#I hope you’re not all pissed at me for disappearing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

k-hotchoisan · 2 months

Text

body language

well, pining after your brother’s fucking attractive best friend isn’t a sin if he doesn’t know right? nobody has to know.

nobody has to know that you're lodged in his fantasies when the nights deepen.

nobody has to know what happens when you're forced to share a room with Yunho.

Genre/Warnings: smut, big dick! X Perverted! Yunho, unprotected sex, low key corruption kink, mutual pining, cream pies, fingering, orgasms, overstimulation, oh no they are forced to share a room!, sexual tension, dirty talk

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee

🩷 back to staying perverted

A/N: send me to jail for being so inactive TT I know life happens and I shouldn't apologise for going mia for a bit but I still feel so bad! Nonetheless, please continue giving my works as much love as you all always do, and that ya'll are my source of motivation. Thank you for waiting ❤️

Undoubtedly, it’s either your brother has good taste in making friends, or you just have interesting taste in men, because out of all men you had a crush on, it had to be the one closest to your brother—Jeong Yunho. Something about him made your heart flutter uncontrollably. Maybe it was the way he would lean in towards you when he wanted to whisper something in your ear, keeping your brother an arm’s length while his voice tickled perfectly as it reverberates in your brain. Maybe it was the way he would hold your stare for a couple of seconds before his pretty smiles spreads across his lips, as if he was keeping a secret that he wants to tell you. Maybe it was the way he would bump his arm against yours when he wants to ally with you to piss your brother off.

Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that the feelings you had for him were growing exponentially. How you managed to keep said feelings in bay was a mystery. You could attribute it to knowing Yunho for as long as you did. Maybe he treated everyone nice and politely like that. It was hard not to keep your hopes up sometimes and it really made you frustrated.

“A chalet?” You repeat. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just a weekend out”, your brother replies. “A couple of friends will be coming. You know them, including Yunho.”

“Are you going?” Yunho suddenly asks.

You break eye contact with Yunho, going back to your phone. “No. I’m going on a date.”

Yunho’s eyes widen. There is a flash of panic that flickers in his eyes. His words spill out of him before he realises it.

“With who? How come I didn’t know?”

You cast a confused glance at him. “Why would you need to know?”

That was when Yunho realises, and he simmers down, going back to hiding behind his phone screen. He bites his tongue, hoping you nor your brother ha caught on. But thankfully, no one else questions him. In fact, your brother doubles down.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me?” Your brother echos.

“As if you’re interested in my love life”, you playfully retort, rolling your eyes before you disappear into your room, before Yunho starts to hear your heartbeat right in your ears again.

Yunho stares blankly at his phone, still processing that you’ll be going on a date. Something sits uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He’s running his brain, thinking of a million ways to make you cancel the date, half of it under the pretence of your brother. How could he do it without making it obvious?

“And why would I cancel my date, Jeong Yunho?” You ask, your arms crossed. For some reason, your brother and Yunho were suddenly way too interested in your date. Especially Yunho. He would not get off your back about it.

“It’s dangerous? Who knows he might be a serial killer!” He was really dramatic about too, might you add.

You scoff, and an amused smile tugs the corner of your lips, as your hand reaches out to pat his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Yun. You’re on my speed dial if anything happens okay?”

For a moment, you feel his gaze piercing right into you, as if time didn’t exist—the both of you caught in between each other’s gazes, Yunho looking like he wants to say something, but he stops himself. You quickly break the eye contact, remembering that he’s your brother’s best friend, and that Yunho is just being as worried as your brother. Nothing more than that. Yunho wants to hold the gaze longer. He almost wants to break the imaginary boundaries then both of you set, but he snaps into to reality when he watches you leave, his voice trapped in his throat.

Fuck. Looks like he’s the one losing now.

It doesn’t help that during that night, you slip into his dreams, and instead of you leaving, he has your face in his hands, and your lips are on his. He feels you in your entirety, and you feel so fucking good pressed against him. Yunho wants so badly to mark every part of you, to remind you he could do so much better than whoever you’re supposedly going out with. He could kiss you better, fuck you better. Then it switches—to you in front of him, your ass bouncing off his cock, loud smacks echoing from the walls as he sinks into your pussy with a broken sigh.

That’s when he fucking jolts awake, warm fluids streaming down his thighs, as he swallows an imaginary mass in his throat because what the fuck just happened? He stares blankly at the white ceiling of his room, mind as blank.

How fucked is he?

Yunho reaches to the doorstep of the chalet, almost close to midnight. Dance practice had bleed past the time, later than he thought. He greets his friends at the barbecue pit, still grilling chicken and seafood, stealing a stick and getting playfully hit before he enters the chalet itself.

Your brother sat there, comfortable with his girlfriend’s legs crossed over his lap as they had joycons in their hands, playing some kind of co-op game together. His friend turns to him, before his eye dart back to the screen once he acknowledges Yunho, much too engrossed with the level he and his girlfriend was at.

“Your room’s to the left of the stairs. I hung your lanyard there”, your brother says, before his attention goes right back to the game. For a spilt second, he suddenly remembers that he wanted to tell Yunho something, something important, but when his girlfriend squeals at clearing the level, the thought is completely erased from his memory.

Yunho climbs up the stairs, pushes the door open, and completely stops in his tracks as his gaze locks with yours. You’re seated on the bed, relaxed and on your phone until the door suddenly pushes open, and Yunho stands there, looking as bewildered as you.

There is a long moment of silence between the both of you.

“Can I help you, Yunho?” You break it.

“No…isn’t this my room?” Yunho clarifies. You glance around and shrug.

Yunho drops his bag, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

His eyebrows furrow, confusion sprawled across his face.

“Hold on. Weren’t you suppose to be on a date?”

You shrug again. “Yeah. It ended early. I thought of finding my brother and he asked me to use this room since it was vacant. I supposed he forgot to tell you? I could leave if-“

“N-no. You can stay, since you’re already here”, Yunho cuts you off. No fucking way is he wasting this chance. Somehow the thought of you within the same, close proximity is making his head dizzy. “You’re okay with sharing the bed? I can sleep downstairs.”

Your face starts to heat up. As much as it was the elephant in the room, for Yunho to bring up so straightforwardly like that was making your mind wander a little too close to the sun.

You force a small smile. “It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Well, not a lie, the only thing was that the both of you were blacked out drunk when it happened that one time.

Yunho’s signature smile appears. He looks comforted, at least. “Right. Then I’ll use the bathroom to wash up.” He grabs a spare towel on the rack, then walks back to dig for his clothes in his duffle before he disappears into the bathroom, leaving you with your messy thoughts. Your hand is over your heart, and you feel it beating a little too wildly.

Nothing’s gonna happen. Two people of the opposite sex can share a bed just fine, is what you tell yourself. Yeah, that would have been the case, if the opposite gender wasn’t Jeon Yunho.

Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen years in all honesty. The anxiety wouldn’t simmer down, so you end up burying yourself underneath the cold sheets, hoping that you’d end up falling asleep.

And by some miracle, you did. That is, until you feel the mattress weigh down, and shuffling on the sheets, then something bumping against your leg. You stir slightly from the disruption.

“Sorry. The bed’s a little…cramped”, you hear Yunho’s voice tickling your ears as his legs press against yours.

You stay silent, the only things that you hear are the whirling of the air conditioning and the sound of your heart about to fucking burst from your rib cage.

“It’s fine”, you finally reply, your body completely still, unsure how actually close the male is against you, only his legs pressed up against the back of your knees and his arms are barely touching your back as a gauge. Well, you weren’t in the mood to find out. The myriad amount of assurances you repeat to yourself that he’s just a friend, that he’s just Jeon Yunho, does nothing to comfort you to say the least.

You hear his voice ring a little to close to your ears again. “How was your date?”

You don’t want to answer, your eyes are focused onto the darkness of the door in front of you. You fear that he might hear your thoughts if you speak, even though that’s literally impossible.

“It was fine”, you curtly reply, squeezing the spare pillow in your arms.

“What did you think of him?”

“I think he’s okay. He’s quite a decent guy. Then again, it’s just the first date”.

The mattress shifts suddenly and you freeze when you feel him inch even closer to you. You have no clue what expression he’s making but from the way he suddenly shifts rather dramatically, you would assume that he seemed shocked?

Oh, you were definitely about to find out.

“You’re planning to see him again?” He’s closer now. You feel his chest almost pressing against your spine. You feel his gaze piercing daggers into the back of your head. You feel his agitation. But over what?

“I haven’t decided on that yet”, you reply. But you cut him before he says anything, “but what’s it to you? You usually don’t care about the things I do. Let alone my dates.”

This time, it’s Yunho’s turn to fall silent. The weight of the mattress beneath you shifts once more it stills. For a moment, you assume that he’d shifted away from you, and maybe he’d let the matter die off.

“Who said I didn’t?”

Now he’s completely pressing his body against you—you feel his lips just a hair’s length from the back of your neck, his chest completely flat against your back.

His crotch right against your ass.

“Yunho-“, you try turning to face him before the both of your start making any mistakes, but his hand presses your waist down, halting any movements you were about to make. Heat is flushing your cheeks.

“I’ll stop if you don’t want to, and I’ll turn away, and sleep downstairs. I won’t force you if you don’t want to.”

Shit, shit, shit. The more words Yunho speak, the more they aren’t registering in your damn head. His voice is melting in your ears, low and dangerous. The consequences that once rang like alarm bells in your head slowly grow muted, and now it’s just your carnal desire to let Yunho do whatever he wanted to you.

“I’m not doing this without your consent, my dear”, he reminds , and his hand is slowly trailing off your body.

All the repercussions, completely wiped off when your feelings that you once tried to fucking hard to suppress behind to bubble up to the surface, and for Yunho to just summon them so easily when he says it so gently and with such temptation.

But you should still probably stop this-

From the way you’re staying quiet, Yunho is ready to just cut his advances. After all, he’s not interested in making you feel uncomfortable, as much as he wants to just ruin you all for himself. He keeps his breathing light, but his heart is still beating loudly in his chest, bracing himself for the rejection, his hand gradually lifting from your waist, very much reluctantly-

Until he feels your hand cup his.

“I wanna feel you, Yunho”, you answer him, loud enough for him to hear, even though it was only the two of you within the confines of the room.

Yunho feels like he’s not close enough to you, even though the both of you are squeezed together, and his erection is evident—pressing shamelessly against the curve of your ass. It’s driving up the wall.

Another thing he doesn’t expect is the way your fingers curl around his wrist, and you bring him to your braless tits, and he short-circuits when his fingers press against your hard nipples. You curse softly when he rolls them gently against his fingertips, and you lean back against his chest. Yunho takes the chance to kiss your neck down to your shoulders, making you melt all over again.

But he doesn’t want to stay there for long. His cock is just throbbing and it’s overtaking his rationale.

You always offhandedly complimented that Yunho had such long, slender and pretty fingers, and that he made mundane actions—writing, typing—look so attractive.

And now, his fingers are prying your legs to spread open for him.

His fingers dip into the wetness of your soaked folds, and his mind almost completely blanks out for the second time at the way you’re drenched for him.

“Fuck. All of this for me?” He asks rhetorically, as he easily sinks two fingers in, hearing you choke from how his fingers are filling you up so well. The tip of his fingertips press against a spongy spot, and your head tilts back, face so flushed from the pleasure when he begins curl his fingers while in you and while he fucks your wet cunt.

He’s not letting you form any coherent thoughts in your head, not while he’s finger fucking the thoughts right out your poor brain.

“You’re so fucking soft. Shit. I really want to fuck you so fucking bad”, he grunts in your ear, his hips grinding against your ass like a natural instinct to.

“Your cock”, you mutter, struggling to keep your eyes open and mind clear. “Fuck. Need you to fuck me so good.”

Yunho inhales the scent of your hair wash as he peppers bites and kisses down the nape of your neck, smiling when he feels goosebumps spread across your skin.

He’s so tempted. But not yet. He desperate—desperate to see you fucking fall apart just with his fingers.

So he pulls his soaked fingers out, and for a moment, you whine at how empty your cunt feels, just ready to fucking beg him to fuck you with his fingers, his cock, whatever.

He sits up, pushing the thick and heavy blankets aside, tugging your wet bottoms and panties off, giving himself a mental reminder to pocket your panties when he’s done with you.

You’re spread open and perfectly wide for him to admire and drool over. By now, his eyes are pretty much adjusted the darkness, and the both of you are lazy to switch on the nightlight, so he’s definitely able to see your pussy in full view.

“Y-yu-“, your words completely cut off when he plunges two fingers right into your pussy again, filling you up completely. And this time, his other hand is on your clit, fingers rubbing, sending sparks flying beneath your eyelids.

The pleasure makes you buck your hips, and it builds so dangerously quick in your abdomen. The sounds of your pussy growing so fucking wet only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, catching a rhythm of fucking and rubbing your clit so perfectly that you realise the feeling is growing way too funny.

“Y-Yunho-“ you try again. “Oh god. Feels weird.” Nonetheless, you don’t say it without your eyes rolling back and your abdomen flexing.

“That’s it. Let it go for me, baby. It’ll feel so fucking good.”

Oh fuck. You don’t even register it before it happens—it totally washes over you, and you’re just helplessly submitting to how fucking good this feels as you squirt all over Yunho, your mind swimming in the depths of ecstasy, your moans drowned when Yunho seals your lips shut with his, greedy to just keep them all to himself, and well, also not trying to wake the whole chalet up.

When Yunho pulls back and sees how flushed spent your face looks, he can’t help but sink deeper into his feelings for you. He goes in for another kiss, this time with your mind slowly clearing from the mind-blowing orgasm. Your arms wrap around his neck instantly, pulling him as close as you could, soft moans in between kisses only making him impossibly harder than he already was.

He shifts to lie down on the bed with you again, this time the both of you facing each other. He tugs the hem of your shirt and lugs it over your head, before lowering himself slightly to face your chest. You don’t know how but his pants are somehow kicked off, somewhere on the bed, and he’s bare and so fucking hard when he presses his cock on your pussy.

“Lift your leg for me, babe”, he says, palm sliding on the underside of your thigh as he feels you spread your legs open for him once more.

Yunho rubs his cockhead along your wet fucking folds, before he pushes himself in, a whimper leaving his lips as he bites on your shoulder to stop any loud noises from slipping past his lips.

He pushes himself in even more, and your arms are around his neck once more, light red imprints from your fingernails dig into his skin.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Feels like fucking heaven. So fucking tight and soft”, he mutters, eyes so glazed, and arms so tight around you when he finally buries himself into the hilt.

Your mind is complete mush by then—combined with Yunho’s cock that’s stuffed in you and the scent of his hair wash, you swear you were gonna cum for the second time. You knew he probably packed something, but holy fucking shit, you just never thought it would fill you up this fucking good. The rest of your senses slowly start to dull, the feeling of Yunho’s cock almost taking them all away.

“Shit. You’re fucking squeezing me-fuck!-here,” Yunho says, but it comes off as a broken moan. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, and you hear him trying to steady his breath through a slew of curses.

“You wanna move now?” You ask, your fingers combing through his messy locks. Yunho thinks he might have some sort of hair combing fetish with you now.

“Fuck, yes, please,” is all he replies before he pulls out slightly, then thrusting right back in, projecting fucking stars into your eyelids when he fills you up again and again.

You press your head against the pillow, eyes shut from the pleasure. When you find the strength to open them, Yunho’s glazed out expression is what comes into view. He’s looking at you like you’re his fucking treasure.

“Does it feel good? You feel so fucking amazing, y/n.”

“You can’t be asking me that when you’re fucking the thoughts right out of me”, and you squeal when he thrusts into you once more, filling you up to the brim.

“Even better. So my cock will be only the cock you know, right?” He smiles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes when your walls clench around him again.

And when you don’t answer, his hand slithers to your neck, and he squeezes, making you gasp.

“Answer me, pretty.”

“Yes, fuck yes. Don’t need anyone else’s when you’re fucking me so good”, you cry, relishing in the way he’s gradually cutting off your oxygen supply.

His thrusts grow harder and faster, his hands slowly letting go of your throat.

“That’s my good girl.”

And that makes your cunt flutter and pulsate uncontrollably for the second time, only now it’s on his cock this time.

“F-fuck. Oh, that’s it. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, his voice ups a pitch when you fall apart again. “I’m gonna cum. Make sure you’re full and dripping when I’m fucking done with you.”

