#I just went with the finger spelling version | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairyysoup · 19 days

Text

it will come back

part two

a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie's version)

pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader

summary: As May Day approaches, you find yourself running into Eddie, and succumbing to his charms, more and more.

cw: smut, heavy petting, fingering, frottage, denied orgasm, public sex, getting caught, alcohol consumption (both eddie and reader), a bit of humiliation, teasing, tons of flirting, eddie munson's Big Meaty Claws, jealousy (by reader), eddie being a flirtatious shit all around, slight enemies to lovers beat here, some kind of historical fantasy period, fairytale au, descriptions of scars, mentions of abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master

a/n: Happy May! I wrote this in a complete stupor and woke up and it was almost 8.0k words, so there will be a part three. I also wanted to get this done yesterday, but that's not how the cookie crumbles. Alas.

The lyrics that Eddie sings in this are from a traditional English folk song, commonly called "As I Walked Through the Meadow." There are variations on the lyrics, but this is the version I used here.

MY WORKS ARE ALL 18+ MINORS DNI

The man from the creek is being thrown out of the tavern in the center of town.

You know because you’ve been watching since he went inside. Except, if anyone were to ask, you’d say you’re simply watching the ripples on the mud puddles on the dirt road in front of the building. They’re fascinating, you’d insist. They say you can see your future in them.

You’d noticed him going in as you were stepping out of the haberdashers. You knew it was him from the wine red of his blouse– it’s a rich color, like you’ve never seen on a garment worn by anyone in town, and certainly not by someone claiming to come from the woods. The last time you saw him, nearly a month ago now, you forgot to ask him where he got something so richly woven and colored, in such seemingly good repair. You contented yourself with a single lie: you didn’t want to know.

You also figured that you would likely never see him again. That this so-called Eddie Munson was probably better off disappearing back into the woods and staying there. You’d never seen him in town before, and you certainly didn’t expect to see him there any time soon. He doesn’t exactly fit in with the rest of the townsfolk; people who work the land, who own it, who sow it. His rich red wine doesn’t fit into the bland suedes and dull grays of your neighbors.

No– no, with his wild, curly hair and bright, rosy cheeks, he definitely doesn’t look like anyone who belongs in Havensfield. He belongs in a storybook. He belongs in a fairytale you tell to little children, to send them to sleep with something larger than life in their minds. Just like you haven’t been able to sleep a wink without thinking about him and his troublesome smile and sparkling eyes first.

It’s as if he has you under some sort of spell, unable to move on but remaining steadfastly in place with your mind only revolving around him. You figured it was probably best to spend the coin he gave you and get it out of your system, so maybe you can get rid of the one physical thing that reminded you of his existence.

But here he is, in the flesh and very alive, and being tossed into the mud puddle you had been gazing into, spraying droplets of dirty water off in every direction. A cacophony of laughter rings out from the open door of the tavern– a barkeep angrily wipes his hands on his apron, snarls something at Eddie, and disappears back into the building, the door slamming shut behind him.

The town has erected a maypole in the square for the May Day celebration in just a few days. The marketplace is normally hectic during the festival. Shopkeepers will set up their stalls, the place will be decorated with garlands of flowers, and for days at a stretch one can hardly get their errands done for the amount of chaos going on in the place. That’s why you did your shopping today, rather than waiting for the festivities to begin.

You didn’t expect this.

You haven’t moved from your spot in front of the haberdasher’s. You don’t know if you should– you look this way and that, wondering if anyone is going to approach him, or if everyone else instinctively gives him a wide berth. The people on the street continue about their business like they haven’t seen him, like he isn’t there. You wonder if it’s some unseen force of nature that keeps them away. Does some magic spell exist to make him undetectable to anyone but you? Or are you just the only one stupid enough to get close?

He just sort of lays there in the mud, staring up at the sky. You assume he’s drunk. Why else would he have been thrown out of the tavern? Drinking them dry, getting unruly, starting fights… Yes, you should go on about your business.

Your hand fists in your skirt, the color of barleycorn. Such a drab color when compared to his deep red, like the flow of blood from a wound. Just as you had feared, it draws you in like a moth to a flame. You lift your skirts and step carefully across the muddy town square, until your feet toe the edge of the puddle he lays in.

“Do you… need help?” you ask when you peer down at him. From this angle, his eyelashes fan across his cheekbones in long arches, fluttering like fairy wings.

“My Lovely Lady of the Creek!” He croons wistfully up at you when you pass into his field of vision. “We must stop meeting this way.”

“Which way is that?”

“With me on my back in a bunch of water.” He smiles at you treacherously, in that way he does. Like he’s privy to a joke that you’re completely unaware of.

“Well, are you just going to lay there like a dead man in the road? Or would you like help?” Your hands are on your hips, the small basket for your purchases wiggling precariously on your wrist.

“You really should be more discerning about who you offer to help,” he lectures as he heaves himself up to sit. Muddy water sloshes up towards your shoes, and you scamper back before they can get wet. “Lest I begin to get the wrong impression.”

“I don’t recall ever offering you help before,” you point out.

“Right,” Eddie says after a moment, his eyes sweeping along the road. He looks unsure, as if he doesn’t know what to ask for, if he wants anything at all. “You… could help me over to the well?”

Your eyes follow his to the well in the center of the square. You shrug, and then brandish your hand at him.

Eddie looks at it thoughtfully for a moment before placing his hand into yours. His hand engulfs yours in warmth, his long fingers stretching up and around your wrist. A flush bursts beneath your skin from where his touch hits, spreading up your arm and into your chest.

You’re going to catch fire, you’re sure of it.

Instead, you just help him to his feet, trying not to slip in the mud, yourself. Eddie staggers, sways back towards the porch of the tavern. You lunge forward to catch him before he can fall over again, and you snatch him around the waist without much thought. His arm plops down onto your shoulder, and your basket bats against his hip, the contents shifting inside.

You’re so close now. He smells like pine and whiskey, and his body is warm. So warm that you’re surprised he isn’t sick in bed.

“How much did you drink?” you ask him, your voice choked as you heave him towards the well. You don’t want to think about his body pressed against yours, his arm hot around your shoulders. He’s looking down at you with an impassioned gaze that you don’t want to match. You fear that if you look up into his face, you will.

“No more than usual,” he murmurs. His hand reaches out and grabs the stone ring of the well once you get him to it. He kneels on the step of it, starting to look a little green in the face.

“You smell like the tavern floor,” you tell him frankly, raising your hand to push his hair away from his face.

“Well, I was just laying in a bunch of piss and shit, so.” Eddie raises his head and gazes up at you, wide-eyed, when you press your hand to his forehead.

“And you’re much too hot,” you assess, watching his eyes flutter at your appraisal. “Don’t you dare get sick in the well. I have to drink out of that.”

“I need water,” he grumbles, and pulls away from your hand. He tries to stand, and fails.

“Stay,” you tell him firmly, planting a hand on his shoulder. Eddie pouts, watching as you place your basket beside him and step up to the well to fetch him the bucket yourself.

Like a child who’s just been given a present, Eddie’s eyes fall to your basket. “What’s this?”

“My shopping,” you grunt with the effort of cranking the wheel to lift the bucket from the well.

“Ooh– stockings?”

You turn to glance at him, and see that he’s lifted the cloth from the basket to peek at the contents inside. He’s pinching your new stockings between his two fingers, pulling them out with a gleeful expression on his face.

You could kill him. “Put those back,” you hiss, letting go of the handle of the wheel. The crank spins backward, and down in the well, the bucket hits the water again with a loud, wet splash.

“Silk stockings, no less,” Eddie continues, ducking away from your swiping hand as he begins running the smooth hosiery over his knuckles. He seems to have gotten his second wind– no longer staggering, nor looking green in the face, he scampers around the well while you chase him. “Now how could a milkmaid afford such finery? It couldn’t be… no, I shant say–”

“Give it to me now,” you snarl at him, rounding the well after him. You hadn’t wanted him to see them– hadn’t wanted anyone to see them. It’s not something that you could have gotten yourself, on your own pay. The Master or Mistress would assume that you’d stolen the money, and punish you for it. Obviously, any stranger seeing them would be improper.

And Eddie… Well, he knows exactly how you got your hands on them.

“Could it be… a silver coin?” He giggles like an impish little sprite, his feet working faster than his mind. “Given to you by a handsome, charming, mysterious stranger?”

Eddie turns to look at you, holding the silken fabric up to his cheek to feel its softness. The sight of the gesture, him pressing his cheek against your undergarment, makes you see red.

“You little demon–” You lunge for him, but he jerks away, barrel rolling across the opening of the well somehow without managing to fall in. He lands on the other side with a noisy plop, laughing hysterically, and you continue rounding the well to get to him. “Your hair is unsightly and you smell like dirt and you’re as vain as you are vexing and I would rather try to climb the maypole than call you charming!”

“Well, you’re correct on most accounts,” he tells you, still trying to slow his laughter. Eddie lifts the cloth on your basket, still containing a bread roll and a new wooden comb, and begins carefully folding the silk stockings into a neat bundle. He tucks them back into the basket primly, while continuing, “But I would love to see you try to climb a maypole. Mine has been known to be good for such uses–”

“You’re despicable.” You snatch the basket away from him and step away from the well, turning your back to him without a goodbye.

“Maybe so,” Eddie replies from behind you. “But you’re still curious, aren’t you?”

You stop. You shouldn’t, but you do, and you know it’s a mistake the minute you turn and see him already standing, not swaying in the slightest, and beginning to crank the wheel of the well to fetch his own water.

With a scowl, you watch his arm work the wheel until the bucket rears up over the lip of the well, and he lifts it onto the edge. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, like he expected you to have walked away, and he smirks. “Ohhhh, she’s curious. You know what they say about curiosity.”

Your skin prickles as you’re uncomfortably reminded of your last meeting with Eddie. “You’re much too fond of your idioms.”

“They’re idioms for a reason,” he replies frankly. With the water bucket steady on the edge of the well, he pinchest the front of his blouse and begins untucking the tails from his trousers.

“What are you doing?” you snap, appalled, as he lifts the hem of his blouse to expose his belly.

He pauses, looking at you dubiously. “I have to wash my shirt.”

You bluster, “In front of the whole town?”

“Who’s looking?”

Who, indeed? You finally think to take in your surroundings, and you notice that the town square has cleared since Eddie was thrown out of the tavern. Aside from the occasional passerby, no one is lingering, and certainly no one is watching Eddie as he peels the muddy fabric from his skin.

“You’re the only person in this town who deigns to speak to me. I thank you for that,” Eddie says, not unkindly. “But you should know that it makes you a rose among thorns. That isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

“How is that not a good thing?” you ask, feeling his eyes rake over you just before he pulls his shirt over his head. You see a flash of pale skin, and avert your eyes so swiftly it nearly makes you dizzy.

“Roses tend to be picked,” he tells you simply, as if it’s obvious. “Careful who you show your colors to.”

Your face heats against your will, while your eyes remain locked on the building across the way and not on him. At least, not until your curiosity wins out, and you steal a glance at him.

Eddie dunks his dirty blouse in the bucket, splashing water down onto the stone step at the base of the well. The muscles of his arms flex with the work, and his hair spills over pale shoulders, rosy at the collarbones. He has pictures drawn on his skin with black ink– mythical creatures you learned about as a child, which denote power and magic. Surrounding the images on his skin are scars, old enough that they’ve gone pale, but their raised appearance indicates that he’s seen his fair share of danger. Hair trails down his chest and to the curve of his stomach, then disappears beneath the line of his trousers. Your eyes trace the trail of it, lingering on his waistband as you wonder how far down it goes.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he glances up at you. You immediately rip your eyes away, but it’s too late. He’s already seen you looking– seen you staring.

Eddie grins, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “If it pleases you to look, then look.”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking,” you say, with more than a hint of pride, turning your nose up a bit for good measure.

“Of course,” Eddie muses, a wicked smirk still on his face. “And neither was I.”

He meets your eye with a heated gaze that makes goosebumps break out across your skin. His eyes are two black coals, burning at you from just a few feet away. They slowly move up and down your body, until he sets his jaw and turns back to the bucket. He lifts the red blouse from the water and wrings it out, casting droplets of water down his forearms.

You watch them travel along his pale skin, your eyes tracing the blue veins and sinewy muscles of his arms. And that’s when you notice it– the cloth tied around his wrist.

It’s pale pink. It has a slight brocade pattern to the weave. It’s one that your Mistress had no use of, and when she decided she didn’t want the cloth for anything, you took and dyed it yourself with rose petals, and turned it into a blanket for your bed.

It’s the same cloth that you tied to the injured leg of the wolf in your dream, all those weeks ago. But it wasn’t a dream, or it couldn’t have been– the end of that very same pink blanket is still frayed from the tear of the fabric.

“Where did you get that?” you ask him sharply, marching forward. He startles, drawing back just a bit, his eyes glancing you up and down in alarm.

“Get what?” he says coolly, though his manner doesn’t reflect his tone. He’s backing away from you, holding up his hands like you mean to attack.

“This.” Far too bold for your own good, you snatch his wrist in your hand. Eddie gazes down his nose at you as you yank his wrist up near your face, twisting until the pink brocade glints in the overcast light of late April. “Where did you get this cloth?”

“In the woods,” he says simply.

“This is from my bed,” you hiss at him, your eyes narrowing as your hand tightens on his arm. Beneath his overheated skin, his pulse pounds against your fingers. You feel it like the beating of a thousand drums. “I don’t believe you. Where did you get it?”

“I told you,” Eddie repeats slowly. “I found it hanging from a tree. Thought it was pretty, so I kept it.” His face betrays no emotion now, almost strategically so. Where alarm once was, there is nothing. No hint of hesitance, or mischief, or cunning. Just a blank slate that you have no way of reading.

Your eyes flick between his face and his arm, trying to connect the dots. That’s when you notice the mark as well– among the otherwise pale, older scars that riddle his torso and arms is a long, jagged gash on his bicep. It arcs across his skin and appears to have been from a deep wound. It’s raised over and scarred, but still bright in color. New.

You’re wondering if your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s improbable that the scar on his arm is the one you patched on the wolf a month ago. You refuse to believe such things; you don’t believe in wolf-men, in fairytales, in silly superstitions.

You release his arm. You still don’t believe him– not when he so quickly went from being startled, to suddenly showing no emotion at all. You don’t trust him in the slightest. It seems to you like he’s hiding something, but you don’t know what. You don’t believe he’s anything other than a man. You can’t honestly say that you believe he’s evil, or that he means you harm, but you still wouldn’t lay your life down to fend for his honor.

And that cloth. You would bet your life that the fabric wrapped around his wrist came from your bed, dyed by your own hand, tied around the wounded leg of a wolf on the last full moon. But you can’t dispute that what he says is true. So you step back, and you fix him with a steely-eyed gaze that you know would make even the roughest of men shake in their boots.

“Good day, Mr. Munson,” you say, and he looks surprised that you even remembered his name. “I hope that I never see you again.”

“Making a wish like that is unwise,” he replies mildly, turning back to the bucket that he has perched on the rim of the well. “Unless you have a coin to toss in the well for it. Silver, maybe?”

Your cheeks burn hot, and you turn away from him. He infuriates you so much. You can’t recall a time when a man affected you so badly.

“Right. Because you spent it,” he observes, taking your silence as a quiet relent. “I’ll sleep well knowing that my coin was spent on a pair of beautiful stockings. Excellent craftsmanship, by the way. The weave is immaculate. Feels like spun gold.”

“Go to Hell,” you mutter, finally turning away from him, for good this time.

“As long as I know you’ll think of me when you wear them,” he tells you as you walk away, “I’ll die a happy man.”

You pause. For a moment, you think of turning back to him, telling him to shove that exact thought down his stupidly pretty gullet. But you don’t. Thankfully, you have the reserve and the self respect to set your shoulders and leave him there, rinsing his soiled blouse there on the edge of the well.

You still didn’t ask him how he got a blouse so fine. You doubt that he would tell you the truth even if you did. All you know is that he stays with you, haunting you, rolling through your mind the way he rolled across the mouth of the well, until your hand lands on the gate to your Master’s property.

You can’t afford to have him occupying your thoughts. You can’t afford to be so distracted– you don’t even want to think about what may happen if the Master learns that you’re on your way to being smitten with someone. Someone young and beautiful and, from what you can tell, not running a farm with indentured servants on it.

And when exactly did you go from wanting him to disappear into the woods, to being smitten with him?

On May Eve, you get just enough of your chores done for the Mistress to not find any excuse for you not to attend the festivities. With your hands tight on a woven basket, you set off with a group of young milkmaids from down the lane, bearing torches, to collect flowers from the meadows and woods.��

Bringing in the May is one of your favorite customs, mostly because it’s practiced by the young people of the town. You don’t have to worry about being watched by the town elders. There’s an air of being chosen by someone; the more popular girls in town get flowers laid on their doorsteps in abundance. You’ve never been left flowers, but each year you hold out hope that someone, anyone, will leave them for you. A gesture– you’re wanted.

There’s music in the air. Groups of young men and women laugh and dance, and the meadows are dotted with the little blooms of fire at the ends of torches as flowers are gathered. You’ve already indulged in a certain amount of floral spring wine and honey cakes, lulling you into a sweetly tipsy, giggly mood. There’s magic in the air– you can taste it in the humidity, the moonshine, the salt of sweat and earth.

“There aren’t enough flowers in the meadow this year,” one of the girls in your group complains, tromping through the high grass.

“This isn’t the only meadow in Havensfield, Victoria,” says another.

“I’ve seen more growing by the trees,” you offer, holding out your basket for one girl to toss a few measly primrose blooms in.

The other girls stop. You look around in the low torchlight at the appalled expressions on their faces.

“You can’t just… go into the woods,” the one named Victoria objects. “There’s… there’s fairies. And wolf-men.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes while the other girls balk. “You can’t honestly tell me that you believe those old wive’s tales. You know the elders only tell those stories to keep us from going into the woods to fuck.”

A few snickers rise up with the smoke from the torch. “It’s true, I saw Katherine Plack sneaking through the woods with Scotty Raker two nights ago,” says a short girl beside Victoria, nodding sagely.

“And what were you doing in the woods, Hyacinth?” the girl holding the torch says, slugging Hyacinth on the shoulder.

The girls dissolve into laughter, while you suck on your lower lip and gaze toward the trees. It can’t be that dangerous, if Eddie claims to come from in there… somewhere. You imagine a cozy little cottage in the woods with a well beside it, tucked away, hidden from town. You imagine him chopping the wood to make it, himself. You imagine his lean frame and strong hands holding an ax, the drawings on his skin highlighted in the filtered sun through the trees as he swings the blade–

“I’m going to go see,” you announce abruptly, your voice nearly cracking. You’re nodding to yourself, looking like an idiot while you fumble to pick the basket up and set it on your hip. “Yep. That’s what I'm going to do. You all can stay here if you want.”

“But, there’s no light,” Victoria insists, pulling her hair back away from her face with a condescending expression.

“Moon’s almost full, I can see just fine,” you snap back. Honestly, what does it matter to her if you go into the woods? “I’ll be back.”

Hyacinth calls something about “girding your loins” after you, but you’re too far away to really pay it any mind. The grass grows taller by the trees, and you hop over the creek into a wide bed of bright yellow marigolds. They wiggle in the slight spring breeze, lit with just enough moonshine for their color to show even in the dark.

“Beat that, Victoria,” you mumble as you set the basket on the ground. Methodically, you begin picking them, choosing the biggest blooms, the ones with the most immaculate petals. You’ll decorate your small cabin with them, and fashion garlands for the town square with the rest.

As you wander over to another bed to collect some more blooms, you hear singing, following the tune being played by the pan flute across the meadow. It’s an old folk song that most of the people in town would know, and you hum along mindlessly as you pick the flowers at your knees.

