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ellemj · 5 months

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Strawberries

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @cherrywinedarling: fuckboy!Bucky, sex pollen.

Summary: Bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. Will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months?

Warnings: profanity, sex pollen (dubcon), fingering, unprotected sex, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: Special thanks to @cherrywinedarling for submitting such an inspirational (fcking hot) request and coming up with the entire plot of Bucky being unable to get himself off with a random girl, and only being able to get what he needs from reader. Lowkey loved writing this. And thanks as always to @littlemiss-yeehaw for pre-reading and catching some errors.

Twice. No, maybe it was actually three times. Definitely three times. Bucky can remember being exposed to different versions of HYDRA’s sex pollen three times before. Each time was strictly for experimental or torture purposes rather than being done with the intent of breeding super soldiers, but it happened three times, nonetheless. So, this would be number four.

Bucky lets the cool water from the shower faucet splash over his face for a minute before beginning to scrub his skin with a wet, soapy cloth. He tried to tell you that it wasn’t anything to stress over, that he’d keep his distance from the rest of the team on the quinjet and then lock himself in his room once you were all back at the compound, but you insisted on doing things the right way. He didn’t have to take an order from you, but he did. He shot you a frustrated look before making a crude comment and trudging off to the safehouse bathroom to take a shower like you’d told him to.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked for you, don’t keep me waiting too long.” Bucky had said it with a smirk as he stood in the living room of the safehouse and stripped his shirt off with ease. But that smirk was gone the moment he shut himself in the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He’s been through this three times before but it was never enjoyable. It’ll start out as a sort of general discomfort, maybe some body aches and chills as his temperature rises slowly. Then it’ll progress to cardiovascular symptoms: his heart will begin to race, he’ll hear the thumping sound of blood rushing in his ears, his blood pressure will spike. In a normal person, the dangerous spike in blood pressure would be enough to cause a stroke, but Bucky’s vascular system has much more elasticity than a normal person. He’ll be fine. It’s the third stage of the drug’s effects that will really drive him mad. He’ll begin to feel the undeniable urge to fuck.

As you carefully piece together the gun that you’ve just dismantled, cleaned, and oiled, you’re lost in thought. You’ve done enough research over the years to know that HYDRA worked overtime to come up with various chemical compounds that would induce a near primal sexual drive in super soldiers. They wanted a sure way to grow an army of super soldiers over time without having to go through the process of wiping countless minds clean and reprogram them. You almost audibly laugh when you think about the irony of Bucky Barnes being exposed to one of those very sex pollens on your mission today. Bucky Barnes, the man who lately seems to be attempting to catch up on his eighty-something years worth of celibacy, has been exposed to a chemical compound that will make him even more insatiable than he’s already known to be. You have to wonder if he’s secretly thrilled that he has the drug coursing through his veins now.

“You’re not gonna go help your friend out with this?” Sam’s voice rings out from somewhere behind you just as you’re reloading your gun and sliding it into the side holster of your tactical pants. You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you begin packing up the last of your belongings from the kitchen table.

“He’s fucked every girl he’s met since he finished therapy, I think he has a long list of people who can help him out when we get back home.” Though there’s a lighthearted tone behind your words, you’re serious. Bucky’s been a ladies’ man since he stopped seeing Dr. Raynor for mandatory therapy sessions, and not just your average good looking, single bachelor type of ladies’ man. Bucky’s a fuckboy. Sure, he seems to be respectful about it. He doesn’t lead girls on, doesn’t make them think there’s ever a possibility for something more than one or two nights in his bed, and he leaves them all satisfied. But he’s still a fuckboy.

Your words didn’t hurt his feelings. Bucky can’t fault you for being perceptive. He really has fucked almost every girl he’s met in the last couple of months. Hell, he would’ve fucked you too if you’d just given him a chance. That’s how you ended up becoming friends. He tried like hell to get you into his bed shortly after you were assigned to the team and moved into the room next door to his, but you were adamant that you weren’t looking to be a notch on his bedpost. However, instead of telling him to fuck off, you put up with his shit and even seemed to have a good time doing so. So, you ended up being the only female friend of his that hasn’t been tangled up in his bedsheets.

Although your words weren’t necessarily hurtful, Bucky still finds himself a little bothered. He was just about to join you and Sam in packing things up and getting ready to head out when he overheard your conversation and swiftly turned back around, quietly shutting himself in the bathroom once again. You’re right, he does have a long list of people who can help him out when you get back home. God, you’re always right. If he wasn’t so inexplicably drawn to you, he’d probably hate you. But being friends with you is one of the few things that keeps him from comparing his life now to his life eighty years ago. The girl from the bar last week, that’s who he’ll call when he gets home. She was pretty. She had a nice smile, eyes that really drew him in, and she was easy to talk to. She could definitely be the solution to the problem at hand. The more Bucky thinks about her, the more he realizes she sort of reminds him of you. Shit. He’s done that too many times in the past month, brought home girls that seem so familiar but it isn’t until he’s fucked them that he realizes they remind him of you. Why the hell does that keep happening?

---

It’s just an hour later when you’re all arriving back at the compound. Sam excuses himself to go brief Fury and a few other higher-ups on everything that went down during your op, while you and Bucky head for the main tower, each of you ready to unwind in different ways. As you take the elevator up, your eyes wander over to Bucky, who stands to your right. His cheeks are flushed pink, a few stray strands of hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and he’s rubbing the back of his neck with his flesh hand like it’s sore to the touch. He acted like being exposed to a sex pollen was just another day at work for him, but you know him well enough to know that at the very least, he’s uncomfortable right now.

When the elevator doors slide open to let you both out into the main room of the living quarters, Bucky doesn’t even wait to let you off first like he usually does. He steps in front of you and exits quickly, walking a little faster than usual to get to his room down the hall. Maybe that’s what makes you feel bad for him, or maybe it’s the fact that he feels like he has to pretend like he’s unbothered in front of you and Sam instead of telling you how much it sucks to have such a vile chemical compound wreaking havoc within his body.

“Do you need anything?” You ask softly as you pass Bucky in the hall and near your own door, just a few steps beyond his. The sound of your voice breaks his focus and he drops his keys at his feet. Bucky stoops down to retrieve them and then turns his full body to face you from five feet away. You work on unlocking your own door, but cast a sideways glance in his direction. His usual smirk is notably missing, and a stormy, hard-to-discern look has taken its place.

“If I do, I can call one of the girls I’ve met since I finished therapy.” The words are like ice: cold and jarring, sending a chill down your spine. He overheard you and Sam earlier. You don’t know why you feel like a kid sitting in the principal’s office, not when you’ve teased him over his fuckboy ways for as long as you’ve known him. It shouldn’t have bothered him that much considering it was true. Why do you feel like shit for having said it now? More importantly, why does his response to your question feel like a rejection?

When Bucky steps into his room and shuts the door behind him, you hear him seal himself in with the resounding metal click of a lock. If only he’d known that a deadbolt wouldn’t keep you away.

---

You’ve just finished showering and getting yourself ready for bed when you hear the familiar sound of Bucky’s door opening and closing down the hall, followed by two sets of quiet footsteps heading in the opposite direction. Two sets of footsteps? Bucky must’ve called for one of his late-night guests a little early tonight, to help with his situation. You’ve lived next door to him for a couple of months now and if you’ve learned anything, it’s that the man has stamina. So, for one of his guests to have arrived and left in the short time that it took you to shower and pull on some pajamas, something must’ve gone wrong.

Bucky stands with his back pressed against the cool metal wall of the elevator and his arms crossed over his chest as he mentally kicks his own ass. He couldn’t go through with it. He called the girl from the bar, the one who reminded him of you. He invited her over, took her upstairs to his room, gave her a mind-blowing orgasm with minimal effort, but the moment he heard her cry out his name, he knew he wasn’t going to sleep with her. She sounded nothing like you, not even similar enough that he could’ve imagined she was you.

“Thanks for coming over on such short notice, it was good to see you.” Bucky forces himself to break the silence in the elevator. When his eyes land on the girl standing a few inches to his left, she offers him a genuine smile.

“Of course, I had a good time. I wish you would’ve let me make things even though.” She says, referring to the way Bucky had gotten her off but then briskly offered to walk her back downstairs. He nods slowly, tracing the backs of his teeth with the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, maybe next time.” There won’t be a next time, not when he’s stuck thinking about how hard it was to imagine the girl being you. A few minutes later, Bucky’s guest is riding off into the night in the car he called for her. He’s left standing in front of the tower, feeling the full effects of the sex pollen as he enters the peak hour of its activity. There it is, that undeniable urge to fuck.

You’re sitting in an armchair by your bedroom window, munching on a bowl of strawberries that you settled on as a late-night snack, when you hear one set of footsteps coming down the hall. It’s the sound of Bucky returning to his room alone. You have to wonder if the sex pollen decreased his stamina. It must have, otherwise his little guest would’ve been here for at least another hour or two. You make a mental note to research that in some of the old HYDRA files tomorrow, out of sheer curiosity. As you sit there in your chair, licking a drop of strawberry juice off of your bottom lip, you can’t help but wonder what the hell Bucky’s doing. By your calculations, he should be experiencing the worst of the sex pollen effects right now, yet he’s alone in his room. You remind yourself that he doesn’t want your help, that he doesn’t need your help. You tell yourself that he probably took care of every urge he had with the girl that he invited over earlier, and then you try to focus on your snack and the TV show you have playing quietly on your TV.

When you hear the distant sound of a pained grunt coming from the other side of your bedroom wall, every muscle in your body goes rigid. You quickly pause your show and set your empty bowl on the small table beside your armchair. Only a few seconds go by before you hear another grunt, followed by the sound of what you surmise is Bucky’s fist colliding with something in his room. Before your mind has a moment to attempt a rational thought process, your feet are carrying you out of your own room and down the hallway to Bucky’s closed door. Your fist is rapping against his door softly at first, knowing he’s awake and you don’t have to be very loud for him to hear you. No answer. You knock again, a little harder this time, hoping he hasn’t stroked out from a spike in his blood pressure. Still, no answer. The third time you knock, you use the side of your fist instead of your knuckles, and you bang on his door so hard that you feel it rattle on its hinges.

Bucky heaves a deep sigh before unlocking the door and pulling it open, knowing you’ll be standing on the other side of it. Just the sight of you has Bucky’s already hard cock twitching in his sweats and he has to avert his gaze, choosing to look over your shoulder instead of right at you.

“I would’ve answered the first time if I wanted to talk to you right now.” Bucky says coldly. A chorus of go away’s play on repeat in his mind as he wishes with every fiber of his being that you’d do just that.

“You didn’t sleep with her, did you?” One look at Bucky’s disheveled state, his messy hair, the sheen of sweat making his chest and abs gleam under the dim lights of the hallway, and the way his breaths are coming in much more shallow than usual, tells you that you’re right. Bucky meets your gaze for a brief second, and his eyes give you the answer his mouth won’t. He didn’t sleep with her. “How bad is it?”

“I’ve been through this before.” Bucky reminds you, running a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. You’re standing in front of him wearing a pair of gray joggers, a little cropped tank top, and a light cardigan over your shoulders. He knows that tank top well. If the lighting was a little better, he’d be able to see straight through the thin fabric of it. God, he needs you to leave. “Like I said earlier, if I need help, I have people I can call.”

“You called someone and it clearly didn’t help, Bucky.” Just the sound of his name leaving your lips has him biting the inside of his cheek.

“Go to bed.” His tone is authoritative now. But of course, you’d never take an order from him. Especially not when he’s so obviously miserable. Your eyes drift down his torso, taking in the sight of the super soldier that stands before you nearly drowning in a chemically-induced state of arousal. You don’t really know why it pains you to see him like this, why it pains you that he keeps rejecting your help, but you’ve had enough. When you continue to stand in front of Bucky, defying his order for you to go to bed, he drops his hand from his hair and narrows his eyes at you. As you make eye contact with him, an unfamiliar warmth begins to spread along the surface of your skin. Maybe that’s what made you do it, maybe the warmth is what made you start taking your clothes off. You don’t really know what it was, but once you started you knew you wouldn’t stop.

Your fingers begin carefully tugging on the drawstring of your joggers, loosening the tied knot as you look into Bucky’s conflicted blue eyes. You continue watching him as his gaze darts down to the motion of your hands, his eyes widening as he realizes what you’re doing.

“What can I do to help?” You ask the question in a whisper. It’s obvious what you’re offering and it has Bucky’s mind racing. He’s wanted you in his bed since the day he met you, but you never gave in to his chase. He’s sure that you’re only giving in now because you think that he needs you to, because you’re ever the kind, helpful girl next door for him. You’ve finished untying the drawstring of your pants and you’re letting the cardigan slip off of your shoulders, baring even more of your skin to him, when Bucky has to stop you. He reaches out with both hands, catching the soft fabric of your sweater in his hands and pulling it back up to cover your shoulders.

“You can go to bed, that would be really fucking helpful.” Bucky rasps. The fingertips of his flesh hand graze over the skin of your shoulder as he sets your cardigan back in its place, and the contact sends a fresh wave of primal need throughout his body. That wave of need is quickly followed by a horrible ache that forces him to draw his hands back to his sides and clench his fists.

“Bucky, stop rejecting me.” A sudden boldness comes over you and you find yourself placing both palms against his chest and pushing him back into his room. He doesn’t fight you as you take two steps inside and shut the door behind you, letting the room engulf both of you in near-darkness.

“Rejecting you? You’ve rejected me since we met.” Bucky scoffs, falling back to sit on the foot of his bed. He brings his elbows to his knees and lets his head dip down to rest in his hands. He may not be watching you, but he’s listening intently as you strip off your cardigan and drop it in the armchair by his window.

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to sleep with the guy who slept with everyone. But now we’re friends, and I’m not going to sit next door while you suffer through this alone.” Bucky dares to sneak a glance at you through his hands. You’re standing a foot in front of him, now in just your sweats and tank top, with your hands on your hips. God, your hips. He’s imagined holding onto those hips while he fucks you from behind so many times. His eyes flutter closed as he lets out a groan. “Bucky, please.” You saying please in such a circumstance is what breaks him.

When Bucky pushes himself off of the foot of the bed and comes to stand only a few inches in front of you, you take half a second to wonder if you’ve just opened a dangerous can of worms.

“Think about what you’re offering.” Bucky’s voice is shaky, but his gaze is hardened as he looks into your eyes. “This isn’t just some favor between friends.” You stay quiet for a moment as you run through the scenario in your head. You imagine going through with it and having sex with him, fulfilling his needs and lessening the pain that he feels from the sex pollen. You imagine the sun rising in the morning and the two of you pretending like nothing ever happened. Why does that last part make you feel uneasy? The idea of sleeping with him tonight doesn’t seem to bother you in the least, but the idea of going right back to normal tomorrow doesn’t sit so well with you.

“I think it’s better if we don’t think about it.” Without letting another thought through your mind, you grasp the waistband of your joggers and begin pushing them down your thighs. As more and more of your skin is revealed to Bucky, his heart rate picks up and his breath hitches in his throat. When you stand up straight in front of him, with your joggers now lying on his bedroom floor, he has to bite his bottom lip to keep from grabbing you and throwing you down on his bed. You can see the wheels in his mind turning as he overthinks this. It’s the thing he’s wanted since he met you, being offered to him on a silver platter, but he can’t stop thinking about how this could ruin the most real friendship that he’s had since Steve. You do the only thing you can think to do to break him out of his thoughts. You step forward and take both of his hands in yours, guiding them up to your face. When his palms make contact with either side of your jaw, his thumbs are quick to begin caressing your cheeks, as if the gentle touch is instinct for him, as if the two of you have done this countless times before. “I said don’t think about it.”

His blue eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation, but he finds none. So, he takes the leap. Bucky leans in and closes the gap between the two of you, his lips finding yours in the darkness. With the first brush of his lips against yours, your eyes flutter closed and you’re at his mercy. You part your lips to accept him, feeling a rush of heat travel through your body as he sucks on your bottom lip gently. You didn’t expect a kiss from Bucky Barnes to be so gentle. You expected it to be hasty, used as a means to an end rather than for the simple pleasure of kissing. But Bucky kisses like it’s as vital to his being as breathing. His tongue glides along your top lip slowly, feeling his way into your mouth before fully tasting you. As soon as his tongue tangles with yours, he pulls back, his hands still cupping either side of your face.

“You taste like strawberries.” He says, licking his lips as he peers down at you with narrowed eyes. Blush creeps into your cheeks, you can’t tell if he’s saying that as a good thing or a bad thing with the hard-to-read expression on his face. Another lick of his lips and a smile begins to tug on the corners of his mouth. “You taste like strawberries.” He repeats, going back for more. This time, you experience the less gentle kiss that you initially expected from him. He wastes no time in sliding his tongue back into your mouth and letting it work in tandem with yours. As he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his vibranium hand slides down and wraps around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. His flesh hand ghosts over your jawline, along the side of your neck, and then you feel him wrap it around your throat just lightly enough that you notice it. Something about having his hand around your throat sets a fire ablaze inside of you, and before you know it, your hands are flat on his chest. You almost wish he had a shirt on so you could grip onto the fabric and tug him further into you.

Bucky’s losing his mind. He’s losing his goddamn mind because you’re in his bedroom, your pants are on his floor, and you’re kissing him back. You’re kissing him and you taste like strawberries. The longer you let him kiss you like this, with one of his hands wrapped lightly around your throat and the other resting dangerously close to your ass, the more his fuckboy ways start to evaporate right through his skin. Kissing you for thirty seconds makes him rethink his entire lifestyle.

You’re the one to pull back this time, you pull back the moment Bucky shifts his stance and you feel the outline of his fully erect cock pressing against your lower stomach. This time when you part, his gaze is so much softer. As much as you’re enjoying kissing him, you know that’s not what he needs right now. Taking matters into your own hands, you move past Bucky and sit on the foot of his bed. His eyes follow every move you make.