And when he does, he leaves a whole garden of bites on your chest and shoulders on top of filling your pussy up with his thick and warm cum. You never thought his face would get anymore attractive, but when he cums? You could get addicted to pulling that expression out of him, that’s for sure.

The both of you are panting as your highs wear off, hands still not off each other despite the shared warmth. He’s the first to let go, and you’re about to say something until he turns you around, and it’s then when his cock starts to harden in you. Your heart is beating rapidly again when his cock is filling you up once more, as it slowly displaces his cum that leaks past your sopping hole.

Your hand grabs onto his arm that’s snaking around your waist.

“W-wait. We need to talk about my broth-“, and he hears you whimper when he pushes himself deeper into you, throbbing in you. The way he’s littering kisses down your neck is sending you into a spiral, and now you’re nothing but weak against him, and his fat cock.

“That can wait to tomorrow, babe. I promised that I’ll make sure you’re full and dripping once I’m fucking done with you right? Well, I’m not done fucking you yet.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #jeong yunho #y/n x yunho #yunho ateez #ateez jongho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #Spotify

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delaware-lemme-smash · 4 months

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Hii! May i request some headcanons were mt. lady, sir night eye, present mic, eraser and all might react to their s/o wearing their clothes after sex? Like if they didn’t have any clothes with them what weren’t… dirty so they stole some! Sorry if this is boring but I thought it was kinda cute :)

Hope you enjoy these, lovely!

Characters: Takeyama Yuu/Mount Lady, Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye, Yamada Hizashi/Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Contents: gn!reader, mild nsfw

Takeyama Yuu/Mount Lady

Perhaps it was an impromptu tryst, because you’re at Mount Lady’s apartment and your only clothes are dirty. Perhaps your stuff got torn up in a fight with a villain and now you’ve come back to hers to ‘celebrate’, you find yourself left with nothing but your underwear. Perhaps not even that.

You could sleep naked, but it’s not the most comfortable situation to be in. So you wander over to Yuu’s wardrobe (really a walk-in closet). She might only be a debut hero, but she’s very popular and spends a lot of time in the limelight. This translates to making absolute bank, and she spends a lot of it on beautiful clothes. Obviously, you’re not going to wear a gala dress to bed, so you grab a t-shirt that looks pretty old, and maybe a pair of yoga pants.

Depending on your size compared to her, they might be fine, or they might be a tight fit. When she comes back into the bedroom, her skin gleaming from her nightly skincare routine, she stops in the doorway and pouts at you.

“If you stretch those out, you’re going to have to replace them.”

“...says the woman who turns into a titan?” The irony is too much for you.

“Only my hero costume stretches with me, duh.” A pause. “Your butt does look good in those yoga pants, though.”

Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

It would seem that if you’re dating Sir Nighteye, you’ve at least got some sense of planning and responsibility. But you’re only human, and sometimes you’re going to find yourself caught short. Short on clothes, in this case. Even if your clothes are clean, you couldn’t fathom sleeping in your work clothes.

You wait until Sir Nighteye is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, before sneaking open one of his drawers and grabbing something at random. You end up with…

A pair of boxers and a vintage All Might t-shirt.

It’s hardly the sexiest of nightwear, but you make it work. He leans back into the doorway to tell you to borrow some clothing, and you’re lounging on his bed, all “Paint me like one of your French girls”.

“I’ve been waiting for you~” you purr.

He nearly spits out his mouthwash, and disappears back into the bathroom to gather himself. You distinctly hear him chuckle under his breath, then clear his throat.

“If you want to entice me, darling, don’t wear the face of my former boss on your torso.”

Yamada Hizashi/Present Mic

Hizashi’s always trying to get you to wear his clothes, anyway! He drapes his little moto jacket (the casual one, not the studded one he wears as part of his costume) over your shoulders a lot and tells you how great you look.

Seeing his partner wear his clothes just gives him this little kick and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

You’ve got a variety of options in Mic’s wardrobe. In the t-shirt section, you’ve got a lot of band t-shirts, weird, bright coloured ones covered in fruit or English slogans, a few rare Eraserhead merch t-shirts he got done to piss off Aizawa, and if you want to borrow some boxers, you’ll be hard pressed to find some that don’t have a loud, zany pattern on them.

If you want to be (moderately) sexy, grab a vintage band t-shirt and a pair of his black boxer briefs. If you want to make him laugh, grab the stupidest t-shirt you can find and pair it with an eye watering set of boxer shorts, especially if they have bananas on them.

Hizashi grins wide enough to split his face in half at the sight of you in his clothes. It doesn’t matter if you went for sexy or stupid, really, because he’ll just try to get you out of them again, if you know what I mean~

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

This is one of those things that Aizawa doesn’t know he likes until he sees it for the first time. He’s probably dragged himself out of your post-coital snooze to get you both some water or feed the stray cat on his balcony, leaving you to ponder your clothing situation.

When you open Aizawa’s wardrobe, it’s 75% loose black shirts and pants, with a few non-black items crammed at one end, including those infamous pink sweatpants.

It seems he’s not totally averse to colour, just not when he’s working. He has a few t-shirts (gifts from Hizashi) covered in cats (as opposed to just covered in cat hair, like the rest).

If you’ve cuddled him at all, which you have, thoroughly, you know that all his clothes are surprisingly soft and comfortable. He tends to end up with raggedy cuffs on his sleeves, but even so, the shirt has that soft texture clothing gets when it’s been washed many times. You dig out some random black shorts he has, though you’ve never seen him expose his pasty legs in public, so they must be old.

Shouta shuffles back into the room to find you asleep, curled up in your borrowed finery. There’s something about the sight of you lying in his bed, wearing his clothes, looking so warm and comfortable. It’s like a little gut punch of domesticity.

“You’re meant to ask, you brat,” he says fondly, flopping onto the bed next to you.

Still, he reflects, as he pulls you closer, that shirt’s gonna smell like you now. Maybe he should make you wear it every time you sleep over.

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

All Might’s still pretty nervous about being in a relationship so he’s not 100% sure of the protocol, especially when you’re at his place and you don’t have any clean clothes to wear to bed. He gets flustered and goes to see if he can quickly wash your clothes, forgetting the entire wardrobe of clean clothes right there.

All Might or Small Might, his clothes are going to absolutely drown you no matter what size you are. Toshi’s a titan. Any t-shirt you try to borrow is basically a giant nightshirt.

Toshinori splutters a little at the sight of you swimming in the fabric of one of his shirts. Once he’s done coughing into his elbow, he offers you a toothy grin, his eyes crinkled up.

“That…might be a little big on you,” he says, tugging playfully on all the excess fabric. “Are you sure it’s going to be comfortable?”

You tell him that you like the feeling of the soft, loose fabric, and the fact that it smells a little like his cologne, even after being washed. He’s chuckles at that, wrapping his large hands around your waist, the fabric cinching in against you.

“Well, never thought one of my old shirts could look so adorable.”

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lovebugism · 2 months

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I heard you’d like some requests, don’t mind if I do 👹 I could’ve sent 62 but I restrained myself:

*grumbling* "Some people are waaay too touchy."

if it inspires you, please!

emmy (upsidedownwithsteve) 🧡

@upsidedownwithsteve, my love! it was an honor to write for you! i hope you like it :D — eddie munson's a big, jealous grump at the bar (established relationship, fluff, 1.1k)

Eddie’s having a piss-poor night. His beer’s lukewarm, the music’s too loud, you’re too far away, and Steve Harrington hasn’t shut up in ten minutes.

He could hardly stand the dumbass everyone used to call The King, but even less when he’s got a golden arm thrown over your shoulder. And, yeah, it’s all friendly or whatever, but that hardly quells the wildfire burning in his chest. “What right does he have to touch you like this? Fucking none,” grumbles the wild-haired boy’s inner conscience.

But then again, no one does. Not even him.

“Think I should go buy her a drink?” Steve asks you over the blaring pop music. His honey eyes are pointed across the bar at a girl way out of his league. His slick mouth is far too close to your ear.

You roll your eyes. “I think you should be a gentleman and feel things out with her first—”

“Oh, I’m gonna feel things out with her, alright,” Steve scoffs, bringing the lip of the beer bottle to his mouth.

“—Before jumping into a one-night stand you only halfway recover from.”

The two of you turn to glare at each other, then. Gazes unwavering. Noses mere inches apart. Eddie makes a faint grumbly noise of protest about it, but the boyish sound of disgust goes unheard under the music.

But when I see you hanging about with anyone—

It’s not unusual to see me cry; I wanna die!

Someone’s been plugging the same goddamn Tom Jones song into the jukebox for six minutes now. Eddie feels like he might as well be in hell at this rate. It’d hurt less, he figures.

You and Steve seem to communicate telepathically until he inevitably caves first. He huffs until his puffed-out chest deflates, along with his stupid ego. He doesn’t know how you always seem to be right about everything. He fucking hates it, actually.

“Right. Whatever. I’m gonna go find Robin. She’s probably lost,” Steve deadpans with a sigh as he slides out from the booth. “Want anything?”

“Can you get me—”

“A spicy margarita?” he finishes for you — like he can read your fucking mind, Eddie grouses bitterly to himself. He hates that someone else knows you as well as he does.

You squint. “How’d you know?”

‘Cause it’s your favorite thing to drink after shots, Eddie answers in his head.

“Because we just had tequila shots. And you always want a spicy margarita after tequila shots,” Steve deadpans, then chuckles when your face scrunches. He pokes the very apple of your cheek and turns to the pouty boy across from you. “What about you, Eds? Want another beer while I’m up?”

Eddie shakes his head with a flat face, then takes a sip of his warm and hardly-sipped beer.

“Next round’s on you two, alright? I’m not your fucking boyfriend— you’re not getting free beers off me all night,” Steve chides lightheartedly before disappearing into the crowd.

You only smile to yourself as he goes. You know he’ll buy the whole damn bar out if you ask him to. ‘Cause that’s what best friends are for and all. Especially when they’re rich.

A groan bubbles in Eddie’s throat when the upbeat song starts all over again. It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone! the man croons. He drops his head to his elbow and bellows an annoyed moan. His chestnut curls spread wild over his shoulders.

You hide your grin behind your fist. “What’s wrong, Eds?”

“Nothin’,” he monotones, face still hidden.

“You haven’t said a word in twenty minutes.”

“Well, Steve hasn’t shut up in about thirty, so…” he retorts and lifts his heavy head, faking a smile as he tilts his flushed cheek to his shoulder. “Getting you two idiots into a room is fuckin’ crazy, you know that, right? Neither of you knows when to stop talking.”

Your nose scrunches. “Well, that’s what usually happens when you have friends, Eddie. You have conversations.”

“You sayin’ I don’t have friends, sweetheart?” he questions with narrowed, chocolate eyes.

“No,” you answer, grinning all pretty. “I’m sayin’ you’re jealous for no reason.”

His face falls flat at having been found out so quickly. Though he figures he wasn’t exactly being discreet about the whole thing. He grumbles and shifts awkwardly in his seat, feeling too seen beneath your unwavering stare.

“Some people are just way too touchy,” he grouses with a boyish sneer on his features, trying desperately to hide his pout behind the amber bottle in his fist. He takes another sip of the lukewarm liquid and averts his gaze.

Your beam widens until it brightens the dim bar. “You’re the one sitting all the way over there, you loon,” you tell him with a soft giggle that squints the edges of your eyes.

Eddie perks at the invitation. His doe eyes flit from the sticky table to your twinkling eyes. He’s been waiting on the offer all night, too much of a coward to ask you himself, and it shows on his suddenly hopeful features.

You nod your head to the empty spot beside you. “Get over here before Steve comes back and starts yapping again.”

Eddie rises with a newfound life, rounding the table and sliding into the squeaky booth beside you. He clutches his beer with his left hand and throws his right around your shoulder. His arm rests over the back of the booth where Steve’s once was, holding you like he’s been dying to all night.

“Better?” you grin.

He nods wordlessly, wild curls tickling your jaw. He takes another sip to hide his quiet smile when you press your lips to the flushed apple of his cheek.

Steve returns then, with your spicy margarita in one hand and Robin’s wrist in the other. She stumbles in behind him and sways in place ahead of the table — freckled cheeks rosy, ocean eyes glassy.

“Have fun?” you wonder with a teasing lilt.

“I saw something shiny on the way back from the bathroom,” the brunette girl confesses in tiny slurs. “Then I get lost…”

You nod sympathetically. “We figured.”

Steve nudges her ahead of him until Robin gets the hint. She slinks gracelessly into the booth. The boy squints as he slides you your drink. “You’re in my seat,” he observes, as if it weren’t blatantly obvious.

Eddie shrugs. “…Yeah?”

“You could’ve just asked to switch,” he scoffs and slips in beside Robin.

“I was fine,” the wild-haired boy insists, then nods his head over to you. “She’s the one that wanted me to move.”

And even though that’s not exactly what happened, you nod anyway. “Yeah. I got too tired of sitting next to you, Stevie,” you tease the boy ahead of you. “Your cologne’s too strong— you smell like a fucking high school boys’ locker room.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you had a ton of experience in those back in the day, didn’t you?” Steve scoffs.

Your eyes narrow. “Dick.”

“Jesus,” Eddie grumbles like a storm cloud. “Stop flirting.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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popquizhot-shot · 11 months

Note

absolutely obsessed with protective dad miguel omg, like if on a mission where a villains being a creep he would be so feral cause THAATS HIS DAUGHTER so joel coded

Hope you like this nonnie<3333 sorry if there’s any typos.

Tw: a creep. Panic attacks and feelings of inadequacy

"You know, of all the super-heroes I've fought, I'm going to enjoy defeating you the most." the villain grins and chokes you harder, his other hand travels down the side of your spidersuit and he pins you against a wall, "I think it's the suit."

"What is wrong with you dude?" you wheeze out.

He only punches you and his hand moves from your throat to your jaw, "Careful, girly. Or I might not be as merciful as I'm being right now."

You huff, "Yeah, sure. Okay.”

You only realise he’s being serious when his eyes turn animalistic and he grips your cheeks so your mouth is slightly open. That’s when you start to thrash around. Kicking everywhere and you manage to snag him in the balls and he doubles over.

You immediately break out into a run and let out a thwip of webs to swing above him.

Unbeknownst to you or the villain, Miguel O’Hara himself is swinging at full speed to that very alleyway because he was eyes on you.

The moment, he saw the villain acting the way he did, he decided one thing.

He was going to make him suffer.

The villain finally got to his feet and let out a breath and a groan.

He heard a sound behind him, from the dark of the alleyway and dared to turn around.

Two red eyes stared into his own.

He disappeared into the darkness as he was pulled in by garnet webs. The only thing that could be heard were shrieks of pain and the sound of bones being broken.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out was a snarl, “You will never touch anyone ever again.”

——————-

You were huddled in a corner of a balcony, hugging your knees as you replayed the memory over and over again. Every breath you took hurt and only quickened with each passing moment.

It’s not that serious you idiot what is wrong with you now he’s probably gotten away and Miguel is going to be pissed

You flinch at the sound of someone landing on the balcony. And you almost let out a sob in relief when you hear Miguel’s voice.

His head whips to where you are and his mask disintegrates. His eyes widen a little and he makes himself a bit smaller and says your name softly.

Your breathing slows a little as he breathes with you. Guiding you and his hand hesitantly brings your own away from where it’s holding your hair tightly.

“You’re okay.” His voice is soft and calm, “I’m here.”

With a hiccup you throw your hands around him, “I’m sorry, I fucked up.”

“Hey.” He pats your back soothingly, “it’s okay. I got him. The mission is over.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to.” Your voice breaks against his shoulder and so does his heart.

“I don’t care.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Almost.”

You pull back to look into his eyes, “sorry.”

“Shut up.never apologise. No one hurts my kid and and gets away with it.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious. Understand?” He cups your cheeks softly, and your face scrunches up as tears form, “oh babygirl.” He breathes out as you start to sob.

“I just.. don’t want to be a burden.” You wheeze out between sobs.

That’s when he understands it’s not just about that asshole.

“You’re not a burden, honey.” He says against your hair as you hug him again.

He shushes you as your sobs only grow.

