesn't have a very prominent scent so she didn't expect you to notice. “Oh I didn't think you'd smell it.”

“Your scent is my fucking heaven, of course I would.”

Abby blushes. Deeply. And you feel her press her thighs together. It makes your dick twitch.

“I think it'll start tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to be with you?” You ask innocently and Abby chuckles. “I mean, we haven't done anything yet and I understand if you want to wait and have normal sex first. Well, if you even want to have se-”

Abby cuts you off with a kiss and you relax. “We can try normal sex now.”

And you do. It's slow and sweet and you both laugh when you bump heads and knees and when you have to fumble around for lube since you're messy, but it's perfect.

You're not aggressive, but you still growl and claw at Abby's soft thighs, and it's a perfect balance of care and pure animalistic want, and Abby feels wanted. She kinda wants to see your control break.

And then you dip down between her thighs and Abby yelps and pushes your head away, shy. “You don't have to-”

“I really fucking want to. But if you don't want me to, it's okay. I won't.”

“I've never done it before.” Abby admits, embarrassed. She asked Owen to do it once but he looked weirded out by her ask, so Abby felt ashamed to ask again. You stare at her in shock - a good-natured one - and Abby hides her face.

You slow down and get on her level again, gently moving her hand away. “Hey, it's cool. I didn't mean to belittle you, I just- you're so pretty and so gorgeous, who wouldn't want to go down on you?” Abby looks at you, so deeply touched by your care she feels her eyes water. She smells of love again and you giggle, burying your nose in her neck. “We don't have to do it.”

“I kinda wanna try.” Abby murmurs, smiling, and you beam at her.

“I'll go slow, okay? Tell me what feels good and what's not, yeah?”

That's how Abby ends up being eaten out for the first time. She loves the feeling of your mouth on her and how your fingers curl inside her. She loves how your eyes gradually become alpha red the closer she is to cumming.

She comes down from her high and looks at you, half naked and red-eyed, like a predator you're meant to be, and her cunt throbs.

Abby rides you until you're a grunting mess under her as she massages your tits and clenches around you. You growl, but you don't grab her or hurt her, just let her have fun, and Abby is so fucking happy.

“I can't wait to spend my heat with you.” Abby moans and you cum immediately, filling her up.

This time Abby gets to feel safe and taken care of during her heat as you attend her every whim, every request, from “cum inside me” to “I really want some chocolate ice-cream”. You do everything, and Abby can't be happier. She texts Ellie as much when you're out to get her ice-cream and Ellie just sends vomiting emojis.

Of course then she tells Abby she is happy for her and that she is going to be a best woman at your wedding.

Abby doesn't want to admit, it scares her, but she wants to be your mate one day.

You come back not only with chocolate ice-cream, but with some junk food as well. Abby can't help but to drop to her knees right in the hallway.

You also help Abby recover after the heat, bringing her snacks and letting her nap every chance you can, and Abby knows she is in love with you. She doesn't even need to tell you: she constantly smells of love and lust around you now, but she decides to do it anyway.

You're balls deep in her while she pinches your nipples and nibbles at your scent glands, making you whimper in her ear. “Fuck, you feel so good around me.”

“I love you.” Abby says sweetly and you shudder on top of her, and Abby feels how your cock twitches when you cum. Abby feels your fangs scraping her scent glands and she cums too, milking you.

“Fuck, baby, shit! I love you too, I love you so fucking much, shit-” You pant and Abby grins.

Abby likes making a mess out of you.

For some insane reason, Abby's excited for your rut. She didn't like spending ruts with Owen, but you're so gentle and patient, Abby is sure she'll be okay.

Your rut comes after a month after Abby's heat. Abby likes how possessive you get in pre-rut, even though you start growling at Ellie, which doesn't end well with Ellie's explosive temper. You get along well any other time, but the constant stare down irritates Ellie to the point when she tells Abby, “go fuck the crazy out of your alpha, she is so fucking annoying. Yeah, you.” Ellie stares at you while you tug Abby closer on your lap, scenting her. “Oh my god, get a fucking room. I know Abby is like, your Jesus or whatever, but it's too much.”

Abby just giggles and enjoys how your growling changes to purring. Abby turns to you and cradles your face. “My alpha.” She murmurs and Ellie groans.

“I fucking hate you guys.”

“Not our fault you fell in love with another alpha, Ellie.” You chuckle.

“Fuck off.” She growls and two if you laugh.

Abby stays at your place and you get to fall asleep with her in your arms.

On the next day you wake up with a heavy head. You're already hard and Abby is right there, soft and sleeping. You think about how her wet hot pussy feels around your cock and your pheromones spike up so high Abby wakes up.

She can tell right away that you're in rut. Your scent is suffocating. It's not soft, safe suffocating scent that Abby likes, it's the one that gets stuck in her nose and makes her cunt clench around nothing. She wants nothing more than to get on her fours and present herself for you - this is how much power you have over her.

“My rut-”

“Yes, I-”

“If you don't want to be here, I think I can hold off for 10 minutes and let you leave.” You growl and it only turns Abby on.

So she does what she wants - she gets on her knees, her cunt right in front of your face, and arches her back.

“Knot me, baby.”

All your restraints break. You're rough and you make Abby take everything: if she is not cumming on your cock, she is cumming on your fingers as you fuck your cum back into her, or she is sitting on your face. Abby struggles to keep up with you, since she is not in heat, but she can't wait to take your knot, and she tells you as much. You growl and fuck her harder, feeling your release building up. Abby is so pretty under you, covered in marks, her tits red from your mouth. She spreads her legs and you pin her thighs by her sides, watching your cock disappear in her pretty little pussy. You finally push your knot into Abby and she whimpers, tries to adjust to your size, but you rub her clit and she clamps on you.

“Mine. My omega. My girl.” You growl loudly while Abby clenches around your knot, thrashing on the bed. It's too much pleasure and she knows you're far from done.

And Abby is right. You make her cum on your knot four other times, and only after she makes you cum again - which means she cums st least three times more - you give her a break. You're still sweet, but now it's possessive sweetness. You don't let her do anything, bathing and feeding her, but she is so exhausted she doesn't even notice.

“I wanna nap.” Abby tells you when she is snuggled against your chest. It's a small break before you would get horny again.

“You should. You did so well.” Abby giggles and nuzzles your neck.

“Don't wait if you get horny again. It would be a nice way to wake up.”

“I fucking love you.”

“You better. You're my alpha. It's a requirement.”

“You call me your alpha again and you're not napping, babe. Go the fuck to sleep.” You kiss her forehead and Abby laughs.

Abby doesn't know if it's luck or destiny, but this time she is sure: you are the one for her.

(and she is right.)

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #omega!abby #written on a knee

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lovelybrooke · 10 months

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Yandere Spiderman Across the Spiderverse x reader Concept

I really, really loved this movie and I'm super excited to write for it. I'm kinda sad this was only part 1, but it was great either way. On another note, I've seen the requests for this movie, and I will be writing those, so be patient with me. Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy, and please request if you want to see more. (This is also not going to be 100% canon, sorry).

Life is super boring, at least that's how you viewed it. Everything was pretty monotonous, you wake up, go to school, go to work, go home, do homework, eat, sleep, and repeat. It's not even like it was bad, it's just, tiring.

This was until you meant Peter Parker. At the time, you thought there was nobody else like him, how stupid were you, right? You met when you two were paired up for a project at school, and eventually, after a little encouragement and time, you two became best friends.