“Are you sure about this?” He has to ask. He has to know that he isn’t taking advantage of you and your friendship before this goes any further. He isn’t so sure he’ll be able to stop once he’s really touched you, so he’s offering you an out now. When you nod, keeping your eyes on Bucky, he lets out a soft sigh of relief. Your eyes follow him as he moves around the bed to the nightstand and pulls open the top drawer. After pulling out a little square packet and dropping it on top of the bed, he looks over at you once more. “You’ll tell me if I’m too rough?”

“I trust you.” You whisper. Bucky’s eyes darken as his pupils dilate even more and he begins walking back to the foot of the bed, coming to stand right in front of you.

“You trust me.” He repeats the words slowly, savoring them. You trust him. He looks down at you with an even mix of lust and admiration, but you only notice the lust. Raising his right hand up, he tucks your hair behind one ear and then traces a line from the point of your jaw to the tip of your chin with his index finger. Bucky curls that finger beneath your chin and tilts your face upward. The way your eyes pierce his, he feels like you’re looking straight into his soul, like you’re seeing every darkened corner within him that he’s tried so hard to hide. Instead of feeling vulnerable, he feels at home under your watchful stare.

Bucky tilts his head to the side and his eyes flit behind you to the expanse of the bed, signaling that he wants you to move back onto it. You do just that, turning over so your back is to him as you crawl further up on the mattress. A soft groan from Bucky lets you know he likes the view already, and you smile to yourself. You always knew he was attracted to you, but having the extra confirmation now really feeds your confidence. You can hear the rustling of fabric behind you and when you turn over once again to lay on your back, holding yourself up on your elbows, you see that Bucky has tossed his sweatpants onto the floor beside yours. Now, you see your friend, standing before you in only a pair of black boxers. Your breath hitches in your throat when your eyes land on the bulge beneath the thin fabric.

“Oh my god, you’re so big.” Your eyes widen and dart back up to meet Bucky’s. Of course, he has a smug smile plastered across his face.

“You couldn’t have guessed that?” He asks, placing one knee on the foot of the bed as he looks you over.

“I never thought about it.” You find yourself staring at it again, but Bucky blocks your view when he starts crawling over your body.

“You don’t have to lie, sweetheart.” Bucky tsks, resting his body weight on you as he leans in and kisses your neck. You find yourself tilting your head to the side to give him more access, loving the way he alternates between licking and sucking your skin. “God, you taste like strawberries, you smell like strawberries.” Bucky grunts against your neck before sitting back on his knees between your legs. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.” He says quietly, analyzing your expression. You study his face for a moment, taking in his flushed cheeks, the way his chest is rapidly rising and falling, and even the way the tips of his ears are turning pink. His blood pressure is spiking.

You push yourself up to a sitting position and without thinking, you tug your tank top over your head, tossing it on the floor and completely baring your chest to Bucky.

“Fuck.” The curse falls from his lips as his eyes devour your nearly naked body. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself and focus. When you start shimmying out of your panties, he moves to stand on the floor beside the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes his own boxers off. He’s worried if he gets one look at you completely naked in his bed, he’ll start cumming and because of the sex pollen, he won’t stop.

“Look at me.” Your voice is too kind, too sweet for someone so willing to be fucked. But Bucky listens, opening his eyes and meeting your gaze. His hand is fisting around his cock within a second, stroking it as he looks not at your body, but into your fucking soul. “You’re supposed to be letting me help you.” You remind him, fighting the urge to look down at where he’s touching himself. Bucky groans again but starts climbing back over you, his hard cock dragging along the skin of your thigh as he situates himself over you but slightly to one side, resting his weight on one elbow.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Bucky presses a kiss to your lips. It’s a kiss he meant to be quick and reassuring, but neither of you could resist deepening it. So, he licks into your mouth once again, loving the way you taste, and you feel his right hand sliding down your stomach. His fingertips ghost lightly over your thigh at first, testing the waters, but you don’t flinch away. He has to make sure you can take him. He knows he’s big, and he has no idea how long it’s been since the last time you were with someone. When his hand ventures between your legs, you spread them without hesitation, continuing to kiss him with a growing desperation. The moment Bucky lets his fingertips glide along your wet folds, he can’t stop himself from rutting against your thigh. “You’re so wet for me, fuck.” A soft hum leaves your lips but it’s quickly transformed into a moan when Bucky applies pressure to your clit and begins to circle the pads of his fingers over it. Sparks of pleasure ignite, urging you to spread your legs even more and break away from his mouth to take in a gasp of air.

“Bucky, you don’t have to—” You’re cut off by your own cry when Bucky abandons your clit and slips two fingers inside of you, sending them only halfway as he watches between your legs. He’s in awe of you. Your back arches off of his mattress and he’s so tempted to kiss and lick all over your breasts, but he can’t ignore the overwhelming ache in his lower stomach and cock for much longer. He curls his fingers against your walls slowly, turning to watch your face this time. He studies you as your eyes scrunch closed and your mouth parts to let a heavy pant past your lips. You look fucking perfect. He knows the longer he delays his own release, the worse he’ll feel physically. He can already hear the blood rushing in his ears and feels the pain throughout his body worsening with every sound you make, but he wants this to be good for you. He needs this to be good for you. So, Bucky begins dragging his fingers out and then pushing them right back in, over and over again. He works you up to being able to take them deeper and deeper until he can’t push them in any more. That’s when he leans into you and leaves light kisses across your right cheek and temple. You find yourself leaning into his touch.

“I can’t wait anymore.” Bucky grunts, as he pulls his fingers out of you slowly one last time. He wants so badly to lick his fingers and taste you, but he knows that if he gets a taste, he won’t ever be able to get over it. He’d spend every day doing whatever the hell he had to do just to get more. Instead, Bucky slides those two wet fingers over the head of his cock, mixing your arousal with his precum and spreading it down the shaft. He gives it a few strokes, letting his head fall against your shoulder as he begins to feel just the slightest bit of relief inside his body. But it isn’t enough. Bucky lets go of his cock and leans over you, reaching across the bed to grab the condom he placed there earlier. When he rolls onto his back and begins tearing the small wrapper open, you take matters into your own hands.

Bucky damn near feels butterflies when you move to straddle him, bracing your hands on his bare chest as you swing a leg over him.

“Just give me a second.” Bucky grunts, his eyes darting between the half open condom wrapper and where you’re lowering yourself down over him. He gets the condom out of the wrapper but freezes when he feels your dripping cunt grind along the shaft of his cock. “Shit, be careful.” He warns you through gritted teeth. You know you really should be careful. Hell, he’s slept with so many girls just in the last month that you should be using any and every form of protection out there. Not to mention the fact that both the super soldier serum and sex pollen really ramped up his reproductive system, increasing his sperm count and motility like crazy. The man could easily save the human race from extinction if he was the last viable male on Earth. But you’re not thinking straight. You’re not thinking straight at all when you begin grinding down and circling your hips against him, reveling in the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your clit. You drag your hips back and forth as Bucky’s hands move to grip you there, with the unwrapped condom still in his right hand. You can feel that little piece of latex between his palm and your hip. The thought crosses your mind so briefly, but once the seed is planted, there’s no going back. Feeling the condom all rolled up between Bucky’s hand and your hip is really what planted the seed. You want to feel him inside you, without a damn thing in between. So, you grind along the length of his cock once more, but when you near the tip, you continue sliding forward on it and grinding down until you feel it against your entrance, and then you grind down a little harder, angling your hips just right so it starts to slide in.

“Oh my god.” You moan out, letting your head fall back as you reach down with one hand and start fully guiding him inside of you. Bucky can only watch, his grip on your hips getting impossibly tighter. You’ve only taken in the head of his cock when you still yourself, trying your best to adjust to his ample size. You feel a mix of stinging pain and pleasure, but he did such a thorough job of preparing you with his fingers that the sting is minimal.

“I’m not wearing a condom.” Bucky pants, scanning your face as you slide down another couple of inches. He’s nearly halfway in now and it’s taking every single ounce of his self-control to keep from pulling your hips down and making you take all of it. Your eyes flutter open and lock onto his.

“I know.” You pair your two little words with the act of forcing yourself to take the rest of his length. Your clit brushes against the base of his cock and for a moment, you actually think he might be too big for you.

“Fuck.” Bucky groans lowly. His eyes scrunch shut even though he so badly wants to keep them wide open and memorize the way you look when you’re being fucking ruined by his cock. His balls feel so full and heavy, even more so than usual with the way the sex pollen is screwing up his reproductive system, and the fact that you’re the one he’s balls deep inside of isn’t helping. You really should’ve let him put on a condom, but he sure as hell isn’t going to stop you now. Bucky releases his hold on your hip with his right hand and lets the unused condom fall from his grasp, watching as it lands on the bed. When he digs his fingers into the skin of your hips once more, the sensation spurs you to attempt moving. You start with slow up and down movements, only fucking half of his cock, unsure if you could manage the whole thing at once. But when you get a look at Bucky’s face, at the way it’s contorted with pleasure yet restrained as if he’s holding himself back, you know you need to give him more. So, you take a deep breath and begin lifting yourself off of his cock. Bucky’s eyes follow, so focused on the way you leave his cock glistening as you pull off of it. When only the head is left inside of you, you breathe out as you sit all the way back down. Fuck, it hurts when he’s all the way in but you don’t want to stop. God, you don’t want to stop for anything. You go again, trying the movement a little faster this time, earning a soft grunt from Bucky and a few bruises on your hips as his hold tightens more.

“Bucky, you’re too big.” You finally say, after sliding down onto his length the third time. You want to ride his dick and do as much of the work for him as you can right now, but there’s just no way. There’s no way you can pick up the pace and set a good rhythm when he’s so fucking thick and long that you feel him in your stomach every time you sit down. You don’t have the time that you’d need to adjust, you don’t want to make him wait for you to be ready for it. So, you need a new position. Bucky understands immediately. As much as he was loving seeing you fuck his cock all by yourself, his insides are screaming at him to take control and do whatever he needs to do to get himself off.

Bucky eases you down onto his full length one more time, simultaneously hating and loving the way you cringe once you’re fully seated. Then, in one quick, smooth movement, he captures your hands in his and tugs you down to his chest, before rolling both of you over so he’s on top.

“We can save that for next time.” Bucky promises, positioning himself so that the majority of his weight rests on his forearms on either side of your head. As soon as the words have left his mouth, you realize what he’s just said, but he doesn’t. He leans down and licks your bottom lip while you’re lying beneath him, with his cock motionless inside you, as you remind yourself that there will never be a next time. Bucky’s a fuckboy through and through, you’ve never known him to sleep with the same girl twice, and you can’t imagine anything about tonight is going to change that. “Are you adjusted?” He asks, pulling back from your face to look into your eyes. You bend your knees a little and take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you focus on your senses. No pain. You nod your head and let your hands ghost along Bucky’s sides.

“Are you always this gentle and thoughtful in bed?” The question sneaks past your lips before you can stop it, but Bucky chuckles as he begins to pull his hips back, sliding his cock out of you inch by inch.

“You think I’m gentle and thoughtful?” Of course he’d take your question as a compliment. Or…maybe not. Bucky shoots you a mischievous look before biting down on his bottom lip and snapping his hips forward, thrusting into you so hard that your back arches off of the bed and your breasts press up against the skin of his bare chest. He took it as a fucking challenge.

“I take it back.” You whine. You dig your nails into the skin of his back hoping to draw a little pain from him, but truthfully, he loves it. He begins slowly dragging his cock back out of you while you’re wondering how the hell he’s still so composed and restrained. “I thought being exposed to a sex pollen would’ve made this a quick, sort of desperate kind of thing.”

“Is that what you wanted?” Another snap of his hips and you’re filled with his cock again.

“I didn’t say that, it’s just what I expected. Does it not make you feel like fucking the shit out of anyone you can get your hands on?” Your fingers dance up his sides until they’re tangled in his messy hair. Another slow drag of his hips and you’re feeling nearly empty.

“It does, but like I said, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me.” He freezes with his cock halfway out of you. Your own eyes widen at your unexpected request. Where the hell did your filter go? You didn’t even mean it the way it sounds, you just meant that you don’t want him to keep holding back for your sake. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Bucky grunts, clearly turned on by the presumed meaning behind your words. He lowers himself down until his body weight feels like a warm, thick blanket covering every inch of your body. He’s giving you what you want. The talking part is over, you realize, as Bucky lets his forehead fall into the crook of your neck and slides his knees beneath your thighs, opening you up for him even more.

Then, he fucks you. He sets a rhythm and pace so desperate and unforgiving that every thrust causes the mattress to bounce you right back up against him. No matter how much he pulls out, you continuously feel the presence of his cock inside you. Every breath he breathes against your neck, every time his lips ghost over your skin, every needy grunt that meets your ears feeds you like a dose of ecstasy. The atmosphere is reduced to the sounds of skin on skin, panting breaths, and obscene curses and moans falling from parted lips. Bucky fucks you more thoroughly than he’s fucked anyone in the last two months. When he hears your moans increase in pitch and your breaths becoming more and more shallow, he drives his cock into you harder and deeper, making sure his name is the only thing on your mind. You give him no warning when your orgasm begins to tear through your body, but you don’t have to. Your cunt grips his cock so tightly that pulling out to thrust into you is damn near painful, so Bucky begins grinding into you, moving his hips in rhythmic circles. When your breaths begin to come a little easier, Bucky’s own release is threatening to spill over, so he starts to slow his hips and pull out of you. He isn’t wearing a condom and he knows this won’t be a small mess by any means.

But you, the girl next door, the girl who tastes like fucking strawberries, you slide your hands down and grab his hips every bit as harshly as he grabbed yours earlier, and you pull him further into you. An orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train. It wasn’t even the sensation of being inside you that sent him over the edge, as heavenly as that was. No, it was the fact that you wouldn’t let him pull out. The fact that you didn’t even let him wear a condom. The fact that you’re you and you’re so desperate for his cum that you’d hold him there and take it like you had a right to. After three seconds, Bucky’s surpassing a normal amount of cum, and both of you are fully aware of it.

“It won’t stop, fuck.” Bucky groans against your neck as he slowly ruts into you, trying to get himself through his orgasm. “There’s so much cum.”

“That’s okay, it’s okay, Bucky.” You whisper, moving your hands back up to his head and carding your fingers through his hair. “I can take it.”

Shit. He might be in love with you.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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catboyieejeno · 5 months

Text

seventeen reaction ˚୨୧⋆˚

⋆ hhu ver.

oddly specific details/key points of their relationship with you

cw: sfw, 'girl' is only mentioned once in wonwoo's, mentions a period once, and mentions showering together in mingyu's but it's not sexual, npr!

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungcheol

⋆ seungcheol, who refuses to wake you up when he leaves early for practice/schedules, no matter how much you insist that he should.

when you bring it up, he always promises you that he will next time, and in that moment, he really isn't lying! he fully intends on fulfilling your wishes and waking you up to let you know he'll be heading out; in fact, there's nothing he wants more than to selfishly wake you and bid you a proper goodbye each and every morning he has to leave for work. except on the day of, when his alarm rings at nearly six in the morning, his plans change completely. he spends the better part of an hour talking himself up to the grueling task ahead of him, reminding himself that you literally want him to wake you up.

after he's showered, gotten ready, and is moments away from heading out, seungcheol's eyes land on you, face poking out under all the blankets that you love hogging, cheeks smushed and drool gathering at the corner of your lip. that's when he realizes he doesn't have it in him to disturb your slumber, and he probably never will. ultimately, he breaks his promise, settling instead for leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek and a note or text where he expresses his apology and explains that you deserved the rest. secretly enjoys the earful he gets later, and makes it up to you so sweetly.

⋆ seungcheol, who doesn't let you lift a finger when it's not necessary: "don't worry, i'll take care of it."

it doesn't matter to seungcheol that everyone sees him as responsible and reliable—what really matters to him, is that you see it, too. has no problem with you being independent, but he definitely feels a healthy surge of pride at the prospect of being able to facilitate things for you. having you depend on him, or at the very least having you know you can depend on him for anything, is so important to him. no task is too grueling, and babying you is a partner privilege i can't see him not indulging in. the members definitely call him out for it if it ever happens in front of them, but he could not care less.

if your car needs an oil change, he'll go get it done while you're taking a nap so you don't have to worry about it later. if he notices any laundry piling up throughout the week, he'll do it while you run an errand so that you have one less thing to do when you get home. if you want to redecorate or renovate something, he's invested in your ideas, learning how build complicated furniture and polish floor tiles—anything it takes he'll do, as long as it means he can make you happy. very much an 'acts of service' kind of guy.

⋆ seungcheol, who calls everyday to check-in.

it might seem like it's the bare minimum, but when he works the job that he does and is as busy as he is, knowing that he puts time aside to call you throughout the day is so, so meaningful. especially when he's in a different time zone, staying up late into the night or getting before the sun so that he can wish you a good morning/night. always asks if you've eaten, what you're planning to do that day, etc. and he'll talk to you until he's confident that you don't feel neglected in any way. you're never a second thought to him, and he wants to make sure you feel like he's dedicating time and attention to you, even when he's not physically there to do so.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wonwoo

⋆ wonwoo, who replaces all of your favorite things the moment they run out.

the level of attention to detail he has for things involving you is both concerning and extremely endearing. he's so attentive to you and remembers all of the things you like and dislike. at the start of your relationship, it was pretty subtle: keeping your favorite drinks and snacks stocked up at his apartment for when you came over or buying a few pairs of shorts or sweats (since you’re obviously wearing his shirts) for when you’d stay the night. keeps them neatly folded in a drawer for you to wear on days need to cover up a bit more, like if Mingyu is around.

eventually, this evolves into restocking your favorite shampoo and conditioner when he's showered at yours and noticed you're out. same goes for your favorite perfume that's running low, and other house-hold things like your detergent or your favorite candle.

always makes sure you're taken care of during outings—brings hair ties and little battery-powered fans for hot days, and on cold winter days, opens his jacket so you can hug his waist and he can wrap it around you, swaying the two of you side to side. presses his cheek against yours to warm it up or kisses the icy tip of your nose.