“Hey. Hey.” He pulls you away gently to look you in the eyes, “look at me. You’re not a burden. You’re a valuable asset to this team and we’re all lucky to have you. If anyone of them even heard what you’re saying right now, they’d be shocked. And then they’d be mad. I know that this feeling won’t go away immediately, but for today, know that none of this is your fault.”

“But he could have gotten away.”

“But he didn’t.” He reassures you.

“I can’t screw up like this, Miguel.”

“You can’t blame yourself. He was being a fucking creep and you ran away. It’s alright. You’re human.” He says your name to make a point. “And that’s okay. Okay?”

You breathe heavily and nod.

“Good. Now? Do you want to takeout? We can watch Star Wars back at home.”

You flash him a small smile, “yes please.”

He smiles and takes your hand, “Come on.”

You hug him once again and shake your head against his shoulder.

“You just wiped your nose on me, didn’t you?”

“No, what are you talking about?”

You know that the suit is a hologram right?”

“So the snot is on your shoulder?”

“I swear to god.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #mini miguel<33 #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #atsv x reader

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ugotcooneycrossed · 5 months

Text

let you break my heart again • alessia russo

part 2 of 'keep pretending pretty girl'

w/c: ~1.5k

a/n: sorry this took longer than planned my pookies but i hope its worth it🫶

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

you make some half-arsed excuse to leave the table- an ‘emergency’ of sorts that you have to see to.

an excuse that has the girl sitting across from you rolling her eyes, and huffing out a breath- she stands to leave and you grimace at her retreating form.

apologise to lotte later you tell yourself.

each step towards the toilets your resolve disappears a little more- your dignity all but vanishes, and the ever-nagging thought that this is a bad, very bad idea fades into an afterthought.

your heart beats a little faster; nerves, excitement- or the sheer embarrassment of never being able to deny alessia what she wants, you aren’t exactly sure.

you’re the first to arrive- the walk from your table since her text, an embarrassingly short amount of time. ducking down to check each stall, making sure no one else would be there to witness.

the door swings open loudly- and your head shoots to the newcomer, your heart pumping impossibly faster- but a stranger walks through instead, shooting you a strange look at your dishevelled appearance and heaving chest.

clearing your throat you avert your eyes- pretending to occupy yourself with washing your hands. and when the stranger leaves, you check your phone- five minutes have definitely passed, yet no sign of her.

it’s embarrassing how much you wish she would walk through that door right now. you huff out a frustrated breath- the tight feeling in your chest, coiling down into your stomach, and sitting heavily in your heart once again.

you turn to leave- barely making it out the door before a hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you back in.

a familiar voice questions you.

“where are you going?”

alessia.

“home?”

you reply- and alessia rolls her eyes at you- trapping you in between the sinks and herself.

“who was that?”

she questions you again- moving her head to catch your eyes when you avert them.

“no one less.”

her eyes narrow- moving impossibly closer to you- and your breath hitches in your throat, alessia opens her mouth to speak- but loud voices from just outside the door interrupt. instead, she grabs your hand- pulling you into a stall with her, just as a horde of women pile into the room.

you’re pressed up against each other in the small space- alessia’s breath fanning your neck, her perfume thick and enveloping all your senses.

the chatter from outside the stall fades into the background- muffled voices talking about something that you can’t quite comprehend at the moment.

not when alessia is looking down at you with those eyes, and her hands are resting on your hips- squeezing ever so slightly.

she’s got a gentle smile on her face now- one that has your heart melting a little, one that makes you crumble all over again, one that makes you think she finally will tell you she wants you.

the toilets empty finally- and you take the opportunity to shove the door open, practically tumbling out of the cramped space- desperate to get away from the blonde girl.

“(y/n) wait!”

you turn to look at her- waiting for her to say something, anything.

and yet, she doesn’t.

typical.

“shouldn’t you get back to your boyfriend less?”

she doesn’t respond to that- cringing and taking a step away from you instead.

“i don’t want you to see her again.”

she whispers it- and if you weren’t so in tune with her you would’ve missed it.

“sorry?”

“i don’t want you to see her again- i don’t want you to see anyone again.”

“but you right? ‘cause you just want me all to yourself? but it’s only when you want to see me- only when your boyfriend starts to bore you- only when you’re so pissed drunk you can’t even see straight- literally. and you want to know something alessia- you want to know the saddest, most pathetic part of it all? i’d let you break my heart over, and over again.”

you don’t know what’s come over you- you don’t know where this sudden rage is coming from, but when you see alessia shrink back- you can’t stand to be in the same room any more. cause you know the moment she speaks- the moment she reaches out, and holds your hand softly, the moment she whispers that she loves you; you’ll crumble and forgive her all over again.

you ignore her for days after that night- not that she has the nerve to say anything to you anyway, and you avoid her at training, going as far as to complain about a non-existent tweak in your knee to be allowed to skip training and stay in the gym.

leah shoots you strange looks over laura’s head- the girl too bust talking your ear off about how cute myle is to notice anything else.

kyra questions your sudden disappearance- poking you at lunch relentlessly, until you throw a chocolate bar in another direction, the younger girl chasing after it.

lotte catches you at lunch a few days later- grabbing your elbow and yanking you into an empty conference room.

“what happened?”

her tone is gentle but her hands holding you in place, not letting you escape- tell another story.

“nothing.”

lotte’s eyebrows raise- gripping your arm tighter when you try to leave.

“i talked to alessia.”

you hum at that- shrugging your shoulders.

“what’d she say?”

“just that you were upset with her- and well grace told me and I quote ‘some jealous blonde crashed our date and your friend basically malfunctioned on the spot.’”

“yeah- that’s some way to put it. she was there, even came up to out table. we talked. that’s all.”

the arsenal christmas party serves a great place to get drunk- a couple weeks after ‘the great disaster’- the new name of your date gone wrong.

lotte gives you a disapproving look at the amount of vodka you’ve poured and you send her a thumbs up and a cheeky smile.

you’re a little warm- buzzing from the alcohol, and the stupid sweater katie wrangled over your head when you stepped through the door- some obscure christmas reference you don’t know.

there’s a sea of people to navigate through- most you know, friends and family of your teammates that you’ve known for years now.

the crown from the bon bon you won against kyra slips a little- the small tear in the back, a result of kyra’s displeasure at losing- your poor green, paper crown a casualty in her mission to steal the stupid knickknacks inside. momentarily blinding you, you push it up, coming face-to-face with alessia’s ugly mug of a boyfriend.

“hey, you seen less?’

you hold in your grimace at his annoying voice, swallowing down and shrugging your shoulders.

“dunno man- sorry.”

he rolls his eyes at you.

shoving past more people to look for the blonde- and with his back turned, you flip him off, mocking him, and pulling faces.

with the last bit of your drink gone- and the sudden need to pee the only thing on your mind. you wonder over to the toilets.

you stand in front of the mirror for a while after- putting your cold hands on your flushed cheeks to cool them down.

and finally, fully satisfied with your full proof method to cool down- you open the door to leave- alessia appearing right on the other side.

“(y/n)! i’ve been looking for you! i missed you sooo much!”

you don’t know whether the alcohol is coming from her, or yourself- regardless the blonde crashes into you- and you melt at her familiar hold.

“i missed you too less.”

“please, please- just one kiss, i missed my girl.”

she puckers her lips expectantly- her strong arms still wrapped around you, and the fight in your head to not kiss her, doesn’t last more than a second, before you connect your lips.

you try to pull away after a second, but alessia grabs you tighter, chasing after your lips.

you separate- heaving chests, and matching slightly swollen lips.

“i love you so much (y/n)- i don’t ever want to go back to not talking.”

“i love you too lessi, i just-“

“there you are less!”

alessia’s boyfriend interrupts before you can say anything else- he pulls her away from you and you roll your eyes as they kiss.

he pulls away- sparing you one glance and trying to get alessia’s attention.

“head home now?”

he questions.

“mmh you can- might crash at (y/n)’s.”

alessia is only looking at you- waving off her boyfriend. and he leaves without another thought.

“what we’re you saying?”

“nothing- don’t worry about it less.”

“tell me- please.”

“don’t leave if you do come back- stay, please.”

you wake to the sound of your front door closing- shooting up in bed.

the beds empty- because of course it is, and you fall back into the sheets with a sigh.

there’s no training anymore with christmas break- no need to ignore you and fuss over the phone with her boyfriend. no texts, no calls- she doesn’t even like your instagram photos.

not that you’ve been hanging out for a notification from her or anything.

then a few days before you’re set to start training- you get a notification.

lessi to ‘you’

-> i miss you, i'm sorry for leaving- can we talk?

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

the clash | viii. love you to death

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 4.2k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, venom hating hobie, anxious and sad hobie, panic attacks, fight scene, injuries, lots of injuries, angst with fluff and then some more angst and then fluff again, mentions of blood, broken bones

a/n: y’all.... this one was so fun HAHA i’ve been seeing scenes from this part play out in my head ever since i thought of the plot so it was so so SO fun putting it into actual words. we’re getting closer to the end now, and i am so grateful for everyone who decided they wanted to read this lil story i thought up 🖤 i hope you enjoy!

previous chapter: vii. i wanna be sedated

now reading: viii. love you to death

next chapter: ix. last caress

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“Uh, Hobie… the hell is happening right now,” Miles asks, but Hobie stays silent. He’s trying so hard not to freak out. It’s taking everything in him to not give in to his emotions. He clenches his fists. “Let ‘em go,” he demands, and Venom laughs. “I don’t think so. I like this body more than I expected to. Looks like we’re in the same boat there, aren’t we?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, an all too familiar anger stirring in him. “Awww, are you going to kill me like you did yourself?” Venom giggles, and he glares at it. “Just fuckin’ might, mate,” he says through gritted teeth, and Gwen pipes up. “What? Hobie, what are they talking about?”

“Piss off, Gwen. That’s not them,” he snaps, and she frowns underneath her mask. “We’re here to help you Hobie,” she says, and he clenches his jaw. “I don’t need no help.”

“On the contrary, I think you need all the help you can get. You mess up everything when you don’t have it, no?” Venom says, amused. Hobie knows it’s just trying to antagonize him. He knows that. But he can’t help but get angry. It’s using your body.

But he also knows that he does need help. He just can’t say his plan in front of this freakshow. “Go back to Spider Society, Gwen,” he touches his guitar, “tell Miguel I got it under control. Just gonna amp up this space slime a bit.” He hopes that was a clear indication of what he needs Gwen to do.

“Are you sure?” she asks slowly, and he smirks. She got it. “Positive.” With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pav disappear. If Hobie gets as many amps as possible, he can repeat what he did with Osborn and save you. Of course, the act of destroying this Venom might require more than just noise and be a little harder, but he’s willing to do anything to save you.

Anything.

Venom laughs. “That was a dumb move, what you just did,” it says, and he shrugs. “Yeah well, I’m full of those lately,” he responds, trying to think of his next move. He doesn’t want to destroy your flat, but he doesn’t want to cause too much damage to the city as a whole. “Are you going to do something, or do you prefer I kill you just standing there?” Venom asks, and Hobie scoffs. “Kill me? You’re a cheeky alien, you are,” he says, and he leaps off of the balcony. Venom follows him. He begins webbing through the city, expertly. Honestly, it’s a good thing he’s been here to see you so many times. But Venom keeps up with him, occasionally shooting out some symbiote webs at him. Luckily, he’s able to see it and dodge them with no problem.

He sees a giant arena and decides that’s a good place to fight Venom. Especially as it was all dark and he saw a sign talking about a celebration there for tomorrow, which means everything was most likely set up already and he didn’t have to worry about anyone being there since the event wasn’t until tomorrow.

He webs into it, landing in the nose bleeds and disappearing into the shadows. He hears Venom land where he was with a chuckle. “You can’t outrun me, Spider-Punk,” it says, and Hobie quietly webs down a few levels and ducks into a closed clothing store in the arena. He calls Gwen, who picks up almost immediately. “Shh,” Hobie says before she can say anything. “Bring the amps to the Mortician Square Garden Arena, line ‘em across the top, I’ll keep Venom distracted til you finish,” he whispers, and Gwen nods. “And one more thing. Get as much as you can out of (Y/n)’s flat, okay? Get Shadow out, take him to Miguel, and all the vinyls, their aunt’s skull, as much as you can,” he whispers, and she gives him a confused look. “Why?” she asks, and he sighs. “Their world isn’t gonna make it,” he says, and Gwen’s eyes widen. She mumbles a quick ‘got it,’ before hanging up.

He sits in the silence, confused as to why he doesn’t feel any presence. Suddenly, an inky tendril shoots out at him, and grabs him, pinning his arms to his sides. He mutters expletives, trying to get out of Venom’s grasp, but to no avail. He comes face to face with the grinning monster. “Found you.”

“Fuck you, mate,” he grunts, and thrashes around. “I thought you would be more difficult to catch. Looks like I was wrong,” it says and Hobie rolls his eyes. “Woulda been harder, bu–”

“But your little sense trick doesn’t work on me. That’s how I caught (Y/n), too,” says Venom as they pull Hobie’s mask off. Hobie glares at them and tries to get out of its grip again. “They’re right… you are handsome,” Venom says, and he delivers a successful kick to the symbiote. “Get out of their head,” he growls, and it giggles. “That tickled.”

Venom throws him across the room with force. He flies through a wall and groans as he stands up. Venom shoots out a tendril to catch him again, but he successfully dodges it. “If only you could hear their pleas for me to leave you alone,” Venom says, and it makes Hobie angrier. “I said get out of their head!” He yells, throwing a giant chunk of concrete at Venom only to have it shatter when it comes into contact with it. It only slightly falters, but that enough time for Hobie to quickly web away. He just needs to keep Venom preoccupied while Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr set up the first part of the plan.

He hears Venom following him, taunting him, and consistently trying to grab at him. As long as he keeps Venom from seeing outside, everything should go off just fine. He just hopes Miles, Gwen, and Pav can let him know when to go outside with Venom close behind. Ah well. Improvising is what spiders do best, anyways. Hobie is swinging past a food booth when Venom hits him into it. He winces as he crashes through the wall separating the front from the kitchen and straight into the knobs on the giant grill. Of course, it turns the electric grill on, but that’s the least of Hobie’s worries as Venom then uses one of its “webs” to pin him down on the ground. He grabs the web and tries to get it off of him, but it doesn’t work. Venom sprouts tendrils that make it literally look like a spider, with “legs” coming out of its back.

Luckily, Venom places one of these legs on top of the already hot grill, causing it to scream out in pain and freak out just enough for Hobie to get out of the “web’s” grasp. He quickly runs off, shooting out a web to disappear out of Venom’s sight. He sneaks around to the outside and sees Pav pushing an amp in place. It looks like they’re about halfway done, and Hobie nods. He can keep that thing distracted for that much longer.

He sneaks back into the indoor part of the stadium. He thinks about it, but ultimately decides he’s had enough with the stealth method. It obviously isn’t helping him in this instance, like it ever helped him before. “HEY VENOM! COME GET ME YA FUCKIN’ TOSSER!” he yells, and to his expectation, Venom burst through a wall and screams at him. Hobie shoots a web upwards and leaps up to the next story. Venom bursts through the floor, and Hobie quickly fires a web at a pillar, wrapping around it a few times and then firing another one to another pillar and tying them together tightly before taking off and doing it again to the next set of pillars, and then repeating it again. He made sure the first trap would land in the middle of Venom’s body, the second more of a tripwire, and the third at clothesline level. And it worked.

Venom ran directly into the first trap, which slowed it down, and then the second made it stumble and the third snapped its head back at a gross angle. It groans, and Hobie waves at it. “You should really watch where ya goin’,” he says, and Venom growls. “They feel everything.”

“What?” Hobie falters. “Your little partner. They feel it all.” Hobie frowns. Is that true? Did he just hurt you? Venom senses his distraction, and grabs him, pushing him down through the floor. He grunts, and Venom laughs. “It’s too easy,” it says, and Hobie glares at it. He’s trying to pretend like he isn’t completely battered and bruised by Venom, but damn. This alien can fight. He grunts as Venom picks him up off the ground and pushes him forcefully against the wall. “Aww, did that hurt?” Venom giggles, and he spits on it. He ignores that there was blood mixed in with the spit. That’s… probably not good, though. Venom smiles at him. “I don’t think I am going to kill you,” it hisses, cocking its head to the side. “I think I’ll keep you in case this body breaks.”

“Piss off, I’d never let you do that to me.”