“As I was a-walking to take the fresh air, The flowers all blooming and gay, I heard a young damsel so sweetly a-singing, Her cheeks like the flowers in May.”

It’s a young man’s voice, coming from somewhere in the trees, low and rich, and quiet enough that you don’t think it’s meant to be heard by anyone else across the meadow. Tipsy, you smile to yourself, not thinking to look for the source of the voice, but just appreciating the sound as it travels on the breeze.

“Said I, ‘Pretty maiden, and how came you here, In the meadows this morning, so soon?’ The maid she replied, ‘Why, to gather some May, For the trees they are all in full bloom.’”

As your fingers stroke along soft flower petals, humming along under your breath, you glance over your shoulder towards the meadow, where flaming torches dance like woodland spirits in the night. Laughter follows the music and the raucous cheering of the other groups of May-goers, dancing and collecting their own greenery and flowers.

The rich, velvety voice filters through the trees, ever quieter, but even closer than before. You look up just in time to see the source of the voice move just beyond the treeline, and then he appears, leaning against the trunk of a great pine, close enough that you can see the deep wine red of his blouse, and the wicked smirk on his lips.

“I said, ‘Pretty maiden, shall I go with you Through the meadows to gather some May?’ ‘Oh no, sir,’ she said, ‘I would rather refuse, For I fear you would lead me astray.’”

You could swear that Eddie’s eyes glow nearly red at you in the moonlight, his teeth sharper than you’ve ever seen them as he grins at you. The lace at his collar is untied, disheveled, falling open to reveal one of the inked pictures on his skin and his dark chest hair.

“Climb any maypoles today, princess?” he asks you after a moment of your staring at him, like you’ve seen a ghost.

The question sets your skin aflame. You sit back on your heels, giving him a caustic expression, despite the way your heart flutters at the sight of him. It’s the eve of May, your lurid mind thinks, tracing his outline among the trees. Anything could happen.

“I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again, Mr. Munson,” you retort, imagining that he won’t be affected by your words in the slightest.

He isn’t. “Ah-ah, you said you hoped that you wouldn’t. But you didn’t toss a coin in the well, therefore, your wish was never going to be granted. Rules of nature, sweetheart.” He wags a finger at you. “And enough with that ‘Mr. Munson’ business. You remember my name, don’t you?”

“Eddie,” you say quietly, not sure why you feel so shy when you do. Probably because, up until now, you’ve been firm in your false belief that you’d never give him the time of day. It seems it all depends on whether or not you’ve seen him shirtless, first.

“Good girl. I knew you were paying attention.” Eddie smirks at you then, sowing the seeds of your detriment right there. He stands poised, and then bows low as he says, “So, pretty maiden, shall I go with you through the meadows to gather some May?”

You consider quoting the song right back to him, but you figure that it’s probably what he expects you to do. So instead, you sigh and shrug your shoulder at him. “As long as you promise not to crush them in your big meaty hands.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open in shock, an impressed smile curling his mouth up at the corners. He barks a laugh. “That’s not how the song goes.”

“Well, the song ends with them kissing and then getting married in the morning,” you point out, with a roll of your eyes. “So, forgive me for not adhering to the lyrics.”

“Also, my hands are not meaty.” He smirks at you ruefully, his face half bathed in moonlight. He leans towards you, “I’ll tell you what is, though–”

“If you’re about to mention your maypole again, I’m leaving,” you snap, glaring at him in the dark. He snickers, but says nothing, instead preferring to start gathering marigolds. “Just how did you manage to find me again, anyways? There are hundreds of people wandering the meadows tonight. How is it that you keep managing to run into me and no one else?”

“Oh, I can sniff you out in a heartbeat, princess. It’s one of my many talents.” The flowers are dwarfed by his hands– his long fingers pinch the stems delicately, offset by the size of the silver rings he wears on them. You admire them, watching them glint in the moonlight, the tendons in his wrist flexing and his skin pulling tight over veins and knuckles. The heavy metal clicks as he works. You’re about to comment on them, when you watch what said fingers are doing with the flowers.

He takes one, and loops the stem around another, creating a loose knot that lets the tails sit alongside each other. He repeats the process slowly, building a chain of bright marigold blooms, while he hums idly and shoots you a heavy look from beneath his lashes. “Ah. So you’re not afraid to look, now. That’s good to know.”

You tear your eyes away. The tips of your ears burn with embarrassment at having been caught staring, yet again. “Have you any shame?”

“Not a hair of it.”

Eddie holds up a finished crown of flowers, grinning at you. He places the circlet of blooms on your head, and as he draws back, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“And I crowned her my Queen of sweet May,” he sings at you, more of a coo than truly carrying a tune. “The most beautiful one in all the land, of course.”

“From princess to queen,” you muse, trying not to show how quickly your heart is melting. “I’m sure you must think that endears you to me.”

“I’d like to think so,” Eddie admits, leaning ever closer to you. You can see the reflection of the moon in his eyes, glinting vaguely red– you can smell honeyed wine on his breath. His voice drops even lower in register, until it’s just barely above a whisper. “I hope so. Tell me I’m wrong, sweetheart.”

“I think,” you murmur just as quietly, letting your eyes drop indulgently to his parted lips. They’re so plush and inviting, they’re right there. You need only let yourself bend an inch and you could kiss him. You breathe in, “I think…”

Your hand falls softly to the basket of flowers beside you.

“I think your hands are egregiously meaty.”

You lift a handful of marigolds and smash them into his mouth, making him splutter and fall backwards. You cackle, flinging yourself in the opposite direction, scrambling up to run away. You swear you got some of them in his mouth; you can hear him coughing and spitting them at the same time as he laughs.

“I’ll get you for that!” You can hear him leaping up to chase you, and the prospect makes your heart pound in your chest, your blood rushing hot beneath your skin. You’re sure that it will be easy for him to catch you– you’re hoping for it, really.

You duck between the pines and into the trees. “Come sniff me out then, if you must!”

You hear his laugh from behind you, almost sounding dark and menacing. Your hair stands on end, but your feet carry you through the trees, running even though you feel as though you’ve been struck by lightning.

His feet pound the earth behind you, his laughter dancing on the breeze and combining with the music from the meadow. Beyond the trees, your contemporaries dance and make merry with the coming of summer. Here, in the woods, you run from some indeterminate end– one that you have an inkling of, like the barest traces of a memory, but you can’t quite make it out yet.

Eddie’s hands snatch you by the waist, and you yelp. Heat bursts beneath your skin where he touches you through your bodice, whirling you around until your back hits the trunk of a tree.

Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding, chest heaving. Eddie is so close, and the air around you buzzes with energy and magic, as if the very trees themselves were singing.

“You little minx,” Eddie muses, his voice rumbling low like thunder. “Just need me to chase you, is that it?” His eyes truly do shine red, you don’t think you’re imagining it– each time they catch the light of the moon, or a torch burning far off in the meadow, you see a glimpse of that subtle iridescent red of a forest creature in the dark glinting back at you.

“I think you’re a spirit,” you whisper, the words light and airy in your throat as you try to regain your breath. “I think you’re one of the Fey. You can’t be real.”

Eddie has you caged in against the tree– one hand on the trunk beside your head, one on your hip. You don’t want to be anywhere else. “Oh, I’m very real, sweetheart. Shall I show you how much?”

His forefinger traces the line of your cheekbone, down the side of your face, to your jaw. You want it bad. You want him and anything he’ll give you– throw you to the ground, take you as prey, the lot of it. You won’t be married in the morning, but tonight all things are possible.

You turn your face and drag your lips across his knuckles, half-gone in your desire. You barely even register the look on his face; eyes wide, lips parted in awe, like he’s never seen anything like you before. Like you confound him as much as he confounds you. A match made in heaven.

Eddie catches your jaw in his fingertips, holding you like you’re made of glass, and he crashes down into you. He tastes of cherry wine, as rich and deep as the color of his blouse, which you fist in your hand to tug him closer.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips. It falls like a sigh into his mouth, and his hand tightens on your hip momentarily before gathering your skirts. The fabric flutters as he pulls at them, tugging them up just enough to disappear beneath the hem.

Your breath quickens. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you think, Oh fuck, this is really happening.

Eddie’s finger’s pause on the breadth of your thigh, just above your knee. His forefinger strokes downward, passing over your garter strip and feeling the weave of the silk before he cracks a self-satisfied smirk at you.

“Nice stockings. Get them recently?”

Your eyes narrow with false gravity, your nose scrunching. “I’ll kill you.”

His smirk stretches into a grin, and he scoffs a little laugh that flutters across your lips. It feels like a kiss. “Dying between the legs of my beautiful Queen of May sounds like a good way to go, actually.”

His hand drags hotly up your outer thigh, and the touch nearly burns you to your core. Eddie’s thumb presses against the skin just at the juncture of your leg, and you press your lips together to bite back a moan from coming out. Everything between your legs is tense, and pulsing, and turning feverish the longer he just pets at your skin and tugs your leg up to rest against his hip.

His fingertips dig into the curve of your ass and the moan escapes you; high pitched, needy, embarrassing. You’re hot all over and you feel like you might die if he doesn’t touch you– you have a mind to tell him so, too, when Eddie dips his head and bites at your earlobe.

He dips his finger between your folds, tracing one forefinger up the seam of your cunt, and you swear you could nearly scream. Flesh that is too hot and too sensitive bursts alive with feeling. His finger is drenched, your legs shake just from one touch. Is this what it always feels like?

“Oh, baby,” he coos as you whimper into his neck. His lips move slowly along your skin. Each move of his finger, just teasing you gently, dragging so slowly over your clit that your back arches and you keen long and high. “That’s it. This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

You let out a pitiful squeak, nodding your head like you may explode rather than answer. He strokes you firmly and then gently, watching your face, studying your expressions. It’s so much and it’s not enough, not nearly enough to settle the throbbing in your core.

“Please…” It’s the only thing you can come up with, the word bubbling up out of your throat before you can make it make sense. “Please.”

“‘Please’ what?” Eddie tilts his head. His pale skin nearly glows in the moonlight, the red in his eyes shining for a split second. “Please… here?”

His finger circles your entrance, prodding but never quite dipping in all the way. It’s just enough to make you see stars, just enough to turn you nearly insane.

“Oh my God,” you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders and gripping at his neck.

Eddie hums, letting you feel the gentle touch for a few more seconds before it’s gone. You could cry. There are tears in your eyes– you could sob, throw a tantrum. You don’t think it would make him change his mind either way.

“My hands are too big, though, aren’t they?” Eddie shakes his head, mirroring your pout in a condescending manner that makes you want to smack him. Then he cracks a smirk, and you know he’s just being mean. “Mhm. Big and meaty. Too much for a sweet little thing like you. I wouldn’t want to break–”

You snatch his wrist through your skirts and bring his hand back between your legs. No preamble, no begging– this time he hisses, and you sigh with relief as you grind down onto not just his fingers, but his entire hand.

“You’re not disappearing on me this time, Munson,” you nearly growl at him. Your tongue lavishes his skin, his long neck providing just the right amount of area for you to indulge in.

“I would have stayed,” he gasps out when your teeth find a particularly tender spot under his jaw. “I’d have stayed if I knew you wanted me to.”

“I want you to,” you say, and you wonder if you’ll regret it in the morning. But the morning seems so far away right now, and his hand feels so good between your legs, and you don’t quite understand how you could regret anything that makes him look at you like that.

“Don’t– You can’t talk to me like that,” he whispers, and his eyes shine like rubies in the night as he gazes at you in awe. “You should know better than that.”

You do know better. But still, you tell him, “Stay,” and it’s like a dam has been broken. You know that you’ll never get rid of him now, and you don’t really want to. You want him to make a home in your chest, right against your heart. You want him to always touch you like this. You want him to always look at you with that same reverent gaze, like he’s just looked upon divinity.

Eddie crowds between your legs and his hand leaves you, but his thigh remains in its place. His leg presses tight to your core, the rough fabric of his trousers not nearly as warm as the touch of his hand, but just as erotic. You rock forward mindlessly against his thigh as he takes your face in his hands– one wet with your arousal– and kisses you breathless. His lips move over yours softly, and then passionately, until you take all that passion and feed it back into him twice over.

You lose track of time. The stroke of his tongue against yours, your hands in his hair, his firm thigh between your legs, all brings you to the edge of oblivion. You squirm against him and he chuckles against your lips. He knows what you want. He’ll give it to you, you know it, you know that he will–

And then a twig snaps. Someone calls your name just through the trees, and then, fucking Victoria breaks through the bushes just in time to see you jump and squeal, having to clutch at Eddie’s shoulders to keep from falling over when he spins around to see who intruded on your precious moment.

“OH! I’m so sorry– I thought–” Victoria fiddles with a long lock of her hair, twisting it idly before tossing it over her shoulder. You’re sure you look disheveled, with Eddie’s crown of marigolds slowly unweaving itself in your hair. It’s obvious to her what you’d been doing– Her eyes rake up and down Eddie’s frame, standing halfway in front of you like a shield, his chest heaving, a dark spot on his trousers where his thigh had been pressed between your legs. “Well, you said you were going to be back, and we thought you’d gone missing…”

“I was in the middle of doing something,” you tell her bluntly.

“Understatement,” Eddie mutters under his breath, and you knock your elbow against his back.

You ignore him. “I thought you didn’t want to go into the woods?”

“Well, that was before we thought you… disappeared.” Victoria looks from you to Eddie. “Who’s this?”

“Something.” Eddie grins at her, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight breaking through the trees. “Sorry I stole her away from you. We were actually just having a fascinating conversation about when it’s appropriate to disappear– you could join us if you want?”

Eddie glances over his shoulder at you, and smirks a bit at the expression of complete and utter envy on your face. You don’t want anyone to join. You don’t want to share him. You want him all to yourself. You want to grow on him like ivy until no one can see him but you. You want to hold him close to your chest and keep him there for eternity, and then some.

“Oh, no, I–” Victoria blushes. She half-turns, like she wants to run away from the conversation entirely. “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve collected all the flowers we need, so… we’re going back to town. You can stay… if you want.”

You want to throw a fit.

She ducks back into the bushes quickly. Eddie is quiet for a moment, listening to her footsteps through the grass, before he turns to you.

“You were jealous,” he teases, leaning towards you with that stupid self-aggrandizing grin.

Your face grows hot with anger and embarrassment. “You did that on purpose.” You shove him bodily, so that he stumbles a bit to the side, and he snickers. “I can’t believe you. She could have said yes to that.”

“Nah, she was too bashful. I knew she wasn’t gonna take me up on the offer. She wandered into something she wasn’t ready for.” Eddie leans up against a tree, smiling at you with a more resigned expression now. He looks you over, like he wants to burn the image of your kiss-bitten lips and rumpled dress into his memory. After a moment, he meets your eye again. “You should go. Get some sleep before the festival tomorrow.”

“But I–” You flounder. You just made so much progress, and now you’re just back where you began. You shouldn’t be proud about it now– not after he nearly took you to pieces with a single touch. Not when you can still feel the sharp edge of an orgasm pressing at your core, wanting to force its way out but with no way to get there now, and every look at him makes it press that much harder. “You know what– I don’t even know what I expected.”

You march off towards the tree line. You have to find your fucking flower basket. You have to go and make garlands and slap together some bouquets for the festival tomorrow. You have to pretend like you aren’t dying inside from the disappointment.

“Princess.” You turn to him. He isn’t smiling anymore, he just looks disappointed as well. He glances up at the moon, and then back to you. “It’s a full moon tomorrow. Best not to go near the woods, okay?”

“Don’t tell me you believe in those stupid wolf-man stories, too,” you snap, beyond aggravated.

“Just promise me,” Eddie bites back, his eyes shining dangerously in the moonlight. “Promise me that you’ll stay in town. Don’t come near the woods. Drink, be merry, have a good time.”

“And you?” You feel a bit humiliated and desperate, vying for his time and attention– but you want it. You want it, you want him, more than anything, but you have a feeling you won’t be getting what you want, yet again. “What about you?”

“I’ll find you,” he says firmly, and then lowers his eyes. Softly, he amends, “I’ll always come back to you.”

#i'm inordinately proud of this one uhh #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #werewolf!eddie munson #werewolf!eddie #werewolf!eddie munson x reader #stranger things #roses*

361 notes · View notes

festivalsofmargot · 1 year

Text

Pretty Thoughts {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: Sebastian is down bad for you, my dear reader. But a lot of overthinking on your part makes you blind to it. So, his only option is to keep chasing after you. Takes place after MC meets Anne and before Seb’s final mission. Your Hogwarts house is up to you.

Word Count: ~2700

Warnings: Kissing, Teen Angst

Author’s Note: This is an (un)official Part 2 to Pining in Potions Class. I like writing one shots that could go together if you’d like, but you definitely don’t need to read any other stories to know what’s going on. I love the idea of a clingy Sebastian. Teens finding their first love can feel amazing but they also don’t know how to act. All they know is they want to be with that person at all times.

Songs (if interested):

Kill the Director - The Wombats

Whatever You Like - Single Version - Anya Marina Cover

Wallpaper - Matt Watson

How Long - TALK

You had found Sebastian around you a lot more lately, not that you minded. You enjoyed it, actually. But at the same time, it kept you on edge. Though you hadn’t known the Slytherin for long, this behavior seemed very out of the ordinary for him. When you were first getting to know him, he would be brief and to the point with you, then he was off. He was always prioritizing practicing new spells in the undercroft or going over every book he could get his hands on from the restricted section.

At first, you thought maybe he had a falling out with Ominis, but then you saw them walking into the dining hall seemingly fine with each other. And then, you made yourself paranoid it had something to do with Anne’s health. But to your relief, he updated you on something funny she wrote in her latest letter to him.

Your early conversations mainly consisted of discussing the things he had found in Salazar Slytherin’s spell book, but that was only a small portion of the time these days. More often than not, the two of you weren’t saying anything at all. He was just there with you. Whether it be studying, laying in the grass and basking in the sun, or sitting with you at breakfast going over some last minute homework.

He was getting dangerously close to you lately too. He might not have thought anything of it. But you on the other hand? Your mind went reeling. Every time you were together, he would do something simple that made your stomach dance with butterflies. He’d brush your fingers with his, lay his head on your lap while you laid in the grass, and touch his shoulder against yours whenever you sat together in the dining hall.

It was your final class of the day, and you were barely paying attention, your mind thinking back on those light touches you and Sebastian shared. Looking up from your notes to sneak a glance at him, you found he was already staring back at you. The both of you quickly averted your eyes.

With Professor Hecat’s dismissal, all the students made their way out of the classroom. Sebastian caught up to your side.

“Have to cancel our library session. I need to meet with Ominis. Can I still try to see you later?” He looked at you with hopeful eyes, as if he needed you to confirm he could, in fact, see you later.

“O-Of course, Sebastian. I’ll probably be in the library for the rest of the night if you need me.”

He gave you a small smile and nod of his head. He took a few steps backwards to leave, keeping his eyes on you a moment longer, then he turned and went on his way.

Rubbing at your eyes, you were relieved to be nearly done with all of your homework. It was the weekend now, you didn’t need to worry about finishing it all that night, but Sebastian hadn’t come to see you yet. So you stayed a bit longer than anticipated. It was getting late and everyone was gone except for you and Madam Scribner at her desk at the library entrance.

You’d feel bad if Sebastian showed up and you weren’t there to at least tell him you were done and heading to bed. But if you were too tired, you were too tired. Sebastian wouldn’t be crushed if he turned up and you were gone... right?

You shook the thought from your head and rubbed at your blushing cheeks with the back of your hand. Sebastian doesn’t feel that way about you, he needs to focus on helping his sister. If he wants anything more, he’ll tell you. But then you began thinking about all his small touches again, pulling yourself back into the fantasy.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you knew you needed a distraction. You decided to get up from your table and explore the shelves for another book. Nothing education related, there had to be something in this humungous library that was just meant for enjoyment. Some fictional story to take your mind off of everything.