Of course, at the time, you knew about Spiderman, New York's friendly neighborhood hero, but you never thought it was Peter. When he told you, you honestly thought he was joking, laughing at him as he tried to be open with you. After a long, long talk, you eventually came to terms with your friend's responsibility.

Everything was pretty good for a while, and you eventually even started helping Peter out on his little hero escapades. You weren't as courageous as him, so you ended up becoming his "guy in the chair", you didn't come up with the name. Your knowledge in technology allowed you to stay back and help him on missions from the safety of your home. You'd notify him whenever there was a villain in the area, hack into surveillance cameras to make sure he wasn't being seen by the police, and even made some upgrades to him suit to make him even stronger.

Everything was great, until the death of Peter's Uncle Ben. He meant everything to Peter, so when he died, Peter just, stopped talking to you for a while, it's like he just completely shut down. You tried to get a hold of him, but it was basically impossible. His aunt May never knew where he was, and you couldn't track his suit, so for a while, he was just a ghost.

When he did finally show up again, he was different. He used to be extroverted, happy and bubbly. But when he returned after months of silence, he was cold and distant. You could tell something was off with him, and the fact that you couldn't track his suit put you off. You knew he was okay with the tracker so you could contact him in case of emergencies, so then why was it suddenly not working?

For the short time Peter was back, he barely talked to you, and when he did, he was muttering something about someone trying to get him, which you assumed was because he was so out of it after coming back. When you tried to ask about it, he rambled something about the multiverse, before quickly shutting up. You never got the chance to ask him about it, because the next day he was gone, again. And you haven't seen him since.

And that's how you're back to your supper boring life. It was sad that your best and only friend was gone, Aunt May was devastated. Most of your time was spent trying to find him, using all the knowledge you had to find any trace of him. You assumed that his disappearance had something to do with the metaverse nonsense he was muttering about, but everything you found led to a dead end.

You were about to give up when a strange portal appeared into your room. It started out small, before quickly overtaking most your room, sucking you and some of your stuff in with it. It was a terrifying few seconds before you stopped moving, your butt hitting the floor. When you opened your eyes, you quickly figured out you were in some strange new place. Even though the room you were in was dark, you could tell it was super high tech, computers and wires everywhere.

It took you a while to stand up, disoriented as you were. As you stood up, a few lights turned up. Not enough lights to make you feel less nervous, but enough to see who was in the room with you. The man was tall, towering over you on his hovering platform, his back towards you. You didn't want to say anything, afraid of the man in front of you.

"You're digging to deep, (Y/N)." He said, his head tilting toward you, only a part of his face visible.

"Who are you?" You murmur, "why am I here?" you question.

"Don't worry, I'm doing this for your own good." What does that mean? His platform eventually reaches the ground, allowing him to walk close to you. Despite his intimidating demeanor, you felt a sense of comfort around him, which almost caused you to let your guard down. Slowly, the man brought his hand close to your head, brushing a small strand of hair out of your face. "I'm Miguel O'Hara, Earth-928's Spiderman."

You started to panic at that, this must be the Multiverse Peter was talking about. You took a step back from Miguel, the room around you becoming tense once again. You shake your head, giving Miguel a confused look, "So, the Multiverse is real? There's more than one Spiderman?" Miguel takes a slow step forward, eying you carefully.

"Yes." That doesn't really answer your question, but he continues, "and it's my job to make sure the multiverse stays stable." You look at the ground, suppressing tears, is that why Peter is gone? You stay quiet, prompting Miguel to continue, "that's why I need your help." Shocked, you looked at him, Miguel getting closer and closer to you. "With your skills, you can help a lot of people." You didn't know how to respond, simply looking at him with tear feared eyes. When Miguel wrapped you up in a tight hug, your fears for Peter were confirmed, he was gone.

---

Ever since, you've been working for Spider society. You mostly stayed with Miguel, seeing him a sort of father figure, even though you would never tell him that. Miguel gave you a room close to his, a room you barely even left, why would you when all your computers and tech is in there.

Miguel was protective of you the moment he met you, met being a strong word since you didn't know about him. You were just so kind and happy; he was almost jealous of your earths Spiderman. He never planned on killing him, especially since he knew what it would do to your dimension, but you were safer with him anyway.

He hated when you started becoming friends with the other Spider people, mainly the ones closer to you in age. He knew you were shy, but that also meant people would take advantage of you. It's why he didn't mind you staying in your room, he could keep watch of you there better anyway.

Gwen was fine, since for the most part she wasn't a troublemaker. She was the one to make sure you were eating, which Miguel was appreciative of. She would also bring in movies from her dimension for you to watch. Pavitr wasn't that bad, though he did like to push you out of your comfort zone a lot, but always knew when you were uncomfortable. Hobie was a different story, he was like a big brother to you, and would do your makeup and teach you how to play different instruments. Though, he always managed to get you caught up in all his little scheming, which does not make Miguel happy. When Miles eventually starts showing up, he also becomes one of your close friends, often hanging out with you and Gwen.

Most of the Spiders were pretty aware of their obsession with you, some of them more conscious of their behavior than others, but they see it as their job to protect you. You're one of the few non spiders welcomed into Spider society, of course your important to them. They've all lost so much; they couldn't lose you too. None of them are afraid of using their trauma against you to make you forget about your dimension and your Peter.

For most of them, you're the only peace they have. When they come back from a long mission, they just want to be with you, because you're the only constant in their lives. You're probably the only thing keeping Miguel from losing his mind, he just wants to keep you safe. They all just want to keep you safe.

It's why Miguel doesn't let you leave HQ; it's why he encourages you to call him dad. It's why Gwen will subtly remind you about the death of her best friend and how she couldn't handle losing you as well. It's why Hobie and Pavitr get upset when you mention anything from your dimension. Its why Miles can't stand being away from you for more than a week. You understand, don't you?

---

A/n: I don't know how to feel about this but I'm happy it's out. I know I didn't get into Jessica or Peter B Parker, but I hope you guys like this. I have a lot of ideas for this, and I will not be shutting up about Spiderman anytime soon. Please, please, please request. Thank you!!!

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere spiderman #yandere spiderverse #platonic spiderverse #platonic yandere spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #platonic miguel o'hara #platonic yandere miguel o'hara #spider man across the spider verse #spider man into the spider verse #fanfiction

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greenishghostey · 1 year

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Peppermint Haze

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, bath sex, p in v, unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, fluffy smut, established relationship, Eddie getting to chill out, dirty talk, creampie, soapy boobs, winter themed porn, lots of grinding, this is really just mushy fluffy porn so yeh

Word Count: 3,361

Author’s Notes: Please pretend that bath sex is not a logistical nightmare and that bubble baths aren’t terrible for vaginal health. The cosy, comfy vibes were too good to pass up so here we are :))) DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

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Hawkins always got indescribably cold by the middle of November. Snow would pile up on tree branches and sidewalks - becoming less of a Christmas card backdrop and more of a slushy inconvenience.

That was definitely the case at Forest Hills Trailer Park. The dirt track roads were frozen solid and covered in a thick layer of powder and wintery mush. A lot of the park’s residents took turns digging out sections of the roads since everyone still had to get to work. Winter wouldn’t stop the likes of Wayne Munson from making it to his Friday night shift.