“Even if it meant I would let (Y/n) go?” it asks, and Hobie clenches his jaw. Venom giggles. “Say I let them go, they could run free without the influence of me. Would you do it then?” Hobie clenches his fists, staying quiet. “You’d just make me kill them.”

“Clever boy,” it says, and Hobie yelps as Venom tightens its grip on him. “But you’re right. This body will do just fine, and I can easily find a new host if I need to,” Venom says, smirking at Hobie, “I’ll be kind to you before I kill you,” Venom says, and suddenly Venom’s creepy and unsettling grin melts away, and Hobie sees your face. You’ve been crying, and that sight alone breaks his heart. And your heart breaks at the sight of his bloodied lip, black eye and cut forehead. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to each other at the same time, but before any more words can be said, Venom takes over again.

Hobie tries to get out of its grasp again, but it's not happening. “Interesting choice for your last words,” Venom forms a fist, ready to strike Hobie, but before it can, it’s arm gets pulled backward by another web. “Those will not be his last words,” he hears Pavitr say. “Yeah, his last words will probably be ‘I DON’T AGREE WITH PEACEFUL PROTESTS’ or some shit,” Miles chimes in, webbing the arm holding Hobie against the wall and yanking it away from him. “I was thinking more like ‘I won’t let you hurt them!’ because I mean wow look at how unhinged he is right now! Imagine when they’re actually together,” Pav says. “Not the time, Pav,” Miles shakes his head, yanking Venom’s arm, even more, to make it parallel to the arm Pavitr’s holding back.

Pavitr and Miles hold Venom’s arms back as it shrieks and Hobie leaps away from it. “Good timin’, lads,” he says, wiping some of the blood off his face. “Don’t mention it,” Miles grunts and Hobie dodges some attacks thrown by Venom’s tendrils. “Miles! It’s sensitive to heat!” Hobie yells, and Miles smirks. “Ahhhh, I gotcha,” he says and uses his venom electricity strike. Venom yelps and falls backward. Pav and Miles let go of its arms, and the three of them crouch down. “Where’s Gwen?”

“She’s outside getting all the chords connected so all the amps play at once,” Miles says after electrocuting Venom again, meaning it didn’t hear what Miles just said. “Amazin’,” Hobie mumbles, dodging some more of Venom’s attacks. “I’m gonna get up there, stall it woulda?” Hobie says, webbing away.

He knows Venom is going to try and follow him, so he heads out to the open field. When he gets out there, he sees rows and rows of fireworks. What the hell were they celebrating that they needed this much fire power? He hears Venom’s yell and decides it’s not important, but it’s good that all of it is there. They can use that. He climbs and webs his way up to the top of the stadium, running over to Gwen who hands him the chord. “Thank you,” he says, plugging his guitar in, and she nods. “Don’t mention it.”

“Did you get everything out of their flat?”

“As much as we could. How do you know it’s the end?” she asks, and he frowns. “Cause I caused it.” He looks down, clenching his jaw and clearing his throat.

“It’s bout to get real loud. Tell Miles and Pav to lure it out,” Hobie says, and Gwen nods, about to web off. “Wait! Gwen, throw all the fireworks in a big pile,” he says, pointing to all of the fireworks. “What? Why?”

“Venom is sensitive to heat. Let’s blow it up.”

“But (Y/n) is–”

“They won’t be bonded when it happens, go!” Hobie says, and Gwen hurries to help the boys lure Venom out into the open. Hobie watches and waits, when he hears police sirens going off. Oh great. Piggies are coming to play. Maybe Venom will eat some of them. That would be the only time he ever supported Venom doing something. His attention gets pulled back to the field when he hears Venom’s shrieks. He sees Pav and Gwen web out, starting to throw the fireworks into a pile, and then Venom stumbles out, screaming from Miles electrocuting it once again. Hobie pulls out his pick, placing his fingers to form the beginning chord to one of his favorite songs. He hesitates and places his fingers to form a different chord. This time, it’s one of your favorite songs. He knows all of them by heart, anyways.

“When did you learn this song?” you ask him, as he lazily strums along to one of the songs playing on your vinyl player. He shrugs. “I hear it so much when I come over here, the real question would be when didn’t I learn this song,” he says, and you roll your eyes. He smiles slightly when he sees you swaying back and forth and humming along to the music.

The song ends, and without a beat, Hobie starts strumming along to the next one. “I must listen to this vinyl way too much,” you comment, and he shrugs. “At least it isn’t a shit album.”

Watching you vibe with his playing made him make a promise to himself, he would always learn your favorite songs just so he could see your reaction to him playing them.

How didn’t he realize his feelings before?

Venom spots him, and screams up at him, ready to rush up the seats of the stadium and take him down. He takes a deep breath.

“Come back to me, love.”

He strums, and the sound causes Venom to stumble, holding its ears while it screams. He can see Gwen, Pav, and Miles wince slightly from the noise as they finish bringing all the fireworks into a pile in the middle of the stadium. They web up to where Hobie is and turn to see what happens. Hobie doesn’t acknowledge them, his main focus is on you. Venom’s skin starts bubbling around you, and it seems to literally be melting. He sees flashes of you, the pain affecting you in the same way as Venom. It nearly makes him stop playing seeing the distress on your face. But he remembers it’s the symbiote causing you the pain, and he needs to get it off of you as soon as possible. The position Venom is in, trying desperately to cover its ears suddenly breaks as you finally regain control of your own body. You rip some of the symbiote off, your face breaking through. Hobie keeps playing, fixated on you as you crawl away from the inky black alien. It looks straight out of a horror movie, and he can’t wait to tell you about it. You’re gonna think you looked so cool. He’ll still give you some playful shit about how you looked though. It wouldn’t be the same if he didn’t.

He nearly tears up when he sees you completely separate from Venom. You look up, seeing him and the others, and immediately web up to him. You’re in your suit, but your mask isn’t on, and Hobie stops playing seeing that you’re next to him. You immediately wrap your arms around him, hugging him like your life depended on it. He hugs back, somehow tighter than you are. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and he shakes his head. “No, love, you’re okay. You don’t have to apologize for nothin’,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down your back. If the two of you could choose, you would stay like this forever. But the two of you are spiders. And it never works out like that for spiders.

“HOBIE LOOK OUT!”

Hobie hears Gwen shout just a second too late, and one of Venom’s “webs” attaches itself to his back, pulling him off the edge of the stadium. You reach your hand out to prevent it, and Hobie reaches out his, but you just weren’t fast enough. Your fingertips brush each other, but before you can grab his hand, he’s out of reach. You watch as he gets pulled down to the bottom of the stadium.

For the second time, you weren’t fast enough.

You get flashbacks to your second canon event, and a single tear escapes your eye.

Hobie, on the other hand, can feel Venom overtake him, no matter how hard he tries to fight it off. He starts to panic, hearing Miguel’s voice in his mind.

“Hobart Brown was meant to kill (Y/n) (L/n).”

Now the tears are falling freely down his face. This can’t be happening. He can’t let this happen. Why is this happening?

Once the shock of what happened passes, you find yourself pissed off. You just got back to Hobie, and now this alien thinks it can take him away? Fuck that. You scream out of frustration, webbing down and punching Venom’s newly formed face, full force. Well, as full force as your exhausted body will let you. You feel your hand break from your own strength coming into contact with something equally as strong, but Venom falls backward, so you don’t really care. You ignore the pain, noticing the pile of fireworks. You understand the assignment immediately. Unfortunately for you, Venom bounces back faster than you thought and punches you in the stomach. You grunt, coughing up blood, as you fly backward and hit the side of the stadium wall, hard. You glare at Venom, who laughs. “So weak,” you hear it say, and you glare at it. “Maybe if I should have drained more of your life force. Then you wouldn’t have even been able to punch me like that. Though, I know it took up more energy than you would have liked to do so,” Venom roars at you, beginning to charge at you.

You web to the other side of the stadium as Miles jumps down. “I got it,” he says, electrocuting Venom once more to slow it down. It screams and swats him out of the way. He hits the wall, and shakes his head, webbing up to Gwen and Pav, who immediately assesses the damage he got from Venom’s hit. They notice you’re up here, too now. “You are just so fast,” Pav says, impressed. “Oh my god, (Y/n), your hand,” she says, seeing it already turning black and blue, and blood pouring from it. “Not important right now,” you growl, picking up Hobie’s guitar. Luckily, your strumming hand is the hand that broke, so you form your fingers to a specific chord and strum. You play Hobie’s favorite song, the one he taught you to try and show you ‘real music’ so long ago.

“Ugh, can’t we listen to something other than your moody goth music?” Hobie asks, lazily turning his head towards you as he laid on his couch. Gwen, Pav, and Miles left like 30 minutes ago, but Shadow was too comfortable on Hobie’s chest for him to leave. “No, actually, we can’t. And don’t act like this song isn’t the best thing you’ve ever heard.”

“Listen just cause it’s your favorite doesn’t mean it has to be mine, love,” he says, causing you to roll your eyes. “You’re such an asshole, Hobart.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he says and you fake gag. At the sound, Shadow hops off Hobie and makes his way to you, making sure you’re okay. “Alright, you can leave now. Yayy, Shadow! Wooo!” you say, petting your cat and pretending like you want Hobie to leave. He clicks his tongue. “Nah, I’m not goin’ nowhere. Come here,” he says pulling his guitar from behind the couch and into his arms. “What are you doing?”

“I’m showing you real music. So, sit down, shut up, and soak up the jams.”

You play through the pain, doing the exact thing he did when he first showed you. Albeit not as good as him. But it works, he breaks away from Venom, running, climbing, and webbing as fast as he can to get to you. And seeing the sight of you playing the guitar like that? Especially his favorite song? He could have fainted if he wasn’t worried you’d die immediately after he did. He sees your hand and frowns. “Give me the guitar, love,” he says, taking it out of your hands gently, and picking up where you left off. Except he quickly fades into one of your songs. You smile slightly and look at him. He gives you a small smile back. “Hobie, you have your lighter?” you ask, and he nods. “I’m gonna go down there and convince it to come to the fireworks pile. When I say, throw me your lighter,” you say. “Kick its fuckin’ ass, (Y/n),” he says, as you leap off the top of the stadium.

The four spiders up top suddenly hear a police bullhorn. “We have you surrounded. Hands up or we will resort to using force!”

Hobie turns his guitar up louder.

You web down, purposely aiming to kick Venom closer to the fireworks pile. You hit the ground and roll, landing in a crouch before standing and sprinting to the pile. You scream Hobie’s name, and he throws you his lighter. He stops playing, seeing that it needs to be able to actually move to get to the pile. You web up a story, catching it before rolling back down on the ground. Venom shrieks in its symbiote form, and comes rushing toward you, but you quickly ignite the lighter, throwing it on the pile of fireworks. You leap on top of it, ensuring that Venom will be in the line of fire, and when the first one begins going off as Venom tries desperately to climb it and get to you, you web off it as fast as you can. Hobie watches as you get halfway up before all of the fireworks go off at once.

He hears Venom’s screams, but all he can focus on is watching you as the explosion breaks your web and propels you way higher than you should have gone. He quickly uses his left hand to web a building close by and his right hand to another one and slingshots himself up to you. He catches you in midair, cradling you to his body and webbing to another building. Luckily, Mortician Square Garden was close to the Ember Stake Building, your favorite spot in all of the city. He lands, crouching down and holding you in his arms in a way that your legs are resting on the building. You lean your head against his chest, and he gently places a hand on the side of your face. “Alright, love?” he mumbles, and you give him a small, weak smile. “’m tired, Hobie.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he says, running his thumb back and forth across your cheek. “Bet I looked cool just then, though,” you say, and Hobie chuckles. “Dunno. Think you need to work on your form,” he says, and you laugh softly. “You played my favorite,” you mumble, and he nods. “You played mine.”

“Not very well.”

“I would listen to that every day of my life, love.” You turn your head slightly to see the amount of fireworks lighting up the night sky. Hobie stays looking at you. “Looks pretty,” you mutter, and he grins. “Yeah. Sure does,” he says, ignoring the fireworks completely. “Reckon I get you somewhere safe to rest?” he says, and you nod softly. “I’d like that,” you mumble, turning your head back to him. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, not saying anything. He looks up, standing and helping you stand as well. He gently turns you to see your city, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I gotta admit. I do like it here,” he whispers in your ear. You smile softly, looking out at the city from your favorite spot. After getting a good look, you feel your legs about to give out as your eyes flutter closed. He catches you before you fall and is grateful you stopped looking when you did because he starts to see the nothingness begin to claim your world. You hear Hobie very quietly say, “I’ve got you, my love.”

Then everything fades to black.

───────────────────────────────

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#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie #spiderpunk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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reiderwriter · 5 months

Note

Hey lovely! Hope you’re doing good! I was listening to bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo and thought it would be a good idea for a Spencer fic, was thinking something something with a little angst, smut and possibly a fluffy ending! ♥️

Ps love your writing 🖤

A/N: Most relatable song released this year, if we're being totally honest with ourselves, right 💀 I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: (Munch Spencer Truthers, I'm throwing yourself another bone here), Oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), slight hand job at the end, penetrative sex, cum play, etc. Minors DNI 18+

Your fling with Spencer Reid from the BAU ended abruptly when he fell off the face of the earth.

You weren't sure how someone who had described himself as technophobic had managed to perfect the art of ghosting someone, but boy had he, and you were still a little bit angry about it.

Even angrier when you saw him plastered over the local news out on a case, explaining to the people how fake tips to the FBI hindered cases more than helped them.

You were angry because he looked so good. His hair was shorter, displaying his all too pretty features prominently, and pissing you off to no end as you still felt your heart beat out of your chest until he'd disappeared into a crime scene again.

You brushed it off and berated yourself until the text came.

It wasn't much, just a quick hello, but you waited for a few minutes anyway to see if he'd say anything else.

When he didn't, you grew frustrated and text him a response.

“Who is this?”

It was petty, but four months of radio silence deserved less, in all honesty.

You weren't expecting the phone to vibrate out of your hand as you waited for a response, but it lit up with his call and you scrambled to wait enough time to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It's Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, from the Behavioural Analysis Unit, this is Y/N right?”

“Yes, Spencer, it's me. My number didn't change after four months.”

“Okay, that was deserved.”

“Why are you calling Spencer?”

“Because I'm a burnt out child prodigy who didn't cure schizophrenia by age 25 and my friends missed my birthday. And because I really wanted to see you.”

The line went quiet as you contemplated what the hell you would say to that.

“It would be stupid to ask if you remembered my address, right?”

“Y/N, I remember what you taste like, and I'll never forget it.”

“Good. I'm locking the door in half an hour.” You didn't give him time to respond before exiting the call and running to your bathroom.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea entertaining a fling from months ago on a whim at 7pm on a Wednesday evening, but you had nothing else to be doing with your time.

It wasn't illegal for people to reconnect, and you were not going to mention this to any close or mutual friends of yours, so one conversation (or whatever this was) probably wouldn't have any consequences anyway.

Caution blown to the wind, you replaced your work clothes with a comfortable dress, fixed your hair and poured a glass of wine and waited.

As if on queue, 27 minutes later, Spencer was at your door. Or more accurately in your house.

Your threat to lock the doors had obviously spurred him on, and you heard the door handle twist as he stepped into the space.

“Spencer. How lovely, to what do I owe the honor?”

The adrenaline of making sure the door was unlocked had obviously worn off for him, as you saw him shift awkwardly in the doorway of your living room, sat comfortably on your couch, your skirt just riding high enough to distract.

“I was thinking. Well, I suppose the correct term would be overthinking. Emily had to snap me out of it, because I was kicking myself and doubting myself and worrying so much that we almost lost the unsub…”

“What I’m trying to say is I’ve regretted not doing too many things to think coming to beg you to kiss me again is a bad idea. It’s not a bad idea, right?”

“That depends, Spencer.” You replied, setting your glass of wine down and standing up. You took a wobbly step towards him, eager to blame your hesitancy on the wine rather than the things his gaze, his words and his simple presence was doing to your body.

“On if you only want a kiss.” Your hand gingerly slipped up his chest until it was hooked into his hair, exploring the shorter locks as he grabbed you by the waist.

“Or if you aren't satisfied with just that.”

“I can't seem to come up with an answer. Perhaps you should kiss me and it'll jog my memory.”

You finally cracked a smile, and saw his face instantly bloom into ot as well.