⋆ wonwoo, whose love language is ambiguous

not only is he receptive to any love language you may have, he is somehow amazing at giving you all five (regardless of which one is your actual favorite).

gift giving? the most thought-through, special gifts for his special girl, as frequent as he deems necessary, too, because you deserve nothing less. quality time? one of his favorite things is sitting with you in a comfortable silence, making occasional jokes and comments to get you to crack a grin. a smile is his favorite look on you. acts of service? waters your plants, cooks for you, cleans or organizes things just how you like them so that you're at your most comfortable, massages your shoulders and feet after long days, runs warm, scented baths—you name it, he does it. physical touch? scoops you into his lap because he's obsessed with how warm you are, and the way your weight feels on him is so, so infatuating. likes leaving light and airy kisses on your cheek or pressing his lips into the crook of your neck. all of his kisses take your breath away, but the ones on your shoulder where he mumbles soft confessions of love are particularly awe-spiring. words of affirmation? don't be fooled by his quietness—he always has something he's eager to say to you, and if it's to pay you a compliment, there is no restriction to his words. loves telling you just how happy you make him, how pretty you are, how you're his safety-net and his soulmate and all of his favorite things put in one.

⋆ wonwoo, who sets aside time for you

you'd never have to ask him to put a book down or hop off a game. the moment you appear, he's putting everything aside to greet you and hold you and ask how you've been. if you're upset or sad, he'll glue himself to your side until you feel better. he seems like the type of person who feels very deeply for the people he cares about, so it's extremely important to him that you are always feeling your best, for his sake and yours. listens so deeply to your concerns and complaints for any matter—whether it's in an argument and you're sharing your views, or after a bad day at work where you ramble and rant about what went wrong.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mingyu

⋆ mingyu, who is impatient when it comes to you

he's understanding of the fact that the two of you cannot always be together, considering his career and the fact that you're also busy at times; regardless, he has an inability to be away from you for longer than a few hours. it’s endearing, his neediness showing in the form of longing text messages or voice notes where he whines and mumbles, “what are you doing? i miss youuuu,”

his impatience is also evident in person, like how he runs up to the door when he hears your keys jingling because he's that eager to greet you. most of the time if he's cooking or tasting something, you end up tasting the food on his lips because he's never patient enough to wait until he swallows a bite of food before he kisses you.

⋆ mingyu, who is so gentle and thoughtful with you

loves pampering you, whether its by scrubbing your shampoo into your scalp as he sits behind you in a hot bath, or getting up before you to bring you breakfast in bed. most of the time, showering together isn't even sexual; he'll hold you close and mumble soft compliments or talk about his day, wrap you in a towel when you get out, dry your hair for you, apply lotion, whatever your regular routine is— and he truly enjoys every part of it. if he comes home after you've fallen asleep, he'll make sure your phone is plugged in and any alarms you may need are on. finishes any tasks around the house you may have forgotten to do prior to your slumber, like folding clothes you left in the dryer or washing any dishes in the sink.

treats you as if you were made of glass, covering the corners of tables when you walk by or holding your hand while you cross the street. pouts while he takes care of you if you're sick or injured, cooing and bandaging your cuts and scrapes or insisting you take your medicine around the clock and rest (perhaps even excessively... you could have seasonal allergies, and he'll still scold you for wanting to get out of bed).

⋆ mingyu, who dedicates a section of his phone to you

loves candid pictures and loves your face. simple.

there's a hidden photo album on his phone with all the pictures he has of you and with you and there are various playlists dedicated to you, too. any song that reminds him of you is on a playlist with a cheesy name. another playlist consist of songs he knows you like or even thinks you might like. plays these for you on drives where his hand clutches yours and the windows are down.

if you're an individual who gets their period, he has your period tracker on his phone so he can plan accordingly and make sure he's extra sweet to you around that time. has recipes you like/he wants to make for you set aside in a pinterest board or bookmarked on his search page. also keeps your favorite shopping apps with the cart full of things you mentioned so he can get them for you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vernon

⋆ vernon, who can't watch shows without you

there's certain tv shows that he completely avoids unless you're there to watch them with him. even if the guys beg him to watch it, he'll refuse and lock himself in his room so there's no chance it might be spoiled. when he's with you though? a few nights of the week, the two of you sit down with snacks and sugary drinks to watch your favorite series together like an old married couple watching their nightly programs.

loves when you you curl up in his lap, both of you wrapped under one blanket with your head resting on his shoulder and his arms circled around you. his gasps and laughs and overall reactions are so loud by your ear but it's adorable and it's such a domestic and comfortable experience. it feels very familiar, and more often than not, both of you prefer this to going out.

⋆ vernon, who rests the best when he's around you

needs his afternoon naps, but specifically, he needs them with you. limbs tangled and light conversation before you drift off that just becomes slurred, pointless babbling. quiet snores and soft breaths take over as the early afternoon hours go by. just the warmth of having you near makes his heart so happy and his rest so fulfilling, especially before practice or after long hours of travelling.

it's a treat to wake up beside him after these catnaps, too. the sleepy features and tousled hair are so very boyfriend, and the way he looks at you when his eyes peek open is so cute.

⋆ vernon, who always tries new things with you

a yes man, any time, all of the time. whether you ask to go on a grocery run at two in the morning or a hike at dawn, he's saying yes. whenever you want to try something new, vernon is your partner in crime and your greatest alliance. he's not only your boyfriend, but your best friend, and it makes everything so fun. always puts a smile on your face, too. he's so goofy and easy going that it's difficult to not feel great around him.

enthusiastic and supportive when you wanna try new hobbies. always asks so many questions so you know he's interested and invested, and will get you any tools or resources you need to excel. trying new foods and restaurants is also high up on the list of things the two of you like to do. he might like keeping a little list of your favorite spots so he can find similar ones to try with you.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

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mattslolita · 2 months

Note

okay so idk if you’re taking request cs if ur not im soo sorry but i CRAVEEEE toxic babydaddy chris or matt like imagine yall imagine😔🙌🏾

dilemma - c. sturniolo

in which ... you can't stand chris's new girl in the picture, and you both realize how much you miss each other especially for your daughter. baby daddy!chris x black!fem reader

warnings : angst, toxic!baby daddy!chris, crying, smut, fluff in the end :3

"𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒅𝒐, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ

"alaijah baby, i need you to stay still, please!" you pleaded with your daughter, attempting to grip her unruly curls as she brushed her hair softly.

"mama, when daddy coming?" alaijah babbles, a soft smile on her face as she toys with the bottle of hairspray on the bed which keeps causing her to move around.

a lump forms in your throat at the question, but you attempt to give her a tight-lipped smile anyway. "I'm dropping you off my love, remember? we're getting ice cream on the way."

"ice cweam!" alaijah giggles excitedly, causing her to topple over the oil sheen which tumbles off the bed.

you groan and shake your head, losing the grip you had on her ponytail as you bent down to pick up the oil sheen — the thing that annoyed you was the fact that if it was her dad combing her hair, she was obedient with him. she never gave him problems when he was the one doing her hair, and it made you frustrated.

after picking the bottle up and setting it back down on the bed, you opened candy crush saga on your phone and handed it to your one year old girl, who happily took your phone and sat snug in between your legs.

with a satisfied smile, you begin to brush her hair again, thankfully having no more problems — that is, until your phone rings and you look down to see alaijah's dad trying to facetime you.

"daddy!" alaijah shrieks, a huge smile breaking out over her face.

you didn't want to talk to him, but you weren't going to deprive your daughter — so against your better judgement, you swipe up and accept the call.

"lay, hi sweetheart!" chris smiles at his daughter through the screen, and internally making your heart melt.

"daddy! hi!" alaijah giggles, scrunching her nose cutely as she waves at him through the screen, "miss you!"

"i miss you too, angel," chris says, his beam even brighter at the sight of her, "you ready for this weekend?"

"yah!" alaijah nods happily, poking at the phone, "daddy, say hi to mommy!"

rolling your eyes, you try to move yourself out of the camera's lens especially when you see chris's smug smile on the screen. "hi, momma."

you make a stank face at him and continue doing alaijah's hair, but the one year old makes a pouty face at you when she realizes you didn't answer him.

"mommy, daddy said hi!" alaijah presses, causing you to let out a sigh.

"yeah, daddy says hi," chris smirks, and you can feel your cheeks warm up despite the unwillingness of it all.

"yeah, hey," you said sharply, shooting him a glare through the screen as you're now getting started on alaijah's baby hairs.

"c'mon y/n/n, be a little nicer to daddy," chris continues, causing alaijah to giggle and you to groan.

you put your hands over alaijah's ears gauging a confused expression from her. "shut the fuck up, christopher."

chris just laughs and shakes his head as you uncover alaijah's ears, and she continues to look down at the screen excitedly — you continue watching as your daughter and chris talk for a little bit more, and you can't help but smile a few times at the way chris looked at her with so much love and admiration. it makes you wish you two had never broken up, otherwise you would've been a real family.

you pulled up to chris's house and sighed, looking at alaijah in the rearview mirror — she grinned at you excitedly as she seen that you both had arrived at her dad's house.

you quickly get out of the driver's seat of your car and open the back door on that side, unbuckling alaijah from her car seat and picking her up.

"daddy house!" alaijah beams excitedly, as you close the car door and move to the trunk where her overnight bag was.

"yes, are you excited baby?" you ask her with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and she nodded with a giggle.

her overnight bag was on your shoulder and you internally groaned as you made your way towards the front door of his house — alaijah immediately reached out to press the doorbell, and you could feel her excited nerves radiating from her which made you smile at her again.

you almost dropped your daughter from your hands when you saw what opened the door — a blonde woman who looked to be your age, dressed in skimpy ass clothing which had you heated. you could tell she had extensions in her hair, and you scoffed at how cheap they looked.

"can i help you?" she snarks with an attitude, a hand on her hip as she gives you a once over.

"i know damn well this bitch is not..." you scoff, shaking your head, then looking back up at her, "girl, i'm here to drop off his daughter. who the fuck is you?"

"i'm his girlfriend," she says, boastful smirk on her face, and your heart drops and your face visibly hardens at this.

"did i ask, hoe?" you say to her, taking a step closer causing her to step back slightly, "get the fuck out my way before-"

"what's going on?" chris's voice suddenly comes, causing your blood to boil. damn, he looked so fine.

"you better check your bitch before i do," you say to him, causing the blonde girl to narrow her eyes at you as chris pushes her to the side.

"daddy!" alaijah says excitedly, reaching her arms out for him.

"hi baby!" chris coos to his daughter, taking her from your arms as he brings her close to him, "i missed you!"

you watch the sweet interaction with a yearning heart, but you seeth when you see the way the blonde girl looks at him with just as much adoration as you do — chris looks between both of you with an amused expression, and you could just give him a right hook right now.

"look, my daughter's here, can you both not come for each other?" chris says with raised eyebrows.

you fully turn to face him now, crossing your arms over your chest. he takes your figure up and down unashamedly, and you try to keep yourself from smirking as you realize you still had that effect on him. "that broad better not go nowhere near my baby, christopher."

"still using that full name on me?" chris scoffs with an amused smile, shaking his head. "i'll see you sunday night, alright?"

you quickly leaned up towards alaijah to press a kiss to her cheek, caressing it as she smiled at you. "i'll see you soon baby, okay? have fun."

"bye mommy, i love you!" alaijah tells you.

"i love you more."

without waiting for anyone to say anything else, you make your way towards your car, giving your hips a little extra sway as you knew chris would be drooling as he watched you walk away. you were proven right when you went to get in your car and chris had definitely been watching after you. you smirked as the blonde girl gave him a look of disbelief at the action, and you drove away, still feeling angry upon seeing her in the first place.

sunday night couldn't have come fast enough — you were bored and somewhat lonely without the comfort of your daughter with you, but you were able to run a few errands.

chris texted you and told you he would drop alaijah back off at your house, and you scoffed and only replied with an "ok." you knew it would piss him off, but how could he be the one upset?

soon, a familiar engine lowly rumbled outside of your house and you felt somewhat nervous because you knew it was chris. you heard the car door open then close, and footsteps slowly approach your porch until a knock on the door sounded.

almost too quickly you answered, and your heart warmed at the sight of chris holding your daughter in his arms tightly, her head laid on his neck with her eyes closed.

"she's asleep," chris said, swiping at his nose then nodding towards her, "can i go lay her down?"

you nodded wordlessly, stepping aside so that chris could walk in with her. he knows your house like that back of his hand ( nevermind the fact he used to live there with you! ) — he makes his way to your room, but you don't follow him.

instead, you cross your arms and sit at a barstool at your kitchen table, tapping her fingers along your arm as you wait the treacherous minutes it takes for your ex boyfriend to say his goodbyes to his daughter.

he emerges from your used to be shared room and grins at you, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. "what the fuck are you looking at?"

"i know you're still mad, y/n," chris shrugs nonchalantly, taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

"boy what are you talking about?" you say with a roll of your eyes, crossing her arms tighter on your chest.

"you're mad about lexi," chris says, egging it on, as he knows you're seething right now.

"oh, so the bitch got a name now, too?" you say, scoffing and shaking your head.

"you mad cause i'm fucking another bitch?" chris smirks, and you whip your head up at him at this remark.

without any warning, you stand up and quickly walk over to chris, yanking him by the arm and pulling him towards the couch in the living room — she shoves the man back on it, immediately going to straddle him as he looks up at her with a smirk and an amusement in his eyes.

"y'know lay's asleep, right?" chris tsks, rubbing the sides of her bare thighs which caused goosebumps to raise on her skin.

"then you better shut the fuck up," you say.

you smashed your lips onto chris's, having been craving this feeling again for so long — his hands immediately went to grope your ass which prompted a gasp to leave your lips and chris to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

you grinded down against his hard on, which you felt poking through his jeans as it so desperately wanted to be free. never breaking eye contact with him, you lifted your his shirt above your head and threw it behind you, and chris went to unclip your bra causing your perfectly round breasts to spill out.

"fuck, i missed seeing your pretty tits, ma," chris groans, immediately attaching his lips to your left tit whilst he massages the other.

"mhm chris," you breathe out, throwing your head back as he switches, giving attention to the other tit.

you grind down on him again, making the both of you moan at the contact. "pull your pants down."

you get up and take your shorts off, also giving chris enough time to slip out of his jeans and boxers, revealing his large, veiny cock which already leaked with precum — your mouth salivates at the sight.

you pull down your panties revealing your wet cunt, to which chris lets out a groan and strokes himself, but you narrow your eyes at him and smack his hand away, going to hover over his cock.

your hands find their way to chris's shoulders, latching onto them as you slowly sink yourself onto him, pulling a moan from the both of you.

"fuck, you're so big!" you whine, the stretch burning being that you haven't felt him inside you in a long time.

"so tight baby," chris groans in your ear, guiding you with his hands.

once he's fully inside you, you begin to move back and forth on his cock, the veins in his hands now prominent with the grip he held on your sides. "fuck baby, just like that!"

"you feel so good, oh my gosh," you moan out, throwing your head as you pick up your rhythm, bouncing up and down on his cock.

chris meets you halfway, thrusting up into you pulling multiple whines from you as he hits your sweet spot over and over again.

"fucking me so good ma, i missed your pussy," chris moans, leaving sloppy kisses to your neck.

"m'close, christopher," you moan out, keeping your steady pace.

"yeah?" chris groans in your ear, "come on baby, let go fa me."

it doesn't take you long before your orgasm comes crashing through you, your juices spilling over chris's cock and a loud moan of his name falls past your lips.

this sends him over the edge too, and hot spurts of his seed spill inside of you, mixing your juices together. he helps both of you ride out your orgasm, then you quickly get off of him to catch your breath.

he pulls you back towards him and shoves a finger inside your pussy to keep his cum in there, eliciting a gasp from you as you look at him with disbelief whilst he grins at you.

"what the fuck?" you gasp out.

"need my seed inside you, so you know who's yours," chris grins at you.

he takes his finger out then stands up, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the bathroom — he wordlessly grabs a towel and wets it, and you can feel tears from in your eyes as he does so.

none of this meant it was going to last long — he was going right back to the same boyfriend he was before, which was the ultimate reason you broke up in the first place. but you couldn't help the way you still loved him.

"please don't cry," chris says, breaking you out of the trance you didn't realize you were in.

"why shouldn't i, chris?" you sniffle, as he wipes your legs delicately, "it's not like we're getting back together."

chris could feel his heart break at the words you said, causing him to hang his head — it was his fault, and he couldn't believe he'd ever let someone like you go. he was so scared of fucking up, that he fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.

"i miss you," you admit.

"i missed you even more, y/n," chris says, lifting your chin so that you could see in his eyes. and for once, there was a trace of sincerity in those blue depths. "i can't believe i broke our family up like this. i fucked up really bad, baby. but i want us to be a family."

"you mean that, baby?" you look up at him with a smile, and he wipes the tears away from your eyes, nodding.

"of course, ma. i love you so much."

he leans down and places a kiss to your lips — but this time it was sweet, but yearning. he missed both of his girls, and he was glad he had them back.

after cleaning you up chris grabs your hand again and leads you towards the bedroom, where alaijah is sound asleep in the middle of where you both used to lay.

you climb on side and chris on the other, and as if sensing the presence of her dad, alaijah moves towards chris like a magnetic touch, and he puts his arm around his daughter looking down at her with nothing but love and admiration.

you smile at him with your head propped up on the pillow, and he looks at you — he affectionately taps your nose, causing you to giggle as you take his hand, placing a soft kiss to it.