Eddie and Wayne had been shovelling out Patty, their hippy elderly, neighbour’s grey hatchback when you showed up at their trailer. Friday night was date night, and the shitty weather meant it would be an evening in Eddie’s trailer.

Both you and Eddie had planned an extremely relaxing night since the week had been hell for you both. Eddie had been working late at the craft store because the holiday rush was beginning - he‘d kept you updated on his projects that mainly consisted of measuring fabric and lifting all of the heavy boxes. You had been dealing with an influx of school kids at the library - rushing to get books for their last-minute assignments and begging you for help finding specific titles. So, a little indulgent date was much needed for the pair of you.

Gloria, one of your coworkers, had gifted you with a small Christmas “spa” hamper as a thank you for all your hard work. It consisted of peppermint bath oil, vanilla body wash that doubled as bubble bath, and a cocoa butter lotion. It was all super nice stuff which made you feel a little bad for only having Christmas cards to give to your colleagues. However, the festive kit led to you and Eddie agreeing on your main date night activity.

A really really long bath. He was the one to suggest the idea after you gushed over the gift - the suggestion was mostly innocent, surprisingly. Honestly, you both just wanted to be all cosy and gross in the privacy of his home.

That’s how you found yourself submerged in an amazing soapy bath that smelled like heaven. Only your face was poking out from the bubbles as you breathed deeply - floating and listening to the muffled sounds of Eddie rummaging around his room for tapes. He said he’d made a tape, especially for the evening, making you melt even further into the minty bliss. Your sinuses were going to be so clear after this.

Eddie barged into the steamy bathroom in his usual loud, sort of clumsy way. The tile floor was more slippery than he’d anticipated so he had nearly crashed into the room. You poked your head up and gave him a little wave from the bubbles - hair soaked and a touch of foamy stubble on your jaw.

Once your sleepy eyes focused on him properly, you saw that he was butt naked while fiddling with his stereo on the counter.

You leaned on your forearms on the edge of the bath. “I don’t tell you enough how nice your butt is.” You sighed, smiling up at him when he glanced at you.

“I’d say it’s a little better than “nice”, at least “premium goods” status.” Eddie huffed jokingly, now slapping his stereo in an attempt to get the tape deck to stay closed. He was a firm believer in if you smacked technology around a little and showed it who’s boss then it would work. “Babe, you’re objectifying me while I’m trying to set a romantic mood, all for you.” He shot you an exaggerated pinch glare over his shoulder.

In reality, he really liked when you ogled him and made him feel hot. “This is a small bathroom and your ass is right at my eye level. Get over it, dude.” You smirked, sinking back into the warm water.

“-I bet you say that to all the boys,” purred the voice from the stereo. Damn, Eddie knew how to set a weird, but really good mood. Meat Loaf wasn’t exactly his usual music choice, but he knew you loved a good ballad.

“Hey hey! See? A few loving taps and viola, she sings.” Eddie grinned, turning to you with a flourish of his arms, “kinda like you.” He sniggered as you splashed some water at him.

“Hurry up and get “the goods” in the water. I’ll give you a head massage.” You sighed, letting your body sink back into the water.

Eddie laughed again, softly, and dipped his foot in the water - testing the temperature so it wouldn’t burn his balls. He slowly sank down, the warm water being a stark contrast to the chilly trailer outside the bathroom.

“By all means, take your time there.” You chirped, forming a bubble beard while you watched him. Eddie was so pretty in the steamy, honey light. A small sheen of sweat painted his chest, and he couldn’t hold back a giggle when he saw your foamy facial hair.

“Once I’m balls deep, I’ll be all good. Don’t rush me.”

You snorted, “not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Give me like… ten minutes and you might be so lucky, sweetheart.” Eddie winked, finally sitting down fully in the bath with a deep, satisfied groan. The sound shooting down your spine and fuelling the budding ache between your thighs. “I’m a fucking genius for this idea. God.” Another groan faded into a purr.

“You’ve really outdone yourself. Using my work present for your benefit. What a gentleman.” You sniggered, hiding behind the suds when he lightly kicked your leg.

“Let me soak in peace, woman.” He grumbled, trying to hide his sleepy smile and failing.

You watched Eddie quietly and full of adoration. His eyes were closed and his face had relaxed significantly, any harsh lines or fatigue melted away with the steam from the bath. Eddie allowed himself to slide fully into the water, soaking his wild curls and pushing his bangs out of his face. He started working his calloused fingertips into his scalp. You watched, unblinking, as his large brown eyes rolled back into his skull and he sighed.

Eddie had said he needed ten minutes but you weren’t going to be able to wait that long.

You wiped away your soap beard. As much as Eddie adored you being a goof with him, you knew when it was time to get serious. Both of you knew where the night was heading, so you may as well speed things up a little. The cosy air and the melodic cries of Meat Loaf were perfect.

“Eds? C’mere. Said I’d give you a head massage, and I’m a lady of my word.” You stated, giggling as he quickly started to twist himself around, making the porcelain squeak.

Eddie situated himself between your legs and rested his wet hair on your chest. The bastard even started twiddling his thumbs while he waited for you to start, “I’m ready when you are.” He shot you a bright, toothy smile, swaying a little to really drive home his oh-so-innocent intentions. Eddie was always such a tease.

You gathered some of the vanilla and peppermint-scented foam and started lightly massaging Eddie’s scalp. Your blunt fingernails slightly scratched him as an added luxury, but mostly because you wanted to make him feel extra special. Eddie’s hair was such an integral part of him. Not only was it for his own self-expression, but he fucking loved when you played with it and pulled it just enough that a shot of pain coursed through him.

“That good?” You whispered, one of your hands wandering down his chest to caress his spider and demon head tattoos. The spider was your favourite. One time when he had picked up from a party after getting too drunk, you’d named it Edith, and kissed her goodnight. Eddie had damn near melted under you when you did that. You were just too sweet to him sometimes.

“I’d even go as far to say it’s nice.” Eddie breathed. The feeling of you rubbing his hair and scalp was the greatest high he could ever experience.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pretending to be annoyed. “Change your tune and I’ll keep this hand going lower?” You breathed into his ear, your wandering hand now grazing the wispy dark hair on his belly.

“See, I don’t think you’re gonna stop either way.” Eddie groaned. He started nuzzling his head against your tits, leaving a few small pecks between them. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while later.” He sang.

“Aw, aren’t you just my best guy.”

“Would hope that I’m your only guy - oh f-fuck.”

You finally traced your hand down Eddie’s thick cock. He twitched under your touch, your pruned fingertips dancing along the prominent veins on the underside of his shaft. Eddie’s pleased whining and soft panting showed you that he wanted you to wrap a hand around him and drive him crazy. But your goal was lower.

Your warm hand caressed and massaged his balls as he let out a surprised moan. “God. Harder.”

The pressure of your hand increased as you rolled his heavy sack in your hand. “You’ve been saving these for me, haven’t you?” you purred, Eddie having shifted to starting mouthing at your hard nipples. “Neglecting your balls when you're jerking off because they’re all for me, yeah?”

“They need a woman’s touch, what can I say - shit, yeah, don’t stop.” Eddie groaned, almost shouting. Your hand that had been massaging his scalp was now slowly pumping at his cock. All teasing, soft touches - you knew it wasn’t enough for him. Eddie liked to be handled with an intimate roughness that only you could give him.