“Nu-uh Spencer. I think you have to take that chance this time.”

He hesitated only a second before his hands were cradling your face, tipping your chin up to him as he bent to kiss you. You immediately responded, letting your hands grab fistfuls of his shirt as you pulled each other closer.

It sent you off balance, but you let yourself follow the motion of you tipping backwards, letting him catch you as you began moving in the direction of your bed.

“Not a bad idea,” he mumbled between deep kisses, letting loose a stray moan when your hands trailed down to his belt and below. “Definitely not a bad idea.”

Somehow in the clash of lips and hands, you managed to make it back to your bed, his hands already managing to find themselves under your dress as his lips diverted your attention.

“Four months, Spencer.” You growled the words into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. “Four months without this. I thought I'd go insane.”

You felt him smile as he lifted you, and grinned too as you wrapped your legs around him just as he began climbing onto the bed, softly lowering you down until he was on top of you.

His tongue travelled down your neck, making his way back up towards your ear.

“I did go a bit insane, you know?”

His hands flipped up your skirt as he ground his dick against your crotch, pushing it up further until the bottoms of your breasts were peaking out of the scraps of material as well.

“Let me make it up to you?” It was phrased like a question he didn't care about the answer to, as he pushed off of you and completely rid your body of the material that was hindering it completely.

“That's better.” You swore you heard a sigh of contentment as he held your thighs apart and lowered his head, one kiss at a time, to your neglected pussy.

He hooked a ginger under your panties, and pushed them off to the side, but he'd never been the most patient, and he'd already spread your legs. He'd just work around the impediment, you knew.

And he did, starting with a casual flick of the tongue as he looked up at you from his place at your cunt, smiling at you as he began to feast.

You'd never thought of yourself as a pillow princess before Spencer, enjoying giving love as much as receiving but he gave you the perfect royal treatment, and enjoying it so much it was impossible to deny.

After getting so spoiled, it was a wonder that you even knew how to adapt to life without him, nothing compared to the care and attention he showed you in bed.

Your thoughts blended together as he pressed a finger into you, already sneaked with his spit and your wetness, collected from between his lips and your soaked cunt. His pace was steady, repetitive, and driving you fucking insane.

Never a demanding lover, before you would have simply let him enjoy his time between your legs, enjoying just how much he enjoyed it himself as he lapped up all of your juices.

But four months clean from your addiction to Spencer Reid and you were snapping.

Your hands gripped at his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt than he'd been before, enjoying the muffled moans and the sound of his tongue generously lapping up all you had to offer.

You started humping his mouth, holding his head still as you used him as a tool to get yourself off, finally cumming on his mouth with a shudder and an unfiltered moan.

It would've been embarrassing if it wa anyone else, just how loud you'd been for your ex-boyfriend.

“You taste the same.” He said, wiping the remainders of your cum from his lips as he stroked himself, having loosed his cock from his pants sometime between you moaning like a wanton whore and using his face as a sex toy.

A single glance at him over you pleasuring himself was enough to get you ready for round two.

He had sat up on his knees, head and torso tilted slightly back to give you a better view of his cock being pumped hard and fast.

“Spencer Reid, don't you dare make yourself cum.” You thought the words were joking, light even but even you were shocked by the sheer lust dripping from your throat.

Wrapping your legs around him again, you pulled yourself up into his lap, holding yourself still as you quickly unfastened each of his shirt buttons, pushing it away and chucking it so far that he wouldn't be able to use it to cover up anything else.

It took you a minute more to properly situate yourself, but soon you were sinking down onto his cock and allowing the stretch to rule your mind and movements for a minute.

You gently started riding him, letting each gasp and moan reach your ears and spur you on, not holding back on your side either, telling him just how good it felt to have him in you raw once again.

Your stamina wasn't great though especially after having had one powerful orgasm already, and your movements soon became sloppy.

He kissed you softly on the lips, and you let go of the tension in your body as he pushed you onto your back, made sure you were comfortable, and started beating his cock into you with such a force that you were sure the bed was going to break.

It was this intensity that you craved, this complete change from his insistence on putting you first so to speak, and then using you as a human sexton when it suited him, allowing his cock to push you to your limits and beyond.

It wasn't like you could protest anyway, mouth hanging limply open in a scream of pleasure as sparks shot up your spine.

Entertaining Spencer Reid was never a bad idea. You decided then and there that if he left you again for whatever reason, you'd hunt him to the ends of the earth and beg for another chance at this feeling of pleasure.

You came again, of course, not sure if it was his cock or his exploring hands that was tethering you to the moment as you died a little death.

His own orgasm wasn't far behind your own, but he'd always been a bit messy. You weren't surprised when he gave a small panicked moan, pulling out at the last second as his cum spurted out. You helped him ride it out, wrapping a hand around him to stroke him until his dick was drained, the contents sprayed across your chest and breasts, a single drop even making it to the side of your mouth, but that was quickly lapped up.

His aftercare was almost as good as his foreplay, as he took pains to wash you diligently, even as all you wished to do was sleep well into the night directly after feeling his hot cum pour onto you.

He'd gathered a wash cloth, fresh set of pyjamas and an extra blanket to cocoon you both in before you could even lift a finger, and climbed into bed before you could even think of asking if he was staying the night.

With the satisfaction of multiple orgasms finally catching you, you fell asleep in his arms, a grin plastered on your lips, his hands possessively surrounding you.

Needless to say, when you woke in the morning, he was still there.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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faetreides · 1 month

Text

summary: situationship!rafe cameron x afab nerd!reader

cw: angst undertones w/ a hopeful ending, black cat!coded reader x whatever rafe would be, suggestive action in the shower & mentions of off screen nsfw (cum and thigh fucking but the latter is a bit more graphic lol) , class differences, rafe is pathetic and weird, implied drug use, rafe beats a man but you can decide if he killed him, reader has implied mental health issues and low self esteem, ambiguous feelings on rafe’s part (he said ily but he could be lying), dark content themes, rafe calls reader kitty in both a mean way and a pet name way, if the thing with reader’s first crush sounds too real that’s cause it is 🤫, started my period while i was formatting this (i just thought y’all should know)

wc: 1.9k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

consider commissioning me 🫀

“Hey, babe, would you be a good kitty and let me in?” Is what you’re greeted with when you swing open your screen door. Rafe Cameron looks pleased as punch, all things considered, soaking wet due to the pouring rain and no doubt high as a kite.

The slurred speech doesn’t alarm you as much as the river of blood flowing from his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe, what the fuck?” You try to sound harsh but the fuck is noticably softer than your other words and Rafe smiles, more blood drips down his chin.

You look over his shoulder to see his bike on its side in the dirt, it’s raining and you just know he’ll be pissed to see the mus clinging to it tomorrow. But for right now, you have an injured situationship to patch up.

He stumbles as you struggle to yank him aside, and he sways but collapses on your couch. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to lose your shit immediately. The audacity of this man to waltz in on you barely alive and expect some twisted kind of comfort, after everything.

“I was studying you know, textbooks are expensive so don’t start getting your blood on them.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I know.”

Rafe grunts but keeps his body away from your books. That’s the least he can do, the bare minimum. You sigh and walk over him, kneeling in front of the couch. His eyes are dazed and unfocused as you brush the hair away from his forehead, but his fingers twitch.

“Why did you come here, Rafe? To me?” You whisper, tired and unamused.

You’re startled by his harsh cough, his fingers twitch in your direction again, “ ‘Was nowhere else, wanted you.”

Isn’t that good enough?

You blink dumbly at that, but you have no answer for his crazed ramblings so you slap your knees and make your way to the bathroom. You procure a wet washcloth and some measly bandages, he would just have to deal with it. Rafe’s eyes drag towards you when you kneel back in front of him and bring the cloth to his mouth.

You avoid his stare as you sop up the copious amounts of blood, praying that this wouldn’t need a visit to the hospital. In some ways, you’ve seen too much blood since Rafe Cameron decided to make a mockery of your existence. The gaggle of rich girls he used to have on each arm disappeared but he excused it by detailing his plans to lead you on in front of his friends, checking to see if you were in ear shot.

There’s nothing you did, in your mind. You stuck to yourself and somehow invited the attention of some psycho. That’s the hardest part of the situation, you can’t pinpoint a true beginning. You can only remember being in this murky middle, devoid of an ending. Rafe does have a pretty face though, unfortunately, the water from cloth making his skin glisten. You’ll throw the rag out after this, there’s no point trying to get the stain of blood out of anything.

Eventually, you’re done with the first part and have an excuse to turn away from him. You get back on your feet to reach for the bandages but a groan coming from behind stops you. You turn around and freeze when Rafe buries his nose into your lower stomach, barely brushing the top of your mound over your pajama shorts. He hisses through his teeth in pain as he pushes your shirt up with his bloodied knuckles.

“Rafe Cameron, what the hell are you-“

“ ‘Smells good as fuck, love you.”

You refuse to admit that you love him too, you can’t give him that. Okay, now shit’s really getting out of hand. He dips his head to get closer to your pussy but the second you see the tip of his tongue touch your shorts, you direct his face back to your stomach. You’ve never gone further than ‘will they-won’t they’ type touches with Rafe, but you just can’t give in no matter how much you lie awake at night thinking about it.

“All this is because of you, you know that? You fucked me up and made pummel the crap outta that guy.” The vibrations his clumsy words send through you gives you a serious case of the shivers, so you distract yourself by running your fingers through his matted hair. Because of course there’s blood on his head too. You’d usually chalk what he’s saying up to drugs and insanity, but with Rafe you just never know.

“What?”

“He said maybe I should lay off you so he could have a piece instead, and I just…. lost it. Why should some chump get a part of what’s all mine?” He says with a startling amount of clarity, voice flat and low.

You don’t designate him with a response, and truth be told he doesn’t want you too. You stretch for what in actuality is a $3 dollar package of hello kitty bandaids and rip the white coverings off a few of them. He makes god awful sounds as you apply them to his mouth, head, and hands. The mess in his hair probably isn't his but your conscience won't let you leave it alone. Something foreign to your head and your heart won’t let you leave him alone.

You decide to put the knife in your back all on your own and look up into his eyes. They’re too half lidded to get a clear reading on them but you’re afraid to rely on the emotions underneath the surface. You used to be scared that he couldn’t feel anything. Now, the idea of Rafe Cameron believing he’s in love is far more terrifying.

He’s a bit ridiculous with My Melody, Kuromi, and Keroppi all over himself, you can’t help the small smile that comes over you. You quickly flatten it before he can get too pleased with himself but the fingers curled against your tummy spasm as they spread out to caress your skin. Rafe has an unreadable look on his face as he smears blood over your womb, but you think if you step away he’ll lunge at you.

“I can help you wash the blood off in the shower.” Saying that is in no way a promise of commitment or change, but it might be the closest you ever get.

You’re used to scraps, scraps are fine.

And well, for much you pride yourself on being perfectly fine being alone, it’s achingly human to crave being loved more than anything else. You wander aimlessly because you won’t go where you’re not wanted, and for the longest you’ve been wanted nowhere. But here you are, obsessed over by someone who everyone wants.

Maybe you’re sick of trying to make all the right decisions if this is where it gets you, cold and alone. Is it so bad to not care anymore? It couldn’t be worse than when your first crush told you he loved you and then had a baby with your bully, you reason. Or when he dated one of your friends and she would “joke” about marrying you when you were alone.

The short trip to the shower is awkwardly silent, you have to lead Rafe and make sure he doesn’t trip. You stare more than any Twilight character as you help each other strip. You try to avoid the bruises on Rafe’s torso, but he chuckles about how “You should see the other guy, kitty.”

So you don’t back away when he slows the trajectory of your calloused hands and drags them up his body. Your nails are bitten unevenly, some leave scratches on his abs and some don’t. It’s exhilarating to see Rafe Caneron’s thread come undone, to watch as he tilts his head back and sighs. You rest your hands on his pecs and kiss the hollow of his throat before you can stop yourself.

You won’t mention the squeak he tries to stifle with the back of his balled up fist.

You step away from him to be vulnerable in return, his satisfaction is much more evident this time around. He rips your camisole in two and unhooks your bra too well, clearly having had practice. He cups your breasts in his hands with tenderness that you’d think is out of character for him. Rafe doesn’t even honk them in the dude bro way that you’d always assumed he would. No, he… massages the flesh in his palms between slow squeezes.

“Don’t see why you’re so insecure about these, I like them just fine.” He huffs, bending down to motorboat you before pulling you in the shower through his grunts of pain and exertion.

You notice that he doesn’t steal a glance at your pussy, almost like he’s scared of seeing it bare and puffy… and wet.

You like to feel like a boiling lobster in the shower, so you turn the dial the same direction as always. You’re worried that Rafe will hate the sting but when the water hits, he moans with an open mouth, eyes shut tight. Before your next breath, you’re pushed against the wall and now the blood’s in your mouth as you're taken into a french kiss right out the gate.

You go with it against your better judgment, until Rafe pulls away to pant against your collarbone. His next kiss is softer, shy like it’s an unknown thing to the two of you. His lips glide and mesh with yours as the water trails down in between your slick bodies. You feel like you’re going to pass out but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You open your eyes to see the water at the base of the shower run red, and you lose yourself in the swirling motion until the pop of your honey scented shampoo bottle lid snaps you out of it.

“Turn around kitty, ‘said I'd help you scrub down.”

He’d be embarrassed if you said it, but it’s obvious he’s never done this before. He’s like a bull in a china shop gathering you up in a loose bundle and sloppily spreading the soap throughout it. You stay silent, preferring to bask in the absurdity of it all.

Washing Rafe’s hair takes less time, but like he did when you were cleaning him up earlier, he chooses to stare at you the entire time. You scratch his head to really work the shampoo in there and get the dried blood out, he latches onto your wrists and lets his eyes drift shut. He makes it inconvenient to help him when he kisses your jawline, but you allow it.

“Thanks, you’re pretty good with your hands.” Rafe whispers with a wry grin, pecking your mouth and dropping to his knees. Your pomegranate body wash in his uninjured hand. The amount he squirts onto the dollar store loofah on his other hand is a touch too generous.

You have to replace the hello kitty bandaids when the originals fall off after Rafe steps out of the shower minutes later, he insists on it. You make him lean against the bathroom counter and watch as you take a second shower to clean out the cum, he wears a petulant frown the whole time.

You’re bent over that same counter when you’re back in his orbit, teary eyes wide as he fucks your plush thighs.

The rain turns into a thunderstorm outside.

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watchmegetobsessed · 10 months

Note

“Who’s is it”

JUST HANDS

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your college best friend has offered to help you move, but neither of you expected him to find your dildo in the midst of packing. And you especially not expected what came afterwards.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You know you’re fucked the moment you see Harry grab the blue shoebox from under the bed, but it doesn’t process until he opens the lid and pulls out your trusty purple dildo.

This was not on your bingo card. Your best friend holding your beloved cock replacement that has gotten you through so many droughts and heartbreaks when you couldn’t even bear to look at a man.

Now that dildo is being held up by Harry and you feel like you’re about to scream and burn the apartment down.

“Um, whose is it?” Harry manages to ask, his cheeks turning cherry red, but he is still holding up the fucking dildo.

Once your muscles are over the shock and you finally force yourself to move you step to him over the plenty of boxes and bags on the floor and grab the dildo from him before shoving it into one of the bags.

“Who do you think it belongs to, idiot?” you snap, the heat that’s crawling up your neck is dizzying. “We’re packing up my bedroom, whose fucking dildo would it be?”

Harry clears his throat and just stands there for a couple of moments while you busy yourself with emptying the dresser. But maybe it wasn’t the best idea, because now Harry is watching you throw your thongs and all kinds of underwear into a bag, making it even more awkward.

This is not how you imagine this afternoon when you asked Harry to help you pack up your room. You’ve been living here for the past two years, sharing the apartment with two other girls, but you finally found a nice studio apartment for your senior year of college, so you’re moving now. Harry has been a huge help so far, but right now you wish you never asked him to come over.

Minutes pass by and he is still just standing there, staring at you and it’s now pissing you off.

“What?” you snap with a sigh as you finally dare to look up.

You’ve known Harry since the first day of college. He spilled his green juice on your right before your first ever lecture and then switched shirts with you just so you could make a good impression on the professor. So you sat in an oversized, simple black shirt while Harry sported a sheer white blouse with a big green stain on it, ignoring every curious eyes that turned to him.