"goodnight, baby," you tell him, and he leans in to place another kiss to your lips.

"goodnight, my love," chris says back.

you get under the covers with them, moving close towards alaijah in the process to wrap your own arm around the girl, too — chris places another sweet kiss to both of your foreheads, finally at peace knowing he was with his number one girls again.

lil💌

two fics in one night, who is she😳🙏? i hope y'all enjoy this, i love u so much muah💌.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333

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slvttyplum · 6 months

Text

✮⋆˙ oil change | toji fushiguro

synopsis: this mechanic wants to get paid, but in another way

contents: lowercase spelling, not ethical, car sex, fem nicknames, smut.

getting an oil change was hell; it always ended in you paying extra for something you didn’t need. you couldn’t even speak up because you weren’t sure about all the parts.

that’s why you started going to stanley's; he’s a friend of a friend and works on the dirt road with three other friends.

he never scams you and even gives you little touch-ups for free.

“you’re a pretty girl; let me do this for ya.” he’ll say it every time, and you’ll always oblige. as long as he didn’t touch you, all is well.

it was that time again—the oil change. as much as you appreciated this new place, the drive down was hell.

the road was extra rocky as you pulled into the parking lot. a man outside pouring something on the ground, his head turning, and your eyes meeting.

shit.

you quickly divert your eyes and turn off your car. your eyes slide back up, and you notice his attire.

he works there; oddly, you’ve never seen him.

grabbing everything out of the car and walking inside the small building, the smell of garage and gasoline.

miles, a long-time worker, flashes you a smile while tapping his pen.

“didn’t think i’ll see you so soon. what do you need, princess?” his eyes flicking to the computer, then back at you.

“i’ve been on the road a lot, and i realized it’s time for another oil change.” a sweet smile on your face.

tapping his pen some more, he writes something down, then begins typing on the computer.

“stan’s out today, so i don’t think he can do it.” a sigh releasing between his lips, you’re almost devastated until you remember he gave you a voucher.

“ah, he said i can get it free this time since i helped his daughter with something.”

miles looks at you, then back at the computer, a smirk crossing his lips.

“mm, you’re a sweet girl. i hope you’re not lying.” shooting you a wink, he rips off the piece of paper he was writing on and walks outside.

just the basic information and what not, you begin walking to the side of the room where the chairs are, but a tap on the shoulder stops you.

“oil change for pretty girl?” a deep voice sending chills down your body, for who?

you turn around, looking face-to-face with the man you saw outside; his build is strong, and he has a grumpy look on your face.

awe, how cute.

“sorry?” you say, your hand balling up the paper and the other slipping in your back pocket.

“miles, he said that’s what they call you."

your eyebrow lifts up, and you chuckle to yourself at the name. how corny can men be? but hey, free service is free service.

“oh yeah, here, i’m sorry.” you quickly unball the paper, giving it to him, his big, rough hand sliding over yours.

he slides his thumb over yours as he takes the paper, his eyes squinting and reading it as he looks back at you.

“aight, give me 15.” he says, walking off, his broad shoulders and back pressing through the uniform, he was fine as hell.

you walk over to the seats, flopping down, crossing one leg over the other, and resting your elbow on the small table beside you.

the bell rings from the garage door as the dark-haired man walks in. your eyes flicker to his face, then to his name tags as he walks closer.

“toji…” you mutter out. he’s standing there holding out the paper, a black streak on his face and his hands covered in debris.

“here, i heard this one is free, but i don’t know how i feel about that.” his hand running through his hair as he stares you down.

your mouth is open, and you’re stunned, not really planning on spending money and not really wanting to, but then again, he was the one who did the change, not stanley.

“that’s fair, toji, was it? i can give you a twenty.” you take your purse from around your arm, digging in it, and he shakes his head.

“nah, nah. you can me in another way, mama.” his body coming a little closer, hiding all the light from the window that was in front of you.

your eyebrow lifts up when you see he’s a little too close, shifting up in your seat and clutching your purse.

“like what?” your voice echoed off the walls of the small enclosed space.

a scoff escaping his lips as he puts a hand in his pocket and leans down, his lips near your ear.

you’re so nervous that you’re almost shaking.

“you look too good to pass up; i just wanna have a little fun, yeah?” the silence after his words sends a chill down your spine.

your eyes were staring at him, and a tiny sparkle could be seen setting in your pupil.

a pen could be heard dropping; did you even want that? clearing your throat, you quickly stand up.

your body is directly pressed against his. startled. you try to step back, but his hand is too fast, sliding around your waist.

the silence between you two is suffocating, but yet again, it was arousing. a light scent of his cologne whiffing by.

"okay," you say, your back straightening as he slides his hand down. a smirk can be seen if you look closely.

“after you, princess.” his voice was low and deep. you move his hand off your waist and into your hand as you walk to the parking lot.

you slip your keys out of your purse, unlocking the car door. his body hangs over the door as you slide in, his elbow resting on top of the car.

“car sex, classy.” he chuckles, getting in after you, slamming the car door, and immediately unbuttoning his attire.

the windows were tinted, so it calmed your nerves, but the fine man in front of you made your heart race.

sliding off your shoes, you feel your pants unbuttoning. looking up, you see toji undoing them for you, sending butterflies to your stomach.

“i can do it," you say, pushing his hand off and unzipping your pants.

he laughs, pulling off the t-shirt he had on under, revealing his greek-sculpted body.

with his skin glistening from sweat and his abs sitting up just right, clearing your throat, you finally slip off your pants.

“knew you had something nice under there.” he blurts out, pushing off his jumpsuit, now completely naked with nothing but his briefs.

“i could say the same.” you say, slipping off your shirt, completely forgetting you had on no bra.

his mouth hangs open but quickly returns closed when you cover them, he licks his lips, leaning forward.

“no need to be shy; i’ll take good care of you.” his quiet whisper making you feel tingly, like a waterfall forming in between your thighs.

damn, were you that easy? no, no, no.

his hand comes up, caressing your sides, slowly inching towards your hips, leaning closer towards you.

your face moves on its own, and before you know it, your lips are connecting, your soft lips hitting his instantly and moving in sync.

his head turning to the side as he kisses you deeper, his tongue swiping over your lip and instantly moving in.

a sensation between your legs being made, and you let out a moan into his mouth, your eyes darting down seeing his hand in between your thighs.

quickly shutting your eyes and getting immersed in the kiss again, his large, rough hand gripping your hip.

spreading your thighs out, letting him in. his finger swipes down your slit, then to the side of your panties pushing them to the side.

he disconnects the kiss, sighing, leaning up, and picking up both your legs, causing you to gasp.

“these are getting in the way.” he puts both your legs up, having them lean on his hand as he slides your panties off.

the air instantly hitting your heat as you let your panties fall on the floor, the warm heat hitting your cheeks with embarrassment.

maybe this was a bad idea. you try to lean up, but toji leans down, placing a kiss on your lips, then your jaw, wet kisses all down your body.

he stops at your stomach, looking directly into your eye; your throat is dry with nervousness.

he pushes your thighs back, looking directly at your cunt, sliding a finger down your wet slit, causing you to let out a tiny moan.

“a little taste can’t hurt, right?” before you could even answer, hes leaning down and placing a kiss on your warm pussy.

even his kisses felt good, the butterflies swarming in your stomach. he takes a swipe of your pussy causing you to shiver.

sliding a finger over your slit a couple of times, then sliding it in with no warning, a moan escaping your lips.

“don’t wanna be too loud; that’s if you don’t wanna get caught, princess.” his words sent a pleasurable tingle down to your heat.

your hand arm reaches down, and placing your hand on his head, he looks at you, smirking, before swiping a long, wet stripe over your slit.

he leans in some more as his tongue swipes over your clit, pushing his finger into you some more.

taking another swipe of your slit, he curves his finger up and pushes it further back, his lips pursing and forming an o shape as he sucks on your clit.

“fuck…” you moan out, your hand balling into a fist as you grab his hair.

he keeps sucking your clit for a few seconds before leaning up, his body almost pressing against the roof.

leaning down, he grabs his uniform and digs in the pocket, pulling out a condom. you squint your eyes while reading the wrapper.

you swallow hard, eyeing him down, his black hair hanging low and his dark eyes looking down at the wrapper as he pulls it to his mouth and bites off the top.

he quickly slides his briefs down, his hard length plopping on his stomach, the tip passing his stomach.

toji laughs when he notices your shaken expression, carefully lining himself with you and slipping on the condom.

“no need to look like that; i told you i’ll take care of you, yeah?” your eyes flicker at him as he leans down and slowly pushes himself into you.

“wait…” you try to finish your sentence, but he’s already pushing himself into you. he leans down, placing a kiss on your lips.

you wrap your arms around him, and he puts one hand on your waist, the other balancing himself on the side of you.

you can feel him getting deeper inside of you, his warm lips taking you in whole.

he slowly disconnects from the kiss, placing a kiss on your jaw and then your chest, sliding his tongue over the same spot, then sucking.

a soft moan escaping your lips as the tingling sensation from the sucking and him getting fuller inside you.

his eyes never once left your face, making you nervous. no hesitation, he slides out of you and thrusts into you with full force.

“FUCK!” you scream out, your arms sliding off his neck and your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

that doesn’t bother him; he continues sucking your chest, taking all of you in and pushing into you deeper.

he slides his tongue over to a new spot on your chest, sucking there, another moan slipping out of your pretty mouth.

when he slides out of you again and pushes back into you, your eyes bulge out, feeling a sharp sensation of pleasure deep inside you.

“go harder, toji.” you whimper out, he doesn’t hesitate, and he goes even harder, pushing into you deeper.

your head pushing against the car door, he grips the seat as your nails dig into his skin.

he leans up, a spitstring from your chest and his lower lip connecting, his eyes sliding down to your lips.

he leans down, pushing his lips into yours hard as he pushes into you deeper; this time you could feel it even better.

the pleasure heightened, your eyes sliding back, nothing but darkness and blank white spots scattering around.

you couldn’t see anything, but you could feel how close he was—your lips connecting, his wet lips combing with your soft ones.

“you feel so fucking good," he grunts out, pushing deeper inside you. the car slightly shaking, causing your head to push into the door.

his pace gets faster, your walls clenching around him, taking in everything he’s giving you, and your body feeling light.

his body slamming into yours and his flesh combining with yours was everything; your body felt like it was on fire, getting drenched out with water.

pushing into you again, your walls clench around him tight, your body jolting, and a knot deep in your stomach falling.

a loud moan ripples into toji’s mouth as he pushes deeper inside you, giving your sweet spot a kiss.

“tell me… tell me you want him.” he grunts out, trying to slide out your tight, wet pussy. the grip he had on your hip tightened, his fingernails digging into you.

a soft moan escaping, you squint your eyes and open them, his still on you. he places a kiss on your jaw and leans into your ear.

“i want you… so tell me you want me.” he says, his voice still deep. he slides out of you, then back into you, a cough erupting from your throat.

he leans back to your face, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips. your eyes are low and dark, and a tiny tear drop in the corner of your eye.

all you can do is nod. you felt too good; you couldn’t ruin the moment with words. he was close; you could feel the veins on his dick pulsing against your slick walls.

all he could do was laugh, but he couldn't. the pleasure bubbling inside of him couldn't, and a final thrust sends the both of you over the edge.

your toes curl, and your fingernails dig into his skin, along with his whole dig into your hip. he places a final kiss on your jaw before pushing his chest against yours.

his grip on you loosening, your body shutting down, your hands falling to the side, and your eyes closing.

the silence was sharp but comfortable. you slowly opened your eyes, and his head was laid against your shoulder.

his hair was disheveled and his breathing heavy; you could see his eyes closed and no discomfort in his body language.

he looked cute. before you could get any more thoughts out, his eyelids flickered open, and your eyes diverted elsewhere.

laughing, he slowly leans off of you, pushing his hair out of his face and picking up your panties and handing them to you.

the both of you get dressed up in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other.

“when you come back, i’ll give you services for free.” he says, buttoning back up his uniform, his eyes locked on you.

your eyes lift up in surprise as you flatten down your hair, a smile sneaking on your face.

“no need. thank you for the oil change." you say, putting your purse in the front seat.

you’re about to open the car door before he grabs your arm.

“let’s grab a bite, dinner, whatever; let me take you out.” desperation coating his tone. you smiled and let out a chuckle.

“sure, toji, text me; my number should be in the system.”

with that, he went back to work, and you went back home with a stupid grin on your face. whatever happens, happens.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

older! eddie x fem! reader

summary: when your bf skips town /‘s you can’t pay your rent, you put on your best outfit and knock on your landlord’s door begging for forgiveness

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the Eddie edit

w/c: 3.8k

t/w: 18+ ONLY —heavy smut, degrading, hair pulling, mouth fucking, choking, edging, switch!, daddy!kink

He was an asshole to extraordinary proportions. A life full of mold covered lemons would do that to a person. You were nervous, to approach him. But something told you he’d hear you out— listen to you. Maybe even be sympathetic to your pleads.

Yeah right.

As if he were made of anything but pure hatred. Toxicity swirled in his veins, his poisoned skin covered by decades worth of tattoos; all dark and sharp edged.

His peppered scruff balanced out his naturally soft eyes. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A scowl that would make any resident of Forest Hills Trailer Park think twice about crossing. But you were left with no choice. When Trey had ditched town with the human bicycle Chrissy Cunningham, you were short on rent. Bills were tight, and you often ate in the dark, or by candle light. Anything to save a bit of money.

And that’s what led you here. Standing at your landlord’s door. Putting on an extra swipe of lipgloss, making sure to curl your hair, and wear a low cut tank top, the only push up bra you owned, and some cheap lashes from the mall— you knocked politely on the sun faded door. Hoping for some sort of a miracle that Mr. Munson would take pity on you.

One knock. Nothing.

Another. Still nothing.

It’s not until you are slapping your hand into the door that a voice behind you startles you nearly out of your too short skirt.

“What’d’ya need?” He’s covered in motor oil and grease, standing below you on the dirt and sparse grass covered ground, wiping his hands on a once red rag, a ring of sweat around his white tank top, bandana wrapped around his head, cigarette hanging gingerly from his slack lips.

He remembers the day you had moved in, it was freezing cold in early February. All by yourself, moving things one at a time in a shitty old Buick he hadn’t seen around since his high school days. He wanted to offer his help, something he didn’t give to anyone. But something about the way you smiled as he showed you around the dingy shithole of a trailer, voicing your opinions on what could be spruced up, made him hate you a little bit less.

Everyone in the park knew not to bother Eddie. He was a grumpy, mean son of a bitch and his patience was rail fucking thin. The Johnson’s dog went missing? No shit, he was the one who called animal control to come and pick it up, fucker had fleas and probably rabies. Can I paint the kitchen? Fuck no. The sink isn’t working at lot 8. Call a mechanic. And just for the annoyance he upped their rent $100.

Seeing you on his steps, dressed like that, sparkly tits, and your bra showing through your tank top had his dick twitching in his pants. Of course you were a smoke show, and he was honestly surprised to hear that ol’ what’s his face ran out on you with Chrissy Cuntingham. Her shit had been rode hard and put away wet more times that could be accounted for. Bitch still wore her homecoming tiara and had her green and orange pom poms in the back window of her car— despite the fact that graduation was more than 25 years ago. Worse than an alleycat, and smelling like one, Chrissy mostly kept herself busy by buying the minors alcohol or showing her many “party tricks” to the bachelors of the park. Sitting on his porch, smoking a joint like he did every night, Eddie took note of the black jeep that showed up every Thursday outside trailer 6, a graying head of suave douche boy hair could only be one person, Jason Carver.

He took note that your trailer, right next to his, was full of screaming and yelling when your boyfriend was home. A noise all too familiar in the trailer park, bouncing off Eddie’s ears like birds chirping.

But when he was gone? The window to your bedroom would be cracked open ever so slightly, propped open with the soft cover of Stephen King’s IT. The kitten purr of a vibrator and your delicate moans sang out to him. A siren amongst lonely fishermen, calling out to them in song of entrapment only to eat their souls, bodies never found amongst the dark sea bed. At first he thought it was wrong to listen, wrong to hear your pleasuring yourself, but he had sworn he heard his name on your lips, more than once. Fisting his cock angrily to your voice, your wet mouth, swollen lips from him sucking on them, pretty little pussy aching for him. He didn’t need playboys anymore when he had your face to imagine. And imagine he had.

What would your sweet pussy look like wrapped around his cock? Would you swallow his load down your throat if he asked, demanded you to? Sweet thing like you wouldn’t have to worry about anything if you were his. The choked laugh after he finishes all over his hand makes him shake his head at the idea. He didn’t know your age, old enough to be on your own but definitely not 45 like he was. Visions of your sugar plum tits bouncing in his face as you rode him on the itchy couch in his living room, lulled him to sleep most nights.

He saw a peek of a tattoo on your side when you were hanging clothes on the line. Your body drove him in, his eyes melting around your curves, the swell of your ass in the jean cut off shorts you wore. When you saw him staring you waved him over, a devilish grin on your lips, a wanting sparkle in your eye.

He knew your type, trouble. And oh fuck the trouble he would love to be in. He’d never volunteered to fix anyone's appliances. But your silky saccharine voice had him calling a mechanic in a few days time, would have been sooner if he could have tore his eyes away from your tanned legs, but he kept those extra days all to himself, whimpering at night with a sore cock your name on his breath. It had been seven months of you living next door, your vibrator turned on like clockwork every day your boyfriend left for work.