Eddie’s large hands were moving everywhere. Massaging your legs, squeezing your arms and running up your neck blindly. The distinct warmth and softness of your body were addictive to him. You were the first person to let him touch you everywhere - no grimacing, no catch. Just encouragement and admiration. Said admiration came in the form of a low moan when Eddie’s fingers caught on a piece of your hair and tugged.

“Babe, babe. We gotta stop or I’ll blow my load too fast.” Eddie huffed, pushing himself up and back to his original position across from you. He held out his arms wide, gesturing excitedly for you to come to him.

You really loved how excited he still got when it came to you. In any scenario, he was always happy that it was you.

Eddie grabbed your ass as you straddled him. Reaching up to bring you into a hungry, wet kiss. His mouth was restless. Lightly chapped lips pressed to yours, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, tongue massaging yours just enough to drive you crazy - he always drove you crazy.

The flushed, hard head of Eddie’s cock rubbed against your clit as your hips wiggled in his lap. “Fu-fuck yes.” Eddie groaned, pulling you down on him more. Your warm-up was one of his favourite parts. “You want your cock? You gotta wait, sweetheart. I’ve barely gotten my hands on you yet.”

You whimpered, hips still grinding with more impatience. “But you're all wet and warm.”

“And now I’ve got to get you like that,” Eddie chuckled with a smirk. “Do me a favour. Get some of the bubbles and play with your pretty tits for me?”

“You just wanna see soapy boobs.” You quipped, already gathering large handfuls of foam in your palms. The mint and vanilla scent had weakened, but it was still comforting.

“I do. Now, get to it.”

Eddie had moved one of his rough hands down to your aching cunt. Pinching your clit between two fingers, and rubbing it with his thumb.

God, yes. You could feel yourself becoming slick under Eddie’s touch. Your clit slipped under his calloused thumb as your wet hard nipples rolled between your fingers. Both of you released any and all noises that felt right. The needy moans and heavy pants harmonised with the lapping of the bath water. Eddie loved watching you play with your tits for him, applying just the right amount of grip to the soft mounds to make you whimper and hiss.

Such pretty, sensitive tits were a heaven he wasn’t sure he deserved, so he was going to make sure they were looked after.

“Someone’s having fun,” Eddie chirped, picking up the pace of his massage to your clit. God, he was evil. How were you going to hold a conversation under this level of pleasure?

“Woman’s touch, right?” You moaned and ground harder onto his hand, catching the hot tip of his cock at the entrance of your weepy cunt. Eddie whimpered and his smirk melted into a delirious smile.

The grinding, the moaning and the messy kissing continued for some time. Both of you basked in the intimate little world you had created in the steamy, trailer bathroom. There was nothing but time for relaxation and ecstasy - the night was still young and outside was just so cold, it was too horrible to think about.

Eddie had started to angle his hips and yours so that the head of his swollen cock prodded your hole. When your movements synced up perfectly, his tip slipped into you - providing a delicious tease.

Large hands were now groping and spreading your ass cheeks. The occasional short, sharp slap joined in. “Can I fuck you? Please. I know we got time, but I need it.” Eddie panted, his eyes laser-focused on your soapy tits that were in his eye line. “Promise you won’t be walking for the rest of the night. Fuck, rest of the weekend if you let me.”

Now that was a tempting offer. “If you get to be inside my pussy now, then you won’t be leaving any time soon.” You smirked, playing with his soaking hair and twirling it around your fingers.

Eddie didn’t respond to you. He lifted your hips up, thumbs massaging your love handles and slammed you back down onto his cock. Your gasp fizzled into mewling as Eddie started moving to grind into your sweet spot. He really wasted no time when it came to making you feel incredible.

“Aw, there she is.” He teased, one hand running up your back to tangle in your hair. “You were getting a little mouthy there. But I’m gonna help you turn that brain off, isn’t that right?”

“Mhmm, please.” The sensations coursing through your sweating body were exactly what you needed. Big hands tugging lightly on your wet hair, Eddie’s fat cock fucking into your g-spot and his growling breath tickling your chest. You needed to stop thinking for at least a little while. You needed Eddie.

Eddie needed you - maybe even a bit more than air at that moment. The embrace of your hot, spongey walls always had him reeling. You allowed him to see you in a vulnerable light, and he did the same. It was like a small weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t fully noticed was there.

“This pussy - my pussy. F-fucking god. Lean back for me, I wanna see you, pretty girl.” Eddie had started to work you on his cock, thrusting slowly and so deep into your cunt.

You gripped the rim of the bathtub and leaned back, an amazing tension forming in your thighs. “Want - sh-shit - more, Eds.”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll give you everything, baby.” A thumb started flicking your puffy clit again and Eddie grinned up at you. “Uh-huh? Taking such a big cock so well, like a good girl.” Christ, he was almost too good at speaking absolute filth.

“Can - can you cum in me? Please. Please, oh my fucking god.”

The entire image of you on top of him set his blood on fire. Tousled, wet hair. Soap-dripping tits. Heavy-lidded eyes trained on where he was fucking you down onto his cock. You sparked something almost animalistic in him, and now you wanted him to empty his balls inside your cunt.

Huff. Huff. Groan. Eddie couldn’t find the words to respond to you. So, he fucked you harder, causing desperate pleasure to pulse through both of you. He tugged your head back and began sucking along the column of your throat.

“Gonna fill up my gorgeous girl. God, your pussy’s gonna be so fucking messy.” Eddie was essentially delirious by that point. The only thoughts in his head were fucking you, cumming in you and suggesting that bath sex became a regular thing. The vanilla-scented stuff had you smelling like some fancy dessert, the poor guy was losing his mind.

You wanted to be messy. Eddie was pounding into you so well that your mind was calm and blank. The bathroom could be swimming with sudsy water and you wouldn’t even know.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” you squealed. “Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie. You need it too. Uh-huh?”

“That’s right, babe. Always so smart for me.” His voice sounded far away, but in the best way possible. Eddie had a single goal in his sight and the tightness in his balls felt so fucking amazing.

The way you begged always short-circuited Eddie’s brain. You were so lovely, so amazing. Hearing you say his name in your hoarse, needy tone made his cock twitch violently.

Your cunt clung to his thick cock, trying to milk him dry and chase your own orgasm. Your release washed over you in a pulse of heat and electricity - momentarily making your body go limp from the euphoria. It didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop until Eddie did. His cock was splitting you open roughly as he used your sopping hole to cum inside.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He groaned, his jaw hanging slack. “Can you say my name, babe? Tell me who’s gonna fill you up.”

“Eddie - you, Eds.” A fucked out whimper is all you could manage. But it worked just as well, if not better.

Eddie came deep inside your slick cunt with a deep scream and a slurred string of curse words. Panting and water lapping were suddenly the only sounds in the green-tiled room. It was a sticky but not unpleasant atmosphere. You loved it.

You had collapsed onto Eddie’s chest as he ran a weak hand through your hair. “I feel all tingly.” You sighed.

“Like good or bad? Swear my jizz isn’t radioactive or anything.” Eddie snorted, his voice sounding sleepy. Christ, he was almost too warm, but like hell was he moving from his current position.

“I meant good tingly, like romantic tingly. Way to ruin the post-sex mood.” You huffed, flicking one of his nipples until he let out a little shriek.

“Okay, okay, easy there.” Eddie splashed some water up into your face. He was lucky he was so cute. “That was an incredibly romantic start to the night, in my humble opinion.”