You’ve been best friends since then, but you’ve never seen him look at you the way he is looking at you right now. Pupils dilated, the friendly green of his irises has disappeared, his pink lips are parted and there’s something new in his posture as well, but you just can’t put your finger on it.

And it’s making you sweat.

“Uh, n-nothing,” he shakes his head, breaking the eye contact at last. “It’s nothing.”

“Then let’s just move on, alright?”

He only hums as he grabs a box from the floor and gets back to work. But it’s not the same. You can feel the tension as you silently pack next to each other and you catch Harry staring at either you or the bag you shoved the dildo into. When some time has passed and you’ve passed by the embarrassment you finally work up the courage to address the situation, hoping to ease the suffocating tension.

“Um, sorry about… the… I forgot about it and didn’t think you’d find it.”

Harry looks up at you from the pile of shoes he’s been placing in a box, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights for a brief second before a smirk tugs on his lips.

“Forgot about it? So you haven’t used it lately?”

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean. I did use it recently–”

Did you really just admit to masturbating to him? With your purple dildo? For fuck’s sake, this is getting worse by the minute.

“I-I mean, uhh–”

“I know what you meant,” he chuckles, looking down at the shoes as he shakes his head, but you notice his ears have turned red. “It’s just… never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing, let’s just move on.”

“No, tell me! I wanna know what you wanted to say.”

Sighing he drops the pair of tennis shoes from his hands and looks up at you.

“I just never thought you’re the kind to use… help, like toys.”

You blink at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your thoughts are racing a million miles per second, trying to process his words. He never thought you were the kind to use toys? You’re not ballsy or freaky enough to use a dildo? Does he think you’re too prude for sex toys? And most importantly, has he actually been thinking about your ways of masturbating?

Harry shrugs as he stands, hands on his hips.

“It’s just that I always thought you either get a hook up or just use your hands.”

“Why? You think I’m too prude to use toys?”

“That’s not what I said,” he chuckles, but you’re not done pouring questions at him.

“And do you often ponder about how I usually masturbate? Because you seem to be having a very strong opinion about the topic.”

“What?” Now his face has gone blank and you can sense his discomfort.

“Just so you know, I very much love to use that dildo and I’m also a fan of rabbit vibrators, I used to have one, but I dropped it and it broke and haven’t gotten a new one.”

Harry’s eyebrows rise and you swallow hard as you realize just how much you gave away about your private life. Neither of you speaks and then you both just sort of go back to packing without acknowledging the things said, but you can’t stop thinking about it.

This might not feel like this big of a deal if you haven’t been crazily into Harry these past months. You have no idea when your feelings shifted from friendly to “I want him to fuck me in the school cafeteria”, but it’s been messing with your head. Your dirty dreams about him don’t help your case either.

Just as you recite his words probably for the millionth time he breaks the silence.

“I do, by the way.”

“Huh?” you ask with a dumb frown.

“I do think about how you pleasure yourself. Pretty often. Mostly when I’m wanking.”

Your mouth drops open and whatever was in your hand now drops to the floor as you stare back at him. He is holding your gaze smugly, as if he is challenging you to react and make the next move.

The ball is in your court.

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you’re trying to wrap your head around where this conversation has gotten to and you make a decision within a second.

“Do you want to actually watch me touch myself?”

The words sound distant, but you know you said them. And you watch Harry’s eyes turn darker than ever as he slowly nods.

“Yeah.”

Your desires take over your actions, rationality has been thrown out the window as you walk over to him and take his hand, pulling him over to the dresser that’s facing the bed.

“Stand here,” you tell him as you position him against the dresser and then you climb onto your bed, making yourself comfortable in the middle, opening your legs so Harry has an excellent view of the way you run your hand over yourself, only your tiny cotton shorts covering your pussy from his greedy eyes.

“I could use the dildo, or just my hands. What do you want, Harry?” you question, while you keep rubbing yourself over the fabric of your shorts and there’s probably a wet stain already showing through it.

“Hands,” he answers eagerly. “Just hands.”

Lifting your hips you push down your shorts and underwear, over your knees and then kick them to the side before opening your legs again, this time exposing your naked cunt in front of Harry.

When you hear a shaky moan from him you lick two of your fingers before reaching down and keeping eye contact with him you start circling them on your clit the way you like it.

“You like it?” You ask, words turning into a moan when you hit the right spot.

“Yes,” he breathes out and as your gaze drops to his crotch you notice just how much he is enjoying the show. The outline of his cock is teasing you from across the room and though part of you wants him to fuck you until you forget your own name, you’re also enjoying this little game you’re playing and you want to finish it.

“What else do you want me to do, Harry?”

This time he needs a few seconds before he can answer.

“Finger yourself.”

“Want to see my fingers fucking my pussy?”

“Yes,” he nods eagerly and you see his hand twitching, but he doesn’t touch himself, instead, he looks you in the eyes and asks: “Can I touch myself too?”

Fuck, you love this obedient side of him, love that you feel in charge of him.

“Yes. I wanna see you play with yourself while I fuck myself.”

Harry groans as he rushes to undo the button and zipper of his pants and tug them down halfway on his thighs, just enough to let his hard cock finally spring free. Your mouth waters and you whimper as you push two fingers inside you, pretending like it’s his cock that’s filling you up, though you know it will be a whole different feeling when his dick finally pushes into you.

Leaning against the dresser he is jerking himself off while watching you edge yourself closer to your orgasm. Curling your fingers, pushing, pressing and pinching, you already know you won’t last much longer, not when you’re staring at Harry’s throbbing cock.

“Are you close?” you ask, gasping for air, your back arching from the mattress.

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he hisses, his eyes glued to you.

“Come with me, Harry!” you whine and he nods, his hand going even faster now.

You stare at each other the moment you both reach your climax. Your legs are shaking and you can’t quiet yourself while you watch Harry’s cum squirt onto the floor in waves, he gasps for air and calls out your name like a plea.

Minutes pass by and the two of you remain in your own respective spots, trying to catch your breath and return to reality. When it finally happens you sit up and you’re met with Harry’s eyes already resting on you. For a moment you have no idea what’s gonna happen, but then you both suddenly start to laugh.

“That was… unexpected,” he admits, lazily pulling his pants back up as you scoot to the edge of the mattress. Harry walks over to you and helps you up from the bed. Now you’re looking at each other from up close.

“But did you enjoy it?” you ask with a sheepish smile.

“The proof that I enjoyed it is on the floor now,” he chuckles and it makes you laugh as well.

“Maybe… next time we could be closer to each other. Even touch each other,” you muse.

Harry smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger before running his thumb across your lower lip.

“I would love that.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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munson-blurbs · 7 months

Note

Hey can I do one of the spirit Halloween requests. Sour Patch Kids/Butterfinger. And can it be with Eddie please. Can include smut if that's OK. Thank you 😊

Enemies-to-Lovers/Shy!Reader/Eddie Munson

(+ 3 other anon requests)

I couldn't figure out a way to make it smutty without it seeming forced, but there are definitely some raunchy elements. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Eddie is mean to Reader, allusion to masturbation (18+ only, minors DNI), Reader wears a skirt

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

“Absolutely not.” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, a sneer cursing his lips.

“Come on, man!” Mike grumbles, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I told Nancy I’d help her out.”

Eddie scoffs, turning away from you and your best friend’s younger brother. “Yeah, well, I didn’t promise shit,” he retorts. “We don’t need anymore players, and we definitely don’t need her.”

Your lower lip quivers, and you bite it to stop from crying. “I, um, i-it’s okay, Mike,” you hurriedly reassure him. “I’ll tell Nancy you tried.” You turn around and leave the drama room, tears blurring your vision.

“What the hell is your problem?” Mike yells loud enough that you can hear him halfway down the hallway, despite the pounding in your ears. “Nancy said she’s really into DnD. She could, I dunno, be our sub when Lucas has a game or something.”

“Am I speaking a different language? No. N-O. Not happening.”

Gareth cocks a bemused brow. “Are you still pissed off about—”

“SHUT UP!” Eddie’s bellow reverberates around the tiny room. “Look, are we gonna play or not?”

“I gotta go make sure she’s okay before Nancy kicks my ass,” Mike huffs, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Thanks for nothing,” he spits at Eddie.

No one says anything for a moment; the Hellfire Club is eerily silent. Finally, Jeff speaks up. “That was pretty harsh, Ed.”

“That was harsh?!” Eddie guffaws and clenches his jaw. “Me telling her she can’t join Hellfire is harsh, but she can talk shit about me to her friends, and that’s totally fine? Cool, got it.” He shakes his head at the memory. Just a few weeks ago, he’d been walking to your locker to ask you out, only to overhear you telling Nancy that you wish he would disappear and leave you alone.

“Why do you even care so much?” Lucas asks, now thoroughly invested in the drama.

“Because he loves her,” Gareth pipes up, “and she thinks he’s an obnoxious prick, which is accurate.” He’s unfazed by Eddie’s glare, having been on the receiving end of his anger many a time. “Dude, you embarrassed the shit outta her in history! Why would she be nice to you?”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Eddie insists at the same time Gareth says, “As soon as she walked into class, he jumped on his desk and shouted, ‘there’s the prettiest girl in Hawkins!’”

All of the guys let out a collective groan. “You can’t do that with a shy girl!” Lucas groans. If Eddie wasn’t six inches taller than him, he’d smack him upside the head. “Max would kick my ass if I did that to her.”

“She probably thought you were making fun of her,” Dustin points out, and Eddie’s face falls when everyone else nods in agreement. “Have you tried, like, talking to her and not at her?”

“No,” Eddie admits, scuffing the toe of his Reeboks on the tile floor. “Shit, I gotta fix this–I’ll be right back.”

You’re nearly at the double doors of Hawkins High’s entrance when you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and muster up all of your courage, but your words still rush out too quickly. “I’m gonna tell Nancy that Hellfire wasn’t my scene. You’re in the clear, okay? Just…go away.”

But he doesn’t go away; he comes closer. The anger that previously flamed behind his eyes is extinguished, replaced by concern. “Can we talk?” he softly asks. “We can go in my van so it’s more private. Please.”

“Fine.” The desperation in his tone convinces you to give in. You follow him to the van, offering him the smallest smile when he opens the door and motions for you to go inside. Pushing aside a stray guitar pick, you take a seat on the carpeted floor.

Eddie takes a deep breath, twisting his rings around his fingers nervously. “I, um, I’m sorry. For, y’know, the whole thing in history class.”

You suck your lip between your teeth before responding. “S’okay,” you mumble. You really want to tell him off so he knows how hurt you were by his teasing, but you can’t bring yourself to say the words.

“No, it’s not. I…I should’ve told you when it was just the two of us,” he counters, drawing a confused look from you. “What?”

“Told me what?”

“That I think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins.” He offers his own puzzled expression when you scramble to your knees and lean for the door handle. “Wait! Where’re you going?”

There’s a lump in your throat that you force yourself to swallow before you can speak. “This is obviously a big joke to you, Eddie. ‘Ha ha, let’s point out how ugly the nerdy girl is!’”

“No. No.” Eddie’s voice is firm but kind. “It wasn’t a joke. I really think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins. And I like you. A lot,” he adds with a nervous laugh. “That whole, uh, performance was my way of flirting.”

You’re still unconvinced, cocking a brow in disbelief, so he continues. “How about this: since I embarrassed you, I’ll tell you an embarrassing secret. And if I’m lying about liking you, you can tell everybody.”

You relent for the second time today. “O-Okay. That’s fair.”

“All right.” Eddie rubs his palms on his jeans, slick with anxious perspiration. “So, remember that time that I got to class, all…sweaty and out of breath and stuff?”

You nod. “Mhm.” He’d told Mrs. Click that he’d been in gym class, but you knew he’d just come from lunch like you had. You’d figured he’d had a deal out in the woods and ran back to school.

“Well, um,” he looks down at the carpet, “it was because I saw you in the cafeteria wearing this cute little skirt, and I had to…take care of myself. In the boys’ room.” He presses his palms to his eyes and says, mostly to himself, “No fuckin’ way did I just admit that.”

You’re shell-shocked. Like joining Hellfire, the skirt in question was another one of Nancy’s ideas to ease you out of your comfort zone. You had no idea he’d even noticed. “Y-You liked it?” you ask dumbly.

“Ohhhh, yeah,” Eddie chuckles. “I gotta stop thinkin’ about it before…” His eyes drop to the zipper of his jeans, a small tent already visible against the seam, and he hurries to switch subjects. “D’you still wanna play DnD with us? I promise I’m usually less of a dick. And a perv.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I have my doubts about that last part,” you tease, only half-joking, “but, yeah. I would love to play with you guys.”

“Awesome.” Eddie’s face lights up. “And maybe after, you and I can grab something to eat? Maybe catch a movie or somethin’?”

Before you can chicken out, you kiss his cheek. “It’s a date.”

The two of you walk back into the school, Eddie’s hand on the small of your back. “Oh, um, one more thing?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you change into that skirt?”

#trope or treat #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #smut #eddie munson angst

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sleepysnk · 1 year

Note

27 with eren jaeger laughs evilly

a/n: i love me some eren jaeger smut, so thank you again for requesting this!! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻!

pairings: eren jaeger x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, smut, reader is a brat kind of, teasing, dirty talk, praising, use of pet names (baby, princess), some degradation, kinda rough sex, breeding, creampie, begging.

prompt #27: “do you think you deserve this?”

Your eyes rolled back from the sensation of your boyfriend’s cock hitting your g-spot. He may have not been able to see it, but he could feel how much you like it. Your tight walls were squeezing his dick so well that it was taking everything inside him to not ruin you right there on the mattress you were fucking on.

Eren’s hand trailed up your backside, sending tingles all along your skin. His hands squeezed your ass as he thrusted into your pussy. You had been acting up all fucking day and he wasn’t going to let it slip away from him. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you to make that shitty attitude you had disappear. He was tired of it, and he knew you couldn’t deny a good fuck from him. He always made you feel like you were on the moon whenever he went down on you, and that’s exactly what he did.

He could feel your pussy quivering around his shaft. He knew you were close judging by your body language and how loud you had become. He loved watching you become a needy little slut around his cock. “Fuck.. yeah, you like that princess?” he looked over at your face that was shoved into the pillow near your head.

All you could do was nod your head at his question. The white hot pleasure that was spreading throughout your body was too fucking good. Your orgasm was creeping up on you with every thrust of his hips, and you yearned it more than anything else right now.

Eren felt your walls getting tighter and tighter. He hissed at how fucking great it felt. Your pussy was so intoxicating to him and he could never get enough of it. It was almost like you were made for him to have sex with you. It was so perfect. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, baby? I can feel you getting snug around me..” he smirked, reaching around to toy with your swollen clit. “Fuck.. you’re so wet.. all this, for me?”

You gasped when his fingers started circling your clit. Your fingernails dug into the material of the pillowcase from the increased pleasure. “Ah! Eren.. yes! Only you!” you whined, looking at his gorgeous features while he rutted into you.

His name rolling off your tongue made him harder than he already was. Truly, you were right. Your pussy was his and his only. Nobody could ever fuck you the way he did. He’s the only man on the fucking planet that could ever make you cum so hard you’d see stars in your pretty eyes. “Yeah.. that’s right, baby..” he groaned, squeezing your hips. “Say my fucking name, yeah? I love when you scream it..”

You shuddered at his request, but nonetheless you obliged to it. “Yes..! Eren! Eren!” you cried. “Eren.. fuck.. ‘gonna cum!”

He started slowing his thrusts. The pleasure you were feeling had started to diminish, causing you to lift your head up with confusion. Eren had this grin on his features that screamed he was a cocky fuck. “Do you think you deserve it?” he cocked his head to the side in a teasing manner.

A whimper came from your lips at his question. You knew you weren’t in the best mood today, but you wanted to cum so fucking bad. “Eren.. please! I wanna cum..” you wiggled your backside towards him to feel some kind of friction against your needy pussy.

Eren started touching and pinching your clit. His other hand touched your smooth skin, forming goosebumps along your body. He was clearly teasing you and getting off on it, because he had this wild look in his green eyes. “Yeah..? You’re gonna act good, right?“ he asked. “Not piss me off, right?”

You nodded. “Yes! I promise, Eren!”