And now here you are. Looking at him with “fuck me” eyes and a glossy smile on your lips. Those same lips purring out pleasantries about how fuck face left you and you were needing an extension on rent. The swell of the summer sun hit your cheeks, making you glow like some love sick angel on his steps. He was fucked. And soon— you would be too.

“So what?” He tried to gamble, tried to keep his hard facade, “an extension and then what’s next? You’re gonna tell all your little friends that I give hand outs to the needy? Oh no doll, not today.”

He pushes his way around you and into his trailer, the pungent smell of too strong incense burns your nostrils as you hold the door from him shutting it.

“Please, Mr. Muns—.”

“Eddie,” he grumbles.

“Eddie, please— I’m begging you,” the glimmer of a tear welling in your eyes, your voice dipping low into an almost whisper as you made your way inside, shutting the door behind your back and feeling around for the lock, “I’ll do anything.”

Eyes dripping of sex appeal and lust, you tip your tongue to the center of your top lip, eyeing his tightened jeans and you swear you see his dick twitch beneath the stretched denim.

Cock at full alert he shakes his head, his head dipped low and eyeing you up and down, lip bit between his teeth. A low groan in his throat, he talks in a gritting whisper, “Don’t start something you can’t finish sweetheart.”

“Oh I plan on finishing, big boy,” you hum walking towards him, devilish grin planted on your lips, “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that, will we daddy?”

Fuck. Not even touching you yet and Eddie is rock hard, he could probably cum if you asked him to. Thanking a higher power that he wasn’t twenty anymore, he’s got years of stamina built under his worn leather belt. “You’re about to write a check your ass can’t cash doll, you sure this is what you want?”

“stop talking,” you breath, inches from his lips, he can taste the peach flavored lipgloss on his tongue, “and fuck me.”

Not needing any more of an okay than that, Eddie turns you around in a swift motion, a gasp escapes your lungs and he catches you before you stumble over your heels. He drags your hips down into him, your ass round and luscious on his stiffened length. He rips the neck of your tank top open exposing the mountainous swell of your chest and your cheap K-Mart bra. Pinching your laced nipples between his rough fingers, he rolls them like joints as his hot mouth assaults your neck, painting you, he sucks bruises into your neck, licking them better with tiny flicks of his satanic tongue and ending in a bite, marking you as his.

Pushing your ass into him you can feel his cock. His achingly girthy length has you soaking your panties, dripping wet just for him. His smokey smell is mixed with sweat as you angle your neck back against his shoulder, moaning into him as he sucks like a vampire into your neck. His stubble rubbing against your skin.

“Eddie,” you moan breathless into the humid air of his trailer.

He groans, your body pushed tight against him has his head spinning, drunk off your touch. Grabbing your skirt and yanking upward. Dripping in anticipation, your panties could be wrung out, your arousal pooling from the center and beading slowly to the ground. He hisses and hums when his finger first skates along the slick of your panties with a schlick, “fuck, all this for me doll?” He’s playing now, his thick fingers moving in lazy circles around your clit, your creamy pussy clenching desperately on nothing, you nod with a whimper.

“You gonna make all those pretty little noises I hear from your window once that dumbass you let fuck you leaves the house every day? Hmm? Didn’t think I could hear did you?” His cocky bravado kicks his cock up on your ass, sending a moan through your body as you rub deeper into him.

Quite the opposite actually

Purring into his neck you lick the expanse of skin he’s showcasing. Blowing hot on the slicked spit from your tongue, you rotate your hips to angle his fingers better on your clit, the sensitivity rolling like an electric current through your veins.

“I did it on purpose,” you confess breathlessly as Eddie’s fingers stop. “Watching you stare at me for months, I knew you’d touch yourself over me.”

Eddie groans gutturally twisting your body into the front door, back hitting the broken shades with a thud. In milliseconds he is on you, hot tongue lapping up your neck and biting with enough force to break skin. No time to be patient to have you undress for him, he shoves your skirt up tipping your panties clean off. Your exposed pussy shuddering with his blown breath on your slick core. His devilish eager tongue expertly licks and teases your clit. Humming with each jerk of your body as the sensitivity makes you squirm. Tongue wiggling inside of you like an eel, your hands are gripping his hair for dear life, yanking at the roots like you’re pulling weeds. Your thigh is on his shoulder, the leg on the ground begins to shake as your first orgasm rips like a tidal wave through you. Head thrown back against the door, moaning loud enough for the entire park to hear— you don’t care.

Your noises stir Eddie’s arousal even more. Whimpering as he grip him impossibly tighter he a broken, “fuck,” into your folds as he goes back for seconds, “you’re gonna get me into trouble, pussy so fucking sweet.” His lips are wet, your arrival shining like pretty lipgloss allover hos chin and lips. Already spent from the teasing and the damn breaking, Eddie hikes you up over his shoulder, your bare volumtuous ass bouncing with every step. He throws you onto a king sized bed, unmade and reeking of weed. Rolling papers on the night stand along with several lighters you aren’t given much time before Eddie kicks his jeans off, boxer briefs do him justice as his cock jumps to his belly when he unthreads his legs from them. Pearly beads of pre cup drip from the thick head.

Eddie leans forward and places a thick hand on your neck, your vision blurs and returns with each grip he threatens and releases his teeth biting your lips, slow drops of blood seep from his bites, he licks the wounds clean.

“Havent used rubbers since the 80’s and I won’t, so are you on the pill or are we ending this right now?”

“Pill,” you warble, chords of your neck strained against his hand.

“Thatta girl,” he praises, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “I’m gonna fill you up full with my cum you’ll be leaking it out for hours.. maybe days.”

Tears sting your eyes at the thought of his glorious pearly cum deep in your walls painting them pretty, “please daddy, I need it.”

Eddie grins, “so needy baby, you want this cock?” he asks, flicking it through your folds, a noise resembling macaroni and cheese is blasts from your core, he groans deep, “so fucking wet,” his lip is almost bit in half with how he’s trying to hide his excitement, “I’m gonna wreck this sweet pussy so you won’t be able to walk home.”

Whimpering like a bitch in heat, Eddie flips you over, angles your ass up, slapping each cheek hard enough a red hand print sized welt develops almost immediately, he pushes all of himself into you, bottoming out as you moan and cry thanking God in your head as you’re split open, a welcomed pain. Spit soaks his sheets from your mouth when he pulls out, “oh you can take it, honey, don’t fucking quit on me.”

“I’m n—,” gasping loudly when he spits harshly on your ass. Rubbing his thumb against the pink button. The new sensation brings color to your closed eyes, stars and shapes of all size float in your closed mind, your pussy clenched harder around Eddie as you whine his name.

“Yeah?” Eddie moans, “told you daddy would take care of you, that needle dick can’t make you feel like this can he?”

you try to choke out a ‘no’ but no noise comes out, your head is thrown back violently as Eddie grabs your hair in one hand and pounds mercilessly into you.

Eddie is grunting with each slap of his heavy sack against your clit, “this is what you came here for right? Bad girl can’t pay her rent so she came to fuck the owner in exchange?” His taunting only makes you wetter, makes you clench his harder as you come undone for the second time. Screaming his name until you’re breathless. Panting and sweating like you ran a marathon. He gives you one more deep thrust of his hips and watches you fall forward.

“Look at the mess you made you little whore,” Eddie spits, venom laced words on that glory filled tongue, as he drags you by your hair to look at his soaked cock, “lick it up, want you to know how fucking sweet you taste.”

Eddie flips you over like a rag doll, positioning you the way he wants. Head dangling off the mattress, Eddie groans as he jams his cock into your throat, holding it there and choking you simultaneously. He reached to the night stand and grabs a black small vibrator placing it on your clit. The vibrations make you moan and choke around his length and against his hand. Eyelids fluttering shut you’re positive you can’t breathe, just when you’re about to pass out he brings you back, letting you breathe for a few seconds, chuckling to himself as you enter the hazy bliss of intoxicating euphoria. Your body convulses under his. Begging for a third orgasm, you can taste the earthy tang of your release and Eddie’s pre cum mix on your tongue.

His girth fills your throat completely, barely leaving room for your own tongue in your mouth. He’s dripping sweat onto your own body you can feel it slip from your belly button down into the curve of your neck. Eddie's hair is swaying in conjuncture with his hips slamming home against your face. Using your mouth like his own fist has you soaking the sheets, clit over stimulated, a deep bruise settling inside the soft silk of your velvet folds. A bruise you’d wear proudly for weeks to come.

Slapping your face as you gag lightly, mind steadily focusing on the jerking of your legs and the vibrating pulse of your cunt. Eddie shushes you reassuring you, tauntingly “someone too big for their britches huh? Work through it, sweetheart— that’s it, fuck good girl,” he chokes a whimper down his own throat as your tongue swirls around him. “Christ, swallowing what I give you, such a good girl for daddy.” Eddie thrusts one more deep cant of his hips into your mouth groaning deeply when you hollow your cheeks. Letting you breathe freely.

“You like that? Like me using you like a worthless fucking toy?” Eddie lifts you up to his face by your hair, kissing your lips delicately, you nod and whimper as he harshly sucks and nips at your neck leaving purpling marks in his wake.

Unabashedly you scratch your long nails into his chest, leaving your own mark on him as he groans against your skin. “My turn,” you whisper as you crawl into a standing position in front of him. Kissing him sweetly and pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, he whimpers at your touch. A tantalizing smile radiates across your lips. Eddie Munson a switch? Who knew? Pushing his shoulders backwards he falls on the bed, curtains of curls cascade around him and his face is turned up in shock then to a satanic grin.

Wiggling your tight skirt down your body you stand in only your heels.

“Fuck, you are a goddess.” Eddie groans, stroking his thick length in slow rhythmic motions as he stares at your body shamelessly, you climb towards him on his messy sheets between his legs your poor abused throat sore and bruised from his animalistic fucking.

His chest is littered with tattoos both old and new, faded and blown out lines mixed amongst sharp edged fresh ones stark against his pale skin. Blistering red lines decorate him from your nails earlier. Knees on either side of his hips you slot your pussy lips against his needy thick cock, sliding forward and back again, your hands on his chest for leverage. Leaning up on his elbows and moving you both backwards so he can rest his back against the headboard, he scants forward to kiss you but you push his forehead away dumbly.

Tsking and using few words to speak with a hoarse voice you whisper, “no touching.” Grinding your hips down into him, pocketing his cock in your slick folds like a sword in a sheath, you lick a stripe up his neck and land at this ear, your pretty moans singing to him like a demon seeking a naive victim. His hips jump with each roll of your own, desperate for relief he whimpers and whines as he’s close and you retreat. Starting all over again. After the third go around his bangs are stuck to his forehead, cheeks warm with a frustrated, worked up blush as you edge him again and again.

“Mmm’ fuck that’s a good cock daddy,” you moan as you come hard on his cock again making a mess yet again, he groans as you milk him for all he’s worth, your creamy pussy clenching against him, and your denial of his release is too much for him. “you wanna come for me?”

Eddie nods in spent anticipation, practically tearing up from being so worked up and being able to release himself. “Please— I can’t,” he groans, as you start grinding on him again, only this time you give in, hugging him in a pinky sheath of gummy walls and slick floors. “Christ,” he melts as you bounce atop his cock, dragging your hips backward and forward helping him hit the spot you so desperately craved from him. His thick hands are on your hips moving you to his liking, a pebbled nipple in his mouth makes you cry out his name as he pumps into you holding you still.

He slaps your ass, “I’m gonna come, shit, fuck!” He hums your name as hot ropes of his thick release coats your walls and floods out you don’t stop riding him, coaxing every last drop out of him until he’s hissing through his teeth as his softened length falls out of you, hot, reddened and aching.

Eddie pulls you to him, kissing your neck and scooting you both down the bed. “Think you’re my favorite tenant,” he laughs as you lay motionless on top of him, both breathing heavily.

“Jesus, I’d hope so, but maybe Miss Richard’s comes over here to get some money knocked off her rent,” you tease, tracing circles into his spotty chest hair, “heard she’s real pretty in her nightgown, just gotta be careful of her poligrip.”

He laughs again, smacking your ass, “you’re a fuckin’ brat y’know that?”

“And you’re a filthy fucker, quite the pair I’d say,” you spit before biting his chest.

Eddie yanks you by your hair to look you in the eyes, “not every day a pretty baby like you comes knocking on my door to rattle my cage and get free rent. But I’d like if you came over more often, that attitude needs adjusting.”

“oh really?” you question, hand under your chin like you’re bored as you roll your eyes, “and your old ass is gonna be the one to tame me huh?”

You spend a greater part of the night bent over Eddie’s knee, his studded belt in his hand as he whips you again and again. Tears spill from your eyes, and coat his thighs. Eddie’s sadistic ass only grins, a joint hanging limply from his lips, shushing you softly, “don’t cry honey, I told you your ass wouldn’t be able to cash that check.”

👅 I’m gonna go touch grass now

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #older!eddie #mean!eddie munson #daddy!eddie munson #landlord! eddie

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maxfirstappen · 5 months

Text

KISS YOU STUPID - J.P

james potter x fem!reader . fluff

just pure fluffy fluff because i’m lonely and touch starved :D sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. feel free to leave feedbacks, enjoy!! <3

——————————————————————————

You winced, hissing softly to yourself as a small splatter of hot oil hit your arm. The pain dissipated in no time but you made a mental note for yourself to be more careful. The smell of stir fried black pepper beef filled your cozy kitchen, making you smile. This was James’ favorite cooking of yours. His eyes always lit up whenever he so much as catch a whiff of it.

Your boyfriend had been on a short trip with his parents to celebrate their 22nd anniversary. As much as he persuaded and insisted that you come with them, you declined the offer.

‘Darling, please—’

‘James, it’s your parents’ anniversary. I don’t want to intrude.’

‘Intrude, what nonsense.’

‘They would want to spend it with you, their one and only child.’

‘Technically you are their child, mum keeps saying you might as well be her daughter, remember?’

‘Are you implying that we should just be siblings?’

‘Well, no. I would never snog a family member the way I do it with you—’

‘James.’

You chuckled at the memory.

You turned off the stove, deeming it to be perfectly cooked. The doorbell rung once. Twice. Then it was just repeatedly ringing, the person probably pressing the button over and over again quickly. You chuckled, because who else could that be other than your lovely impatient boyfriend.

You had just barely pulled the door open when he basically lunged at you and caged you into his warm body with his arms. The suitcase that was presumably in his hand, slammed to the floor with a thud. You giggled into his chest, tightly wrapping your arms around his torso, reciprocating the action.

“My angel, I’ve missed you so much. My sweet sweet princess.” James repeatedly kissed the crown of your head. He thought his knees might give out as he caught a whiff of that familiar scent of your shampoo after a whole week without it.

You lifted your face from his chest, tilting your head up so you could see him. Then you grinned. James almost fainted. “I’ve missed you too, Jamie.”

James wasted no time, he leaned in and captured your lips in his. Your eyelids fluttered and then closed as you lost yourself in the kiss. His hands were everywhere, tangled in your hair, holding your waist, running up and down your back. Your stomach erupted with butterflies. As you tilted your head to get a better angle, the scent of his skin filled your senses as your nose bumped to his cheek.

You pulled away with the intention of telling him of the little meal that you’ve prepared for him.

“Jamie, I made—”

He chased your lips and sealed it with another kiss, making you chuckle. You let him. When you thought he had enough,

“I prepared—” His greedy lips were on yours again.

You began to feel lightheaded, from the passionate kiss or from the lack of oxygen, you weren’t sure.

“James,” you muttered into the kiss. “Let up.” You tapped his arm. James finally pulled away, panting heavily. You two wore matching smiles on your faces.

“Sorry, love. I just missed you. And your kisses.” James looked somewhat sheepish, although he still had that cocky tone in his voice.

“It’s only been a week, James.” You chuckled, amused.

“That’s basically like a year.”

“Stupid.”