You hummed in agreement as you lifted yourself off of Eddie’s softened cock, settling back to straddling his thighs. Bath or not, you were getting your post-sex cuddles.

“Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie.” Eddie whined, mimicking your high-pitched moans as best he could. As much as you hated when he teased you like that, the impression was actually pretty solid. “That’s what you said. That’s love right there.”

“And I was being entirely honest.” You replied. “Bear my horny little soul to you and look where it gets me? Bullied.” The next few seconds moved by quickly. One second, Eddie was fixing you with an eye roll, and the next he was pouring foamy water over your head. “Dick!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll blow dry your hair before round 2.” Eddie grinned, moving close to you and pressing a kiss to your now dripping face.

“I want some of that conditioner stuff you use in your hair too.” Demands would have to be made as a form of repayment after your boyfriend tried to waterboard you. “The one that smells like coconuts.”

“I’ll braid your hair too, how does that sound?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie Munson smut #eddie Munson #smut #fluff #fic #eddie #stranger things #my writing

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justblades · 1 year

Text

⌕ AT WITS END, 18+

⟢ CHARACTERS : jing yuan x afab! reader x luocha WC : 2.1k

⟢ WARNINGS : SMUT, MINORS DNI. dubcon, drugging, threesome, anal sex, double penetration, use of sex toys, porn with plot.

⟢ SUMMARY : the xianzhou general and a merchant doctor take notice that you were dr~gged by a suspicious syndicate. they are at your disposal to save you from the grave situation, but it could only be done when the drug's symptoms are quenched.

being luocha's apprentice in the medical field alone takes up most of the space on your plate, especially now that you're assigned to jing yuan to be his personal physician— the jobs just keep on overflowing, too much for the feeble mind to handle.

in actuality, you weren't supposed to be stationed in the xianzhou luofu. it's just that luocha isn't fond of having much spotlight shone upon him that therefore lead to you being referred to be the general's doctor. as soon as you caught wind that you piqued the interest of one of the charioteers of the luofu, you were determined to perform at your best - to be chosen.

and the gods of luck only spat at you when you were employed by the general jing yuan. he never committed any grave sins nor did such heinous things, it was just his way of governing that left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth as soon as you got to know more of jing yuan. you harbor a strong dislike for anyone regardless of their position to be cowering in the shadows when particular problems arise, saying sham excuses like "i am forbidden to take action because of my rank."

seeing the gray headed general opens up old wounds; a scar you thought that has healed a long time ago. as someone who used to be in the bottom of society's hierarchy, it was until then you grew old you started to understand corrupt officials. those who live in their privileged bubbles, enjoying the comfort of their power and own homes.

as meticulous jing yuan is, it was natural for him to not mind your small banter and snarky remarks against the general. the way he reacts is exceptional, he doesn't bother defending his name amidst the comments he's been receiving since day one. jing yuan never loses his composure and pays no heed to trivial matters.

you grit your teeth as you recall those moments, swearing to yourself that you'll br able to crack him and spit in his face that he's a no good leader. mentally cussing him out as childish as it seems, you continue to do your job, which was preparing your equipments and kits containing vast range of medicines.

drawing a sloth sigh in the end, you carefully lift up the objects. pivoting your heel to take a swift turn, suddenly, your eyes lock a glance with the familiar golden hues, those that exude indolence and of mystery. shock rakes your spine and goosebumps break over your skin, making you fall down on your butt as you feel a tug from your upper clothing.

you were too occupied at piercing through the general's soul with your bitter expressions that you didn't notice the matter at hand in present. "to what do i owe you the pleasure?" your words hinted with sarcasm, you end the question with a cozen smile.

much to your surprise, he crouches down to your level and helps you pick up the strewn pieces of gadgets and equipments on the wooden, varnished floorings. you cock a brow at his actions and proceeded to watch him in confusion; but a sudden puff of glacial wind traces your skin, reaching parts of your body from within.

glancing down at what could be the cause, it was a little too late for you to realize your clothes were torn apart, exposing your treasures right in front of the man you hate so much. instinctively grabbing the largest piece of ripped fabric, you immediately cover the last part of your dignity with it, closing your eyes shut to recall what transpired in such a short moment of time exactly.

"your senses are way too off lately." his smoky voice cut off your rowdy train of thoughts meanwhile you spiral further into bewilderment on what he's hinting at. "you've fallen prey for their false marketing. however, worry not. i'll do what i can to take it from here."

your eyelids unexpectedly felt heavy, as if jing yuan's words are making you feel dizzy. you could only ask yourself 'what is he plotting', until the moment his large slender hands support your figure. "i'm certain you're puzzled; but the food you ingested two days ago had long term effects of a particular ingredient - similar to an aphrodisiac. fortunately, its symptoms erupted just now and not while you were on duty."

he drapes your arm on his shoulders and snakes his hand around your waist. jing yuan carefully lifts your body and leads you to a particular vicinity. you hoped to see where he was taking you at least, but your vision betrays you as you fall into a deep sleep.

you peel your eyes open to well-lit ceilings, etched with luofu's motifs. you scan your surroundings amidst the lethargic feeling weighing your body down, only to see the despised general welcome your vision once again. "unfortunately, there is only one way to rid you from its symptoms." you part your lips open, but your throat feels dry - no words follow suit of what you wanted to verbalize.

"this is a grave situation but i need to have your consent."

another static voice erupts in the vicinity, seemingly coming from a gadget jing yuan had in hand. "general, we're running out of time already." his brows knit in exchange, and mumble few words right after. "doctor, forgive me."

your body jolts awake from the intrusion you felt from your lower region, only to see a makeshift of lewd toys handled by the grizzle haired. as much as you wanted to protest, it all just started to make sense, as usual, a late epiphany after series of events unraveling. it was the ingredient preventing you from speaking.

he pumps the object in and out of your cunt at such an abrupt pace, catching you off guard with every thrust. pro tem, you grip the sheets of the clinic's bed, holding on for dear life as if you were about to die from immense pleasure. panting hard, jing yuan doesn't halt, he only quickens his movements, a sole goal occupying his mind.

the gods really frowned upon you, for the guy you harbor such hate is now having you softly mewl because of a predicament. you were uncertain of what and who should take the blame— as expected, no one is to be blamed but you. if only you weren't craving that particular food that has been circulating in the ship for quite a while, you wouldn't have ended in such position.

being before him bare, fragile fuels nothing but your fury; but your body language says otherwise. your toes curl as you could feel the toy send virations in your pussy, your g-spot making friction against its surface sends your mind afloat the abode of sanity.

your song of moans was interrupted when another figure makes his entrance this time. the tall carved wooden doors swing open, revealing a blonde male who was a little too recognizable for your eyes carrying his iconic, gigantic coffin. "general, i'm afraid that won't do."

with a short span of time, the two comes in an agreement, shifting of positions follow suit. you're apparently underneath the merchant while held up by the mentioned general, his dominant hand tightly clasped on the remaining scrap of fabric wrapped around your hips.

everything happened in a flash and a foreign sensation makes you wince. your two holes were being prepared for further accommodation of the two males' dicks, using up half a bottle of a lubricant to make sure everything will sail smoothly. a nod of approval is all that it took for your entrances to be prodded by large girthy cocks in unison as you grant them such abashed moans.