He chuckled, then started to pick up that same pace from before. He had one of his hands on your hip while the other played and messed with your clit. You gripped on the sheets to hold yourself up, your eyes rolling behind your head from the pleasure. He was gonna make sure you would act right. He was so damn certain of it.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. The pit inside your stomach finally caved and you felt this wave of ecstasy wash over your body. Your pussy squeezed Eren’s cock with such delight that he let out a groan or two from how delicious it was. A ring of white cream circled his dick as he thrusted into you as you rode out your orgasm. His name bouncing off the walls with a series of curses following in suit. You felt so so great. It was like there was relief coming over you, and you couldn’t be happier.

Eren gripped your ass so hard his knuckles had turned white. His balls began to twitch and he knew he was about to cum at any second. He was gonna leave you nice and full. The thought alone was making him so turned on that it only made his thrusts increase, allowing his balls to slap against your cunt.

He gritted his teeth, chasing that euphoric high that he desired more than anything else. “Mmph! Fuck! I’m gonna fill you u-up so fucking good, princess!” he grunted, looking down at his cock that was slipping inside of you so effortlessly. “Tell me you want that.. yeah? You want my cum in that pretty pussy, right..? All fucking filled and full..?”

“Y-Yes! Oh god, Eren, yes!” you whined, looking at him with desperate eyes.

Oh, he loved the sound of that.

Eren groaned and grunted the moment he reached his orgasm. His cum filled your cunt, painting your crimson walls white from it. His nails dug into your skin, leaving some marks on the flesh. He was more than satisfied with you now, but there was still a side of him that didn’t feel that was enough.

He then flipped you onto your backside so you were now lying down and facing him. Your eyes grew wide at his gesture. “Eren, what are you-“

“Get comfortable, baby, I still got some things I think we should work out.”

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 20 all chapters

gif credit to dilfgifs

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You try to go as long as you can, but later that night you decide you just can’t stand it anymore. You’re pretty sure it’s been days, and you feel gross.

“Can I…use your shower?”

He turns to you with a small smile. “You mean, our shower? Yes.”

Hoping that’s the end of it, and this exchange won’t get weird, you slip out from under his arm to go into the bathroom. You check your prospects, finding expensive shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, shaving gel…but no razor. You guess you get it, kind of, but really. Then again, maybe you'd better not ask. Why send mixed signals by shaving off your body hair? It’s just an aesthetic mostly catering to the male gaze anyway…

But it bugs you.

You pop your head back out of the door. “Razor?”

He doesn’t even look up from his book.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This annoys you for some reason. “Just so you know, I am not going to try to kill myself.” Brave words for someone in your situation, but at least at the moment, you mean them.

“I was more worried you might try to kill me.”

You open your mouth again, until he fixes you with that laser-like stare. “Just take your shower, y/n, or do I have to come in there to help you?”

The thought of his large hands on your body slick with soap sends an inconvenient spear of desire straight to your center.

“No.”

You disappear fast as a groundhog into its burrow, closing the door behind you.

“Door open!” he yells in that particular tone, and sensing the shift in his mood, you comply rather than pull his tail some more.

Well done, you, you chide yourself as you strip out of your dirty dress and your ACE bandage in the cavernous shower. He was actually in a good mood, somehow, after you tried to knock his head off with a book. And now you…what? You did something to piss him off, at least a little bit.

Learning his moods was going to take some doing.

It was the only way you were getting out of here alive.

You keep looking over your shoulder, half expecting to see him looming behind you. That man moves silent as a ghost when he feels like it.

It’s creepy. And…kind of hot, if you’re being honest, but that is not a helpful thought.

You feel a thousand times better with all the grime washed from your hair and your body. You wrap yourself in a big fluffy towel that feels like a cloud on your skin, and put off going into the bedroom by drying your hair.

There are products on the sink that you use, face lotions and hair creams, and more expensive versions of the same type that you could never afford. How did he know?

Then again, he has fucking gorgeous hair, he probably knows more about styling product than you do.

You turn to look at his handiwork upon your bum. The bruise is a red and purple swirl nearly the size of your fist. You can actually see the neat lines of his teeth marks. “Jesus Christ.”

His eye was going to heal way before that was.

When you can’t really dawdle in the bathroom anymore, you war with the next conundrum.

Fresh clothes.

Fuck it. You march out, heading for the closet without making eye contact with the reclining leopard on the bed. You can feel his eyes on you, and fuck if it doesn’t turn you on to be watched like that. Like you are some kind of prize to be desired.

It feels utterly insane to you, to say the least. You’re not that beautiful, but he looks at you like you’re Helen of Troy.

With your hand on the closet door John clears his throat pointedly.

You know you can’t ignore him. Risking his wrath while you’re wrapped in nothing but a bath towel is so not a good idea.

You turn to find he’s laid something out at the foot of the bed for you already.

“Wear this,” he says. It’s an order clothed in velvet. Polite, but…you sense the unyielding directive underneath.

You pad on bare feet to the foot of the bed. It’s a silky lavender nightie with lace at the bodice. Nothing too wacky. No embarrassing peep holes or extraneous straps. You are somewhat relieved.

Until you see the underwear he’s paired with them.

Your underwear, as a matter of fact.

Those went missing a long time ago.

Speechless, you look to him, knowing you look like a fish out of water but unsure what to say.

This has been going on for way longer than you even knew, and you didn’t have a clue.

“You took these from my apartment.” You manage not to yell it.

“I didn’t want you to wear them for anyone but me.” He has the cheek to sound grouchy about it, like you did something wrong.

You feel your temper rising like the mercury in a thermometer. You know you’re going to say something stupid, but you just don’t know how to keep it in.

“How. Fucking. Dare you?”

He just sighs, like he already knows how this is going to go. “Don’t play this game with me, baby.”

You bite down on the impulse to demand he not call you baby.

“You could have just…asked me out. I would have said yes, you know?”

He actually looks away as you tell him this.

“Maybe you would have. Until you realized I’m just a bitter old man, and you would have left me.”

You blink at that. How can he be so smart, and yet so blind?

“I knew you were a bitter old man all along! But you know what? I liked you anyway. I thought you were interesting, and funny, and so fucking handsome, and I wanted to fuck you. But now…” You clench your fists, shaking with all the vitriol you know you can’t unleash on this unpredictable man.

This unpredictable killer.

He takes your fury, seemingly nonplussed. You’re not sure any of it registers at all, and it takes some of the wind out of your sails. “This isn’t love, John,” you say quietly, your throat tightening with every syllable. “Love is…having the courage to bare your heart to the sword, and take what comes. You can’t control it like this.”

He tilts his head at this, a wave of that lovely dark hair covering his face. You get the feeling like he’s hiding from you, when he does that.

Finally he asks, “Have you ever been stabbed, y/n?”

Your heart skips a beat, as you wonder if he’s threatening you. “No.”

“Well let me tell you. It fucking hurts.”

Then he reaches down the bed to pluck up the panties, sticking them in his pocket. “I guess I’ll just keep these. You’re not going to need them anyway.”

You glare daggers at him.

He offers you the slightest, smuggest, smile.

“You sonofabitch.”

“Watch that mouth, kitten. Unless you want me to fill it up with something else.”

You bare your teeth with the thought. “I fucking dare you,” you spit, snatching up the nightie to take it to the bathroom to change.

“Nuh uh,” he interjects. “Change here.”

You freeze in your tracks, understanding exactly what he’s demanding of you.

This is how it’s going to be, you tell yourself. He’s going to be sweet, and then he’s going to be insufferable, and if you’re not careful, he’ll get downright mean. Don’t be fooled by the sweet moods, because all the rest is just beneath the surface waiting.

It was so hard to remind yourself of that, when he was being good to you.

You don’t turn around. You moonlighted as a drawing model after college. You can handle this, right? He’s already seen parts of you anyway…

It’s soooooooooo much different than being in that classroom, when you undo your towel and let it fall to the floor. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your bare form. In the end, knowing it’s just your backside, that he’s already gotten way more than an eyeful of…doesn’t really help. With shaking hands you quickly you pull the nightie over your head.

You hope he feels guilty about the size of that fucking bruise, but you have a feeling he probably likes seeing his marks on you.

“Come here.” He practically purrs, and your flesh aches for the sound. Fuck.

You turn to face him, but do not move. Once again, that glorious boner is making an appearance. It’s almost flattering, how often this man has a hard-on when he’s around you. If this had been a normal relationship, you would have made it your mission to oblige him at every opportunity, just to see what the old man could take.

As it is…all you want to do is fight him, and you know you are destined to lose.

He pats his thigh, as though he expects you to sit on his lap. Without underwear. Or a bra. Or a sense of self-preservation.

You shake your head no with the glitter of moisture in the corners of your eyes. You’ve never felt so helpless in your life, and you hate it.

He frowns at your defiance. My god, no one can do a forbidding frown, like Mr. John Wick. It lodges your heart in your throat, even while you find him magnificent.

“Are you going to make me make you?”

And there it is.

You sigh, and you feel like a piece of your soul exits your body. Good. Good, be empty. He can’t hurt an empty husk.

“I guess so.”

You close your eyes, and you wait. You wait for his rough hands, for the violence that is surely coming to you. You shake like a leaf, unable to stop. You don't know why you'd allowed yourself to hold out some hope, that maybe he really wasn't going to hurt you.

Yet, it does not come.

You open your eyes to find him still frowning at you. He hasn’t moved a muscle.

The longest three seconds of your life tick by. You count them in your thundering heartbeats, and then he scoots over on the bed. “Fine. Come lay by me then.”

You are shocked to your toes. You forget how to move.

“Now.” He snaps his fingers, pointing to the bed beside him, and you scurry over before he loses his patience with this kinder offer. Cautiously you crawl up beside him, and when he holds up his arm you understand the cue, snuggling into his side with your head on his shoulder.

Alright, this, you can do.

This feels almost…normal. The way your head fits into the divot of his shoulder is just…divine, if you’re being honest, and your body shudders as you suppress a sob, hiding your face against his chest. It’s not fair, that you still want him so much, and you mourn for the promise of sweetness that was snatched from your table before you ever really got a chance to taste it.

“Shh,” he soothes, touching your hair, his big hand dwarfing the crown of your head. “I’ll try to remember to be patient with you.”

You nod against him, wanting to believe him, knowing that makes you a sad little fool.

“But my patience has its limits. Remember that, kitten.”

Oh. You weren’t going to forget.

He continues to hold you, and eventually your heart slows, the tension in your body finally relaxing.

It’s incredible, really, how you just can’t leave well enough alone.

Now that you’ve both calmed, you feel bold enough to ask, “John?”

“Yeah, baby?” His lips on the top of your head make your eyelids flutter, it’s so sweet.

“Do you…at least know that it was wrong, to break into my apartment?” You feel like the answer to this one question will help you gauge everything about his state of mind.

He is silent for a long time. Long enough to let your imagination run rampant with the things he might do to punish you for this impertinence, after he was so generous as to just let you lay down with him and snuggle.

Yet there’s no anger in his voice when he answers, “Yeah. But I’ve been breaking the law my whole life, sweetheart, and no one’s stopped me yet.”

It’s the truth, and a nice neat little warning, all wrapped up in one.

You should be scared again, but you just sigh against his chest. Maybe you’ve used up whatever hormone is responsible for adequate fear responses for the day. Or maybe…his games are working on you already, claiming your sanity inch by inch.

You lay there in his arms, and eventually you start to doze. He strokes your hair, a sweet and lulling touch that makes you curl your toes. When those featherlight fingertips find their way to the back of your neck, and the tops of your shoulders, you cannot help but squirm. In your half-asleep state, this is your kryptonite, and your leg tangles with his, your pelvis pressing against his hip. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, to crane your head towards him.

Only when you feel him shift to lean towards you for a kiss, do you realize what you are doing.

You turn your head at the last second, and his grip on you tightens from comforting to bruising in a nanosecond. “Wait—”

He has you on your back before you can blink.

“Are we still pretending you don’t want me, kitten?”

“I…”

Suddenly his hand is between your legs, manhandling you like he owns you, raking up your thigh to swipe at your folds. He finds you soaking wet with slick, of course, and he makes a point to press your clit with his thick fingers as he withdraws. It sends an agonizing jolt of desire spreading through the cradle of your hips, the ache in your stupid little cunt nigh unbearable. You hardly recognize the keening sound that escapes your mouth.

Was that you?

It worsens ten-fold as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. “Tastes like lies to me.”

Goddammit.

“John…”

You can hardly believe it, when he slides off of the bed, leaving you cold and alone, confused and filled with desire. The pulsing ache between your legs drowns out any rational thoughts you might have had a moment ago.

“Little liars don’t get to cum. I’ll let you think about that tonight.”

You feel like you did that night in Italy, watching him walk out the door when all you really want is to feel his thick, insatiable cock teeming inside you.

Which is fucking insane, of course.

And you were thinking he might be the crazy one?

“Same rules, sweetheart. Don’t you dare touch yourself tonight. I’ll fucking know.”

With one last baleful look over of his shoulder he touches his hand to the lock, and sweeps out of the room. He leaves you stunned on the bed, disheveled and unsure, once again, of what the fuck just happened?

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere john wick #yandere #i didn't think id get a chance to post tonight so BONUS i love you all!

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loaksky · 8 months

Note

tw : ptsd

hi I love love love your work, may I make a request: abby comforting reader with ptsd after a nightmare/episode 🧸 only if you’re comfy with that of course angel!!

— 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒆 | 𝒂. 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

roommate!abby x fem roommate!reader, fluff / mild angst, wc: 2.3k

synopsis: oftentimes when you’re lost in the darkness, abby’s your light.

content warnings: language, sprinkled mentions trauma and implied ptsd ! talks of death, brief mentions of canon-compliant violence. this is set in the tlou2 universe, but is canon-divergent (did i use that term right lmaooo ??), abby & reader get off to a rocky start, but they’re so fucking cute & i wanna write more of them ????

author’s note: sugar !! you don’t even know how excited i was to see you in my inbox bae ! ilysm thank you so much for requesting ! hope i did this justice <3 ALSO this is my first time writing in the tlou universe ?? usually i write modern!aus so i'm like pissing myself lowkey ansjkdnfjasf

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

YOUR PRESENCE ON BASE SENDS a ripple of whispers from wall to wall. The circumstances pertaining to your arrival hadn’t been uncommon, but they were brutal, had people eyeing you with equal parts sympathy and disdain.

Truthfully, you don’t remember much of it, had blacked out after the first death, but the murmurs speculate that your entire family had been ambushed, turned and then picked off in a raid.

You don’t know how true that is.

Abby doesn’t really pay you much mind at first, isn’t all that thrilled when she finds out that you’re taking the spare side of the spacious room she occupies, but she keeps her mouth shut when she sees how fragile you are.

And it’s not like she sees you much, not even in the evenings when most people are turning in for the night. Your bed’s always made, your side of the room in pristine condition. The only indication that you lodge with Abby is the beat up backpack that hangs on the hook by your desk.

On occasion she’ll wake up in the wee hours of the night to find you tucked under the blankets, still as a statue, but come morning, you’re gone.

For a while, she appreciates the distance, but when she sees you only a handful of times in the nearly two months you’ve sought refuge at the stadium, she begins to grow curious.

First it starts as asking passive questions to those patrolling, then she starts briefly combing any areas she enters, but you’re like a fleeting wisp of smoke, gone with a gust of wind.

She happens upon you by chance one night, right as the sun is setting. She’s on her way to the weight room when she notices you. The library is relatively quiet around this time, everyone usually in the dining hall or working on their evening duties.

But there you are, going through a carton of what looks like newly arrived books from the most recent raid.

Abby acts against her own better judgment, door whooshing as she presses her weight against the pushbar.

You’re looking up from your sorting, eyebags still prominent, but the color has returned to your face and you look like you’ve been taking care of yourself.

“This where you disappear to everyday?” Abby asks, pulling an early 2000’s almanac from the shelf to distract herself from the sear of you gaze.

She glances back at you when you don’t respond, finds that you’ve returned to shuffling through the box instead of humoring her question.

She clears her throat, takes another step closer, and you’re looking up at her again.

“Any good titles?” she tries. “I’m kinda in a slump right now, think I—”

“You don’t have to pity me,” you say flatly, voice a lot different than Abby’d expected.

She’s floored, regardless. Doesn’t know what would compel you to say such a thing when she’s barely spoken a dozen words to you since your arrival.