Aha! You believed you found just the book. You couldn’t quite tell from the cover, but the title was “My Beloved”. That sounded like a romance novel, right? Plucking the book from the shelf and running your hands across its bindings, you made your way back to your table. Not wanting to sit thanks to the lingering nerves, you opened up the book to a random page and read it over to see if your prediction on the content was correct.

You found it was a romance that took place in a small village. Before you knew it, you were engrossed in the story, picturing yourself and Sebastian as the main characters who were in love. You slowly placed both of your hands on the table, leaning on them as you kept reading, forgetting you could sit back down. It’d really come to this, you were so head over heels for him you were picturing the two of you in a romance novel. A dreamy sigh escaped your lips.

“What are you reading?” Sebastian asked, coming up to your side. Your attention snapped to him. He chuckled at your startled expression and very red complexion. “Uh oh, catch you reading something interesting, did I?”

"Um...”, You started, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Your mind was still recovering from the romantic scenarios you were just picturing the two of you in.

Shaking your head and avoiding his gaze, Sebastian took this to mean you were upset with him. His heart sank. “I’m sorry it took me so long. Ominis and I decided to try a new spell and it took us forever to figure out. I was so focused on getting it right, I lost track of time. You’re not leaving soon, are you?”

You gave a small wave of your hand, dismissing his apology. “It’s alright, Sebastian. I got caught up here and... well, lost track of time myself.” You slid the book away from him, slowly closing it, hoping you didn’t look suspicious.

But, of course, Sebastian thought you looked suspicious. He raised a questioning brow at you and glanced at the book.

“What?” You asked innocently, turning away from him and looking down at the romance novel, firing off ideas in your head of how you’d put it away without him figuring out what it was.

“That book you got there. Why are you acting so secretive? Did I catch you reading something interesting after all?” Sebastian got closer, leaning one hand on the table next to the book and peering at it over your shoulder. His chest pressing up against your back. There he went again, giving you the slightest touch and driving you mad. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, intoxicating you. In that moment, you were tempted to yank him close and bury your face in his neck.

He turned his head to look at you for an answer, but you couldn’t get yourself to look back. He was so close, his lips were so close. You could make out his freckles out of the corner of your eye, feel his breath against your skin. Did he know what kind of effect he had on you? Was he teasing you? Your lips were moving to speak but no words would come out.

He gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder, prodding you to answer him. “Come on, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

And it wasn’t that bad, at most he would tease you for reading a romance novel. What was holding you back at this point was how nervous Sebastian was making you. As if you weren’t tense enough, he took it a step further and placed both of his hands on either side of you on the table, trapping you in. He rested his chin on your shoulder, taking another peek at the book.

“I never realized how much taller I am than you.” He chuckled, chest humming against your back. Keeping you in place, his callused hands grabbed yours to remove them from covering the title of the book. He held your hands in his while he read it over, then he gave a quiet, amused hum.

You turned in his arms and he lifted his head off your shoulder to meet your gaze. He smiled at you, but it faded when he saw your face.

“What’s wrong?”

Finally facing him, even with how close he was, your desire took over your reason. And, just for a moment, you allowed yourself to be selfish. “You make me nervous, Sebastian.” You told him in a low tone.

He didn’t think you looked nervous at all. Something was written on your features but he certainly wouldn’t call it ‘nervous’. Your eyes were dark and you licked at your lips. It was brief but it caught his eye, seeing a quick glimpse of your tongue made his head race with all sorts of thoughts.

You too glanced at his lips, not caring if it was obvious what was on your mind.

Seeing your eyes shamelessly stare at his mouth, he froze. He was afraid if he made one wrong move, you’d run. He had wanted to kiss you for a while now, and right then it looked like you wanted to kiss him too.

Then you did, and his heart went rapid. He had been convinced you could feel it when your hands moved up along his chest until one snaked around his shoulders and the other rested on his neck. His hands left their place on the table to grab your waist, pulling you closer, holding you in place. His warmth enveloped you.

You pulled away to kiss at Sebastian’s neck and his knees went weak. You kissed around the area you pictured he sprayed his cologne. You took an inhale and breathed out, “I always loved this scent on you.” You kissed at the area one more time, sending a pleasant tickling sensation up the back of his neck. His fingers dug deeper into your waist.

You go back to kissing his lips, which were softer than you had imagined. The way he earnestly moved his mouth against yours ignited sparks in your chest. You had wanted him so badly, and you finally had him there in your arms, on the tip of your tongue, for the taking. One of your hands moved to his hair and you reveled in the feeling of his locks between your fingers.

But the abrupt sound of heels walking along a marble floor slowed your kiss to a halt. Madam Scribner. The two of you were so swept up in the moment you completely forgot other people existed (faculty that Sebastian does not have a good reputation with included).

The two of you left each other’s embrace just as Scribner came into view. Sebastian, hair slightly askew, gave a cough and acted like he was looking over some important papers which were actually your homework pages for a class he didn’t have. All the while, you had managed to open up the romance novel, nodding your head as if you were learning some new herbology methods.

Madam Scribner eyed the two of you while she put away a few books. “Getting late, best finish up before curfew.” And then she was gone, returning to her desk.

You and Sebastian looked at each other, cheeks flushed, and grinning from ear to ear. You bit at your lip and he rubbed the back of his neck. Clearing your throat, you started gathering up your homework and books.

Sebastian watched with an ache to pull you back in and keep kissing you senseless.

“I-I’m sorry I did that. That was selfish of me.” You stammered, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked, returning to your side, thinking through anything he could have done to make you feel this way. You had helped him through so much, if anything he thought he was the selfish one. You came in as a new fifth year with seemingly endless catching up to do and you had to learn how to wield ancient magic on top of that. Yet, he was unabashed in asking for your help countless times, anything to steal you away for himself.

“Well I-I know how busy you are with your research for Anne and I’d hate to be the one who slowed you down just because I-.” You went quiet, unable to finish the sentence, fingers fumbling to organize the papers in your hands.

“Just because you... what?” He urged on.

“Merlin, Sebastian. Do I need to spell it out for you?” You exhaled, leaving to go put away the books you borrowed, him following close in pursuit.

“Please do.”

“As I said,” You sighed. “You make me... nervous.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

Putting the last of the books away, you turned to face him again. “Good, I suppose.” You confessed, barely above a whisper, unable to meet his gaze.

He tried to bite back the giddy smile forming on his lips. “I make you nervous in a good way.” He repeated back, almost sounding proud.

You nodded your head, looking down at your twiddling thumbs, listening out if he would say how he felt about you.

Sebastian glanced over to Madam Scribner, who made it not so subtle she was keeping an eye on the two of you. “We should start heading to our rooms now, I suppose. Curfew and all.”

Your heart dropped, he didn’t say a thing about reciprocating your feelings. Not even a simple “I feel the same.” He must have only been swept up in the moment, enjoying the attention. Perhaps teenage hormones could make kissing enticing no matter who you were with? Embarrassment filled your every limb and you wanted to run and hide. You gathered your things to go.

“Um, yes. You’re right. We should be going.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“No, that’s alright. At this point, I’m asleep on my feet and you must be exhausted too. I’ll just floo and go straight to bed.”

Your rejection took him aback. “Oh. Well, alright then. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Maybe. I’ve got some assignments outside of the castle, might not have time.”

“Well, let me come along to help.” He offered eagerly.

“Don’t worry yourself, just send me an owl if something comes up for Anne. Sleep well, Sebastian.”

Before he could say anything more, you sped off to the library floo, and then you were gone. He was baffled at your sudden shift, everything was going so well. The two of you kissed and you had confirmed you felt the same as he did. He couldn’t believe he could make someone like you nervous. Hearing you say how you felt about him made him so happy he could burst. But then you were rushing to leave, rejecting his offer to help again. He didn’t think he said anything wrong, he barely said anything at all. Yet off you went, like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

He groaned in frustration as he made his way to his room. He had managed to kiss you and he still felt as distant as ever from you. He had never had the courage to outright tell you how he felt, so he would constantly toe the line with his touches. The brushing fingers, laying his head on your lap, sitting as close as he could to you in the dining hall, and now a kiss, all of which you seemed to welcome.

Sebastian laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, going back and forth in his head what your actions tonight meant. You had waited in the library for him all that time, you initiated the kiss, said you liked - no - loved his cologne, told him he made you nervous in a good way, and then you wanted nothing more to do with him. He replayed the whole night and he couldn’t pin down where he went wrong.

He’d have to find you first thing in the morning, before you could leave.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow angst

2K notes · View notes

himegureisu · 2 months

Note

Hiii! Just got home from a horrifying midterm exam. It went horrible, none of the questions were even in the lesson plan. Although it did give me an idea for this request :')

It's practically universal knowledge that Snape is a 'terror prof' (iykyk) at Hogwarts — his standards are high, he's very particular with essays and it's practically expected that every major exam, tears will be shed in and out the classroom with the amount of curveballs he throws at you.

(I'd feel like he'd be the type to have a True or False exam with choices like: True, Partially True, Partially False, False, and if none is applicable write the correct answer and all of it is situational)

He's married to the reader and they're both teachers, so they help each other on their loads. Much more efficient that way. One night after a particularly hard-hitting major exam in the semester, reader encounters tear stains and snot and a few drops of blood from a nosebleed on one of the exams (witnesses this once lol) and decided to confront him husband about it. Thank you! I hope this isn't too specific ;w;

Questions and Answers

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

A/N: I'm sorry you had a horrible exam day and thank you for preventing me from pulling my hair out of frustration because my Notion page was not cooperating when this request came through. I hope you enjoy this! 💖

——————————— 🪄———————————

“Severus, darling, why do your exam papers have at least two different types of fluids on them?” your fingers flip through the unfinished stack, your eyes scanning them.

This was the thirty-fifth test paper from his pile that you graded. His second-year tests were stained by a range of substances you curiously identified through a spell.

Did he truly not notice them?

“There’s a combination of either snot, sweat, tears, or,” you paused, taking one of the papers you already graded, to present to him. His dark eyes highlighted by the round reading glasses made for a rather attractive sight but focus, “On the rare occasion, blood,”

“Oh,” he simply said, looking up at you, “And?”

“Is that all you can say?” you frustratedly run a hand through your forehead as you sit on the edge of his desk causing him to stop, “What are these questions even? It’s a major exam for second years, not OWLs or NEWTs, Severus. My head hurts not only from the answers but also the questions,”

“If they can’t answer then they’re not competent enough to proceed to the…” his sentence undone by the beginning of your ramble, an attempt to explain why his methods were not feasible.

“Can you imagine the physical, mental, and emotional drain that major exams cause to students? You can reminisce on your time as one if it helps but it’s not good and then to be brought to this level of inquiry as if they were taking a mastery,” you explained, “There isn’t even a 50-50 chance to get the answer right only 25 because you decided that it would be better if there would be four very similar but distinct answers to the multiple choice questions and not a chance of redemption for those who don’t know the question if the said answer is one they needed to correct. I can better understand your students’ frustrations from this version of your exams,”

“To adjust the exam would mean that there would be a lower level of understanding…”

“That’s the point though since they’re just building the foundation of what they know for potions!” you exclaimed, “If it were a muggle game, Severus, it should be easy, medium, and then hard but your exams are hard, hard, and then hard on every level. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but…”

“Sev, imagine this,” you sit on his lap, cupping his cheeks for him to focus on you as you say, “Imagine a child, our child, a little boy or girl coming home to us in tears because of a similar test that they’d taken on that day,”

“It would be different. They would be ours,” he grumbled, pulling you in closer to bask in your warmth, “We wouldn’t teach them to be like that,”

“Sev, just imagine!” you sighed exasperatedly, his face buried beneath your chin, “Your little girl coming home in tears crying for us wanting a hug because of an awful exam day,”

His breathing was in sync with yours, trying to understand your reasoning. His imagination slowly conjures a little girl in your image. Her face was stained with big fat crocodile tears, a snot-filled nose, and books slung defeatedly on her arm. His heart tightened at the image of it, protectiveness surging from within.

No one was allowed to make either of you cry.

“Can you imagine?” you softly asked, running a hand through his hair, as he mumbled, “Yes,”

“Can you change the way your tests are written?” you silently prayed that he would, he breathed in and faced you to answer, “Fine, and you’ll help me,”

“I expect as much,” you smiled.

As you were about to get off his lap, his arms quickly pulled you back and in doing so, caused the chair to stumble a bit from the force. His nose on your hair, breaths warm, and hug unwilling to let go.

“Sev?” you glance back to see his darkened gaze, “What is it?

“Do you want children?” he asked, it wasn’t something both of you discussed in depth before, “I realized that after four years of marriage, we didn’t elaborate on our expectations on that particular topic,”

“If we’re blessed with children, then I’m happy,” you informed, tracing the contours of his face. No matter how many times you’ve seen him it’s like there’s another new thing to catalog in your mind, “If not, then I’ll be happy having you all to myself,”

“I don’t know if I want children,” he admitted, and you kissed his cheek, “We’ll get there when we get there, Sev, for now, don’t think about it,”

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #hp #harry potter #severus snape fanfiction #snape #professor snape #hogwarts #fanfiction #snape x you #severus snape x you #harry potter fanfiction

162 notes · View notes

abbyromanoff · 11 months

Note

This might be a weird request

Dark! Vampire! Natasha who is also an avenger, but no one knows that she's a vampire and fem! Reader that she tells everyone is her girlfriend, but is actually a pet sub she uses once in a while to drink from and mostly as a sex toy (lots of smut, please)

Show Off

Pairings: Vampire!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 2477

Warnings: Nat’s a vampire, voyeriusm, exhibition (idk how to spell it), basically R is a sex slave, dark!Nat, degrading kink, public sex, eating out, mentions of fingering, possessive/jealous behaviors from Nat, spanking, orgasm denial, small pet play (only nicknames), cnc (nat has previous permission from R), free use, small blood kink, small Wanda x reader, I didn’t spell correct this so my apologies

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

You and Wanda stood in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand as you created small talk. She had been telling you about her plans for today while you listened with a smile on your face. Wanda was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that. But you could never have her, Nat already owns you and shows that off proudly. You weren’t actually dating, but everyone thought you were. You couldn’t blame them though, Nat had a tendency to show everyone what’s hers - and that has been shown off many times with markings or rough kisses in front of anyone who was there. Nat pretended you two were in love until it came the time where no one was near, no wandering eyes could see the way she used you.

“Y/N? Are you listening?” You snapped out of the small trance you had and gave her yet another warm smile of reassurance.

“You’ve been off lately, what’s on your mind, babe?” It was a small nickname you both shared, but Nat hated it more than ever. You kept your composure, though, and she didn’t seem to notice.

“Trust me, I’m fine. I just have a lot of papers to fill out, lot’s of mission reports I’m behind on.” She nodded in understanding with a hum to herself.

“I thought I told you I’d help you out with those, why didn’t you come to me?” The truth was that Nat didn’t let you. You had tried to convince her that nothing was going on between you two, that everything was simply platonic, but she refused. You had wanted to take that opportunity to catch up on work and to spend some time with your best friend - even if you’d mainly just be admiring her the whole time.

“I know, I know, but you know I never want to bother you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you this? You’re never a bother to me, my love. You know I love you more than anything and would gladly take that chance to have a girls night with my favorite girl in the world.” Before you started dating Nat - well, it wasn’t really dating, but it felt like it - you and Wanda would have girls nights every Sunday, a perfect way to end the weekend and start the week. But Nat never liked that. At first, she’d convince you to spend your Sunday nights with her to cuddle or watch a movie. But once you started denying her and went back to Wanda, she had to make it known that she simply didn’t want you around her.

Wanda moved towards you and placed her mug on the counter your back had been resting on. You were cornered into her hold and you weren’t complaining, this had been the most contact you’ve been able to have with her for months now. Her piercing green eyes stared back at yours, you had always loved the color of her beautiful eyes.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you but ever since you’ve gotten with Nat it’s like the real you is gone. I miss my best friend, and this version of you isn’t them. So please, come by tonight and we can work together. Just an hour, that’s all I ask.” Your mind moved faster than your mouth as you quickly formed a nod, smiling to yourself at the thought of finally being with her. But the reminder of Nat consumed you, you knew she’d be pissed if she heard about this.

“Am I interrupting something?” Nat walked in the kitchen with a stern glare as she leaned against the fridge. It wasn’t a great look as Wanda had her palms running up and down your arms slowly, both of your bodies being so closely pressed against each other that you could practically feel her pelvis bone. Wanda jumped but didn’t remove herself from you, not being able to sense the deep tension you had both put yourselves in.

Nat raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

“Well, Nat,” Wanda started, a humoric level of sass in her tone. “Me and Y/N here were just talking about our plans for tonight.”

“Oh, well me and Y/N had some plans for tonight so I think it will be best if you reschedule for another day.” You knew another day meant never in her mind. Wanda looked at you, noticing how you cowered down slightly.

“Hm, Y/N never told me about these plans. And besides, it’s been forever since I got to spend time with my girl, can’t you give them up for one night?” It wasn’t a question but more of a demand. You could see Nat’s body tensing up and her grip on the coffee pot that she had been pouring tighten.

You expected a fight, for Nat to backlash some bullshit story and convince Wanda to cancel your plans. But instead, she just smiled with tight lips and nodded - which was almost scarier than her saying no.

“Alright then, you can have her for tonight.” Wanda smiled in victory and placed a kiss to your cheek before rushing out the room with an excited goodbye. You gulped in fear as you were left alone with Nat, she was never fun when she was mad.

“Plans for tonight? Why didn’t I hear about these so called plans?” She was stirring the creamer into her coffee without looking at you, her back facing you. You didn’t know which was worse, her terrifying gaze or her refusing to even give you a glance.

“Uh, well Wanda had just told me about them before you walked in so I didn’t really get to the telling you part yet.” You looked down at the floor to avoid her strong gaze as she finally turned to look at you.

“You two seemed real close when I walked in.”

“It wasn’t like that,” You quickly shot back. “Wanda’s just a friend, you know this.”

“Yeah, well I don’t like when she touches what’s mine.” For a split moment, you gained just a little bit of confidence to fight back. Bad mistake.

“Well it’s not like I’m yours anyways.” You regretted it the second those words left your mouth and you saw Nat’s stance shift. She grabbed your chin and forced your head back up to look at her, your eyes trying to trail onto anything but her.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“Fucking look at me, Y/N.” You did. “Now, I really do hope I was mistaken and I know you hope so too.” You really did. You hoped she would let it go and act as if you never said such a thing, but you knew that was too much to ask for.

There was a long silence before she removed her tight grip on your jaw. “Bend over.” She didn’t let you speak as she forcefully turned you around to face the counter, bending you over the surface as she had just directed.

“Do I have to do everything for you? God, you’re such an ungrateful little slut.” Her palm came down on your ass through the shorts you wore. You jumped at the unexpected contact and bit your lip to supress any sounds from coming out.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you, got that?” You nodded in response and soon felt her hands on your inner thighs. You spreaded your legs slowly, completing her unworded task that you knew she wanted.

“Such a desperate pup you are, baby. Look at you, spreading your legs for me where anyone could see. Does that turn you on? Having everyone know how much of a stupid fucking whore you really are for me?” Your head hung low while tears pooled in your eyes as her hand continued to slap against your now reddended skin. There were still marks from before, from all the nights she had spent merciously fucking you for her own pleasure, not caring whether it hurt or not. Of course, she would’ve stopped if she knew you actually needed to or you safe worded, but she knew you wanted it deep down. She knew you were a slut for anything she’d give you.