“Yeah, I am. And I’ll kiss you til you are too.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #marauders #harry potter #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter blurb #the marauders #prongs x reader

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cypressmoons · 8 months

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wriothesley is observant.

some may attribute his attentiveness to the nature of his job, having to keep an eye on the antics of the prisoners to maintain the fortress’ order.

but if you ask him, he’ll only dismiss it as a habit, a necessity, something he barely thinks about but always finds himself doing anyway. whether it’s remembering the name of a prisoner’s daughter, or avoiding that one squeaky floorboard in the hallway outside the infirmary, he pays no mind to the how behind his knowledge, but rather the consequences of them.

perhaps it really is a habit from his job. but what he doesn’t acknowledge is that he only pays attention when he cares. he had personally escorted the prisoner in question to the fortress, his daughter too young to understand why her father is going away for a long time. despite the complete lack of sympathy towards the prisoner - he did that to himself, really, wriothesley feels a duty to ensure the small child still holds a fond image of her father, being escorted away by two nicely dressed men rather than by a horde of mechanical gardes. he cares for the child, her name a reminder to uphold the law and justice he swore his life to.

he remembers the creaky floorboard not to avoid the unpleasant sound, but rather because sigewinne once mentioned that the high pitched squeal of metal scratching against metal was especially harsh on her ears. he can’t say to the other people entering and leaving the infirmary, but for as long as the maintenance request paper remains buried under the mountain of other things needing fixing, he will make sure to avoid stepping on it, even if he is only one of a hundred people passing the infirmary that day.

and to you, oh how he cares for you.

he remembers the exact shade of your eyes when you met him by the fountain of luciene, specks of gold highlighting your pupils in the bright sunlight. he remembers the scent of your hair when he pulls you into an embrace for the first time, not quite flowery but so sweet that he can smell it in his dreams. he remembers the ring you wore on your left index finger when he held your hand, a thin silver band with a small moon-shaped crystal, gleaming under the sunlight that once illuminated every colour in your eyes.

you prefer the petits pains au chocolat over the mille feuilles because you love the slight bitterness of the dark chocolate on your tongue. your favourite beverage from café lucèrne is a latte with extra foam, and more than once he has kissed away the bubbles that cling to your lips after that first delightful sip. you dislike foods of different flavours touching each other in your plate, absolutely despise touching door handles and elevator buttons, and are especially fond of the colour sarcoline.

he savours the taste of your lips, between his own and tasting like honey; the feel of your hair sliding through his fingertips, silky and soft like the clearest spring water. he memorizes the shape of your skin against his palms, every little breath and hum, the contour of your body fitting so perfectly with his own.

he pays no extra attention to the whys, but somehow always ends up knowing exactly what you want without ever having to ask you. when he finally returns to the surface after days spent underwater, he always makes sure to grab some freshly baked pains au chocolat from the bakery, the butter seeping through and leaving oil blots on the brown paper bags. the new ribbon he buys for your hair is a soft ivory yellow, almost colour matched from the walls of your home and the fabric of your favourite dress.

and when he sees your smile that can brighten the entire underwater fortress and chase away the storm clouds, he knows he would spend a thousand lifetimes by your side until he memorizes each and every part of you.

masterlist | inbox

#moon’s writings 🔖#favoniuslibrary #genshin impact #genshin x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #idk why my paragraphs are so long #and idk how to make them shorter #sorry

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torasplanet · 6 months

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❝𝙈𝘼𝙆𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝙀 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙉𝘼 𝘿𝙊 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙄 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿𝙉'𝙏.ᐟ❞

S. SANO + RYUGUJI!F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; fucking your little brother's role model while they're just outside is probably something you shouldn't do but shinichiro was just so cute that you couldn't help it!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, public sex?, oral (m receiving), backshots, p in v, slutty!reader kinda, reader is draken's sister, shin being pussy drunk, loser!shin, kinda short, smoking, unprotected sex, shin's weak ass pull out game, reader skin color not mentioned

marls notes 2 u(*´▽｀*) ; one of my all time fav tr writers liked my rinnie post AND reposted it(≧∇≦) !! literally had me giggling and kicking my feet yall :3

The sound of the bell ringing as the door opened gained Shinichio’s attention as he worked on a bike in the front of the shop, he looked up to see who walked in and the cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth with how his lips parted. There stood probably the most beautiful woman Shinichiro had ever seen, you. You stood there with the sunlight shining behind you like you were an angel staring at him with a delightful look on your face, his eyes trailed to your side seeing your little brother, draken standing right next to you with your hand on the side of his head pressing his face into your lower torso as an act of affection but he had an annoyed look on his face obviously not enjoying it.

You must’ve been his sister, draken did say you might come around one day because of how worried you were about where he was going all day after school “You’re Shinichiro right?” You asked tilting your head slightly while you both continued to stare at each other, shinichiro’s cheeks turned a bit red as he continued to gaze at you and your body “Uh yeah.” The smile on your face grew at his response, his voice was hot. He was hot and his voice matched it, you decide then that you need him.

“Cool, I told Kenny I had to meet you or he wouldn’t be able to play.” You said nodding slightly, draken frowned at your comment and began to grumble something about how they weren’t ‘playing’ and how he told you not to call him that in front of people but you didn’t care. You were too busy staring at the Sano man who still hadn’t broken eye contact with you, the only time he did was when his eyes trailed down to your chest. Shinichiro put down the wrench in his hand and looked at draken “They’re out back.” He told the small blonde boy who almost ran out the door before he remembered to look at you asking for permission silently, he knew how strict you were about asking for permission “You heard him, go.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, draken quickly ran out the front door circling the building shouting for Mikey and announcing that he was here which made a giggle escape you as you broke eye contact with the black-haired male to watch your brother.

Shinichiro reached for the rag that was draped on the handle of the bike as he used the opportunity of you not looking at him to observe your body and drool at how your clothes hugged your shape so perfectly “So uh, what’s your name?” He already knew your name, Draken told him but he wanted you to tell him.

To start a conversation y’know?

“[Y/n].” You said watching as the scrawny man wiped his hands free of any grime or oil that had come from the bike, you slightly bit your lip at the sight of his veiny pale hands as you walked closer to him very slowly “That’s a pretty name.” Shinichiro said taking the cigarette out of his mouth before putting it out on the floor he was kneeling on and tossing it behind him, he’d remind himself to clean that up later but right now, he wasn’t moving an inch away especially with you getting closer to him.

“Thank you, y’know shinichiro’s a pretty name too.” You said smiling widely at the compliment and how Shinichiro chuckled lowly at your reply, he was so cute! Him calling your name pretty shouldn’t have meant that much to you because it was just a simple compliment but for you...it was enough to let him fuck you in the back room of the shop after only a few minutes of small talk.

Your hands planted on the flat table black oil getting all over them as you rocked back and forth making the table shake and your breasts that were held by your lacy bra bounce, Shinichiro’s hands held a firm grip on your hips as he relentlessly pounded into you moaning and groaning about how good you felt while he eyed your smooth back as it arched with every harsh hit to your cervix “F-fuck! Shin…!” You moaned out throwing your head back while trying to keep yourself steady while you stared up at the tools propped up on the wall above your head with your lidded eyes full of lust and small tears, it was just so good.

Your shorts were discarded somewhere on the floor along with your panties and shirt leaving you only in your lacey black bra which Shinichiro was dying to rip off, your legs were shaking as you tried to keep standing and not fall to the ground and Shinichiro’s were too, fuck he hadn’t had sex in a while and his legs were cramping but he was not stopping at all. You felt too good for him to stop now “S-so good…! Mhm, f-fuckkkk, baby.” He moaned out running a hand up your smooth back making shivers run down your spine, your face nearly hit the tools on the wall from how violent his thrusts were but you continued moaning like a porn star like your brother, his brother, and their other little friends weren’t outside of this shop right now hanging out. You almost felt guilty for doing this whenever you occasionally heard the fits of giggles and yelling that came from them, key word, almost.

You heard a lot about Shinichiro Sano, the former leader and creator of The Black Dragons. Mainly from your brother who clearly looked up to Shinichiro a lot and he didn't deny it, he told you how he thought Shinichiro was cool for his motor skills but everything else you heard was how he was a loser who got no girls, how he spends most of his time in his shop working on bikes and you were expecting an actual loser, an ugly guy, and thought that this meeting would be short and you’d be quickly to leave but when you caught a glimpse of what he looked like the moment you stepped through the door. You knew you weren’t leaving, not without something from him like his number anyway. You were getting much more than his number.

It didn’t make sense to you how this hot man didn’t get any girls. No one wanted this man? He was hot, and cute, and god did he know how to fuck but their loss, more shin for you;)

“Ow! B-Be...ngh...careful!” You whined through your pitiful moans as Shinichiro delivered a harsh slap to the fat of your ass, he opened his eyes and looked down at you with sweat bullets running down his forehead and nearly closed eyes “Sorry...fuck, beautiful, just–ugh–can’t get enough of ya’.” He responded retreating his hand back to your hip, your hands flew up from the table and onto the wall and the tools covering them in the thick black oil that your palms were coated in. Your cunt tightened around him as you let out a large high-pitched yelp, god you haven’t even known him for twenty minutes and you were already nearing your edge.

But what you didn’t know is that Shinichiro had been holding back for a while so you didn’t think he was a loser for cumming so fast, he was going to wait until you came but this wasn’t really that effective on his part because it’s like holding back and the warmth of your throbbing cunt killed most of the brain cells he had, he wasn’t thinking, there was nothing to think about other than this magnificent pussy of yours. Shinichiro didn’t care about his brother and his stupid friends, he couldn’t give a single shit if they walked in here right now, he’d probably keep going.

Your lips parted forming a small ‘O’ as you breathed heavily “Shit, shit, shit! M’...cumming!” You shouted with your nails digging into the tools on the wall causing you pain but the pleasure overrode it. These words were like the lottery to him as he looked up at the ceiling seeing stars as he felt you cum all over him, he wanted to pull out and spray thick ropes onto your back and that stupid fucking bra he couldn’t take off but he couldn’t and ended up cumming inside, it’s not like he was incompetent, it was just too hard to see anything with the white spots he was seeing.

“Oh my fucking god.” The sano male muttered as he looked at your cunt leaking a mixture of your cum and his own, you were so damn beautiful and his cock sprung up once again when you turned your head to look back at him with a tired face, you glanced down at your back which you expected to be covered in cum before looking at him once again with a tired and evil smile growing on your face and it made him wonder what you were planning to do or say. What he was about to hear would probably put his loser ass in a fucking coma. “Want more.” His eyes widened at your statement and he looked at you like you were crazy.

You needed more of him, you couldn’t just settle for some sloppy backshots! You didn’t expect him to cum inside of you but now that he had, you craved more. More of his dick, you felt like you would die right here if you didn’t “Huh? More?” Shinichiro questioned as he watched you turn your body around before you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him with your legs spread slightly, his dark eyes lowered down once again gazing at how his cum continued to seep out of you and onto the ground with some smeared on the inside of your thighs. He made eye contact with you and you were looking up at him through your lashes with a sweet look “If that’s…okay with you?” You said continuing to look up at him from your spot on the floor completely ignoring his cock that was in front of your face.

Shinchiro wasn’t that lengthy but what he didn’t have in the length department, he made up with his girth, and boy did you feel all of that thickness when he plunged himself into you. It was like he was re-shaping your walls “Y-Yeah, of course!” Shinichiro said more cheerfully than he wanted to as you put your hands on his clothes thighs as his pants were only lowered a bit, he loved the idea of going at it again but that bra…he wanted–no, he needed it off.

“But, can…can you take off your bra?” He requested nervously making you smile and giggle a bit, he was acting like a virgin! Maybe he was but there was no way a virgin could fuck that good. You hummed in response before reaching your arms back and undoing your bra strap before letting it fall to the ground in front of you and Shinichiro’s mouth was agape at the sight, he was definitely rock hard by now “Glad to see you think m’ pretty.” You said looking at his dick that was standing up straight practically sitting against his lower abdomen, you reached to grab it but remembered the oil all over your hands, Shinchiro didn’t. He didn’t care if you covered his cock with that oil, he just needed you to touch him “Forgot about the oil, sorry.” You said quietly wiping your hands on his jeans before lowering your mouth onto him taking him in with no problem whatsoever.

His head flew back with his black hair springing everywhere “Fuck, m....my god.” He moaned as his hand flew to your head as you bobbed your head up and down, your nose pressing into the messy nest that was his black pubes with your hands remaining on his clothed thighs “God, are you always this straight-forward?” Shinichiro asked looking back down at you trying his hardest not to moan as he got that sentence out, you giggled on his dick sending vibrations to it before you pulled off momentarily to reply.

“No, just f'you. You were too cute, couldn’t resist.” You didn’t even give him a chance to respond before you were back sucking on his cock like it was oxygen, you weren’t…really a whore but you weren’t exactly a virgin mary either. But you never let a guy do this much on the first time you met, hell not even the first week but Shinichiro was special, he was really cute and his dick was too! You had no issue being his little cock whore.

Shameless moans and sucking noises echoed into the atmosphere and Shinichiro began to get dizzy and he was seeing stars once again, Jesus, you were really trying to suck his soul out of him weren’t you? Though he wasn’t complaining, not at all and his pathetic whines and groans were evidence of that. “Fuck! Wanna cum on...y-ou. All on you, will you let me baby?” He wailed with a tight grip on your head as he felt your tongue swirl around his cock and his bright pink tip, you nodded and hummed not removing your lips from around his cock enjoying the taste of yourself and his cum that was left on him. He felt a smile growing on your lips as his back arched slightly at the vibrations you were sending to his dick.

God, he was cumming already and you knew it. You wiped your right hand all over his pants to get rid of any oil that was left on there before removing your lips from him with a thin string of saliva connecting you to his tip. Your hand replaced the warmth and moist place that was in your mouth as you began to jerk him off while looking up at him smiling at his moans and his red face.

The sano adult eventually came and came all over your face and tits, he tried to regain a steady breathing pace as he looked down at the beautiful sight that was you as you scooped some of the cum that was on your chest before popping your finger in your mouth humming at the taste. He continued to gaze at you even when you looked at him.

“So, wanna go on a date?”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

#shinchiro sano #shinchiro x reader #shinichiro sano smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #torasplanet.ᐟ #marls-fics.ᐟ #tokyo revengers shinichiro #shinchiro sano x reader #manjiro sano #ken ryuguji #fem reader #smut #tr smut #◛⑅·˚shin;3

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muchosbesitos · 6 months

Note

Miguel smut but it’s him getting pegged and making him the one the moaning mess.

Like he thought it was just going to be one time thing but he’s moaning, whimpering, ripping the bedsheets with this talons as he arches his back for you. Eyes rolling back, He loves it. he won’t admit it of course he has to keep the pride he barely has now but deep down he wants you to do it again. You’ll have to fight tooth and nail for him to admit it and hell even beg for it.

I need to see that man be a moaning mess‼️

giving you control

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: use of the traffic light system, oral (f and m receiving), anal fingering, pegging, orgasm denial, fingering, missionary, doggy, aftercare

word count: 4k

"You couldn't have gotten another one?" He inquired as he held the pink sparkly strap-on in his hand, the toy barely sizing up his pinkie finger. "With your attitude you're lucky I didn't get the twelve inch tentacle one. Look at how pretty this one is, it even lights up!" Your answer had come out more enthusiastically than you'd intended, your hands clasping together in excitement.

"And who said I would've been against the tentacle one?"

"We'll have to explore that at a further time then."

"Such a shame."

You'd suggested the idea to Miguel a bit over a month ago when he came back from a particularly demanding mission, exhaustion evident as he found his way into your arms. He expressed how tired he was of having to be in control of everything in his life, of having to weigh everything on his shoulders. "Then let me be in control for once," you'd told him, referring to the sexual part of your relationship. You hadn't meant with any ill intent, but you could tell that Miguel didn't feel comfortable letting go of that control so easily.

Despite the overwhelming amounts of pressure he was feeling in his life, he felt like he needed to be the provider in every aspect. "No, it's okay. Can you just hold me?" He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you like a lifeline. You wished he would allow you to give you a release from his urge to be in control, but you didn't push the subject too far since he'd end up shutting off. So you just held him that night, your hands tangling up in his soft hair as you gave him piojitos. (head scratches)

You'd pushed the thought to the back burner of your mind, so it was a surprise when Miguel approached you when he got out of the shower asking for you to take control tonight. You could notice the toll that his job was taking on him- making him much more irritable than usual, the dark rings under his eyes from countless days at HQ, and the way that his shoulders tensed up with every movement he made. "You sure you want me to do that?" You asked him, turning the tv down to make sure you heard him correctly. He didn't respond verbally, simply giving you a small nod.

Which is how you found yourself showing him the strap-on you'd bought last month. "Just remember that this is for you, okay? We'll use the traffic light system and don't think for a moment that you're gonna be hurting my feelings by stopping me," you told him, placing the toy on the side of the bed. "Sounds good," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Alright, let's ease you into this. Lay down on your stomach."

Miguel stripped off his clothes, laying down on his stomach in the bed and you walked over to the nightstand on the side. His eyes followed your every moment, slightly narrowing when you pulled out a bottle of essential oil. "I'm gonna give you a massage first. Your body's all tense and i need you to relax," you explained, pumping some of the oil onto your hands before rubbing it on his back. Your finger glided against his shoulder blades, your palms pressing in slightly to provide just the right amount of pressure.

You worked on his upper back muscles, his body visibly relaxing under your touch. You worked on the kinks and coils of his back, the oil providing a soothing aroma as you worked your way down. You couldn't help but squeeze his left butt cheek as you made your way down his legs, a giggle escaping from your lips at his grumble. "How's it feel?" You asked him, rubbing the oil onto your hands before spreading onto his calves. "Your hands are like a work of art, really. Could use a little less ass squeezing though," he told you, his voice coming out muffled from the pillow underneath him.

"The ass squeezing's all part of the deal, baby," you responded, rubbing his calves with both hands. "Is that for all your other customers too?" He asked, his tone sounding more playful than when the night began. "Nah, this whole thing's just for you. I'd say you're pretty lucky," your response elicited a dry chuckle out of him followed by a soft moan as you rubbed away at one of his pressure points. You continued with the massage, gently applying some pressure with your palms while you worked out the knots in his leg.

He'd turned over after you finished working on his backside, his eyes shut as you worked on rubbing his arms. "How do you work out with all this tension in your body?" The question came out of you unexpectedly as your hands gently squeezed around his biceps. "I like to feel as much pain as I can while I'm working out, great motivator to get me to finish my reps," he responded, a teasing tone to his voice despite the frown on your face. "You gotta take care of yourself, Migs. You're so busy taking care of everyone else that you forget about you."

You managed to ease some of the tension in his body after twenty minutes, working on his chest and back had been your main concern for the night. You retreated to the bathroom, washing your hands as you cleaned off the residue from the essential oil. You placed the bottle away, replacing it with a bottle of water-based lube on top of the nightstand. Your lips placed small kisses across Miguel’s chest and neck as you moved down his body, taking your time.

You made your way down to his cock, already finding it semi-hard before you'd even had the chance to start. You decided to tease him a little bit longer, your lips pressing small kisses along his inner thigh before making their way up to the tip of his cock. "Do me a favor and get this all wet for me," you told him, handing him the toy from the side of the bed. He grabbed the toy from you, pressing it against his lips for a moment before his mouth engulfed the tip.

You took that opportunity to lick along the slit of his tip, precum already starting to leak through with every swirl of your tongue. You closed your mouth around it, licking on the underside before swirling your tongue along the top. One of his hands came down to the back of your head, labored breathing filling up the room as he took the toy in his mouth. You looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours and you could see them slowly start to water the further that he pushed the toy down his throat.