jing yuan controls your pelvis with his mere one hand, discering every detail of your body language to see if he's making progress of easing the mysterious ingredient's effects. his aureate hues fixate only at you, his usual carefree demeanor and a lively smile replaced with pursed lips; followed by a crease forming in between his eyebrows.

luocha was the same, even though you were far too tantalizing for a man's eyes, they had to focus at the matter in hand. his flaxen irises examine evey nook and cranny of your body, scrutinizing every beads of sweat trickling down your skin as mere indicators of the symptoms. the unfamiliar feeling welling from both sides of your walls seep in to your system— whilst the two males exert the best of their efforts to pleasure your yearning body.

the blonde head's breathing becomes ragged in rhythm, each of his pants deepen in each thrust. after all, he's not someone sexually active, nor someone who performs hard labor at the daily; it was anticipated for his stamina to thin out. however, the situation doesn't seem to improve, not one bit. it was then jing yuan starts to change his tempo, he slows down as he pulls out, and picks up the pace once he rams in.

jing yuan's flow grants him mewls slipping from your lips, his long, deep back strokes seem to do the job perfectly from how you were reacting. gushing noises blends with the squelching sounds from the sounds of two dicks pleasuring the both of your entrances at the same time. a warm stream of fluid spills into luocha's clothes, the white fabric darkens into several splotches.

as embarrassing as it was, they heeded no mind. if anything, it's a proof that their method is working - reinforcing their resolve to quench your lustful feelings. luocha's gloved hands cup your tits bouncing up and down, nestling your perked up nipples in between his fingertips. he attempts to catch his own breaths, exerting more force into his thrusts deep into your pussy.

he rocks his hips upwards and your walls coil around him from the tip down to his last inch. you could no longer stifle your moans, you were way past caring for your pride— jing yuan, as always to your rescue, his calloused hand presses your cheeks, making you close your mouth forcibly. even though your chin was smeared of your drools already, at least there wasn't a lot, looking at the bright side.

the grey head general gently holds your dampened face, making you face him. from a second, you catch a glimpse of his expression; one that can be practically assumed not seen by anybody. his brows tightly knitted, luminous golden eyes locking a short glance with yours that were clouded of ecstasy. a guttural moan bubbles from his throat, along with luocha's deep mewls of satisfaction rushing to his cock inside your velvet walls.

"y-you're so tight." jing yuan utters under his breath as he continues to piston into your asshole. it was a new occurrence to see him stammer for he always addresses everyone with exemplary choice of words and smooth dealings. getting to see the general like this from what your body had to offer felt intimate— but luocha's actions catches you by surprise more.

he nibbles on the soft plush of your right breast, the left one being toyed with rather harshly. the general accidentally lets go of your face and your vision was brought back to seeing luocha's guise once again. the doctor looks up to meet your tantalizing gaze, whereas there he felt the two of you shared a mutual understanding. you crash your lips into his, your wet cavern being invaded by his warm tongue. it was a deep, sloppy kiss, you swear you could feel a hint of fuming jealousy behind you.

even so, your pleasure - your life comes first before trivial matters. the general lets it pass, and there a furor of release brews from the three of your bodies, all in sync. with one last deep thrust from jing yuan's and luocha's throbbing dicks; the life threatening situation finally rests at peace.

after everything that transpired, the general greets you with his usual blithe smile, accompanied by the golden gleam of his irises and a kiss of an angel just below his right eye. you had to soften and warm up to him everytime you remember your life is indebted to him.

although you couldn't lie, a thought crosses your mind, "perhaps jing yuan planned all of this." a part of you agrees as he knows you wouldn't cozy to your employer unless put in a dire situation and another part doesn't since it believes he's a kind soul deep inside. you also started to realize the general's nature, his governance and how he managed to keep the xianzhou's peace for a long time.

admittedly, it was your shortcoming. you knew deep down you were better than what you showed him - and so you strived to improve and understand at the end of the day. as for the blonde doctor, luocha, he pretends it never happened. after all, the two of you share a past bond forbidden to speak of in the present time.

all's well that ends well.

my masterlist !

#jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #luocha #luocha x reader #luocha smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader

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roosterforme · 3 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 46 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A run in with a few familiar faces you never wanted to see again threatens to ruin your day at the beach. But Bradley always manages to make you feel safer and happier than you've ever been before. You plan to reward him once you return home, but you don't realize you might be unintentionally ruining a surprise.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, butt stuff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

You were in the middle of covering Natasha with sand, making Noah laugh, while Bradley appeared to be talking to Jake. You knew they weren't each other's biggest fans, so you found that a little bit surprising. You also felt uncomfortable every time the memory of Jake's kisses and touches flashed through your mind, and of course those images flooded your system right now. Your cheeks felt warmer, heated by embarrassment as much as by the warm sunlight. He wasn't right for you, but when you glanced at Bradley again, you felt much calmer.

"Heads up!"

You quickly turned and put your hands in front of Noah just in time to save him from being smacked by a volleyball. Glaring against the sunlight, you saw a familiar form rushing toward you, but the closer he got, the more his steps slowed before coming to a stop. Then he said your name.

Noah had already picked up the ball and started toward the volleyball nets with it, so you jumped to your feet and followed him, reaching for his hand as he neared Greyson.

"Hi," your ex boyfriend said as he eyed you with a puzzled expression as you held onto Noah's wrist.

"Greyson," you replied as Noah reached up to hand him the volleyball.

"Um, thanks," he replied awkwardly, looking from Noah back up to you as he took the ball. "So.... you're still babysitting?"

His words felt like an unintentional slap in the face. You could barely stand to look at him now after the way he treated you at the fraternity party months ago, but somehow the idea of babysitting for Noah sounded insulting coming from him. And it shouldn't. It really shouldn't.

"No, actually," you replied, pulling Noah a little closer to you. "This is my boyfriend's son." You weren't even sure why you were talking to him right now. You could turn away and go right back to Natasha half buried in the sand and pretend Greyson didn't exist, but Noah was tugging on your hand and looking up at you.

"Mommy? Who's that?"

Before you could answer or walk away, Greyson made a strangled sound. "He calls you mommy?" Your face scrunched up in annoyance and anger as he added, "Are you dating that old guy? The big dude who broke Ryan's fingers? Because he's probably going to lose his lacrosse scholarship because you got drunk and acted like a bitch." He gestured over his shoulder to where his friends were waiting by the volleyball court.

A feeling you couldn't even identify bubbled up inside you, making you too afraid to speak. Tears stung at your eyes, because you'd been so terrified that night, the memory of it made you shake with rage. And now Greyson was essentially calling you a drunk bitch in front of Noah, adding embarrassment to the mix. And Ryan and Ollie were making their way toward you like they had a score to even.

"Hey," barked out Bradley's voice from behind you, and relief flowed through your veins immediately. His hand came to rest on your lower back, and you didn't even need to look at him to know he had that pissed off expression on his face that he saved for when he was really mad.

When you turned and looked up at him, he had his aviators set low on his nose, and his brown eyes were flashing with a warning that left you with a chill running through your body. When you looked back at the boys, Ryan was holding his fingers tight in his other hand. That fact that you didn't even know all the details of the night at that party wasn't lost on you. Bradley had saved you, bottom line, and that had really been the start of your relationship with a label attached to it.

"Relax, man. No need to get aggressive again," Greyson told Bradley as he tried to stand a little taller.

But Ryan was rolling his shoulders as he said, "You fucked up my hand, asshole."