“Fucking answer me!” Another slap collied with your skin. But this time, it was much stronger. You nodded quickly, almost forgetting what she had said only moments ago and trying not to let any words or sounds slip out of your closed mouth.

“Yeah you are. You’re just a toy for my pleasure. You should be grateful that I even touch you, I could be fucking anyone else but I’m here with you and you still want to slut yourself out to anybody that comes by.” Even if she refused to admit it, she could never even touch someone else, you would just invade her mind over and over again.

She grasped your shorts in her hands and yanked them off of you, leaving you completely bare for anyone to see, just like she had said. She smirked to herself when seeing the marks she left on your precious skin, rubbing her palm over them and admiring her work.

“Why don’t we give this camera a little show, huh, baby?” It wasn’t an actual question, it’s not like you had a say in what she did to you anyways. She dropped to her knees behind you, grasping your skin roughly and spreading your legs even further. Your eyes stayed put on the door, fearing someone would walk in and see you like this. Your thoughts were quickly shut down as her tongue made contact with your pulsing clit. Your mouth fell open, your hand quickly coming up to cover it. Nat could see how hard you were trying to stay silent and grinned in satisfaction. She was out to make you fail, to ruin this moment for you and deny you of that sweet orgasm you so badly craved. She had denied you the night before and knew you had been craving it. She was starting to think of giving in and letting your juices cover her fingers or paint her face - if only she hadn’t witnessed you and Wanda’s interaction.

Your bud was sucked harshly, her sharp fangs occasionally grazing over it and causing a jolt of electricity to flow through your body. Her fingers traced gently around your folds, almost causing her to laugh when hearing the muffled sounds you’d make from above.

She was just having fun at this point as she teased you again and again, you hated it and loved it at the same time. Your hand came down to your breasts under your short tank top as you pinched and tweaked your nipples, hoping you wouldn’t be caught by Nat.

You suddenly felt a sharp pain on your thigh. It wasn’t like before when she spanked you, this dug into your skin. You knew what she was doing, and you couldn’t stop it. She moaned, the sound being muffled, as she tasted your blood. You had multiple marks covering your skin from her bites, and she adored it. To her, you looked heavenly with her marks. Your blood was her favorite, it just had a certain smell and distinct taste to it that filled her needs, she wished she could turn it into a candle and have it light up her room all day just to be reminded of you. And she had never had someone so willingly give themselves up to her like you did, you were perfect.

She kissed your clit one last time before standing up, leaving you high and dry once again. You tried to chase after her, but ended up failing. Her hand gripped your hair, making a messy ponytail before yanking your head up.

“You wanna know something?” She started, not giving you a chance to answer before she spoke. “I just texted Wanda to meet me in the kitchen. She said she’ll be here in five, you think you can make me cum in five minutes?”

She had forced you to your knees, her fingers playing with your hair as you stared up at her with fear. Your knees already had bruises coating them from many nights, but she couldn’t care less.

“Now, what do you think we could do for our little guest, hm? I think it would be just perfect for her to walk in and see you eating me out like a starved little bitch.” You nodded after a moment, realizing there was no getting out of this. You were already dreading girls' night with Wanda after this, would she be able to look at you the same? You really hoped so, you didn’t want to lose another friend because of the crazy ways Nat showed her “love”.

“Hurry up. Does it look like I have all fucking day to deal with your shit?” She had pulled you forward by the hair, your scalp practically crying out in agony. But you listened and pulled down her clothing quickly, first her pants and then her panties.

“See these? I wore these just for you, my love. Too bad you won't get more than a quick glance, what a shame.” They were a lacy red and looked beautiful on her - as did everything she wore. She liked to say the color reminded her of your sweet blood. That when she wore it, all she thought about was you. It only fueled her hunger and need, her need for you. For your touch, your mouth, your body.

“That’s it, your tongue- ah! Fuck, you like being used like this? You like being my nasty slut? You’re fucking disgusting, baby.” The harsh, degrading words turned you on more than you’d like to admit. The wetness coating your thighs only proved that statement.

It wasn’t long until you heard footsteps coming closer, and you knew exactly who it was. Nat didn’t even spare a glance at her as she tossed her head back, her fangs on display that Wanda luckily didn’t notice. You closed your eyes and continued what you were doing before your best friend had walked in, sucking her clit just as she did to you before. Wanda didn’t mutter a word as she was stuck in place, watching with a hidden desire as you focused on the woman’s pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum, darling. I’m gonna cum in your bratty fucking mouth.” She grunted out through gritted teeth and held both sides of your head in place as she grinded against your face even harder. Your tongue poked in and out of her hole as she was sent over the edge. A loud moan escaped her mouth as her juices filled your mouth, you wouldn’t let a single drop escape.

“How’d you enjoy the show, Wands?”

424 notes · View notes

shadowkoo · 9 months

Text

What Friends Are For

→ Summary: When your closest friend confides in you with something truly surprising, it's only natural to step in and offer your assistance, because that's what true friends do, right?

↠ vernon x f.reader | 2.8k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, best friends, friends to lovers, virgin/first time au

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), handjob, doggy, language, creampie, jealousy, teasing, slightly dominant!vernon, virgin!vernon, riding, breast play, nipple play, dirty talk, fingering, rough sex, deep dicking, hair pulling, begging, cum swallowing, deep throating

→ Author note: This is an updated version of an old fic of mine, I hope you enjoy it!!! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

“You can’t be serious!” you burst out laughing, sharing a dumbfounded look with your best friend. You’re at his apartment and he just finished telling you the most ridiculous thing ever. You chuckle again while you continue to look for a movie to watch. “You are such a liar.”

“I’m dead serious, don’t laugh,” Vernon huffs, “You have no idea what it’s like having to pretend with the guys like I know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh please, I know you’ve watched porn before and I still don’t believe that you’ve never at least gotten a blowjob before.” He can’t be a virgin. And you seriously doubt he’s made it to twenty-five without ever having his knob slobbered on.

“Well, it’s true! So just let it go,” he barks. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You look over to see if he’s just playing with you, he has to be. But you’re surprisingly shocked to see that he genuinely looks upset.

Realizing you hit a nerve, you apologize. “I’m sorry, I guess I just can’t believe it.” You click on a random movie to ease the awkwardness and decide to text your friends.

♡y/n♡: okie serious question, who wants to blow vern [7:50 pm]

♡cee♡: askjlasjdflkj !! [7:50 pm]

♡mal♡: giiiirl what are you on [7:50 pm]

♡y/n♡: he’s feeling down, someone’s gotta take one for the team [7:50 pm]

♡anna♡:: 👀 …. [7:51 pm]

♡anna♡: KIDDING [7:51 pm]

♡anna♡: but on a real note, why can’t you?? [7:51 pm]

♡y/n♡: ur joking right [7:51 pm]

♡cee♡: yeah you do it, i’m busy rn [7:51 pm]

♡cee♡: plus we all know he wants none of us [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: lmao truuu [7:52pm]

♡y/n♡: what’s that supposed to mean?? [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: idk why don’t u suck on ur boyfriend [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: sorry i mean boy FRIEND [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: major emphasis on the friend [7:52 pm]

♡y/n♡: i hate you guys [7:52 pm]

♡anna♡: no u don’t, now grow a pair of balls and play with his [7:52 pm]

♡y/n♡: OMG [7:53 pm]

♡cee♡: ur with him, aren’t you? sounds like the perfect time to do it [7:53 pm]

♡anna♡: and let us know after how it was 😏 and size, we’re all curious [7:53 pm]

You set your phone down intentionally upside down so Vernon can’t see the messages. At one point, you did have feelings for him but you pushed them aside in fear of ruining your friendship. How pathetic is that? Peeking over at him, you wonder if those feelings ever actually went away, or if you’ve been pretending this whole time.

He’s very attractive, that’s obvious. The last time you thought about your feelings for Vernon was about a year ago when he started dating this horrible girl. She was awful, but he was trapped under her spell and it drove you two apart. Back then, you thought that it was for the best since you wouldn’t have had the courage to tell him to break up with her and date you instead.

They dated for almost 6 months, and when they broke up Vernon was devastated. It didn’t take long for your friendship to go back to normal after their time apart, so that’s why you didn’t want to take any chances now.

Those 6 months without him were miserable and you didn’t want to live without Vernon in your life again. He was too special to you to let something as silly as old feelings come between your friendship. You don’t want to mess it up.

But on the other hand, you’ve heard friendships often create the best relationships. Would yours?

Vernon cares for you, that’s a given. But how far does it go? Sure, you two pretty much act like you’re in a relationship, but you haven’t kissed. Other than that one time when you brought drunk Vernon home… but that didn’t count because he was trashed at the time and didn’t remember it, or so you told yourself.

If you are ever going to make a move, now is the time. Do you really want to lose another chance that the universe is obviously lining you up for? Why else would he bring up the fact that he’s never had a blowjob unless he secretly wants you to give him one? Does he want more than a blowjob? Does he want you to…take his virginity?

You force yourself to quit overthinking and muster up enough courage to ask, “Vern?”

“Hmm?” he responds. He’s so caught up in the movie you’re watching that he doesn’t seem to notice you sit up and scoot closer to him. Your hands are shaking but you aren’t going to let that stop you.

‘God, what am I doing? This is so embarrassing…’

“Can I…” You mumble nervously, not being able to finish the sentence.

“Can you what?” He asks back, still not really registering what you are about to say.

’Well,’ you think to yourself, ’It’s now or never.’

You move off the couch to kneel in front of him and rest a hand on his thigh, commanding his attention away from the TV screen.

“Please, let me.”

It takes Vernon less than a second to understand exactly what you’re asking and he has no idea how to respond.

If he’s being honest, he’s always had a thing for you. Though he’s never had the guts to make a move or even admit it to you.

He swallows nervously as his length inevitably twitches in his pants. “You’re joking right?” ‘She can’t be serious. There’s no way. This had to be some kind of sick joke. But you don’t look like you were joking. In fact, you look like you’re pleading. Holy shit…’

“Not at all. I mean, we’re friends, right? Friends help each other,” you say while sliding your hands up to the button of his jeans. His eyes follow your movements as you unzip his pants and reach a hand in.

“You really don’t have to. Mingyu’s having a party and I’ll find someone and get laid this week-” his words are lost in his mouth as you wrap your small hand around his rather growing member.

“Why would you want a stranger to do it when you could have me? That’s what friends are for, silly.” You’re trying your damn hardest to make it sound like you’re doing him a favor as a friend and not doing this out of your own desire, your own need to touch him - to taste him. It’s your safety net in case he says no. In case this ends badly. However, you aren’t so sure that’s the message you’re sending since you’re quickly pulling his pants down his thighs.

You look up at him and run a finger over his tip before bringing him into your mouth for a taste. “Before I continue, I need to hear you say that you’re alright with it. Tell me that you want my mouth on your cock,” you demand playfully while your hands stroke his length.

Vernon is at war with himself. Should he give in to his desire of wanting you? Or should he pull back, laugh this off, and forget about this? How the hell is he supposed to forget about this? To forget the look of you on your knees asking to suck him off? There’s no way. It’s impossible.

“Fuck,” Vernon rubs a hand over his face and you freeze in fear of what he’s going to say. “Babe, you can do whatever you want to me. Fuck.”

Without hesitating a second longer, you lean down to take him in between your lips. His girth stretches your mouth in the most wonderful way, and you’re unable to control the moan that escapes from your parted lips. God, you aren’t even embarrassed. You lift your eyes up to watch him, his mouth ever so slightly opens and his tongue drifts out to lick his lips.

Vernon is lost. Is he supposed to hold your hair? Is he just supposed to sit here and watch? Should he be praising you right now? He has absolutely no idea. All he knows is that what you’re doing with your mouth is driving him crazy. “Oh my god, this is what I’ve been missing out on? This whole time?” Vernon leans his head back in pleasure. “Fuck,” he gasps, “I have a lot to catch up on.”

Hearing his words gives you more courage, and you relentlessly bob your head on his length, making sure to have just enough suction while doing so.

You pull back for air and let your hands tug on him while you kiss his tip, listening happily to his husky groans. Honestly, this is the best part of giving a blowjob. Knowing that you can make a guy, let alone Vernon, feel this good. You feel him twitch in your mouth and moan in pleasure. Drool is running onto your hands at this point, proof of how much you like his taste.

Vernon smirks, “I don’t know who’s enjoying this more. You,” he quickly inhales as you shove your mouth further down onto his length, “Or me.”

You slowly pull your mouth off of him, watching his face twist as you tease the underside of his tip with your tongue. “I don’t know, the look on your face tells me that you’re enjoying this a lot,” you taunt.

His legs quiver as his length once again finds the back of your throat, your hands massaging his balls. It’s too much. He has to cum, he can’t wait.

Wanting to help him out, you hum and instantly feel the sticky liquid running down your throat. Your hunger grows listening to Vernon call out your name, his hand pulling at the hair by your neck.

He watches in wonder while you swallow him, licking some of his seed off his length when you release him from your mouth. You lift a finger to rub the remaining cum around his tip, “You came.” Vernon shudders while you tease his sensitive member.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whimpers, “I couldn’t hold it any longer; not when you were doing that last thing.”

“I hope you’re not tired because I am so not done with you yet,” you whisper. You had a taste of him, and now you want more. You want all of him, and you don’t want to wait another second.

The lingering salty aftertaste in your mouth is washed away by Vernon's kiss as he pulls you up onto his lap. He lifts your shirt up and off of you, barely breaking contact with your lips in the process, before he takes off his own in the same manner.

Your hands rub along his chest, feeling his muscles tighten and relax as your touch moves along his silky skin. His head dips down to catch one of your breasts in his mouth. You roll your head back as his tongue plays with your hardening nub, a gasp leaving you when his teeth graze your nipple.

Your head snaps up when he pulls away from you.

He chuckles, “Relax, it’s time for me to return the favor.” He leaves a wet kiss on your other breast and moves down to nibble on the inner part of your thighs. After what feels like years, his hands reach for the waistband of your shorts and pull them and your panties off of you.

His tongue protrudes out and licks your center before moving closer to your clit, which he circles and sucks on gently at first. His mouth on your heat pulls moan after moan out of you, and you involuntarily take a fistful of his blonde locks when his tongue enters you repeatedly.

Vernon pulls back all out of breath and his cheeks glistening. God, it’s such a turn on to see him like that, his face damp with your cum. He reaches for you at the same time you grab for him. His lips crash against yours, your tongues twisting with each other.

Vernon slides a hand back down between your naked bodies and rubs your sensitive clit, making your back arch in pleasure. You moan into his mouth which he gladly swallows before sliding two fingers into your dripping heat, bringing you right back to where you just were. Only this time, your juices cover his long fingers instead of his face.

Just as you finish riding out your amazing orgasm, Vernon starts to sit up. Although, your hands are wrapped around his neck so he doesn’t make it that far. You pull him back down onto you, which he isn’t ready for. His knee falls next to yours, his other foot landing on the floor, causing his length to rub right up against your wet heat.

You both gasp at the contact, but it isn’t enough for you. Your hand moves to grip his member and bring him further between your lower lips, your hips moving along with his - until he hesitates, his eyes full of worry…

Vernon bites his bottom lip as you ask, “What is it?”

“I don’t know if we should go any further. I don’t have protection,” he explains.

“Oh Vernon, I don’t care. I need to feel you.” You kiss him again. “I’m on birth control anyway. I need you inside me,” you finish before gripping his hair to pull him closer to you. “Fuck me, Vernon. Fuck me hard, please,” you beg, “It’s all I’ve dreamt about. I need your thick cock stretching me out. Please, Vernon,”

Vernon almost dies hearing you say that. Shit, he’s dreamt about this moment too, and watching you beg him to fuck you like that made his length twitch with excitement. There is no way in hell he’s going to say no to you after hearing that. He leans in to kiss you hard before dipping his tip into your dewy folds. He’s being too gentle for your liking, typical Vernon behavior, so you push him to sit up and lean against the back of the couch, yourself following, and slide the rest of the way down onto him.

It takes you a moment to collect yourself before rolling your hips into his. Once you’re ready, you anchor yourself by holding onto his shoulders and he lifts his hips up to meet your delicious pace.

Your arousal soaks his member as he slides deep inside you. It’s a perfect fit, he hit all the right places and has you squirming in his arms.

“Oh my god, Vernon!” you whine, gyrating your hips to bring some relief to your aching bundle of nerves. Sweat covers both of your bodies as you fuck each other. The pleasure is almost unbearable; your insides scream for release.

As if he knows exactly what you want, Vernon flips you over and squeezes your ass cheeks before he enters you from behind. You push your face into the throw pillow below your head and grip the sofa’s arm for dear life.

“Oh god, don’t s-stop,” you drag out while he ferociously pounds into you. Vernon groans and hovers over top of you. His hand wraps around your neck and pulls your back against him.

This new angle has you shivering and Vernon can tell that you’re close again. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you down onto him harder. The sound of your arousal echoes through his living room, your breaths combining with the creaks of his couch.

You feel Vernon stiffen inside you, he’s close. “Cum in me. I want to feel you cum in me,” you sigh, begging for him to do so.

Vernon grits his teeth, there’s nothing he wants more than to fill you up with his cum right this second. Your legs clench as you tip over the edge. The climax hits you both instantaneously and sends you spiraling.

“Oh my god, oh god!” you cry out. Wave after wave of pleasure passes through your limp body. Thankfully Vernon is still holding onto you or you would have fallen off the couch. Resting against him, your breathing matches his.

His delicate touch leaves goosebumps along your body where his fingers trace. Everywhere tingles. You can’t remember the last time that you came this hard. It’s earth-shattering, exhausting, and yet you feel totally full of new energy at the same time.

Vernon’s cum starts leaking out of your folds, it’s a strange feeling. This is the first time you let someone cum in you and it felt oddly satisfying. Vernon reaches over to the coffee table and grabs a tissue to clean you up with before laying back down on the couch, bringing you on top of him.

“Jesus,” He pants, still completely out of breath, “Where the fuck did that come from.”

“I don’t know but I’ll be needing more of that when I wake up,” you moan, your eyelids feeling awfully heavy. Vernon’s chest vibrates, laughing at your response. He puts an arm around your waist as he whispers, “Thank you, for… well you know. That.”

“Mmm, no problem.” You turn your head over to look up at him and smile devilishly, “That’s what friends are for, remember?”

393 notes · View notes

jeyusos-girl · 19 days

Text

a/n: yall someone tell this man to release me from the spell he’s cast on me 😭😭😭

don’t know where this came from but here it it

i feel like i may make another version of this without the angst bc it wasn’t supposed to be angsty to begin with 💀💀💀

word count: 832

❤️💔❤️

“What do you want?” Y/N whispered, stretching her limbs over her king-sized bed, loving the way the silk sheets felt over her smooth skin.

There was a beat of silence before the man at the end of the bed spoke up.

“You.”

A smirk painted itself on her glossy lips. She pulled herself up, leaning back on her bent elbows.

“Which part of me?” she teased, biting her lip. She stared into his dark eyes, feeling a chill creep up her spine. She hated that he had that effect on her.

Her teasing did nothing to crack the stoic look on his face.

“All of you.”

She fell back on the bed as his strong hands traveled up her legs, gripping and massaging her calves. Her skin broke out in goosebumps. She did little to stop the satisfied moans from escaping her lips.

She ignored the alarm bells ringing in her head when his hands inched towards her thick thighs.

“Why are you holding back from me?” he asked gruffly.

She heard him, but she didn't speak. Too deep in a euphoric daze brought on by the feeling of his big hands roaming her thighs.

She was shaken out of that daze when a sharp slap cracked across her left thigh. A soft gasp fell from her lips as he pulled her to the end of the bed. They were now face to face, his stoic expression replaced with one Y/N couldn't decipher.