"Spread your legs for me," you requested, his legs almost spreading immediately at the sound of your voice. "You're doing so good," you told him, your hand coming up as one of your fingers gently ran along his puckered hole. You circled the outside, almost as a way to get him prepared for the initial intrusion. You pushed your finger inside, looking up at him to gauge for any negative reaction. "Oh shock," he mumbled, his hole clenching around your fingers. You moved your finger inside slowly, letting him getting accustomed to the sensation before retracting it.

You took his cock in your mouth, pushing the length deeper inside of your mouth as your finger worked on stretching the hole out to prepare him. "Oh right there, so good mami," his voice came out trembly, almost a whimper as your finger curled up to find his g-spot. You ran your tongue across the veins on the side of his cock, your finger working in a 'come here' motion to hit his prostate. You took his length in deeper, almost gagging on it as your cheeks hollowed. His cock twitched in your mouth, signaling his impending orgasm while his mouth opened up to release small whimpers.

You pushed another finger inside his puckered hole, knowing that despite your efforts, they wouldn't be enough to prepare him for the toy. Your fingers worked in a scissoring motion as you attempted to get the hole to open while spit dribbled down your chin as you sucked Miguel's cock. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I’m gonna cum," he repeated like a mantra, white ropes of cum shooting down your throat a few seconds later. "Did I give you permission to cum?" You asked him, wiping some of the cum that dribbled down to the corner of your mouth.

"No, I'm sorry. I'll behave," he spoke up, the toy that was in his mouth disregarded to the side. "Should just stop it right here, let you finish yourself off in the bathroom," you told him, grabbing the bottle of lube and the toy, lathering some of it on before squirting the liquid onto your hand. "NO!" He practically yelled after you finished speaking, clearing his throat afterwards. "I mean, I’m sorry. just.. keep going. It won't happen again," he added in a much lighter tone, his voice cracking a bit at the thought of having this time with you cut short.

You rubbed the liquid on your hands onto his hole, making sure that the process of getting the toy in would be as painless as possible. You put it on, making sure that it was a snug fit as Miguel moved a bit downwards on the bed. You got on the bed, getting on your knees as the toy circled around the entrance, teasing him.

"Para de joder. Just stick in it, please," he spoke, his voice coming out hoarse while his eyes met yours. (stop fucking around) "Patience is a virtue, Miguelito," you responded, the tip of the toy coming inside of him slowly. "Not a virtue I have time to learn right now," he muttered, letting out a small hiss as you pushed it in deeper inside. You'd managed to get a good third of the toy in before he asked you to stop, to give him some time to get adjusted to the sensation. You held his hand in yours, bringing it up to your mouth as you gave him a small kiss. "You're doing good, don't worry."

"Chingada madre," he huffed as the toy bottomed out, his hole clenching around the intrusion. You retracted the toy, pushing it back in as all the air left his lungs. Small whimpers erupted out from his mouth as you thrusted inside of him, taking him slowly but deeply. His hands came down to the silk sheets you'd set this morning, his talons coming out when you started to speed up. "What color?" You asked him, making sure to check in with how comfortable he was. "Green."

The ripping of the fabric combined with his whimpers, drool running down the side of his chin. "I just put down those sheets, Miguelito," you noted, deciding to poke a bit of fun at him. "I'll buy as many damn sheets as you need," he responded too quickly, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the remnants of the sheets. Your hand came down to his cock, taking it in your hands as your thumb traced the slit. You looked over at Miguel, his lower lip caught in between his teeth as his fangs poked out. "Let me hear you, Miguel. You don't want me to stop, do you?"

Miguel released his lip from the hold he had it in, moans making their way up his throat as you began to pump his cock. "Please don't stop. Making me feel so good," he practically whimpered, tears rolling down his cheek from how good he felt. You retracted the toy, your hips snapping against his ass as you pushed it in. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, retracting both your hand and the toy just as soon as he going to come. His hips bucked up, seeking the warmth of your hand only to be met with nothing. "What the hell was that about?" He demanded, his cock twitching from the loss of your hand. "You'll get your orgasm, don't worry. Flip over."

Miguel got down on his stomach, his legs spread apart as his ass hung in the air. You took some more of the lube, squirting the liquid onto his hole. "You really should do this more often, you look so pretty like that," you told him, a small grumble coming out of him in response. "This was purely an experimental experience," he responded, letting out a mixture between a moan and a whimper as you pushed the strap on inside. "How's the experience so far? For research purposes, of course," you asked him, your hands coming down to his hips for some stability. "Pretty good so far, though the researcher can be a bit mean."

You bottomed out inside, the new position making Miguel feel like the tip of the toy was hitting his stomach. You retracted and your thighs practically clapped against his ass when you pushed the toy back inside of him. You placed one foot on the bed, adjusting the angle to thrust into him deeper. His talons scratched at the pillow near his head, cotton exploding all over him as drool dropped down from his fangs to his chin. You'd never imagined that your strong, macho boyfriend would be moaning out for you to fuck him harder, his eyes hazy as you thrust deep into him.

"Right there, coño. Don't stop," his voice came out ragged the faster you fucked into him, Needy moans being elicited from him with every thrust. His back arched when your hand came to pull on his hair, his eyes rolling back when you brought his face in for a kiss. You complied with his request, your hips maintaining the steady pace. You looked down to see Miguel fucking his cock into his hand, precum leaking through the tight fist.

Miguel’s hips began moving with yours at the same pace, his hand tightly wrapped around his cock while you thrusted into him. He started blabbering incoherently from how fucked out he was, begging you to keep going. "Please please," he pleaded, his voice cracking as he distributed the precum leaking out throughout his length. "What are you asking for, hm? Use your words," you responded, watching while he clawed at the sheets in frustration, the ripped shreds being torn apart even further. "Please don't stop. You're fucking me so good, mi amor."

His legs began to tremble when you angled the toy to hit his prostate with every thrust, the pleasure becoming too much to bear. "Can I cum? Please let me cum. I behaved," he pleaded, his head tilting back to meet your eyes. "Hold it in a bit longer for me, okay?" You told him, his shoulders visibly slumping as you continued to thrust into him. His hand moved up and down his cock at a rapid pace, a tight fist formed around it. His eyes met yours again, silently pleading for the release he was seeking. "You can cum, Miguel."

The amount of cum released seemed to be never ending, ropes of it just shooting onto the sheets. You retracted the toy slowly, taking it off afterwards before you went into the bathroom. You cleaned off the toy with some soap and water before grabbing some toilet paper to clean Miguel up. His chest was heaving as he laid on his back, eyes drooped as you wiped away at the cum leaking onto his thighs. "Thank you for letting me do that, you did so good for me. You took it well," you told him, leaning into kiss his forehead before stepping back into the bathroom to discard of the paper.

You were expecting Miguel to fall asleep by the time you'd come back, but he was hurriedly leading you onto the bed and laying you on your back. He nestled himself in between your legs, his hands splaying on both your thighs as he spread your legs wider. "I thought you were tired," you mused, your hand coming up to his hair as you played with the curls at the ends. "I am, but it'd be rude if I didn't make you cum at least once," he responded, his mouth leaving wet kisses on your thighs. "I wasn't expecting anything out of that, you know?" You told him, but it landed on deaf ears as he slowly made his way to your folds.

His tongue prodded at your hole before he stuck it in, immediately tasting your slick. His eyes were locked directly on yours, his stare almost defying you to look away as he fucked his tongue into you. Your grip on his hair tightened as he licked his way down your folds before coming back up to your clit, circling the small nub. Your moans replicated his earlier ones, silent pleas escaping from your lips while your hips bucked up to meet his eager lips.

Slick ran down from the side of his mouth down to his chin when he brought his mouth down to your folds once more. Your walls clenched when you felt his tongue brush up against your g-spot, your thighs closing in on both sides of his head as you trapped him in there. Not that he minded, of course, he could spend hours just devoted to eating you out and giving you the orgasms that you deserved. His finger replaced his mouth, his mouth now enclosing around your clit as he sucked and swirled his tongue.

"Keep going, right there," you moaned out, your nails practically digging into his scalp when his fingers curled upwards. Your slick coated his fingers as your pussy clenched around them, your legs starting to quiver from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was giving you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he moaned, the vibration released making its way down your body. You couldn't help it as your hips started to thrust up into his mouth, fucking yourself onto his mouth.

The dam inside of you burst quickly, your release coating Miguel’s fingers completely and some of it leaked down your thighs. He collected it to the best of his ability when he pulled his fingers out, not willing to put any to waste. His mouth closed around them, sucking every drop that your body had to give. Almost like it wasn't enough, he swirled his tongue around your folds just to make sure he'd done an efficient job at cleaning you up.

Your eyes flicked over to him, seeing how eager he was to give without expecting much in return. You got up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom, putting in the drain plug before filling up the tub with warm water. You silently hoped that you hadn't pushed him too far tonight, that he'd had a decent time. After the tub filled up, you decided to put in a light-scented bath bomb before calling Miguel over.

You could see the relaxation visible on his face as he sat in the warm water, the water soothing every ache in his legs. You got in after him, his hands instinctively wrapping you around his body while he enjoyed the tranquility of the moment with you. "Did I hurt you at any moment?" You asked him, your voice tainted with concern as you tilted your head to look up at him. "If you would've hurt me, I would've told you," he responded, helping you up after the bath bomb finished dissolving.

You squeezed some soap onto a rag and lathered it across Miguel’s body, making sure to treat him carefully with every stroke that you took. If he had any stress remaining after your session together, he didn't seem to show it. His eyes shut as he enjoyed the sensation of having your hands all splayed out throughout his body, enjoying the feeling of being taken care of for once. He did the same for you, applying the soap with care as he lathered it across your body. His hands wrapped around you as the two of you stood under the shower stream, tilting your head up to meet his for a kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips melted against his perfectly, tasting some of the remnants of your previous orgasm on his tongue. Your hands wrapped around his neck as the water washed off the last bits of soap that lingered on your bodies. You got of the shower first, handing him a fluffy white towel to wrap himself in when he got out. You'd made sure to check up on him throughout the remainder of the night while you two watched TV, asking him if he was okay or if he needed something.

Miguel would never admit this to anybody, not you and not even himself, but he enjoyed the way that he felt when you were thrusting the toy deep inside of him. He'd more than enjoyed it, really, having the most intense orgasm up to date that night. But the reality was that he'd told you that it'd only be a one time thing, something purely experimental, and despite having those feelings of longing towards having you dominate him, he'd never push his pride to the side. He couldn't help but feel a certain emptiness inside of him every time he masturbated, the fist wrapped around his cock did little to satiate the need inside of him.

Miguel thought that it was just a result after experiencing the toy hit his g-spot, so he'd attempted to recreate the experience using his fingers and the toy on himself. Even with the ropes of cum that splayed onto his stomach, he still couldn't shake off those feelings of emptiness deep inside of him. Every orgasm just left him feeling even more depleted than when he started, the longing feeling outweighing the feelings of euphoria.

You couldn't help but feel a little guilty when Miguel started to distance himself from you, feeling certain that you'd made him feel insecure or had hurt him during your encounter. You'd tried to approach him and ask him what was wrong, but he typically just told you that he was okay or he simply chose not to respond at all. With every passing day that he ignored you, the guilty feeling inside of you arose but you decided to give him so space. You figured that he would come to you whenever he felt ready rather than taking the risk of having him shut off completely.

A week had passed since the original encounter and you couldn't help but notice that Miguel had become more frustrated, more irritated with each passing hour that he spent with you. Not only that, but his coworkers had also been complaining about how much more agitated he'd been, questioning your ability to keep him happy at home. You were laying down on your shared bed, watching a TV show while you patiently waited for Miguel to come back home from HQ in order to confront him. The ticking on the wall clock made you feel anxious, each tick feeling like you were awaiting something bad to happen.

"Miguel, can you tell me what's wrong? You've been grumpy this past week," you asked him a couple minutes after he came home, hoping that he'd had enough time to cool down. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine," he responded, his hand gripping the tv remote so hard it could snap. "Please? I'm really worried about you," you requested once more, hoping that he'd take the opportunity to divulge what was going on with you. "I miss you fucking me with the toy," he mumbled under his breath and your brows furrowed as you tried to figure out the meaning of the words.

"Can you repeat that?"

"I said I miss having you fuck me with the stupid toy."

Your eyes lit up as you sat next to him, your hand gently grazing up his thigh before you tilted his chin to look at you. "All you had to do was just say so."

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florencemtrash · 6 months

Text

Wedding Invitations

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: Y/n and Miguel take the day to distribute wedding invitations to the Spider-Gang. But in the midst of all the congratulations they forget to tell a very important member of the wedding party...

Warnings: Fluff, Spider-Gang family dynamics, Miguel's got a touch of baby fever

Author's Note: I FINALLY got around to writing this Miguel x Reader oneshot that's been in my WIP dump for ages. This can be read on its own, or as a continuation of my Hummingbird series.

Masterlist of Masterlists

________________________

You blinked around Spidey-HQ, buzzing with excitement and armed with a stack of cream-colored envelopes. The cards within had the following words printed in lacy gold lettering:

Miguel O’Hara and Y/n L/n Invite you to join their wedding celebration on Saturday, October 15, 2105 at 4:30pm St. Javier’s Cathedral 115 Hammond St

You’d visited Pavitr first, finding him tucked away in an alcove on the top floors where he went about carefully oiling his hair.

“FINALLY!” He squealed, sprinting away to wash his hands before gingerly accepting the invitation like you’d just handed him a million dollars. “You’re getting married!” He snatched one hand, then the other, splaying your fingers and searching for the ring, “Where is it? Where is it? I want to see it.”

You chuckled, “Calm down, Gollum.” You reached into your shirt, pulling out the chain where you’d been hiding the ring for the past eight months. “I don’t wear it very often. Art teacher and superhero - remember?”

It was a shame. It was a beautiful, vintage ring originally belonging to Miguel’s mother. He’d since updated it, replacing two of the missing stones with small burgundy gems that matched the color of his eyes. Even if you couldn’t wear it often, you kept it with you at all times, resting against your heart.

Pavitr began to vibrate with excitement, bouncing on his feet. “Can I-Can I tell-?”

“Yes, you can tell people.”

“Really?!” He brightened up.

“Yes. Miguel’s probably already sent out a general announcement by now.”

As if on cue both your watches beeped, a red notification popping up.

Announcement: Y/n and I are getting married. Don’t get upset if you're not invited to the ceremony. There are literally thousands of you. Reception will be at Spidey HQ atrium Saturday, October 15, 2105 at 7pm. All are welcome.

“Perfect timing.” You said, smiling at the words Y/n and I are getting married. You still couldn’t believe it, even though you’d been sitting on the knowledge in silence for the past six months.

“Oh and Pavitr. Miguel will probably ask you this again later but… would you like to be a groomsman in the wedding?”

Pavitr’s lips trembled, then broke into the widest smile imaginable, brown eyes crinkling. He surged forward, wrapping his lanky arms around you and spinning you around.

“YES! YES! A million times yes!” He gasped. You may as well have gotten on your knees and asked for his hand in marriage. “Oh my goodness this is all I've ever wanted. What are the wedding colors? I need to get a new sherwani.” He finally let you down, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you desperately, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS SOONER?!”

You gripped his hands, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling. Pavitr's energy was unmatched and you could feel his joy rubbing off on you.

“It’s really going to be a simple ceremony. And we didn’t want to pressure any of you with the typical wedding prep stuff.”

He looked incredulous, “So no bachelorette party? No-no manicure days or spa days or...”

You shook your head no and his jaw dropped.

“WRONG!” He shouted, touching the tip of your nose with his finger, “Are you free next Saturday night? Yes? Good.” He shook his finger at you, “No wedding prep stuff? Really? Pah!” He threw his hands in the air, muttering as he walked away and started dialing up Gwen and Miles.

“You told Pavitr before you told me?!” Gwen asked, mouth agape. She pushed her lunch tray to the side, the excitement chasing away her appetite for the time being.

“Fuck that. You told Pavitr before you told me?!” Miles slammed the milk carton on the table, spilling a few drops, “I thought I was your favorite.”

“Piss off, Miles.” Gwen teased, ruffling his curls. "I'm her favorite."

“One semester abroad with Hobie and you’re already sounding like a Brit.” He teased back, never moving far enough apart from her that they weren’t touching.

She’d recently gone for a shag haircut. The tips of her dyed hair fading into a pale bubblegum blue. The new nose piercing completed the look and Miles was smitten.

You wrung your hands together. “Well I’m telling you now! And! I’m asking you to be part of the wedding party. So what do you say? Wanna be a groomsman and a bridesmaid?”

They didn’t even look at each other before saying, “Absolutely!” In perfect unison.

The rest of the day went similarly, full of excited squeals and hugs and twirls. Everyone at Spidey-HQ - minus some of the newcomers - knew who you were and didn’t hesitate to shout their joy, whooping and calling out across the atrium.

“CONGRATS, TEACH!”

“LET’S GO! SPIDER-WEDDING!”

“CONGRATULATIONS!”

Hobie leaned against the window, hands shoved into the pockets of his patchwork leather jacket and flashing every color of the rainbow.

He stuck his hand out without a word, a crooked smile on his face, “I don’t believe in state-sanctioned marriage, you know. You and Miguel are already married - have been for ages in my book.”

“You rummaged around in your bag for the last of the invitations, finally locating the envelope that had slipped into one of the inner pockets and out of sight.

You hesitated, trying to hide your disappointment, “... so does that mean you’re not coming then?”

Hobie quickly snatched the invitation out of your hands, slinging his arm around your shoulder and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles. You laughed, shoving him away and fixing the tangles he’d made in your hair.