You looked down at Noah and pulled him even closer, and he looked up at you with wide, scared brown eyes like he could feel the tension around him. Bradley's hand rubbed along your back as he bent to kiss your cheek. "Hey, Princess, why don't you take Noah and finish burying Nat in the sand?" His lips and mustache skimmed your temple, and his voice was so calm, it surprised you.

"Okay," you agreed softly, bending to pick Noah up, knowing that getting him separated from this situation was the most important thing at this point. You tripped along the sand, glancing at Bradley's strong back a few times as you went. Straight in front of you, Nat was brushing sand from her skin as she stood up, and she had Jake and Javy right behind her.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked as you squeezed Noah.

"Nothing," you replied, your voice tiny and mortified. You wished you'd just stayed home today and played with Noah and Skittles in the backyard instead.

"Doesn't look like nothing," Jake drawled casually, crossing his arms over his chest. "Looks like Rooster might need a hand."

"He's about to get more than just one," Nat replied as she cracked her knuckles.

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Bradley wondered briefly why he couldn't have a single peaceful day. He just wanted to hit the beach, send Noah home with Penny, and then enjoy the night alone with you. But he supposed he could still do all of that with a black eye if necessary.

"Did you hear me?" the biggest guy asked. "I said you fucked up my hand, asshole."

Bradley shrugged. "I guess you shouldn't have been touching her then."

He scoffed. "Wasn't worth it then, and she's not worth it now."

Bradley couldn't keep the smile from his face as he took a step closer. "I can give you a fucked up face to match it. If you keep running your mouth."

"You really want to go three against one, old man?" Greyson asked, and Bradley shifted his gaze to the rather skinny looking blonde.

"You look more like one and a half from where I'm standing," Bradley replied. "Now why don't you just apologize to me and leave before you embarrass yourselves."

"Apologize?" asked the littlest one, jaw dropping open. "For what? We didn't even fucking do anything except come to the beach."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Bradley said as he started holding up his fingers one at a time in front of himself. "First of all, you cursed in front of my child. Second, you upset my girlfriend... again. Third, I don't respect the way you mistreat women at parties. And fourth, I don't like looking at you. So apologize and leave."

Bradley watched Greyson's eyes shift to the side, but he didn't need to turn to look. He could tell that he wasn't entirely alone, and he was pretty sure it was Nat there in case needed her. But it wouldn't come to that.

"Well?" Bradley asked, taking his aviators off and tucking them in his pocket before holding his hands out to his sides. "Where's my apology?"

"Let's get out of here," Greyson muttered to the other two, but Bradley took a step closer to them, fingers just itching to make fists.

"That's not how this works," he barked out, and he got to watch the three of them have an entire silent conversation just by looking at each other. Then they all glanced at him and murmured the saddest, most pitiful apologies he'd ever heard.

"Sorry."

Bradley couldn't hold back his laughter after that as he said, "Just get the fuck out of here." He watched them walk awkwardly across the hot sand with the volleyball, occasionally turning back to make sure he wasn't following them. He kept an eye on them until they were in the parking lot and out of sight.

"What the hell was that?" Nat asked. Jake and Javy were a little ways behind her, and Bradley had to laugh a little harder just thinking about the four of them pounding some kids in their twenties into the sand.

"I thought you were getting buried?" he asked, slinging his arm over her shoulders, but she just cringed and pushed his arm away.

"You're all sweaty," she complained. "And I was getting buried until I thought I was going to have to jump in there."

"Nah, I had it under control," he promised. You were still holding Noah in your arms and playing with him as Bradley approached.

"Everything okay?" you asked, closing the distance and tucking your body against his. At least you didn't seem to mind that he was sweaty as you kissed his shoulder and looked up at him.

"Of course, Princess," he replied, taking Noah from you. "They left." Your arms were around his middle immediately, and you kissed Bradley on the lips as if nobody else was there. He let his free hand drift down as far as your lower back for now, and he could tell that you were relaxed again as you let your cheek rest on his chest and looked out toward the parking lot.

"Thanks," you whispered. "I just... wasn't expecting to see them."

"Do not thank me," Bradley replied while Noah started to squirm. "I just want to protect you and make you happy. Just you and Noah. All day long."

"And Skittles," you murmured.

Bradley rolled his eyes. "Obviously. She's my best friend."

"I want to go swimming," Noah whined loudly, wriggling his way out of Bradley's grasp.

"You don't know how to swim," he reminded Noah as he set him down on the sand and watched him run over to Nat. But now Bradley had two arms full of you, and he wasn't complaining. Especially not when you started kissing his sternum.

"You make me feel safe," you whispered. "So safe. I love you, Daddy."

---------------------------

You just wanted to go home. Or give Bradley a blowjob. Or have sex on the beach towel under the umbrella next to the picnic cooler that you overpacked with drinks and ants on logs. But instead you were left clinging to him, looking up into his pretty brown eyes and biting your lip. And you knew he knew exactly what you were thinking. The gentle but deliberate twitch of his cock against your belly left you moaning softly.

"Can we go home?" you asked with a grin.

"Princess," he groaned. "We just got here, Baby. Penny and Mav aren't even here yet, and they're supposed to take Noah home with them for the night."

You kissed his sternum again. "I'll wear my plug for you."

He groaned even louder, his hand cupping your butt and giving you a little squeeze. "You're making me hard."

"I can tell," you informed him, letting your fingers trail down his sides and along his abs as you started to ease yourself away from him. But he pulled you right back.

"Hell, no," he grunted. "You started this. You can just wait it out."

You laughed as you let him snuggle you for a few extra seconds. Natasha was holding Noah's right hand, and you weren't at all surprised to see Javy holding his left. They were at the water's edge, running at the waves and then backing away when they came crashing down to the sand. When you looked up at Bradley again, you whispered, "You need more sunblock. Your nose and cheeks are a little pink."

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Probably just blushing because you gave me a fucking boner at the beach. In front of my coworkers."

You pressed your lips together. "Seriously, Daddy. You just tell me when you want to go home, because I'm all about that right now. I'd love to rock your old man world."

This time you spun away from him, leaving him there next to the cooler with a little smirk on his face. You waved to Penny and Maverick as you saw them walking up the beach, and you ran toward Noah near the crashing waves. Penny made her way right to you while Maverick made a beeline for Bradley.

"Noah!" Penny gushed, getting her shoes wet as she scooped him up and gave him a kiss on his chubby cheek. He laughed at all the attention he was getting from everyone, and a minute later, Maverick and Bradley were running past you out into the cool water and diving through the waves.

Noah clapped in delight and shouted, "Daddy!" as Bradley resurfaced and waved to him. He looked so good, you had to bite your lip. The shock of seeing Greyson, Ryan and Ollie had worn off, and you were relieved that they hadn't ruined your day. Once again, you were completely taken by the safety you felt when Bradley was nearby. His wet trunks were clinging to him as he ran his hand back through his wet hair and walked through the moving current to get to you.

"I forgot to grab this on my way out before," he said, picking you up in his arms while you screeched. His body was cold now that he was all wet. "This is all mine," he told you as he kissed along your neck and shoulders. "And I like it when it's wet."

"Don't do it!" you warned, but it was too late as he waded out into the deeper water and dunked himself under with you in his arms. You came up sputtering for air and said, "I'll make you pay for that later."