“Why are you holding back from me?” he repeated, growing more frustrated.

“You're married,” Y/N stated matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes, standing up straight. He ran a hand over his full beard, not making eye contact.

“We’re getting a divorce,”

“I've heard that one before,” it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“I’m serious, I’m meeting with my attorney next week,”

The room went silent for a moment before Y/N spoke up.

“You're still legally married,”

He let out a frustrated sigh.

“My marriage has been over for a while regardless of what the law says you know that,”

“Okay but-”

“Why are we still talking about this,” he interrupted her.

“I don't sleep with married men,”

He smirked at that. Of course he did.

“Well then, how do you explain what happened three years ago?” he wove his fingers through her hair tugging harshly so she couldn't look away from his fiery gaze.

She swallowed harshly as she felt herself shrinking internally.

“That was a mistake, you know that,” she whispered.

“Really? Four days of making love all over Hawaii was a mistake to you? Be honest with yourself.”

“I am honest with myself but you can't say the same can you?” Y/N snapped.

“You knew marrying her was a mistake, I told you you'd regret it. That's why you'd come crawling back to me every time you and her argued, that's why you flew me to Hawaii after she said she was done with you for the millionth time and that's why you showed up on my doorstep unannounced after almost 2 years of not speaking to me because you finally have the balls to do what you should've done a long time ago.”

He slowly loosened his grip on her hair as he saw her eyes well up with tears.

Y/N was a tough girl, but Tama had always been her weakness.

“And I was stupid enough to let you in again,”

“Baby,” Tama tried to wipe away the tears that escaped her eyes.

“No Tama, I can’t do this again, you're just going to leave me like you always do.”

She stood up from the bed, pushing him away in the process.

He watched as she sat at her vanity, silently wiping away the tears that kept coming.

“You're right,” he murmured.

She looked at him through the mirror as he paced the room.

“You’re right, I do regret marrying her, I regret not choosing you every time I think of what my life has become,” he paused as Y/N turned to face him.

He moved closer and kneeled before her.

“I hate that I put you through this for all these years, I would give anything to go back in time and change this situation. I love you, and I will never stop trying to make it up to you.”

“I don't know, I don't think I can handle another heartbreak Tama,” Y/N mumbled with her face in her hands.

“You won't have to baby. Just let me make it up to you,”

He moved her hands from her face and cupped her cheeks in his hands.

She didn't pull away, instead, she leaned into his touch as his thumbs caressed the soft skin.

“Okay, one last chance. That's it,”

He nodded, searching her eyes before testing his luck and leaning in slowly.

Y/N met him halfway, and their lips met in a sweet yet timid kiss.

‘hopefully he stays true to his word’

#tama tonga #tama tonga x reader #tama tonga imagines #tama tonga imagine #wwe imagines #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #the bloodline imagines #the bloodline x reader #the bloodline imagine

81 notes · View notes

cherryredstars · 7 months

Note

Idk if ur requests are open right now, but if they are, please PLEASE can you do this idea I have rn… ok so, I was sorta thinking about how spider!reader and Miguel go on a mission together to retrieve a spiderman, but in this universe it’s a girl version of Miguel. And, Miguel had like a little (big) crush on spider!reader and in this universe there’s a girl/boy version of us that girl Miguel has a crush on, so, Female!Miguel gets attracted to us and fights Miguel all the time for spider!reader attention 🙏 IM BEGGING FOR YOU TO DO THIS PLEASEEE😭😭 also, I love your fan fics😼😼

(Don’t mind my spelling 😭)

1k Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: Pining, Jealousy, Fluff

Summary: You were his first.

Word Count: 961 (Not Edited)

Miguel never understood why people were jealous of others.

The idea of wanting to be like someone else because they looked prettier or did a certain thing better or because they had something he wanted was stupid. He knows that everyone has some fucked up shit happening behind the scenes, and he’s perfectly content to handle his own deal of problems. All in all, being jealous of someone else was a waste of time. And he was ready to die on that hill, until he met her.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, and in and out sort of deal. The only reason Miguel went along on the mission was because it was in a new universe, and he always preferred to check it out for himself. And, of course, he brought you along. As much as he loved watching the way your body moved in your suit and hearing the soft melody of your voice as you went on and on about your day, he always brought you along because you made everything better. Literally. You seemed to have this calming effect on others, helping newly discovered spider men, women, animals, anything under the sun really, process the idea of the multiverse. It wasn’t a big surprise that Miguel had ended up falling under your spell, absolutely adoring the contrast in personalities. But now, he wishes he can pick you up and carry you back to HQ where he can keep you all to himself.

You don’t even notice the displeased look on Miguel’s face as he watches, arms crossed over his broad chest and the smallest of pouts on his lips as he watches you interact with…himself. Herself, technically. It was the biggest surprise to the both of you when you had discovered Miguel’s genderbend protecting the city. She had taken an instant liking to you, making it a point to brush her fingers along your arms, fingers twirling your hair as she talked, going on and on about her version of you. Female Miguel absolutely loved whispering things just loud enough for you to hear, a deep flush coming over your face as you smiled bashfully. It was driving him fucking nuts.

His fingers itched to pull you away from her, to mark you as his and that she could go run off to whatever version of you she had. This one is mine. It wouldn’t count as self-harm if he tested if she had the same pain tolerance as him, right? He promises it’s for research purposes only, no other reason. It definitely is not because he- she- is making not so subtle passes about you staying over and going back to her place. Not at all. Definitely had no correlation to the way female Miguel is leaning in super close to you, lips practically touching your ear as she whispers whatever bullshit she has in her mind. Miguel is practically blind to the way her fingers are ghosting over the front of your suit, circling over your stomach.

When female Miguel makes a move to kiss your cheek, Miguel gives into his urges. With a low snarl, he grabs your arm and pulls you behind him protectively. His eyes are narrowed at himself- herself?- the entire time, female Miguel doing the same to him. They look like rabid dogs fighting over a bag of food, teeth barred and eyes shining red. Both Miguel’s loose their face as your peak behind him, your hand slowly rubbing at his arm in an attempt to calm him down. Miguel throws a cocky grin at female Miguel, who sports an ugly scowl in response as you try to coax them back to HQ.

Of course, things don’t get any better on the way back to base. Female Miguel thinks she has a right to your every second, staying attached to your arm as Miguel walks ahead. Miguel makes it a point to interrupt the conversation every few seconds, giving out rules and explanations that make a vein pop at the side of his female version’s head. He finds absolute joy getting in the way of her advances, only for it to be wiped away when he sees how affected you are at her words and small touches. I could do that, he scowls, I could do that and so much more.

He can only really relax when female Miguel finally opens up a portal to go home, a small whine in her voice as she asks you if you’ll visit her real soon. You can only smile kindly and nod, the promise on the tip of your tongue before Miguel all but shoves himself- herself, fuck- into the portal with an indifferent, “oops”. You can’t help but laugh, finally catching onto his irritated behavior halfway through female Miguel’s visit. You smile sweetly at him, patting his arm as you wordlessly follow him back to his office. Before you can enter though, Miguel pulls you towards a small side hallway, pressing you up against the wall before checking for prying eyes. You stare up at him in a mixture of adoration and confusion, breath hitching when his face gets real close to yours.

His eyes scan your face, a small scowl between his brows that soften as his eyes meet yours. It doesn’t take long for them to wander down to your lips, eyes slightly darkening. You’re completely unprepared when he tilts his head and leans the rest of the way forward. His warm lips meet the corner of yours, the feel of his fangs just barely there. Your world seems to be in chaos as your try to process the action, eyes trailing after his receding form as his whispered words boom in your head:

“Choose me, okay?”

I was supposed to write this yesterday but I had no time and it's so obvious from the way I wrote this. I’m so sorry, I'm always more than willing to redo a request if you don't love it!!!

#cherry's requests🍒#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o hara #cherry's specials!🍒

323 notes · View notes

the-way-of-words · 7 months

Text

You Will Not Be Mine, So Give Me The Night

Noah Sebastian x OFC Content Warnings: Fingering, P in V sex, and infidelity. There are no miscommunications, no misunderstandings here... just two people making the conscious decision to be unfaithful. Contains sexual situations with a fictionalized version of a real person. This is fiction, none of this is real. But if RPF isn't your thing, please hit that back button.

This was a smut prompt request from @itsvictoriaarose with #189 "You're really telling me to stop while both your hands are up my shirt?" and #182 "You can't leave marks." I kinda went back and forth over this for a while, trying to figure out what direction I wanted to take and then I got hit with an angst spell and decided to take it out on Mr. Noah Sebastian. So enjoy?

Special thanks to @signs-of-ill-portent for beta-ing this and just overall being the amazing person you are, and to @throwingmetothelions for telling me to just go for it haha.

tag team: @signs-of-ill-portent @ladyveronikawrites @nerdraging4point0 @cncohshit @jxstthisonce, @shaydayhere @kingdomof-omens @thebadchic