“I’m not following,” Abby admits.

You’re small in comparison, but the look you level her with is mighty, makes her cheeks bloom red because a woman’s never looked at her in such a way. She feels like she’s in trouble, but maybe she likes it.

“I hear what you all say about me,” you say firmly. “That I’m probably batshit crazy, that the patrolling team should’ve just left me to die with the rest of my family, that I’m useless.”

Abby flinches, brows drawing together and lips parting incredulously.

You don’t expect her reaction.

“I’m lost?” she says in confusion, then adds, tone stony, “who’s been saying that shit?”

Frankly, you don’t really look convinced, but your shoulders are relaxing a fraction. Perhaps you won’t admit it, but Abby’s quiet outrage provides some semblance of comfort.

You shrug.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quietly. “But you don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me. I’m fine on my own.”

And Abby doesn’t know whose neck she has to wring, or how many for that matter, but despite initially being lukewarm towards you, she wants to squash every single person who’s made you feel like you can’t find a place among them.

“That’s bullshit,” she replies frankly, and you’re looking at her sharply. “People are bored, like to run their mouths. There’s a place here for everyone, you included.”

Such simple words shouldn’t make you feel warm, but you’re pausing, frozen like a hurt pup experiencing affection for the first time. You’re glancing up at her, lips pressed in a thin line.

Abby’s fidgeting because fuck, did she overstep a boundary with this interaction? Should she have left you alone instead? She wasn’t necessarily mad at the distance between you two, but the establishment of having a roommate makes her feel like she’s been living with a ghost recently.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

Abby’s shoulders deflate in relief, chest hitching as she takes in a shaky sigh.

“Have you...have you had dinner yet?”

Abby learns that regardless of breaking the ice, you’re still reserved. It’s quiet breaths of laughter when she cracks a joke, learning how to settle for the silence when the two of you are spending prolonged periods of time together (which is a lot more frequent that Abby had expected), and being the buffer between you and most things you find uncertainty with.

Not only that, but you’re a nocturnal creature of habit that she usually finds cooped up in the library.

It’s half past one in the morning some weeks later when she wakes up and groggily squints over the railing that divides the room to find that your bed is empty.

She’s pulling on a hoodie, slipping on a pair of sneakers and brushing her hair from her face as she slinks out into the hallway. And, of course, you’re in the first place she thinks to look, curled up against the cushions of an oversized chair with your eyes drooping over a children’s picture book.

She enters almost silently, only catching your attention when she’s a few paces away.

“Hey, A–” A yawn pulls from your chest. “Hey, Abby.”

She smiles softly.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She leans against the armrest of the chair, peers down at you as you flip lazily through the pages before she’s pulling the book from your grasp.

You let out a sound of disapproval.

“M’not done,” you tell her.

“You look like you’re about to knock out,” Abby observes. “Why don’t we get you to bed.”

You yawn again, then sigh deeply.

“I won’t be able to fall asleep anyways,” you admit quietly.

Abby shifts and you look up at her. She notices the glimmer of vulnerability that glosses over your sleepy eyes.

“Is it because...” she trails off, swallows down the rest of her question because she doesn’t want to seem insensitive, but you seem to get the gist anyways.

“Among other things,” you admit.

“Oh,” Abby whispers. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug tiredly.

“Can’t be helped, really.”

And Abby’s learned to really like you these past few weeks, has felt for you and your journey here. It makes something tug hard at her heartstrings, especially when she sees little slivers of peace dawn you for a few moments at a time, only to be weighed down by the gravity of it all.

“Why don’t we go back and you can at least lay down?” she asks softly. “You need to rest.”

And you want to argue, tell her that it really is no use, especially when the darkness can be one of your sensitive triggers. But the look that Abby is giving you is pleading, like she can’t bear the thought of another one of your sleepless nights, so you nod carefully and let her guide you out of the seat.

“I know it’s touchy,” she says after a few silent moments down the hall. “But, you can...you can talk to me if you ever, y’know, need to get anything off your chest.”

You don’t mean to, you’re just caught up in the moment and Abby has a way of making you feel safe, but you’re grabbing gently at her fingertips as the two of you walk down the corridor.

“Thanks, Abby,” you swallow.

If Abby looks hard enough out the window, she can see the beginnings of the sun as it starts its ascent. She’d spent the latter half of the late evening murmuring to you in the dark, hoping that maybe the sound of her voice would lull you to sleep.

And it does, miraculously, she thinks to herself, when she hears the light puff of your steady breathing. She stays still for moments that bleed into several minutes, monitoring the tandem of your breaths. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the sky begins to ooze from midnight to burnt swathes of orange.

She hadn’t slept a wink, too busy wanting to make sure that you’re snoozing well enough in the short period of time since you’d laid your head down. So she decides to get dressed in the dark, is in the middle of sliding her belt through the loops when she hears it.

It’s most imperceptible, the murmur that slips from your lips, but Abby’s been hyperaware recently. She thinks that maybe she’d been a little too loud, jeans rustling a little too hard, belt buckle clanging too much. But even as she stills in the dark, she hears the whimper that echos against the exposed rafters.

“Please...” Abby freezes, lump lodged deep in her throat.

Your body jerks, mattress squeaking under the sudden movement as your sheets rustle once, then twice.

“No.” Your breath catches so hard in your chest, Abby’s worried you won’t take another.

She’s crossing the room quickly, pawing around your nearby desk for the small lamp. The dim bulb casts a yellow glow over the surroundings and Abby finds you damp with a sheen of sweat.

“No, no, don’t—”

When her hands find you, you’re shooting up, shoving her away with so much force, she’s knocked to her ass. Before she even blinks, you’re straddling her, dagger she hadn’t even known you had on you, drawn.

“Hey,” she whispers shakily. “It’s me.”

Your eyes are wild, cheeks streaked with tears as you take in your surroundings. You touch base with your senses to ground you; the sound of your ragged breathing, the smell of Abby’s pine-scented soap, the taste of blood on your tongue, the feel of Abby’s shirt bunched in your fist, and the sight of her rigid frame clearing from the fog.

“Fuck,” you choke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’re dropping the dagger, fist loosening as you scramble to climb off of her. But her fingers are closing around your wrist to stop you, mooring you to place.

“It’s okay,” she says breathlessly. “It’s fine. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Her hands slowly come up to brush over the sides of your arms comfortingly, and when you don’t flinch away, she’s reaching up to smooth the hair from your face.

The softness of her touch makes you melt, makes you wrap your arms around her shoulders and fall into her as her arms wind around your waist.

“I’m here,” she assures you quietly. “You’re safe.”

And when she feels your body shake against hers, her chest is squeezing, feels all those tamped down emotions from a loss that feels like such a distant memory resurface with every quiet sob that wracks your body.

She feels like she’d processed her grief well enough over the past few years after losing her dad, was buoyed in a consistent state of anger that manifested in a deep-seated need for vengeance as of late. But this makes her sad. Makes her want to take away everything that’s ever made you feel hurt in the world.

She’s squeezing you so tight, nose nestling into your hair as she rocks you gently.

Abby still doesn’t know how much time passes, but your heaving breaths turn into spaced hiccups as you sink further into her hold. She doesn’t realize that the exhaustion has crept over you until one of your hiccups fades to a sigh, until she’s pulling away to see that your cheek is pressed against her shoulder and your wet lashes brush the apples of your cheeks.

For once, it seems like one of those slivers of peace has found you in a moment of sleep and Abby wants to preserve it.

She’s shifting your weight, arms banding tight around your waist so that she can slowly stand. And when you stir, she cringes in defeat. But your breath puffs against the column of her throat, and while your proximity makes her cheeks burn, she can only focus on settling you back into bed.

“Abby,” you whisper groggily, as she sits on the edge of your bed to kick her shoes off. “Don’t leave, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assures you softly, leaning back against your pillows and taking you with her. “I’ll be right here.”

True to her word, when you wake up, she is, one arm propped underneath her head, the other splayed between your shoulder blades.

The sun sits high in the sky, analog clock reading well into the morning and nearing the afternoon.

“Oh, fuck!” You’re leaning up abruptly, jostling Abby from her slumber and she’s gazing up at you with bleary eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” Abby asks, voice thick with sleep.

“They’re probably looking for you,” you say frantically. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I—”

The hand on your back hasn’t left yet, rubbing slow circles there, the other mapping across your shoulders to pull you into her chest.

“S’okay,” she reassures you. “They won’t miss me for a day.”

“Abby—”

“Shhh,” she mutters. “M’sleeping.”

And you want to cry. Equal parts because of embarrassment and equal parts because Abby’s showed you the most kindness you can remember anyone ever showing you and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Abby?”

“Yes, ________?” she grumbles.

“Thank you.”

She squeezes you tighter.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby the last of us #abby anderson #abby tlou

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gh0stsp1d3r · 2 months

Note

Hii love you work!! Can I request a Luke castellan x daughter!of Artemis reader?? Like reader is badass and flirty with Luke, and Luke doesn't even know whether she's serious or not because he has a big fat crush on the reader ever since he met her 🥹🥹

so Luke has been praying to Artemis since then for her blessing and Artemis is just like "You are not good enough for my daughter and I don't want you around her, END OF STORY." "SO WHY DON'T YOU GIVE ME ONE MORE-" SLAM

Ends with Luke finally confessing to reader and reader accepting after a long time of deciding because reader had a crush on him for a long time now but knows her mom doesn't like Luke at all :((

HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT!!! <33

One more chance

A/N- I love this sm, so sorry this took a while ):

Masterlist

Warnings: you make some suggestive jokes, that’s it really

“Thought you were the best swordsman in years.” You joked, Luke was on the ground, as you pointed your sword at him.

“I’m going easy on you.” He replied, grabbing the edge of your sword. You rolled your eyes, mumbling out an ‘mhm’ as you extended your hand, helping him up.

He brushed off the dirt, picking up his own sword.

“You done yet, Castellan?” You asked him, going over to your water bottle and drinking from it.

“Nah. I can go all day.”

“Can you? I’d like to see that.” You said in a suggestive tone, laughing at his face and the way his cheeks turned a pink.

“Whatever.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes, getting back into a fighting stance.

At dinner, he disappeared into the woods. You wondered where he went sometimes, he’s been doing this for years now. But you gave him his privacy.

He sat down with his food on the ground, pulling out a match from his pocket and taking a deep breath before lighting the food on fire.

“Uhm.” He cleared his throat. “Hello, again.” He laughed quietly, “I know I ask almost every day, but I really, really truly do like your daughter. Please. All I’m asking for is your blessing to date her-“

His sentence got cut off by a familiar voice. “No.” Was all she said, this time.

He sighed, feeling defeated. It’s been years he’s been asking, and every time it’s been no.

“Ma’am please-“

“I don’t want you near my daughter. You’re not good for her.”

Those words hurt him, a pang in his chest. No matter how many times he’s heard it, it hurt him every time.

He loved you, more than anyone else could. So why was she still saying no? The flame went out and he sighed, defeated.

Fuck it.

To him it seemed like the Gods already didn’t like him, so why not piss them off even more? He doesn’t like them, never has. He doesn’t owe them shit, he thought.

So, he went back to the tables, coming up to yours.

“Hey, y/n, can we talk?”

You nodded instantly, saying goodbye to your friends and walking with him. You both took a little path to the lake.

“What’s up?” You asked him, hands shoved in your pockets as an attempt to hide your nervousness. Your heart raced as he turned his head to look at you, he pulled out a little rose.

“I was just… I’ve been thinking, a lot recently. And I think I like you.” He said the words in almost a whisper, your eyes widened. He handed you the flower.

“One of the Aphrodite girls picked it. Cost me 3 drachmas.” He said with a nervous laugh as you took it.

“Thank you. I uh… I like you too..” you told him the truth. You weren’t too sure what to say.

“Would you… wanna go on a date with me?” He asked you, hopeful now.

You thought for a moment. Your mom. She would be mad.

“I don’t know, Luke. You know how my mom is about…”

He sighed, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry, for even asking.” He cleared his throat and began to walk away. You grabbed his wrist.

“That wasn’t a no.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Just… give me some time to talk and convince her, then we can talk about that date.” You said with a small smile.

He nodded, a small smile making its way onto his own face.

#luke castellan apologist #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo disney+#pjo tv show #pjo x reader #charlie bushnell x reader

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azrielslightintheshadows · 6 months

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Hey friend!!! Ive been loooving, devouring and reblogging all your fics! I was wondering if i could request azriel x reader where reader has a visible scar on her face, maybe through her eyebrow down to mid cheek from an attacker that tried to kill her. She has a mini crush on azriel but she sees how hes attracted to Elain whos the definition of beauty so reader just gives up even attempting to like him. Angst with happy ending pls. ❤️

Forever

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings; mentions of abuse and death.

Masterlist

Not one of my best writings but I really didn't know how to write this. If you don't like it please let me know so I can rewrite it! Thank you so much for your kind words and I really hope I didn't let you down with this.

You joined the inner circle when you were still a teenager. Rhysand had found you in Hewn City when two males tried to force themselves on you after a party. You watched wide-eyed as he made a public display of power by crushing their minds and flinched when he grabbed you and winnowed away. He took you to Velaris and you met the rest of the inner circle who instantly welcomed you and made you a part of their small family.

The shadowsinger immediately caught your attention and you found yourself falling for him as the years passed. Your close relationship with them though pissed off your father and one of the days you visited Hewn City with them he paid someone to end your life. Your attacker managed to find you alone and pounced on you with a dagger in hand. You quickly jumped back and let a scream when his dagger scratched your face from your eyebrow to your cheekbone. Azriel heard your cries and emerged from darkness next to you, he immediately disarmed your attacker while his shadows caressed your wounded skin, their coldness soothing the pain. He called Rhys to take you to Velaris and then disappeared with your attacker.

Madja did everything she could, and she managed to save your eye, but the scar remained, a constant reminder of your father’s resentment. Azriel remained by your side helping you get past your trauma and teaching you how to defend yourself in a similar situation. You really enjoyed the attention he gave you and once again you started hoping that one day he might fall for you.

Then the Archeron sisters came into your life and Azriel became distant as he started spending time with the middle one. He would disappear for the whole day and when he would come back to the house of wind to sleep, he would reek of Elain’s scent. Your heart broke every time he would pass in front of you with a quick nod as a greeting and then disappear into his room. Elain was the definition of perfection, long golden-brown hair, rich brown eyes and most importantly a face without any scars. You could see why Azriel fawned over her, and even though it hurt, you remained silent thinking that he deserves a beautiful female like her by his side and not a sullied one like you. You stopped trying to get his attention, stopped making him tea every morning, stopped tidying his daggers and books knowing that he wouldn’t even notice.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were sitting on your bed reading one of the books that Nesta gave you when Azriel strolled in with a worried expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“You are avoiding me.” He exclaimed.

“No I am not” you lied. “I’m not stupid.” He growled “I don’t have to avoid you since you are never here” you snorted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Listen, I get why you spend so much time with Elain, she is perfect, and I really hope you two will be happy together but please give me some time to adjust.” You sighed.

“What? There’s nothing going on between me and her. I’m just following Rhysand’s orders.” He was staring at you with a panicked expression.

“Az I know you, this is not just an order you’re following, you’re falling for her.” You said softly. “I really hoped that one day you would fall for me, but I get it… I’m not perfect” you pointed at your scar and Azriel’s breath hitched.

“Don’t you ever say that again” he growled “you are perfect, and this scar makes you even more irresistible.” He sat next to you on the bed and cupped your face “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I couldn’t believe that a female like you could ever want someone like me, and then the attack happened, and I realized that I can’t even protect you, so I kept my distance.” You blinked and opened your mouth to speak but he held a finger up stopping you.

“I spend my time with Elain because I want to help her, to keep her safe because I failed you. I thought that if I could do that with her I would become worthy of you”

“You never failed me Az” your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke. “You couldn’t know that my own father would hire someone to kill me, and even though you weren’t expecting it you came just in time to save me. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

He sighed and pressed his forehead against your own. “Can you forgive me?” he whispered. “There is nothing to forgive.” You smiled.

He returned your smile and slowly captured your lips with his own, his kiss was soft yet needy and his thumbs caressed your cheeks.

“You have my full attention angel… forever” he said when you broke the kiss. “I love you” you sighed.

“I love you more” he replied and kissed you again.

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