-----------------------------

"Oh yeah," Bradley grunted as you yanked his swim trunks down in the backyard and dropped to your knees. "I'm really paying for it."

Noah went home with Penny and Mav late in the afternoon, but Bradley took a few adorable photos of you and Noah napping in the shade on the beach blanket first. One of them was already his new phone wallpaper, something he had to ask you to help him with. He was obsessed with every aspect of being with you. Somehow you managed to do it all without trying. You were a mom to Noah and you were everything to Bradley, even when you were teasing him relenelessly.

You giggled as you parted your lips and took his throbbing cock as he grew harder for you. You had the place to yourselves for roughly the next twenty four hours, and you weren't wasting any time. Your bikini top was off and the garden hose that Bradley had been using to rinse you both off was in his hand with the water flowing onto the walkway. The sun was dipping low in the sky, cooling things off, and he spent a few seconds looking around to make sure no neighbors were out before tossing the hose aside and letting his hand come to rest at the back of your head.

Eyes half lidded, you looked up at him as you lazily ran your tongue in a little swirling pattern along his cock as he pushed himself deeper. "That's a good girl," he whispered, watching you take every inch of him before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking. Bradley stroked your chin and watched the soft bounce of your tits as he started to fuck your face. You whimpered as tears filled your eyes for him when he hit the back of your throat. "Fucking gorgeous."

You grabbed him by both of his hips, and soon Bradley could feel your saliva dripping down his balls. It was indecent how good you were at this. You had his number from the very first time you went down on him, but he was interested in getting his cum inside your pussy tonight.

The water from the hose was flowing around your knees when he pulled you to your feet. "Daddy," you whined, actively trying to get your mouth back on him which just made him wilder. He was standing in his yard with his cock out, reaching for the hose at the same time he untied your bikini bottoms. And then you were naked and fucking perfect as he rinsed you off a little more, making you gasp as the water met your pussy and then your ass.

"Get inside," he commanded, and you did exactly as you were told, letting Skittles come bounding out the back door when you opened it. Bradley barely reached down to pet the dog as he followed you inside, leaving the door open wide as he tracked you across the kitchen. Apparently you knew what you wanted as you bent at the waist and leaned down on the kitchen counter, pressed up on your tiptoes.

Bradley stroked his cock a few times as he said, "You were fucking made for me." Your body was cool and damp, but your pussy was warm, wet and tight. He eased himself inside and thrust up into you nice and hard, making you whine his name as he brought his chest down against your back. "Made for Daddy," he whispered, covering your left hand with his where it rested on the counter next to your cheek and your parted lips.

He fucked you hard right there where you usually made dinner while he softly kissed your cheek and whispered, "You're Noah's Mommy, and I want to make you a Mommy again."

You nodded as you turned your head a little more to look him in the eye. "Do it," you told him, and he could feel all of the pent up need from the day growing stronger and stronger as he thought about another baby. His hips snapped against your body. He went deeper, pushing himself harder, feeling your walls grabbing him along the way. Bradley kissed your shoulder softly as you panted, taking every rough thrust and deep grind that he gave you. After he got you filled up with his cum, he'd give you anything you wanted. The ring was ready to go, and it was always on his mind now, but he had a plan, and he was going to stick to it.

But he could already picture how it would look on your hand while it rested on your swollen belly. And now you were clenching him hard like you needed this as much as he did, or like you could read his fucking mind. Maybe you could. The word Daddy fell from your lips over and over again, and he was a lost cause. He filled you up, groaning loudly as he fucked his cum deeper hoping it would take. The shell of your ear met his nose as he kissed blindly along your body, inhaling your sweet wildflower scent. And you kept him there, pulling his fingers closer to your mouth and kissing his knuckles, enduring his weight against you.

Eventually he spoke, his voice hoarse now as he started to pull his body up to stand. "The rest of the night is yours, Princess. Anything you want."

You stood too and stretched, wrapping your arms around his neck with a little smile like he hadn't just pounded you against the kitchen counter next to the fancy coffee maker. "I want you to sing to me while we take a shower. And then I think we should further investigate the little collection of goodies you left out on the dresser."

-------------------------

You had your eyes closed with a smile on your lips. The cascading water was hitting your face and chest while Bradley had his arms wrapped around you from behind, singing his favorite song. It was nice that you didn't have to worry about getting Noah in bed or getting dinner ready. Bradley already offered to go pick up some takeout later if that's what you wanted. But right now you were completely content as he washed his dried cum from your thighs with his big, soapy hand.

"You know what we should do?" he asked softly. When you just hummed in response, he said, "We should plan another vacation."

"To Disneyland."

His deep laughter rumbled against your back. "Sure. Disneyland. Noah will love that."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you'd probably love it more than the child. "I think a nice little break will be good for you too, Daddy. I'll put it on the credit card."

Bradley's hand slid from the front of your body around to your butt. "If you put it on the card, I'll spank you."

Your moan was loud and echoed around the shower as you spun in his arms. "I have an idea." You kissed his neck and his rough chin as you said, "How about you wear your crown tonight?"

Bradley's smile was handsome and surprised. "My green one?"

"Yes," you whispered, feeling giddy. "The green one we made for you. I'll go into the bedroom and get myself all ready, but I'll leave the crown out for you to wear." When you stepped out of the tub, Bradley's hand was stroking himself, and his eyes were on you. The need you felt was indescribable as you toweled off, practically tripping on your way out of the bathroom.

You squealed as you reached for his crown on the dresser and gently set it down on the hallway floor just outside the bedroom, and then you closed the door. Your eyes settled on the items he left lined up on the dresser, and you chewed on your lip a little nervously. The need was so palpable again, you couldn't understand it. You thought about his strong, sure body and the timber of his voice as you dragged the lubed plug back and forth along your hole before slowly pushing it in.

Being so full made you want Bradley more. You curled up on the bed and tried to get yourself under control so you could have him deep inside you at the same time, but it wasn't easy. You made your hands into fists keep from touching yourself as you moaned softly, but you wanted to see him in his green crown. You wanted to make everything as good for him as it was for you.

The pristine white fabric caught your eye from inside the open closet. With a giggle, you eased yourself out of bed and walked toward his dress whites uniform hanging there, fresh from the dry cleaner. They'd done a great job removing your dark lipstick marks from the pants. You grabbed a lacy thong from the dresser and pulled it up your legs to where you were most sensitive right now, and then you took Bradley's white jacket from the hanger.

You were just sliding your hands down through the sleeves as you laughed at how comically large it was on you, but you thought he might enjoy himself. You were wearing his Bradshaw nametag which brought heat to your cheeks as you did up a few of the golden buttons. Then you grabbed your phone from the nightstand before heading for the closed bedroom door.

"Are you there?" you asked, and his immediate response from the other side had you tipping your head back in delight.

"I'm waiting patiently, Princess. I got my crown on."

You started to record a video on your phone, knowing you'd let him do what he wanted with you, because he never did you wrong. Then you opened the door, but your arm brushed something hard and square in his jacket pocket. You ignored it when you saw him standing there with his crooked crown perched on his soft curls and his hard cock resting in one hand.

Bradley's smile was sweet and just for you, and it only grew when you said, "I'm recording. Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, Baby," he crooned, but as his eyes drifted down your body, they grew wider and almost panicked, and then he was reaching for you.

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We are getting closer. Will Daddy's plans pan out or will Princess inadvertently rush things? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 47

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