If you would like to be added to a taglist, feel free to send me a message

My master list can be found here

~~~~~~~~~

It starts innocently enough. She's the new guitar tech, shadowing JB and learning the ropes to take over for him now that Jimmy needs him more. Noah can’t help but be a little standoffish. It’s always hard to bring someone new in, but it goes well. She’s good at what she does, and she’s a quick learner when it comes to all their little idiosyncrasies, technical or otherwise, noting Jolly’s preferences and taking them to heart. His people are happy, so he’s happy and he starts to relax into this new normal.

Three stops in, shit hits the fan and while the rest of them are bustling around, trying to fix it and not lose their collective shit when new girl steps up pulling a fix from God knows where. It gets them through the night and off to the next city, where they have a day off to figure out exactly what went wrong. He stops worrying for a bit after that.

They’re three weeks into their eight-week run when Noah realizes he might have a problem. At first he notices the way her nose scrunches when there’s something she can’t fix right away, how she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks it through. He catches himself staring at her mouth more than once, wondering if her lips are as soft as they look. With a mental shake, Noah forces his eyes away from her, letting the sparkle of the ring on her finger taunt him as he unlocks his phone.

His girlfriend’s face smiles back at him from the home screen, and it’s enough to get his thoughts off of her for the time being.

But it only works for so long. The more time they spend together, the worse it gets. He starts to catch her looking at him when she thinks he’s not looking, her head quickly turning away when he looks back, their friendly touches beginning to linger a little too much on the side of Too Long. So he tries to put as much distance between them as possible, but it's not exactly easy when they’re practically living on top of each other on the rig.

She corners him by week five, appearing at his side to lean against the bar next to the stool he's parked himself on.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Noah can feel her gaze as it burns into him, the same stare he’s felt the past few weeks when she thinks he’s not paying attention. It was one thing when he thought it was one-sided, but he doesn’t think it is anymore.

“Nope,” is all he says, refusing to look at her. Instead, he lets his eyes wander to the other side of the room, watching a few of the others face off at the pool table.

“You sure?” she asks, incredulous. “Because, apart from a sparing glance, you’ve barely been able to look at me for the past two weeks.”

He sighs, letting his head hang as he closes his eyes. "I think you know why…"

"I know," she replies, voice quiet.

"I'm not the only one who feels it, right?" Noah asks as he finally lets himself look at her. She looks tired as she sits on the stool next to his, running her hands up and down her thighs. He tries not to focus on how thick they look under the tight material of her leggings, and how they might feel under his own hands if he were to reach out and touch her; instead, he keeps his eyes trained on her face.

“No. No, you’re not.” The confession makes something flutter in his chest. Excitement, maybe, but it’s quickly tampered by the cool wave of dread that settles over him when she continues. “So, where do we go from here? I really like this job, but if it’s better for both of us if I--”

“Hey, wait, no,” he cuts her off quickly, reaching out to take hold of her hand. “That’s not what I want, and that’s not what I think you should do… because you’re good at this. That shit the first week? The whole show could have gone south if you didn’t figure out a way to fix it. I don’t want to lose you as a tech just because we’re attracted to each other… okay?”

“So what do we do then?” she asks tiredly, staring down at their joined hands. Her skin is warm under his and he can feel the beginnings of electricity sparking under his thumb where he runs it across her knuckles.

Noah shrugs, “We deal with it, okay? You’re engaged for fucks sake, and I have a girlfriend, that’s more than enough for us to push whatever this is to the side and remain professional. We can even use JB as a go between if we need to.”

She scoffs, but it’s more amused than derogatory. "Just ignore it. Is that really the solution you’re suggesting? Healthy.”

That pulls a laugh from him as he raises both of his hands in a mock surrender. “I’m all ears if you have any other suggestions… besides quitting.” He needs her to know he’s serious, because apart from JB, she’s the best tech they’ve had and Noah’s pretty sure Matt would strangle him if he had anything to do with them losing her.

“Okay…” she says, exhaling loudly. “You’re right. We’re both adults here, we can be mature about this. It doesn’t need to be anything more than a strictly platonic work relationship.”

“Exactly.”

Their new found understanding is shaky at best, and it only takes JB’s departure for it to all come crumbling down.

It's the last week, the home stretch. JB's gone off to do his own thing with his own band, and in his absence, all the things that hold them back seem to not matter anymore. Without him as a buffer between them, the ring on her finger doesn't sparkle quite as bright, and the face that smiles back at him from his home screen doesn't carry the weight it once did. Not when she throws her head back to clear the hair out of her eyes and his eyes trace the line of her throat, wondering what kind of sound she'd make if he did the same with his teeth.

He tries not to over-indulge when he’s around her. She feels magnetic when he’s sober, sparks crackling under his fingertips where they brush against hers when he’s riding that first beer feeling, and he knows it’ll only increase the more he puts away. Noah can’t tell if she’s doing the same thing for the same reasons, but he always notices when she stops at one as well. And much as he loathes to say it, he knows right then that it’s only a matter of time before they do something they shouldn’t.

It all comes to a head after their last show. The night goes off without a hitch, and everybody's riding that high, despite how tired they all are. At the after show party, he stops at one, like he always does, but it’s not enough this time.

He tells himself that it’s not a conscious decision to offer her his hand. That it’s the alcohol’s influence as they sneak away hand in hand, out to the rig while everyone else is otherwise occupied.

Noah’s the one who kisses her first, but she kisses him back with fervor, sitting on the table by the small kitchenette, spreading her legs to let him into her space. He gasps into her mouth when her hands slip under his shirt, trailing fire in their wake as they wander the broad expanse of his back, heat pooling in his gut when her tongue slips into his mouth to slide against his. His hands grip her thighs, tugging her closer and it’s not until he pops the button on her jeans that she breaks away.

“Stop…” she pants, the words slipping out between gulping breaths. “We… we gotta stop.”

She’s right. He knows she’s right, but. “You’re really telling me to stop while both of your hands are up my shirt?”

That pulls a breathless laughter from her chest, and Noah tries to ignore the way he mourns the loss of her touch when her hands leave his body, a chill quickly replacing her warmth. “You know I’m right… we can’t do this.”

His head falls forward to rest against her shoulder. “I know.”

But he doesn’t move, doesn’t back away to let her go before they do something they can’t take back. Instead he kisses her bare shoulder, and she doesn’t stop him. Nor does she stop him when he skips over the thin strip of her tank top before letting his lips mark a path to the curve of her neck. She just tangles her hand in his hair with a sigh of his name, tipping her head back as he continues his way around throat where he whispers into the skin, “I don’t want to stop.”

He can feel her throat bob as she swallows before taking a deep breath, her following sigh loud in the empty space around them. It’s quiet as the minutes tick by until she tugs at his hair, pulling his gaze up to meet hers. “You can’t leave marks.”

It’s all the permission he needs.

Noah tears at her jeans, pulling harshly at the zipper before shuffling the denim down her legs until she can kick them off. Sucking two fingers into his mouth, he steps back in between her legs to push her underwear aside, circling her clit before he sinks them into her, all the way to the knuckle.

“Fuuuuck.” Noah curses. She’s so wet inside, and the knowledge that it’s all for him makes him delirious as he fucks her with his fingers. He works her to her orgasm quickly, the sound she makes when he thumbs at her clit just before she shudders around him makes it hard for him to think about anything other than getting his dick inside her. He shoves down his shorts and underwear, trying not to trip as he steps out of them before kicking them somewhere behind.

Noah grips her thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the table underneath, spreading her legs wide with both of his hands. She’s still spasming when Noah pushes his way inside, the clench and release of her pussy as he bottoms out forces him to pause as he tries to hold his own release at bay, and he refuses to think about anything but her as they rest their foreheads together, panting into each other’s mouths.

“Hey, look at me,” he requests, setting his thumb beneath her chin as his palms rests against the soft skin of her cheek. Her eyes slide open just as he pulls his hips back and the way her mouth falls open in a silent cry as he thrusts back into her is nothing short of beautiful.

For a moment, he wishes things were different, that he could have her spread out beneath him on a bed and take his time, instead of a hurried fuck in an empty tour bus. But then she cants her hips up to meet his, and he’s rocketed back to the present moment so hard his head spins. She floods his senses; all he can see, all he can feel, all he can smell is her, them, as they rock together.

She clutches at him as she cries out, hands fisting into his shirt when he feels his dick brush against a particular spot inside her and he can feel her cunt begin to tighten around him.

“Shit,” Noah gasps, “A-Are you gonna cum again? Gonna cum around my cock?”

She nods, working one of her hands between them to play with herself. “That’s it… that’s a good--” he cuts off with a groan as the quiver of her inner walls threatens to pull him over the edge. Pulling her mouth to his, he smashes their lips together, swallowing her moans as he fucks her through it.

“Oh god…” he pants against her lips, rhythm slipping, “oh fuck, I’m gonna--”

Noah groans, kissing her deep one last time, pumping into her twice more and then he’s pulling out, working a hand around himself until he cums, his release spilling onto the curls above her center and the soft part of her lower belly.

Her hands find his face, brushing the hair that's fallen forward back before pulling their foreheads together. He knows exactly what it is, this soft moment in the afterglow; it's a goodbye for something that never even started and he lets himself bask in it.

With ears still ringing, he pushes away from her, stumbling towards his bunk to pull out an old shirt lodged at the edge of the mattress.

Noah grimaces as he hands it to her. “Sorry, I didn’t have anything else to--”

“It’s okay.” She interrupts.

Noah waits for the guilt to creep in, but nothing comes. Nothing but more want when she pushes past him on the way to her own space, bare ass in full view. He can feel his dick stir back to life at the thought of nipping at the soft cheeks with his teeth, griping the full flesh in both of his hands to hold her open while he fucks her from behind. But he lets it go, choosing instead to find his shorts.

They don’t talk as they redress, crossing in the parking lot silence and returning to others a few minutes apart, just in case.

He gets the wedding invitation three weeks later.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #rpf #noah sebastian/ofc #noah sebastian x ofc #smut fic #noah sebastian smut #smut prompt fic #cw: infidelity

180 notes · View notes

alexiswritingstuff · 1 year

Text

Is that... lipstick?

Pairing: Castiel x gn! reader.

Other appearances: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Summary: While trying to have a morning like any other, the Winchester brothers notice a certain fact about the reader they apparently hadn’t themselves. Though once they did, it was something... very unexpected.

Content/Warnings: implied intimacy. nothing explicit unless you want it to be. implied alcohol consumption.

Also this has not been proofread again so be aware that there might be spelling mistakes and such.

A/N: okayokayokay I had this idea from that trend on tiktok where a person would show themselves fixing up their lipstick and then pan to the reason it was messed up in the first place (their partner) and immediately just came up with whatever this was.

Cas is like my go to when writing rn but If someone wants like a Dean x reader version of this... let me know...

Waking up always felt like the most difficult part of the day. A sort of sluggishness continuously pulling at every muscle within your body. A dull ache that pulsed across the temple as if in harmony with a heartbeat.

There was a list of things that begged you to stay in the comfort of a bed, but you found yourself up and about anyway, ending up in the kitchen with squinting eyes as soon as the harsh lighting consumed your vision.

You had a milk carton in one hand, while your other held onto a bowl of dry cereal, and you titled it to the side, watching the liquid pour over the bites of paradise until some began to float.

Sam was sat at the table to your right. His eyes were practically glued to the screen, his fingers typing away like he was doing a test for how fast he could do it. A sound that didn’t exactly help your head, even though there was the hood of a hoodie covering your ears.

“Yo, Sam, you’re the smart one,” you started after returning the milk to its cold home. The frantic pressing of keys ceased all at once, after at least 3 more words had been spelled out. “... What?”

“I’m not... I’m not repeating that-- How do you cure a headache?” you questioned instead, grabbing the spoon you had set down earlier. Sam’s chair squeaked lightly as he leaned back. “Um...”

“I’m pretty sure you could just take an ibuprofen. Or, you know, put a wet towel on your head? Something like that.”

The younger Winchester sort of looked at you for a minute, though he could only see your back. His eyes analysed your posture, the way that you moved, the way that you stood. And then they narrowed.

His chin slightly tilted up, “Did you drink a lot last night?”

A scoff passed through your lips immediately. “I honestly don’t have an answer to that.” The first mouthful of cereal had been brought to your lips and the second the food touched your tongue, your shoulders relaxed. A sigh seeped through your nose. “I wanna marry the person that made cereal.”

The bowl that really was utter paradise was now in your hands, your fingers gripping onto it for dear life as you finally turned yourself round so that you could lean against the metal island.

“You know that person is dead and has been for... many years, right?” Sam spoke with furrowed eyebrows, the laptop in front of him now long forgotten. “Never stopped me before.” was all you had said before another spoonful was shovelled into your mouth.

At this point a set of footsteps had started echoing through the hallway, and after Sam looked at you with either disgust or concern, or both, his eyes went to the doorway.

“Whoa.” Dean’s feet halted for a moment as he looked between his relieved looking brother and the gremlin thing that was practically hunched over a bowl. “What kind of meeting is this?”

You swallowed, “One where people stop asking questions first thing in the morning.” you responded lazily, gathering more of the contents into your spoon. Dean raised his eyebrows for a second, only to nod his head a second later when his brother sent him a shrug.

“Well,” He continued his previous movements and was now officially in the kitchen, beginning to make his way through the space between the island and the table. “As long as I get breakfast out of it, I---”

Dean stopped almost as fast as he had started. And soon enough, by the time your mouth was yet again full, it seemed that the man was now stood to your side.

It wasn’t until you looked up that you had actually noticed those green eyes of his were aimed right at you, even though you hadn’t uttered a word. You could only blink for a moment.

“What?” you finally questioned, the word barely audible through the mush.

But Dean still stared, mouth agape and eyes flickering over almost every inch of your face in a way that made you want to fold in on yourself. You swallowed again, “Wha-- What? What is it?”

The man before you took about a step backwards, allowing Sam to have you in his line of sight. And then he practically mirrored Dean’s expression, his eyebrows beginning to raise as if they were aiming for the ceiling. “... oh.”

“Oh.” Dean said himself.

Then suddenly, as if the final cog had turned in his head, the face that was once frozen in shock had morphed into this shit eating grin that curled in a beyond terrifying way.

He started laughing.

It wasn’t his usual huffed one, a giggle, or even those little ones he did when making fun of someone. This man was full on cackling in a way that had him bending at the knees.

Sam himself did a bit better at hiding his reaction to whatever it was they were seeing, though his lips sort of trembled as they tucked very tightly together.

You placed the bowl onto the island behind you, arms now crossed over your chest, as you looked between the boys like a disappointed teacher. “Am I going to have to wait a year for you to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Oh-- Oh, man, this-- this is-- Oh, my god, this is great!” Dean strained out through even more hard laughs while you looked back and forth between the brothers, desperately trying to gage what had happened. “What?”

Finally, after asking the same question over and over again for what felt like the millionth time at this point, and after Sam managed to clear his throat without cracking, he spoke up. “Have you, uh...”

“Have you looked in a mirror at all this morning?”

You shook your head slowly, your eyebrows now very much furrowed if they weren’t before, “No... Why?”

Dean couldn’t even properly speak at this point, as every attempt to contain that urge of laughter ended in yet another fit. “You-- Man, I want-- Ha! I want a picture of this.” he managed out after a few tries, and even began to pat at his pockets as best as he could in his condition.

Though, the laugh and the lack of understand of what the hell was happening made you feel very self-conscious in that moment... You had to admit that it was very nice to see Dean like that, let alone hear that sort of laughter that hasn’t been heard in a very long time.

After staring at the man who was still in absolute hysterics for a second longer, your eyes travelled back over to Sam when he cleared his throat again, and even scrunched his nose in an attempt to calm himself down.

“Yeah,” he started through a slight hushed voice as he nodded his head, “I think it’s best if you go look, just-- No reason.”

It was literally first thing in the morning. Your energy levels didn’t even exist at this point, and all you really wanted to do was just eat your damn cereal in peace... but nevertheless.

You complied.

Your gaze flicked back and forth between the brothers one more time before you pushed yourself off of the island and moved towards the doorway, your feet dragging with every step.

Another round of laughter erupted as soon as you had left the room.

Various grumbles joined by the hum of electronic power were the only sounds that echoed through the annoyingly bright halls.

Though the air that circulated was cool, it never seemed to ease the warm rush of embarrassment that burned around your body, despite not even knowing the cause.

After walking through the maze like hallways within the bunker, that felt even longer when tired, you had found yourself in front of the large dark door that held the shower room behind it.

With all the strength you could muster in your state, you turned so that your shoulder could lean on the wood. Your hand grabbed at the handle that was so cold underneath your fingertips that you had almost immediately retracted. As if electrocuted.

The door swung open within the next second, but as soon as it had done so, instead of taking a step inside, your hands now jolted up to cover your eyes, “Jesus!” You blinked more times than anyone could count, your eyelids barely even making it halfway before they had to shut again.

The walls in the room were basically all white, meaning that the light emitted from the ceiling just purely bounced around every nook and cranny. “Might as well be looking at the damn sun.” you muttered to yourself, an irritated sigh following after.

Once you had at least mildly managed to get adjusted to the disgraceful lighting, you allowed yourself to shuffle into the equally cold room.

Soon enough, your heavy body ended up at the sink, your hands grasping along the rim of the bowl in an attempt to stabilise yourself when another ache had pulsed along your forehead.

You took in a deep breath through your nose and held it there for a few seconds. Your eyes landed on the mirror that sat before you, the blinking beginning all over again as the reflection being seen was only blurry.

But thus, after a good minute of being in that bathroom, your body allowed itself to adjust to everything that continuously attacked your senses.

One last blink was all it took before you could see yourself in the glass as clear as day... And everything that came with it.

“Oh... my god.”

Your face was brought closer to the mirror within an instant, your previously tired and heavy eyes becoming fully open in alarm as they were now the ones to search across the skin of your face.

On almost every single feature, that you could see in front of you, was an imprint from a certain cosmetic.

Most entirely followed the outline that very clearly resembled the shape of lips, but others were smudged, some even dragging to where another had been placed.

Lipstick.

There was an odd texture that you had felt tighten the indents of your face this morning, but never in your life would you have imagined that this was the reason. You thought your skin was just being weird.

Your body was frozen. No matter how hard you thought in that moment, there was absolutely no recollection of the previous night. Or who even owned lipstick.

The eyes that stared back at you were almost wild now, a sort of panic surging through your veins at the lack of any memory... Though, it faded into something else as fast as it had started.

Your hood had slipped off the back of your head after your sudden movement. And now, upon gazing at the new areas exposed to you, your eyes ended up travelling even lower. Which now left you realising yet another thing.

The marks weren’t only on your face.

Your heart was purely hammering in your chest, all of the previous confusion and disorientation from earlier fuelling the fire that was panic, as you slowly pushed yourself backwards to stand up straight.

There was a print of lips halfway under the neckline of your hoodie.

Your hands raised, almost frightened, to grip at the fabric. And soon you had it between your fingers, realising now that the texture of that too had been altered from stains that you were guessing happened during everything else.

With a slight shake to your breath, and a squeeze of the material in your grasp, you gingerly began to pull it away so that the skin of your torso was properly revealed in the light--

It was slammed back to your chest within the next second. An audible gasp had even spilled from your lips as you found your gaze in the mirror yet again. Eyes still wide, almost unblinking.

“Holy...”

Your feet took a stumbled step away from the sink, your fingers still tightly clutched to your hoodie, as if it was a set of pearls. But even that couldn’t hide the set prints that apparently travelled a lot further than you thought. The more parts that you looked at, the more stains you found.

Your body had been a canvas to a painter you couldn’t remember.

At this point, you were stood in the centre of the room. Every emotion felt morphing into one thing that spread from your head to your toes.

And then you turned, twisting slow on your feet until your hazed eyes landed on at least one of those large showers that seemed more appealing than they had ever in the morning.

How the hell did you get lipstick off?

To rid the skin of countless stains took longer than you had originally thought.

Most of your body felt raw. As if you had scrubbed it with sandpaper for hours on end, though it was just your hands. All was worth it, however, as the previous marks were no more.

For the first time throughout the entire morning, the air that engulfed you within the hallway relieved the warmth that clung as you walked through it, your fresh set of clothes slightly sticking to your body more and more with every step.

You ruffled your towel through your damp hair, the ache in your temple now caused by your eyebrows that were furrowed due to the multitude of thoughts that filtered both in and out of your mind.

An act that almost had you walking right past your own bedroom.

Another grumble murmured through your lips as you turned to the side, opening the door like you had done with the one for the shower room. And then you walked in, the fuzz in your mind apparently stopping you from noticing the light that illuminated its contents.

One that previously wasn’t on at all.

Your head shook, as if all the action going on in your mind would just let go.

Instead of getting closer to figuring out last night's mystery, you were getting further away... Or nowhere at all.

You went round the edge of your bed, taking your towel in both hands before stretching the material out completely so that you could drape it across the radiator along the wall.

A breath was brought slowly in and out of your lungs after taking a step back from the warmth. Your spine uncurled from it’s miserable slouch, your arms practically going limp by your sides while your eyes fell closed.

You reached backwards after a moment, hands patting through the air until you managed to locate the mattress that was screaming your name. But instead, you just sat yourself down. Attempting a final try to get to the bottom of everything. “Come on, man.”

At this point, your head was lowered onto your hands that had previously been clasped together moments before.

You tried everything. Thinking back to what you had done before the timeframe of the... event, who it could’ve been. I mean, Sam and Dean would surely have asked questions if it was someone they didn’t know, right?

Still, even after all of that, and the extra seconds you took to wrack through your brain for even the slightest memory from last night. Something that could just spark your brain and give you the answer. There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

“Dammit.” you breathed out, your body now falling limp against your lap as your shoulders deflated with it.

There was almost this feeling of shame that pierced through every other one.

It wasn’t so much so about the fact that you couldn’t remember if you had gone out, or brought someone back into your own home, as much as it was about the fact that you had shared such an intimate experience with a person. And you couldn’t remember a single thing.

Who the hell--

“Y/n?”

Your head snapped up within a second, your body following suit in a way that made it seem like you were about to go flying into the wall when you had managed to stand. “Jesus!”

The heel of your foot had twisted so quickly that it almost gave your skin carpet burn. Your arms were up and ready as you looked throughout the room to find the intruder...

And then your eyes landed on your bed. More importantly, those familiar set of blue eyes that stared right back at you.

Your shoulders eased back down as they had done earlier, your calloused hands raising before rubbing at the soft skin of your face, that felt even nicer after that shower.

“Okay, yeah-- I think Dean is right, man. You’ve gotta stop just appearing like that.” you practically groaned out as you pinched at the bridge of your nose.

“Well, I... I seem to have been here before you walked in.”

Your fingers dragged away from the warm skin beneath it so that you could allow your gaze to find the man, who was most definitely not helping your confusion. “Huh?”

Especially when you had actually located him.

Because of your previous glance, you had thought that Cas was just sat on your bed for whatever reason he desired.

Though now, as you properly stared back at him, finally registering that sort of grogginess that further emphasised the gravel to his voice when he had spoken, you had noticed that he was in fact under the covers.

Your covers.

His torso was practically twisted just so that he could meet your eyes while his own were narrowed, adjusting to the light, and almost looked puffy as if he had just woken up.

Your eyebrows were most definitely furrowed if they weren’t before. “I thought angels didn’t sleep.” You were about to say. Another mystery that you had to solve... but instead, just as the words were going to roll off of your tongue, your brain had fully taken in the appearance of the person before you.

Castiel’s hair was dishevelled, heavily contrasting the way it usually sat, which in itself was most unusual.

And then you saw it.

No words could even begin to pass through your lips in that moment. No matter how hard you tried. There wasn’t a sound, or even a vowel.

“Y/n?” Cas questioned before clearing his throat, slowly pushing himself upward until he could sit upright and even did his signature head tilt when he was properly facing you. “What’s wrong?” He fought with an urge to yawn.

You couldn’t move. Your eyes were just glued to his lips. A set that seemed to be layered with a sort of faded deep red which smudged severely over the skin surrounding his mouth, especially towards the corners. “Oh.”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed at the lack of fullness to your voice.

It appeared that your mystery was solved.

You had found your mystery painter.

“Oh.”

#castiel #castiel supernatural #castiel novak #Castiel SPN #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x gender neutral reader #supernatural castiel #supernatural #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural x reader #supernatural x gender neutral reader #dean winchester #supernatural dean #Sam Winchester #supernatural sam

412 notes · View notes

palmastrings · 3 months

Text

The Seven Deadly... Rings?!?!

@nocreativityfornames you're a genius I'm just gonna go ahead and swipe this and *eats*

original post here

Essentially what if we started Nightbringer but we also had the brothers in tow in the form of rings.

No, I didn't spell check this, I'm don't write very often so excuse any weirdness. I suck at grammar and ignore spell check.

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

Solomon holds his hand out expectantly, presenting to you a handful of exquisite multicolored rings. 7 to be exact. Each one a familiar face, in a somewhat familiar time.

Honestly, this isn't really that astounding by any means. When living in the Devildom, you've come to expect even the most unexpected situations. The rings were probably the least surprising thing you've heard today, seeing as how you had mysteriously been thrown across time and space and landed in the Devildom... approximately 7,000 years ago. Maybe? Nobody is really good at saving dates around here, especially when the average demon lifespan stretches from now to, basically, the end of time itself. A slight over exaggeration? Again, maybe. But in your defense, in your feeble mortal eyes, that's what it may as well be.

The rings jingle in your hand as you tentatively scoop them from Solomons cold hand.

Apon first glance, they would appear to be normal rings. Pristine, each gold band is fitted with a unique colored stone matching those of the beloved demons from your normal timeline. Although, if you really focused on it, twisting the bunch of them in your palm with your fingers, you could feel how warm the metal is. It was as if someone had worn the rings before you, even though it should not have been possible, as you would be the first to bear them. Along with the warm glow of the rings, you could faintly feel an intense pulsing sensation coming from the set. Whether or not it came from what could possibly be a rapid heartbeat or the emanating pulse of horrific eldritch powers, you couldn't tell.

You go to slip them on your waiting fingers until Solomon interrupts you.

"I will warn you Mc, they were terribly rowdy before I turned them into rings, I don't blame you if you find them overwhelming to wear."

"Thanks for the warning, Solomon. I appreciate you coming all this way to help me by the way!"

"Anything for my favorite apprentice! Oh! And put in the good word for me!" Solomon winks. He turns, presumably to go and survey the Devildom of millennia ago. You're eternally grateful he went through all this trouble, not only to willingly throw himself across time and space, but to also take the time to bring along the demon brothers.

You insert each hoop onto your fingers. They fit perfectly, made just for you to wear. For a moment, there is silence. You almost begin to doubt they're even there. The only sign of anything unusual is the pulsing jewelry around your fingers, seeming to wane slowly, just until it matches your own heartbeat. Then the screaming.

"Mc! Did I hurt you at all?"

"Can you hear me?! What happened?

"AHHH, I can't believe you met me while I was in my blunder years! Wahhh!! I'm so embarrassed!!"

"Oi! Human what the hell?! What were you thinking just vanishing like that?"

"Mc, why did you leave?"

"Hon, you nearly gave me a heart attack when I heard youd gone missing! Lets go home asap!"

"..."

Suddenly, you weren't so alone in your head. A barrage of questions, sobs, and abnormal talk of urgency was flung straight in your direction. You could practically visualize the tearful Levi. The clear image of the batting white eyelashes of Mammon as he looks worried at you. Along with what's definitely becoming a new wrinkle on Lucifers face as you listen to him interrogate you. It was almost relieving to hear them speak with such familiarity to you. After being treated like a stranger not too long ago, this felt like you had brought a piece of home with you in this strange version of the Devildom.

Maybe, just maybe in the strange place, in this strange time you could make the most of it. With a sorcerer and the seven rings at your side you may just be able to tackle the newly fallen brothers of the past, the new ruling power of the Devildom, Diavolo, and finally find out why you were sent here by the one called, Nightbringer.

130 notes · View notes

loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 ao3

Steve continues to trace letters onto Eddie’s palm—the only reason Eddie hasn’t called for a nurse, doctor, anyone is because Steve had fixed him with a stubbornly determined look when he went to do so, and Eddie didn’t need it spelled out to know what that meant.

Dude, let me finish.

“You’re fucking unreal,” Eddie had whispered.

Now Steve prods insistently, right in the centre of Eddie’s palm.

Eddie blinks; it takes him a moment to figure out that Steve isn’t writing a letter this time.

“…Me?” Eddie tries.

Steve’s finger drags down then up, stopping right underneath Eddie’s pinky. A checkmark. Eddie lets out a breathy laugh.

More letters. OK?

Eddie feels something within him crack. “I’m okay,” he says, tries to smile.

A circle now, sweeping round and round. Different to how Steve draws an ‘O.’ He repeats it a few times, perhaps noticing Eddie’s confusion, then spells out ‘OK?’ again.

Then it clicks and, smiling again—Christ, he hopes it looks reassuring—Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand with a sudden wave of affection.

“Everyone’s okay,” he replies, and he says it again, softer, when he feels Steve’s fingers tremble slightly. “Promise. Everyone’s okay, Steve. It’s…” He takes a deep breath. “I think it’s fucking over, man.”

Silence. No movement, no words. Just the two of them breathing, and if Eddie is feeling overwhelmed by that statement after just a week of absolute insanity, he can’t begin to imagine how Steve is taking it.

Then Steve abruptly launches back into activity, now tapping rapidly on the back of Eddie’s hand; and Eddie can practically hear the eagerness, the fucking exclamation marks in it. Tap, tap, tap!

“I’m literally right here,” Eddie says. His cheeks ache with the sudden force of his grin, but it’s a welcome kind of pain.

Steve’s finger returns to Eddie’s palm, lingers there.

Eddie laughs, reminded of the Lite-Brite and the impossible golden shimmers; thinking that he’d never feel such wonder again.

Steve keeps drawing the question mark until Eddie snorts. “Okay, okay, I get it! That tickles, man.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I—uh. Shit, I don’t really know where to start.”

Steve smiles again beneath his mask. His eyes travel across the room pointedly, and Eddie can almost hear it. Start wherever. M’not exactly going anywhere.

So Eddie does. It’s a very censored version; he can’t bring himself to really talk about what happened right after Steve had… He skirts around it, says, “After you—u-um, you—”, then leaps hurriedly forward into how he stumbled across Steve’s song and all the playthroughs of it; his meeting with El, the news of Henry’s death; how the carnage caused by The Upside Down truly bleeding into their world (by Steve dying) seems to be healing, bit by bit.

He gets through all of that, and for a few minutes Steve does nothing; his eyes go a little glassy, but Eddie pushes back his initial fear—Steve’s just in deep thought, nothing sinister.

He sees Steve’s lips move ever so slightly, mouthing, “Wow.”

Eddie sighs, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah. Wow.”

Steve’s finger prods the back of his hand again.

OK?

Eddie frowns. “You already—I told you, I’m—”

But Steve doesn’t let up, his touch both gentle and insistent.

“Steve. I’m fine.”

Eddie scoffs. “I said I’m—” But there’s a familiar sharp tightness in his chest that cuts the words off, and Steve’s eyes look far too knowing, and suddenly more comes spilling out, no matter how much Eddie tries to stop himself.

While he still can’t address how Steve was… gone, he talks around the fear, talks about how he was somehow not arrested; the mythical like reappearance of Chief Hopper.

And then he talks about finding Wayne, and his throat closes up completely.

“Jesus,” he gets out eventually. “Just ignore me, man, I’m—”

Go.

Eddie stares. “What? Steve, I can’t just—”

Steve’s touch grows firmer. Go.

“No! I’m not fucking leaving you like—”

“Eddie.” It’s the weakest of whispers, Steve’s voice splintering with every syllable. “Go… see him.”

Eddie shakes his head. Tears bite at his eyes but he pushes them back, angry at himself, because he wants to go, wants to see Wayne so badly that it hurts.

“You’re n-not…” Steve lifts up the mask, gasps through a shallow inhale, but he raises one hand, as if sensing Eddie’s unease. I’m okay. “Li…sten. Not running. Go.”

“But—”

“Go.” Steve gives a feeble flick of his hand, as if to say non-negotiable. “Will… be here when you’re… back.” He puts the mask back in place. “P-promise.”

I’ll hold you to that, Eddie thinks, but he can’t even speak when he leaves, watching numbly as a group of staff bustle over to Steve’s room, clipboards in hand.

He’s alone. He’s alone in there, and I left him.

Perhaps Steve wanted it like this, but that thought is muted compared to the spiral of Eddie’s self-loathing as he walks away. No matter what Steve says, it still feels like running. Like a betrayal.

When he enters the hotel room, the first thing he sees is the harsh red glare of the alarm clock. 1:17am. Then, there’s Wayne, sat in the desk chair, clearly kept up by his usual working hours. He’s doing the crossword; Eddie can see where he’s sketched out answers in pencil first before going over them in pen when he’s certain of the word.

Maybe it’s the normality of the scene that does it. All Eddie knows is that he’s suddenly shaking, and he just lets his guitar fall to the ground when he’d normally cradle it, so Wayne is bound to notice something’s up, but Eddie can’t keep it together, and he doesn’t get it; he’s fine, so why—

“Eddie,” Wayne says. The chair is shoved back as he stands hurriedly, and he keeps Eddie upright with both hands around his forearms. “Sit down.”

Eddie sits on the bed heavily. There’s a distant roaring in his ears; he’s breathing too quickly.

“It worked,” he says, but he can barely hear his own voice. “I-it—”

“All right,” Wayne cuts him off not unkindly. “That’s enough. Just breathe, Ed.”

Eventually each breath doesn’t seem to burn, and Eddie can hear other quieter sounds filtering through—Wayne carefully moving the guitar, the slow creak of the bed as he sits down next to him.

When Eddie raises his head, he sees that Wayne is looking down at his hands; it’s only then that he notices the red marks on his fingertips, inflamed from pressing against the guitar strings.

“You gonna tell me?” Wayne asks.

Eddie closes his eyes. “I...” He grapples for words. “You… you can’t un-know it.”

Wayne sighs. For a moment, Eddie thinks he’ll drop it, and they’ll move on, and that’ll be it: this big, unsayable thing between them forever.

Then Wayne rests a gentle hand on Eddie’s head, rocks once. “Try me.”

Wayne doesn’t interrupt; he listens to everything in silence. There’s no disbelief in his face—the only change in his expression is that his brow becomes more and more furrowed. Eddie can’t guess what he’s thinking, but perhaps, after everything that’s happened, this horrific explanation is easy to accept. Or maybe it’s because they have promised, years ago, that they would never lie to each other.

Weary, Eddie finds that he tells the story disjointedly, keeps having to double back on himself and clumsily repeat things—and even when he says things twice, he knows it’s still vague: how Steve’s fate went from a friend died to we’ve got a plan to bring him back.

And because exhaustion is weighing him down, he realises with a sinking feeling that he’s told everything in the wrong order. He hasn’t mentioned Chrissy.

At first, he doesn’t think he can. But then Wayne must sense a change, something wrong in his breathing again, because he puts his hand on Eddie’s knee, and his meaning is clear. You can tell me anything.

Stopping and starting over and over, Eddie finally tells his uncle how Chrissy Cunningham died. How it was an awful death, a painful one.

A lonely one.

“I left her there,” he says, and it feels like that’s never going to leave him, the shame and guilt crushing his chest. “Wayne, I—I left her all alone, and then y-you had to see her like—”

“Stop,” Wayne says. His eyes are wide with dismay, as if realising that this isn’t something he can solve by just taking Eddie away from it all; like when he pulled him away from the doorway when Eddie was a child, urging him not to look.

“I sh-should’ve fucking done something, Wayne. God, I should’ve h-helped her—”

“Eddie,” Wayne says, far more gently than Eddie deserves, “son, she was already dead.”

The words land, rock Eddie’s foundations.

“C’mere.” Wayne puts his arms around him, pulls him close. “It wasn’t your fault. You gotta know that, you hear me?”

“I…” Eddie grits his teeth. “Wayne, I—”

“After I called the police,” Wayne says gently, “I talked to her. Just… just in case she… you know?”

Eddie inhales raggedly. “Oh.”

“She did cheerleading, right?”

Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I can picture her. She was always real polite… Remember that show you had in middle school? And you made me carry half the damn band’s equipment when I came to pick you up?”

Eddie chokes through a surprised laugh. “Yeah.” “She came runnin’ across the parking lot while I was waiting on you. She’d found your guitar pick left on the stage and she didn’t know where you were. Said, ‘Mr. Munson, I wanted to make sure he got it back, he said it was his good luck charm.’”

Eddie doesn’t recall this, but he knows the exact guitar pick Wayne is referring to: the one he now wears around his neck to stop him from ever losing it. And instead of thinking about how she looked on that terrible night, an image forms in his head of what Wayne must have seen, of Chrissy running over, ponytail bouncing. Her happiness.

Death cannot take everything.

He sniffs. “I-I didn’t know that.”

Wayne sighs. “Oh, kid. Don’t let it break your heart.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple, repeats softly, “It wasn’t your fault.”

And Eddie weeps.

He sleeps right through until noon. There’s a note left for him on the bedside cabinet when he wakes: Wayne saying that he’s helping with the Red Cross at the high school. He’s added a post-script, as if he received more information just as he was about to head out the door.

Hospital called. Steve Harrington awake & asking after you, said if you were sleeping to leave you be. Said he’s sitting up more & can talk without mask.

Eddie flips the paper over. He writes on autopilot for most of it, says that he’s packing another overnight bag for the hospital—he’s using the last of his salvaged shirts at this rate—and notes down Steve’s floor and room number. He goes to write a thank you to end the message, but that seems too small for last night; he doesn’t know how to put it all into words. Instead he puts Wayne’s crossword underneath the piece of paper, solves the ones Wayne had missed.

It’s only when he’s walking through the hospital entrance that he realises that he’s instinctively brought his guitar along, too.

“Eddie?”

He turns. It’s Robin, apprehensiveness rolling off her in waves as she searches Eddie’s face. “They—they called and said…?” She trails off, like she’s hardly daring to believe it, like if she says it out loud, everything will be taken back.

“Yeah,” Eddie says quickly. He holds her gaze and nods firmly. “He woke up.”

She gasps, surges forward and practically jumps on top of him. He has to move just so she doesn’t end up with the body of the guitar knocking against her stomach, shifts his stance so he’s half holding her up by the waist.

“Holy freaking shit, Eddie, oh my God, oh my God,” she’s babbling. Her hair is tickling Eddie’s cheek, and then she’s planting a sudden, sweet kiss there, a little wet from her crying.

Eddie hugs her back, and he can’t help himself, jokingly complaining, “Gross, are you wearing lipstick, Buckley?”

Robin pulls back and laughs. “‘Fraid so,” she says in the tone of someone delivering grave news. “The glittery kind, too.”

As they let go of each other, a passing-by nurse catches Eddie’s eye, appears to give a knowing smile.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Eddie says once she’s gone, and he starts giggling. “Hate to break it to you, but she definitely thinks we’re together.”

Robin shakes her head with a wide grin. Then, barely missing a beat, she drops into an uncanny impression of Humphrey Bogart: “We’ll always have Paris.”

Eddie keeps laughing, as they climb the stairs two at a time to Steve’s room. “We’re so weird.”

Robin clutches his hand. “Yeah,” she says, her smile a tiny, secret thing, just for them. “I’m glad we’re weird.”

And it sounds like she’s saying much more.

Steve is awake when they rush in, sitting up with his pillows supporting his upper back rather than his head. There’s a reassuring colour to his cheeks.

When he sees Robin, his whole face lights up with the biggest smile. His lips are cracked slightly, marks of painful looking indentations around his mouth from the mask that have Eddie inwardly wincing.

“Oh, God, who let you in?” Steve asks Robin with a cheeky drawl; and his voice is strong, barely a rasp within it.

“Shut up, you moron,” Robin sobs.

She hugs him, mindful of the bandages around his stomach, just peeking out from underneath the sheets.

Steve holds her tight. Over the top of her head, he catches Eddie’s eye. “Is that glitter on your cheek?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks, and for some reason it suddenly feels like all three of them are sharing some private joke, especially when Steve adds, almost sing-song, “Should I be jealous?” and Robin promptly flicks his forehead.

It’s all so normal, and for a while, Eddie feels a physical lightness, as if there’s a bubble in the room filled with utter, complete happiness.

But when Robin pulls back, Eddie notices that there’s a subtle fixed look to Steve’s smile, there one minute and gone the next—like if the hug had gone on for a moment longer, his composure might have crumbled.

“You’re looking good, Harrington,” Eddie says quietly, and though it’s said sincerely, he offers it more as an out for Steve, even though he doesn’t quite get what Steve is trying to escape.

Steve’s face flickers with something like relief before he grins again. “Thanks, man. They’ve got me on the good stuff.”

Eddie nods absently. It’s not like that’s a lie; whatever miracle-working drugs Steve’s been given have clearly strengthened his lungs, allowed him to go from practically voiceless to talkative literally overnight. But there’s more to it than that, in the way Steve is sitting up as straight as he can, like he’s proving a point. It makes Eddie suspect that, as soon as he’d left, Steve had tried to speedrun recovery while no-one was looking.

“Had to sweet talk a nurse to get them to call you,” Steve says. “They said phone lines are crazy right now, keep going dead or engaged or…”

“I can try and get through.” Eddie stands. When he’d gone past reception, he’d seen that the lines for the limited phones available were already snaking round the corridors; it’ll be one hell of a waiting game. “Do you wanna call someone else?”

Steve nods slightly; his eyes flit to the side, and his expression turns sombre. He’s looking at Dustin’s walkie. “I’d better give this back to him, huh?”

“I’ll go,” Eddie insists.

Robin smiles at him with clear gratitude, moves her chair closer to Steve’s bed.

It takes just under two hours for Eddie to get through to Dustin; thankfully he’s the one who picks up. Eddie had half expected some kind of celebration on the other end, like how Dustin had been when Steve’s song was discovered, but instead the conversation is much more subdued and short-lived, as if Dustin wants to finish it as quickly as possible so he can head to the hospital.

“Henderson’s coming,” Eddie says as he walks back into Steve’s room. “Said he’ll be there as soon as…”

His voice fades away at the sight of Steve’s eyes being closed.

But just as he falls silent, Steve starts to speak, voice clear and alert.

“Not sleeping,” Steve says. “Just resting my eyes.”

And that really does seem to be true, because Steve’s face never once slackens into sleep.

Eddie looks at Robin, trying to voice a silent question in his eyes, but she just shrugs helplessly.

Eddie finds Dustin at the end of the corridor on Steve’s floor.

“There you are!” Eddie says. “Wait, dude, where’s your crutches?”

“I forgot them,” Dustin says, a bit shortly. “It’s not really a fracture, I’ll be fine.” He seems unaware that that’s not exactly reassuring.

“O…kay,” Eddie says. “C’mon, he can’t wait to see you.”

But Dustin doesn’t move. Eddie suddenly worries that he’s been standing right there for a while.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He sticks out a hand. “He’s really okay, Dustin.”

Silently, Dustin takes Eddie’s hand.

As they get closer to Steve’s room, they cross paths with Robin.

“Vending machine is calling my name,” she says breezily. She pretends to dive for Dustin like a football tackle, then ruffles his hair before he can dodge her. “Hi, genius child.”

“Get off,” Dustin says with an eye roll, a cocky grin, but his nerves are still obvious. When Robin leaves, when they face the doorway, he drops Eddie’s hand and walks through alone; and Eddie thinks that this, beyond anything, is one of the bravest things he’s seen.

He tentatively enters the room when he can’t hear any conversation going on. When he does, he’s just in time to see Steve startle at Dustin’s appearance, blinking like he’s been wrenched from a deep train of thought.

“Hey!” he calls. He shifts in bed, straightens up even more.

But Dustin doesn’t move. Eddie holds his breath, tiptoes over to stand beside him, not touching.

Steve is frowning, eyes on Dustin. “Oh, bud, what happened to your leg?” he says with dismay; and it says so much, that he can tell with one glance, without any crutches in sight.

Dustin’s hands are shaking, clenched into fists. Eddie can hear his uneven breathing.

“Dustin,” Steve says. One of his hands is braced against the mattress, like he’d be on his feet and running over if only he could. “Dustin, I’m so sorry.”

Dustin shakes his head. “No,” he whispers. “No, fuck you, you don’t get to—to say that.”

Steve’s face falls. “I… I get it, dude,” he says. “It’s—”

“No!” Dustin says, and he stalks forward despite his limp, and one of his fists comes up to beat against Steve’s chest, and Steve just lets it happen. “No, you—it’s not okay, it’s—”

“Hey,” Steve murmurs. He catches Dustin’s hand in his own, a gentle and protective hold. “Dustin, hey, it’s—”

“Shut up!” Dustin wails. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m—”

And as he’s speaking, he falls against Steve, and Steve’s arms wrap around him.

“I…” Dustin hiccups, gasps—cries without restraint, like a child. Because he is one. “I don’t hate you.”

“Shh,” Steve says. “I know, I know.” He presses a kiss to the top of Dustin’s head, then hugs him tight; and Eddie watches as Steve’s face briefly crumples, before he visibly pulls himself together. “Everything’s okay. Hey, shh, shh. We’re okay, we’re okay.”

Eddie steps out and silently closes the door behind him.

Robin pats a spot on the floor next to her, hands him a couple of candy bars.

“Has he… talked to you?” Eddie asks.

Robin sighs. “Nope.” She nudges him until Eddie takes a bite out of the candy, then adds, “You?”

Eddie shakes his head. He thinks back to the blur of last night. “He… just kinda got me talking without really...”

Robin nods sadly. “Yeah. He’s good at that.”

It’s late evening, and Robin and Dustin have long since left, when Steve’s determined resolve begins to fail him. His eyes drift shut in increasingly lengthy blinks, lulled by the dim light.

Eddie quietly draws the curtains. Then he exhales a little laugh when he turns back round to find Steve trying to keep his head up.

“For Christ’s sake, Harrington.”

“M’not sleeping,” Steve says, though he sounds halfway to dreaming as he speaks.

“Take the hint, man.” Eddie reaches over, gently guides Steve until he’s lying down properly. “You need rest.”

As he moves the pillows, he feels a warm puff of air against his hands, Steve’s breathing already slow and deep. “Don’ need to… stay if you don’…” Steve sighs, turns to the side, one cheek pressing into the pillow. “M’kinda boring.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says gently. And he stops himself from saying something stupid like You, boring? Think that’s impossible, because Steve has already fallen asleep.

Eddie doesn’t know what rouses him initially, just knows that he’s lifting his head up from the little couch he’s settled on.

He hears an indecipherable murmur in the darkness. Blinking blearily, he whispers, “Steve?”

“Dustin…? Dustin…”

Eddie sits up. “He went home, remember?” he says, tries to ensure his voice isn’t harsh, but is still loud enough to break through whatever Steve is dreaming about.

“Dustin…” A quiet, low moan.

Eddie rises, stumbles over. “Steve? Steve, wake up.”

Steve moans again. “Oh, God, no, no—”

Eddie clumsily switches on a lamp, revealing Steve’s face turning side to side, muscles in his neck strained, eyebrows drawn in distress.

“Steve, it’s just a dream, you’ve gotta—”

“He’s dead,” Steve says brokenly. “They’re dead, they’re all—oh, God—”

“Wake up,” Eddie says. He grabs Steve’s shoulders and shakes, uncaring if it’s abrupt; he just needs it all to stop now. “No-one’s dead, Steve, come on, you’re—”

Steve wakes with a start, breathing heavily. Eddie instinctively lifts his hands off his shoulders, but Steve looks even more panicked at that, so he immediately returns them, keeps his touch light but there.

“Hey, you with me? Just a dream,” Eddie repeats.

“Oh,” Steve says, like he’s been winded. “Oh.”

“Here, you want a drink? There’s some water on…” Eddie reaches for a glass, but Steve just says, “No,” and covers his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“Just go back to sleep, I’ll be—”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. You sure you don’t want a—?”

Steve’s hands fall away, and he bows his head. “Eddie,” he says. His voice breaks. “I can’t.”

Eddie perches on the bed. “Hey, all right, that’s—”

And everything he was going to say dies in his throat as Steve’s head comes to rest on his shoulder. A growing wet patch forms.

And he stays very still as Steve shakes with silent sobs.

Almost silent.

“S-sorry. I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry…”

Steve takes shallow, desperate breaths. Eddie can feel his lips trembling against his skin.

And then Steve holds onto Eddie’s forearm with a harsh grip, knuckles turning white.

Eddie suddenly remembers that awful moment, right before the end of everything. I can’t feel you.

“Hey. Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Eddie murmurs. Gently, gently, he puts a hand on Steve’s nape, cradles the back of his head. Feel that? God, please let him feel it… “I’m here. I’m right here.”

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #wayne munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson

987 notes · View notes

fatguarddog · 7 months

Text

Feedist Kinktober Day 18: Lost Doll

You found her discarded on your front porch, a beautiful old porcelain doll that was unlike any you had seen before. She had loose, blonde curls, adorable rosy cheeks, soft blue eyes with large lashes attached, a pretty scarlet dress in a Victorian style... nothing out of the ordinary really...

Except this doll was fat. Really fat.

Her round belly presented such a nice shape bulging out from her dress, even her arms and legs seemed to have been made all chubby and cute like little stuffed sausages. Something about her smile and unique physique compelled you to pick her up and take her inside; perhaps with a bit of polish she could be worth something? She could be some kind of rare make after all, so why not take care of her for a while.

So you did. You took her in and began to clean the dirt from her body and dress, neatening her up and giving the plump doll a comfortable seat to rest in while you figured out what to do with her.

Over the next week or so, you spent your free time researching old dolls and where yours could have come from. Despite not remembering grabbing a snack when you sat down to do so, you almost always found an array of wrappers and empty plates around you whenever you turned your laptop off. It wasn't like you could really stop doing it since you were hardly aware you'd even started... so soon you began plumping up all over.

Your meals seemed to get larger, you felt more compelled to stay sedentary for longer periods of time... and so your body simply ballooned, all the while your doll smiled back at you... and you could swear she was looking thinner by the day.

Your hair got curly despite you not doing anything to it, your plump cheeks gained a rosy glow, your eye lashes seemed longer and thicker than ever before and you found yourself wearing more old fashioned clothes... heavy old dresses that hugged your new curves and made you look so beautifully comfortable with all your new padding. As the changes ramped up, you never really questioned them... it just all felt so right deep inside. You grew larger and larger as your doll became slimmer and slimmer, taking on a more modern appearance.

One day, all dressed up in your finest and spread out on the couch, you stuffed yourself with a feast of food until you could hardly move. The weight of your bulging, fattened gut held you in place, but when you went to rub it, you realised you couldn't move at all, you were frozen in place aside from your eyes. Looking around the room, you realised you couldn't see your doll anymore, but you could hear footsteps approaching. As they grew closer, a hand came out from behind you and rubbed at your swollen belly through your scarlet dress.

"What a good girl you've been, you've broken my curse," a sultry feminine voice whispered in your ear, deepening the blush on your fat cheeks, "I can't believe how easy that was." The figure walked around in front of you, revealing herself. To your best bet, she looked as though she were a human version of the doll you found after going through all her changes, slimmed down and looking more from the current era. "You see I'm a witch whose spell backfired on her, I was trying to turn someone into my fat living doll, but something went wrong and I ended up as a fat little doll instead," she sighed and looked out the window. "I got tossed around a lot, most people threw me out after picking up on my magical fattening aura... but not you."

She smiled wickedly as she approaching you and sank her fingers into your stuffed, fattened flesh, making you whimper slightly through your paralysis.

"Seems all I needed to do to be free was have someone keep me long enough to accept the spell I'd intended to cast in the first place, getting fatter than my doll form and instead becoming my fat living doll," she rubbed at your soft body, clearly enjoying herself.

"You want to be my fat doll, right? I'll keep you so plump and comfortable and take really good care of you, pretty thing. I know you want it good girl, so just nod that pretty head for me," she gently cupped your face and made you nod your head in response, making a blissful calm wash over your mind and body.

Something told you that being a witch's fat doll could be the best thing that ever happened to you.

#hutch posts #this kind of got away from me but eyyyyy #feedist kinktober #weight gain #rapid weight gain #stuffing #witches #dollification #.cnc

103 notes · View notes

channoticedmeuwu · 1 year

Text

💭 txt's choi line as . . . EVER AFTER HIGH CHARACTERS ! ☆ ♡ ༶⁠

p — CHOI LINE × FEM!READER | g — fluff, suggestive, eah!au + soobin has princess charming!reader | w — yeonjun's is suggestive, a lot of destiny&fate talk, eah terms used

a/n — I couldn't get choi line and them as eah descendents out of my mind so lo and behold, I caved. never forgiving them for cancelling this show + posting cuz it's my bday we gon party like it's my bday

♡ DON'T FORGET TO READ TAEKAI'S VERSION !!

YEONJUN, SON OF SLEEPING BEAUTY

rosy pink lips and a piercing gaze, choi yeonjun was the definition of the rose his mother was destined to represent. from his harsh grip on your waist to the soft, peppery kisses he'd leave on your neck when you'd sneak into his room after night curfew, choi yeonjun was casting a spell upon you. your heavy eyelids threatening to shut as he had his legs thrown over you while he spooned you, whispering “how pretty you are” and how lucky he is to have you. sharp yet maintained nails combing your scalp as he ran his fingers through your hair, the sensation sending pulses down to your toes.

choi yeonjun would fall asleep in a class, only to be woken up by a smack on his wrist and the threat of "DETENTION!". he'd have his fun with the gawking looks of everyone as he'd walk by, a pink mist of flowery drowsiness settling through the halls, making everyone's stomachs feeling like they'd just digested thorns.

but with you, oh, he was on his knees. puffy red lips and eyes bright n’ shiny when you'd kiss him, his lips leaving different shades of roses on your skin, like he was a rose himself— the color of his petals bleeding into the cracks of your skin. he'd find himself hiding between the alleyways behind the son of cinderella's shoe shop, your fingers tracing the wrinkles his smile would make near his eyes as he gazed at you like you were a happily ever after he was promised.

and he knew that even if his destiny didn't allow it, he'd prick his finger a thousand times only to be awoken by the drowning feeling of your lips on his own.

SOOBIN, SON OF SNOW WHITE

when choi soobin's mirror answered your name instead of his after he questioned, “who's the fairest of them all?” things got a bit messy. who even were you, making your way to ruin his happily ever after? rolling his eyes and shutting his locker, he'd come face to face with you, wearing a charming, a prince charming, smile and tilting your head at him. now, children of the prince (or now, king) charming weren't exactly his type, but god, who on earth gave you the right to charm him with that pearly, enchantingly cursed smile? even if you technically belonged in his destiny, you weren't supposed to rob off his title of being the fairest of them all, anyway.

but as he stared from across the classroom, he started to understand why tones of red and blue were such an eye-catching match. from the way you'd glow in the silvery moonlight with your blue, he'd watch from his window, gold in his candlelight, as you'd practice lifting the weight of a sword passed through generations of your family. he'd mumble to his pet animals, telling them how embarrassing it was for a son of snow white to fall for the princess charming before he could even choke on that fucking apple, before his roommate would tell him to shut up!

and when he finally buried his ego into the glass coffin he was destined to lie in, poisoned and cursed for eternity, he faced you—heart throbbing in his chest and silky black hair flowing in the wind as he took your hands. it was unsettling, how he went against his destiny at that moment just to find you and give you an untraditionally abrupt kiss on the lips, even if no one was poisoned.

but, his true love's kiss promised, it sure woke him from a slumber he didn't know he was already in, reality seeping into his eyes like a curse finally being lifted. and his chest heaved, breathless, staring at you like you were the apple of his eye—the true fairest of them all.

BEOMGYU, SON OF THE BEAUTY & THE BEAST

choi beomgyu was like streaks of gold sunlight peering onto a flowing river. with his sharp teeth and hair destined to flow perfectly in the wind, he would sprinkle his charm into any situation to win whatever he wanted. being the son of the beauty and the beast, he got the best of both worlds, athletically charming and annoyingly witty. and if you do say for yourself, unfairly attractive.

it was not irregular for choi beomgyu to intrude wherever and whenever he wanted to—a charming wink to a group of girls and they'd be squealing over him, or guys lifting him into the air when he'd score the winning goal for the bookball game, he had it all. and beomgyu wasn't really much to you, either.

except, when he'd sit with you in the enchanted forest, book in hand and pencil between his teeth, confused glances and nervous smiles as you tried to teach him the course for home evilnomics to impress a crush he had on a rebel. choi beomgyu didn't faze you— his smile cast no spell upon your senses; his beauty was meant to just be savoured by the eyes. his voice like honey didn't sooth your soul like it did to everyone else, and beomgyu was starting to realize that the more time he spent with you, the more he was drawn closer to you.

the genuinity in your smile set his cheeks rosy pink, the way your fingers would graze over his ever so slightly to show him how to cast a spell, the way you bit your lips and stared at him sheepishly when you didn't know the answer to a question he asked— you were finding ways to make him experience aspects of romance he's never witnessed first hand. and he'd find himself looking for you on the bleachers after scoring the winning goal for yet another bookball game. and he wouldn't shoot a wink to a group of girls who'd coo his name until he'd see you nearby. and he'd startle you from behind when you'd look for books in your locker, leaning nearby to shut the space between you two and watch your focussed eyes, a rosy tint in his line of vision.

you had the school's pride and joy wrapped around your finger, following you around like he were underneath a trance, head on your shoulder or arm around you as you roamed around town together. and you knew the rhythm of his heartbeat would change when you'd get especially close to him, finger on his chin as you'd smirk up at him. and you'd see the way his eyes would dart around your face, his light brown locks cast in front his eyes, glittering gold as his fingers would sneak up your blouse to feel the skin on your waist grow warmer at his touch.

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny @kdyism @neotism @bluejaem @radiorenjun @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

237 notes · View notes

misseviehyde · 11 months

Text

PARALLEL BODY

Your boyfriend was fat, unfit and overweight.

The spell you cast was supposed to open an interdimensional rift and replace his current physical form with a fitter parallel version of himself. He would be given a copy of this parallel body as if he had always been that way. You imagined him with ripped muscles, a perfect toned physique and a big cock...

Something went badly wrong.

When the pink light faded you saw he'd been replaced by a female version of himself instead of a male one. She was certainly fit. A hot busty blonde version with a toned body and perfect ass. She had big tits and a bitchy face with sexy brown eyes. Every inch of her screamed hot, high-maintenance bimbo.

Now calling himself Amber - your boyfriend rapidly adapted to life as a girl. His new body seemed to have inspired a few life style changes, or maybe the spell was also affecting his personality. He seemed to be enjoying being a hot woman and learning all about feminity. At first it was cute, but as he began to surpass you in every way, it began to become strangely intimidating.

Amber became an early riser and a gymaholic. She seemed to have boundless energy and a desire to try all the experiences of being a woman. She moved with natural feminine grace and had the balance and strength of an athlete.

Amber was soon a more stylish dresser than you. She made friends quickly and started hanging out with the hyper competitive gym-bunnies she now effortlessly belonged with. They went out shopping together and her wardrobe began to incorporate lingerie, short skirts, bodystockings and blouses.

Amber got her nails done - three inch pink acyrlic claws on each finger. She got her tongue and belly button pierced and a tattoo of a heart on her perfect ass. She began to shop at sex shops... soon she had her own collection of butt plugs and dildos.

She'd fuck her pussy - lying on your bed as she squirted and screamed in pleasure. It was only a matter of time before she begged you to join her.

The lesbian sex was fun at first - only you didn't see why you shouldn't get to use the strap-on as well. Being dominated by Amber did feel good though.

"Fucking take it you fat bitch, your cunt belongs to Mommy now," she'd hiss as she smacked your ass and pounded you deep with the strap on.

"Yessss Mommy, I'm your slut," you'd whimper thinking it was just role-play but cumming harder than you ever had when he'd fucked you as a man.

Amber had insisted you try the nine inch strap on. You'd objected at first, but soon you were addicted as you bottomed out for her time and time again. She made you feel so weak and needy.

Being Amber's subby girlfriend was starting to feel so good. She was taking control of more and more of your life and becoming meaner and bitchier by the day.

She picked up mannersims and expressions from the mean girls she was hanging around with. 'OMG, totes, like and bitch' were soon part of her regular vocabularly.

Amber then talked you into a threesome with a hot black guy from the gym she had been flirting with.

She made you rim him whilst she sucked his cock and then spreading her pussy wide you watched him fuck her. It was supposed to be a threesome, but the only role you played was to eat the cum out of her sticky pussy when they were done.

"OMG - from now on you don't mind if I like bring more guys back from the gym do you bitch?"

She didn't even wait for your response.

Amber got a new tattoo to go with her heart. A black QoS mark on her ankle. Now she got even more attention and she was soon bringing home black guys every night. Wet slaps, screams of pleasure and the scent of pussy filled the house as she fucked and sucked every guy she brought home.

Listening to her bouncing up and down on big dick made you so wet. Your former boyfriend was now a snowbunny whore and it was hot.

Then one day Amber came into the room wearing boots and dressed in latex carrying the spellbook you'd used to give her a parallel body. She laughed as she read the words and you groaned as you felt the dimensional shift envelope you and give you a new body.

When the pink light faded you looked down in horror to see you were now a cute femboy. You no longer had tits and a tiny little cock hung between your legs, but you were still dressed like a girl in slutty lingerie and every inch of your body was shaven.

"Like... you look soooo much better than this," she hissed stroking your hair and making you whimper. "You're my little fuck-slut forever now. Mine and my lovers."

Looking down you saw your body was covered in tattoos like hers. Black spades and BBC only tattoos. Your little cock was caged in blue plastic, a princess butt plug was deep in your ass.

Amber snapped her fingers and three black guys walked into the room. Ripped black muscles gleamed as they grinned down.

"Now suck off these boys and make them nice and hard for me. You're my new fluffer. Ohhhh and lets burn this page of the spellbook. There's no going back now bitch. Enjoy your new parallel body as it's the only one you're ever going to need."

#evie hyde #bitchification #m2f transformation #corruption #parallel body

173 notes · View notes

callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Duck duck Goose | Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw

Pairing: Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw x Naval Aviator!reader (call sign: Hummingbird)

Wordcount: 1485

Warnings: boys being idiots towards reader, FLUFF, ANGST, mentions of Goose's accident. FIX IT FIC BC I CAN.

A/N: I'm not tagging the usual people bc this is not... Top Gun Maverick. If anyone wants to be in my forever tag list, hit me up.

Special thanks to my darling @purplevortexx, always ready to help when i get stuck.

"Well, I hear a lot of things you gotta be a bit more specific here, buddy"

"Did you hear it?" Mav asks Goose, waiting for the waiter to give him another beer.

"There's a female pilot in the program"

That wasn't exactly what he had expected to hear. He knew there were female backseaters, but female pilots?

That girl is either crazy or the biggest badass to ever walk the Earth.

He can't wait to meet you.

"Hey, sweetcheeks, I'm hungry, can you make me a sandwich or something?" Hollywood teases you, for the hundredth time.

You stopped paying attention to him after the first week, but it's getting annoying.

"I don't know, Rick, why don't you ask your boyfriend over there?" you point in Wolfe's direction. "Maybe he can give you something to eat"

Goose's laugh is so loud that you can hear it from the other side of the hallway. It makes you smile. Honestly, he and Maverick are the only reasons you haven't left the academy.

Other than your RIO, Lucky, they were the only two men here that were supportive of you. Iceman sometimes said that you were better to fly with than Maverick.

Not sure if that was a compliment or not.

"Hummingbird, you need to stop it. Poor Hollywood here doesn't even know how to spell his name properly, you can't expect him to know how to address young ladies like you" Goose mocks, putting his arm around your shoulder.

You have to bite your lip to suppress the laugh. Nick has been very touchy with you, always checking to see if you're okay, if you need anything. When Maverick, Goose, you, and Lucky had been partnered on an exercise, he insisted on listening to your opinion before letting Mav do anything on his own.

Falling for someone who gives you that much attention and who respects your job, is the easiest thing you've ever done.

He is married and has a child, though, according to what you've heard. A kid! How can you even think of a married man that way?

“Birdie, we’re going out for some drinks. Wanna come with us?” He whispers in your ear, his breath making you shiver.

“Sure, let me go get changed”

“So, how’s baby Goose?” you finally ask after finishing your second beer. The golden liquid gives you the courage you lacked.

“My sweet Bradley! Let me show you a picture,” he smiles, pulling out a picture of his jacket. You see a little version of him in Goose’s arms, next to a beautiful woman. “There he is”

“Oh, is that Mrs. Bradshaw?”

“She was. Now she’s just my friend. And the mother of my son”

You look at him, expecting to see a sad look on his face. He seems happy, however. As if the two of them were better friends than they ever were as spouses.

“People don’t usually talk about their ex with a happy smile, you know?”

“Well, we’re not a normal case. We met young, fell in love, I became an aviator and when she got pregnant she asked me to be more careful but…”

"You can never be too careful when flying with Maverick," you finish, and he nods. “But it’s good that you’re friends. That will make things so much easier for Bradley”

“Yeah, it’s our main priority. He was a bit confused on Christmas when he went from Carole’s house to mine, but he got more gifts and that’s all he could care about” you can’t help but laugh. He leans over the bar top, his head resting on his hand, and looks at you, with the sweetest smile. “He would like you”

“Me?” you ask, getting a bit closer to him.

“He loves hummingbirds.” His free hand slowly moves from his beer to your cheek as he caresses it. His cold fingers contrast deliciously with your hot skin. “And I’m beginning to like them too”

You move slowly towards each other, attracted like magnets. You close your eyes, wetting your lips, and getting ready to kiss him, when Mav’s voice interrupts you. "COME HERE, GOOSE! There’s this girl I want you to- Oh. Did I interrupt something?”

You chuckle and pat Mav’s back before you leave.

“Did I really interrupt something?”

“I’m gonna choke you” Goose groans while he watches your figure leaving the bar.

The next few weeks go by, with both of you being incredibly obvious about your feelings but neither of you making a move. Small smiles whenever you two made eye contact. Finger-brushing whenever you two stood together. Sweet and loving little notes kept appearing on your locker, and the most special one had a little doodle of a hummingbird. You found a special place for it in your cockpit.

And yet, neither of you dared to say what was evident to everybody else.

Today’s exercise should have been easier. That was until Maverick and Goose’s aircraft got caught in Iceman’s jet wash. You’re on the base, you’ve been waiting for them to complete their exercise and come back, making you, Hollywood, and Woflman the next ones to perform the exercise.

You hear everything on the radio. Maverick trying to reach the ejection handles, but the spinning force of the F-14 made it impossible for him to do it. Goose is trying too, and succeeds, but something goes wrong.

The rescue team leaves immediately; the exercise is long forgotten. You and Lucky go inside, waiting to hear any news. Viper informs all of you that Goose got hit, but they don’t know the severity of his injuries.

Is this it? Are you going to lose someone as marvelous as he is? Did you waste the last few weeks flirting like idiots when the two of you could have been together?

Will you ever hear his loud laugh again? Will you ever hold his hand properly? Will you ever hear him call you ‘birdie’ again?

It’s been an hour, and you don’t have more news. Maverick is in the hospital, too, but you know he won’t leave Goose’s side until the RIO is either safe or dead.

At this point, you’re beginning to believe it’s the latest.

You’re sitting on the floor of the locker room, Goose’s sweet notes in your hands. You hold them tightly, praying to God to give him enough strength to survive. You just found someone you can imagine spending your life with.

Don’t take him away from me now.

“I’ve been looking for you, birdie”

You raise your head slowly, afraid that your brain is deceiving you. That the voice, and the owner, are just figments of your imagination.

But they're not. He's there.

Bloody and covered in bandages.

But alive.

And smiling.

"I thought you were dead" you whisper, watching as he silently sits in front of you.

"I was for a second. Cause I thought that I would never see you again. And that killed me inside for a moment, but... I'm here. And I don't want to waste one more second of my life not being with you"

“Goose, I-”

He presses one finger over his lips, making you stop talking and look at him. He leans over, his lips quickly replacing his finger. One of you is crying, you can feel the salty tears on your lips, the bittersweet aftertaste remaining on your tongue while you pull away.

“Goose, where the fuck are-. Why am I always interrupting you two?” Maverick laughs, watching you two sitting on the floor.

“You’re late this time, Mav” Goose says, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re late”

“And she’s good with you leaving the hospital when you weren’t supposed to?” Mav leans on the door when he sees the confusion in your face. “You didn’t tell her”

“Nicholas Bradshaw, you did not leave the hospital without authorization”

“Honey, I knew you would be so scared I had to tell you I was okay” he tries to convince you that him leaving the ER was justified, but you’re not having it.

“There’s this thing called the telephone. Ever heard of it? It allows you to call people and tell them: ‘Hey birdie, I’m not dead. Can you come here? I have to tell you something’”

“Oh, feisty, I like her” Mav comments, enjoying every second of the situation.

“But I had to see you. I couldn’t stop bleeding without seeing your face”

“Goose, you’re making it worse” you warn him.

He sighs, pecks your lips and gets up. “Are you coming with me to the hospital, at least?” he pouts.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “You’re a big baby, you know?”

“Your big baby. And Mav’s. You have shared custody”

You snort, looking at the two aviators. “You better start walking before I kick your asses”

“Goose, your wife scares me”

“She’s not my wife!”

“Like hell you’re not marrying this one”

#nick bradshaw #goose bradshaw #goose x reader #nick goose bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun fandom

614 notes · View notes