“Pffft, of course I’m coming. It’s important to you.” He shoved the cream-colored paper into his pockets alongside a couple posters he hadn’t found a proper place to plaster them on yet. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He smirked, “But I hope you’re not expecting me to show up in a suit.”

“Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”

“And are you going to ask me to be a groomsman or something? Make a toast at dinner?” There was no contempt in his voice… If anything he seemed expectant. Happy.

“Actually, Miguel and I were hoping you could be the flower girl with May and Benjy.”

He brightened up, flashing a sunflower yellow and shooting off curls of newspaper print like fireworks.

“HA! I like it. I like it.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets, opening his arms wide and sighing like he was giving up on an age-old war, “Alright, get in here, girl. I wanna hug you.”

You giggled, scrunching up your nose in satisfied glee as Hobie finally gave into his softness. He liked to pretend he was cooler than everyone else in the room - and he usually was - but that didn’t stop him from also being the softest person you’d ever met.

“Congratulations.” He said, propping his head up on top of your head and mussing up your hair once again.

“Thanks, Hobie.”

You weren’t alone in spreading the news - Miguel was making his own rounds. Margo was the first one he’d told, by virtue of the fact that she was nearest to his office.

“Hey, Margo.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. He held out the envelope, Margo’s headpiece peeling away from her sleek cornrows. Her eyes glittered purple, wide open and staring.

“Really?” She asked hesitantly, reaching out for the paper.

“Of course, Margo. You’re family. We want you there.”

Her eyes softened and she read through the invitation quietly.

“Y/n was also hoping you’d be a bridesmaid.” He tapped the additional paper sealed in her envelope. “Nothing fancy, but we wanted you at the front with everyone else. Miles, Gwen, Peter B, LEGO P-oof.”

Miguel huffed as Margo all but rammed into his chest, the edges of her flickering. Who knew virtual reality bodies were so durable and dense.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, trying to keep any emotion out of her voice.

Margo didn’t like to talk about home, preferring the VR life she led with the Spider-Society. They were her real family now… she just liked the confirmation.

“Anytime, kid.”

She cleared her throat, pushing him away as quickly as she’d hugged him. “Alright, get out of here. I’m sure everyone wants to see you right now.” She turned around, wiping at her eyes in real life. Her VR body did the same.

Miguel chuckled, rubbing his neck again. He wasn’t used to the kind of attention he’d been receiving since meeting you and learning to open up again. It was almost as if he was likable when he wasn’t acting like a complete asshole.

He was chased by compliments and congratulations all day, Spider-people stopping him to clap him on the back or to bump shoulders like they knew just how absolutely whipped he was.

Something about announcing your engagement to the world made the whole thing feel more real, like he could taste it as physically as he could taste your lips whenever he kissed you. He didn’t wear his engagement ring very often for the same reasons as you, but he slipped it on his finger halfway through the day, standing a little straighter, and looking a little prouder after doing so.

LEGO Peter was next and he’d practically swooned when Miguel had handed him his invitation between his thumb and pointer finger. He’d printed an extra-small version for him. Then he’d fainted when Miguel asked him to be a groomsman, his brick body going rigid and toppling back with the same rattle as a teacup saucer.

“I’m taking that as a yes!” Miguel called out, slipping his head back out of the portal into his own universe.

He needed to make a home visit for Jessica, but she had a champagne bottle ready to burst when Miguel appeared into her home in a crackle of color and brushstrokes.

“AHH! HA!” She tossed her head back with glee. Her mane of pitch black hair smelled like coconut and citrus. “CONGRATULATIONS! Malcolm! Malcolm, get your ass in here. Miguel’s arrived.”

Her husband slid across the living room entrance, a chubby three-year-old boy balanced on his hip and grabbing at his locs.

“Miguel!”

“Hey, Malcolm.”

“Mig!”

“Heyyyy, Jefferson.” Miguel laughed when the little boy grabbed at him, latching onto a strand of brown hair and tugging.

Jessica clicked her tongue, “Jeff, what have we talked about.”

“Sorry.” The boy apologized, patting Miguel’s head and slapping him in the face in the process.

“It’s alright, kid.”

“OOooooh. Get in here, Migs.” Jessica was grinning brighter than the sun, radiating warmth as she wound her arms around his ribs and used her strength to lift him off his feet and shake him like a rag doll.

“Careful, Jess. Can’t break the groom before his wedding.”

“Pfffft, Miguel’s not made of glass, honey.”

That much was obvious enough. Miguel had to keep his body crooked to avoid banging his head against the hanging ceiling lights.

“Congratulations, man.” Malcolm hugged him next, being notably gentler than his wife. He still slapped Miguel’s back hard enough to rattle his shoulders though.

Miguel stayed for a long while, until him and Jess had made their way through three bottles of champagne just because they could. Their bodies burned through alcohol way too quickly to get drunk - a fact that had disappointed Miles when he went off to college for the first time last year.

Jess and Malcolm leaned towards one another like sunflowers to light, with little Jefferson splashed across both their knees and struggling to stay awake as the sun pressed against the windows and turned their pale yellow walls golden.

That would be him someday, with you and your son.

The thought shook him to his core. First, because it was a secret hope that he’d never dared to even dream about and second, because it was now possible. Wonderfully, beautifully possible.

His heart began to flutter, the absence of you by his side suddenly feeling like a gaping hole instead of a subtle ache.

Jess seemed to understand that, making a show of looking at the clock and then down at her son’s open mouth drooling against Malcolm’s arm.

“We should get this little guy to bed.”

“On it.”

“I’ll head out then. Thanks for everything, Jess.”

She made a noise with her tongue, brushing off his thanks with a graceful wave of her hand. “Get out of here you big sap. And tell Y/n I said congratulations too! Actually, scratch that. I’m coming in tomorrow so I’ll tell her in person.”

Miguel chuckled, “Alright then.”

He gave a final hug to Malcolm and Jessica. Jefferson stirred in his mother’s arms just long enough to babble something that sounded adorably close to, “I’m not… I’m not sleepy. I-” before his eyes rolled back and he slumped onto Jessica’s shoulder.

You sat curled up in Miguel’s office chair, legs thrown over one of the armrests as you flipped through the pages of your book on the life of Aubrey Vincent Beardsley. Occasionally your eyes would flicker to the array of monitors, watching the careful web of universes as they flickered and morphed. Fluid, but stable, and in a perfect balance of chaos and order.

Miguel drifted into the room behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and peppering the curve of your neck with kisses.

“Mi amor,” He murmured. You hummed happily, tilting your head further to give him better access. “How is everything going on with you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

“That’s a pretty great answer.” He chuckled, finishing with a quick kiss to your lips. He came around, lifting you up with ease before sitting down in his chair and placing you in his lap, “And how are things in the Spider-Verse?”

You made a self-satisfied hmph sound. Thank god he’d finally stopped calling it the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse. What a mouthful.

“Holding strong and steady.” You flicked your fingers to the side, pulling up the latest day report that you’d already handed two hours ago, “B76’s Black Cat and 1805’s Venom were the only anomalies. Done and dusted with no issue. Reports are on file under Project Catalyst.”

“Perfect.”

Miguel stretched comfortably, curling in on you and resting his head on your chest like the world’s most luxurious cat.

You snorted, blinking your book away with a snap of your fingers and running your fingers through his hair just the way he liked. He groaned softly when you lightly dragged your fingernails against his scalp.

“Right there, babe.” He encouraged, sighing with contentment.

You stayed like that for a long while, one of Miguel’s arms wrapped around your waist and his other hand snaking up your stomach to rub circles against your smooth skin. Unbeknownst to you, he was quietly thinking about what it might be like if you ever decided to have kids. If one day he’d be so lucky to lay like this against you and quietly talk to the little child growing in your stomach.

He shook his head, he was getting ahead of himself.

“Everything ok, Migs?” You curled your finger beneath his chin, gently tilting his face up to look at you. His eyes softened.

“Yeah. Everything’s perfect.”

You couldn’t help it, you blushed under the softness of his gaze. It was strange how you could get into hundreds of fist-fights, get knocked on your ass dozens of times over, and yet crumble at the sight of his auburn eyes. You didn’t mind the vulnerability though - you knew Miguel felt the same.

You looked down at his hands, noticing the flash of silver on his finger.

"You wore it today?"

He smiled when you took his hand in yours, kissing his palm, "Felt appropriate."

You tugged the necklace out from under your shirt, carefully slipping the ring off the chain. Miguel took it wordlessly from you, gently kissing your hand before sliding the ring onto your finger. It was warm to the touch after hours pressed against your heart and Miguel felt a surge of love flood his chest seeing you wear it.

“Busy day, huh?” You asked when he settled back down, holding your hand tightly in his.

He groaned, “You could say that. I don’t think I’ve ever had so many people talk to me in my life.”

You prodded him in the side, “That’s not saying very much.”

“Ouch.” He grinned, kissing your chest.

“Did everyone say yes to joining the wedding party?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yup.” Your lips popped on the end of the word.

Miguel grinned wide and unabashedly leaning closer to you, “Then we got ourselves a wedding,” he said, smiling against your lips. He tasted like coffee and cinnamon.

You chuckled, “Maybe we shouldn’t have sprung this on them so soon.”

Miguel shrugged, “We needed to tell them at some point, cariño. And it’s not like we’re doing all the extra stuff. They just need to show up to the church at this point.”

“I know that. But Pavitr seemed to disagree. Apparently I'm going to have a bachelorette party next weekend.”

He pouted, “No party for me?! I’m hurt.”

“Peter didn’t bring it up with you? I thought he'd be over the moon about being Best Man.”

Miguel’s head shot up, thick brows furrowing in confusion beneath a bed of ruffled curls, “I thought you were going to tell Peter.”

You tipped your head to the side, “I thought you were going to tell to Peter?”

“Yeah, LEGO Peter.”

Silence, thick and full of horror fell over both of you.

“Did… did neither of us tell Peter and MJ?” You whispered.

Miguel closed his eyes, his face plummeting into the soft skin of your chest, “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

The double doors to Miguel’s office slid open with a groan of disappointment. Peter stood there with his legs splayed, carving out a disgruntled shape in his signature pink bathrobe that he never took off, especially with the new addition to his family.

Mayday clung to her father’s chest, her brother’s chestnut mop poking out from behind Peter’s shoulder. Benjy’s grin was gummy and wide and he wore matching noise-canceling headphones with his sister.

“Fuck.” You repeated, your face falling flat.

MJ leaned against the doorway and rubbed her temples with one hand, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter as Peter stalked forward, absolutely livid.

“You MOTHERFUCK—

*cut scene*

*Alexa, play 'Blitzkrieg Bop' by The Ramones*

____________________

Author's note (again!):

Just some funny gifs I thought were appropriate for the characters:

Peter storming into the room because his best friends forgot to tell him about their engagement:

Pavitr learning he's going to be part of the wedding party:

LEGO Peter learning he's going to be part of the wedding party:

Hope you guys enjoyed!

Love,

Florence B.

#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #Spider-gang #found family #Hummingbird #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter b parker #hobie brown #across the spider verse

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redtsundere-writes · 2 months

Text

OnlyFans | Toji Fushiguro

onlyfansboyfriend!toji fushiguro x femphotographer!reader

Sypnosis: You recently discovered that your boyfriend has an OnlyFans. You think he could look sluttier. Warnings: Minors do not interact. Mdni. Top!Toji Fushiguro, oral sex, smut, vaginal sex, rough and raw sex. Word Count: 1830 words. Author's Note: I was inspired to write this fic after reading @jujutsubaby 's headcanons.

Your feet were pedaling as fast as you could to get to your boyfriend's apartment. The wind rushed through your hair as you maneuvered the bike horns throughout the street. You just had been promoted, and you wanted to tell your boyfriend the good news in person. Maybe you could go to dinner and you would invite him this time. Toji was the one always taking you out to dinner every weekend, showering you with lavish gifts and sending flower arrangements to your office. You had barely been dating for 6 months, you didn't know what exactly he did for a living, but you knew he never had to worry about money.

You got to the apartment in record time and opened the door with the copy of the key he had recently given you. High-pitched moans along with your boyfriend's groans immediately caught your attention. "Fucking bastard, he's cheating on me!" you thought, filling up with rage. You ran to his room to catch him in the act, but you were the one who got the surprise.

You opened the door to his room and froze at the scene. Toji was masturbating his erect cock in front of a camera perched on a tripod in front of you. He was moaning like a bitch in heat as he rubbed the tip in circles with his veiny hand while a purple cock ring at the base of his big dick. His body was oiled up, his lips slightly opened and the sound of his skin against itself created such an amazing erotic image that your panties got instantly wet. The high-pitched moans came from a porn video playing on his computer. You knew your boyfriend was a sexual beast, but you didn't plan to see him like that at that moment.

“Hello, my love, what are you doing here?” Toji asked, breaking the character he was acting in front of the camera. He paused the porn video, turned off the camera and sat on the edge of the bed as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. His cock was still erect, patient to be touched again.

“What the fuck is this?” You ask confused, pointing at the camera and his beefy, oiled up body.

“I'm shooting a video for my OnlyFans,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. If your jaw was already on the floor, it was now underground. “Oh come on, honey, how do you think I paid for all the stuff I give you? By working honestly?” He scoffed.

“Do you have an OnlyFans?” You asked, processing the information you had just been given.

Toji sighed in disappointment and moved the camera out of the way to approach you. He could see in your reaction that you were disappointed in him. Toji Fushiguro will never quit his OnlyFans for anything or anyone in the world. Since he reached a thousand subscribers, he never had to worry about paying the household expenses or monthly school fees for his son, Megumi. He was a financially free man. He doesn't even remember when was the last time he looked at the price of something before buying it. In addition to the money, he loved the attention he received through the live feeds or the horny comments left on his nude photos.

“If it bothers you so much, let's call it quits,” he replied, annoyed at being criticized.

It was for this reason that Toji never revealed what he did for a living. He was already used to his girlfriends dumping him because of his work. Whenever he told them he was a sex worker, they would either freak out, break up with him or get jealous of his subscribers. It was a shame that you were like the others, he had grown fond of you over the last few months.

“What are you talking about?” You asked confused.

“I know you're going to break up with me. Just give me the key and let's forget this ever happened,” he said directly, extending his hand to you so you would give him the key.

“Toji, I am not mad that you have an OnlyFans. I am mad that you didn't tell me,” you replied annoyed.

He looked at you in surprise at the unexpected accusation. He really thought you'd go off like all the others. It was refreshing to see a girl confident enough to go out with him despite having over a thousand people drooling online over him.

“I want to see your pictures,” you asked.

Toji showed you his laptop with his OnlyFans profile. There were everything from pictures of him in front of a mirror in his underwear to videos of him masturbating. Toji didn't need anything else to be one of the most attractive men in the world, but his profile was very boring. Many of his photos were similar, and all the videos are shot from the same angle. A boring, bland and soporific profile. Toji could do much better than this.

From that day on, you decided to help him improve his profile to get more subscribers. You bought him lingerie, costumes, and sex toys. At the beginning you did it because you wanted him to win more money, but little by little he became your experiment. Every time you saw some hot guy doing something sexy on the internet, you wanted your boyfriend to imitate him. Your panties would get wet, and your nipples would get aroused every time you forced him to wear tight maid outfits, watched him masturbate live with toys you bought him or put him in different positions for the camera. Sometimes they would fuck after the photo shoot, but not when shooting videos.

As the months passed, they had reached 8k subscribers. To celebrate, Toji decided to do a livestream titled: “Fucking my photographer in appreciation for the 8k”. It was Toji’s idea. At first, you completely refused fearing that someone from your work would see it, but he convinced you by saying you could wear a mask and promised to take you shopping afterward.

You rented a room in one of the most expensive motels in town. The room was surrounded by mirrors covering every inch of wall, had a heart-shaped jacuzzi and a king-size bed with white sheets. The perimeter of the ceiling had purple LED lights that helped to conceive the sensual ambiance. You put on the latex bunny mask and a matching lingerie set Toji bought for you.

You lay down on the bed while Toji prepared the camera. He soon climbed on top of you to start the show. He pulled you close to his chest and kissed you passionately. Your bodies rubbed against each other, patient to get to the most interesting part, but you couldn't speed up the process. You had to make the spectators horny with foreplay. His strong hands roamed your lower back, molding your ass to his liking. His wet lips roamed over every part of your hot body.

Toji maneuvered you to his pleasure. He would put you in any position he wanted, rub his big member in any available cavity and make you feel like the only woman in the world. His sharp teeth bit into your bra to tear the fabric and take possession of your breasts. He licked, twisted and massaged your nipples, taking you on a non-stop aphrodisiac journey. Toji wasn't planning to hold back tonight. He was going to reward you for your hard work.

He whipped your body against the bed to get rid of your pesky panties. He stuck his head between your legs, sinking into your delicious shaft. Your back arched as soon as his tongue came in contact with your sensitive meat button. Toji ate you whole as if he had never tasted a bite in his life. You closed your legs due to the high level of pleasure, pressing against his head, but he forced you to open them again. He was a green-eyed predator watching his prey reaction as he tore it apart.

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed you on his lap. Your back was against his beefy chest. You could feel his soft pecs against your shoulder blades. He forced you to sit on his cock, facing the camera. His hands squeezed your waist to force you to ride his dick at an addictive pace you couldn't resist. His big member pounded the depths of your intimacy without any mercy. He spread your legs so that you were fully exposed to the viewers, he wanted everyone to see how beautiful you looked every time he fucked you.

“Toji~! Give me more!” You were a mess, you moaned his name every chance you got and gasped incoherently every time Toji pounded you with the almighty.

“Do you like when everyone sees what a slut you are?” I asked, smirking.

Toji could do whatever he wanted with you. You were his favorite toy, the muse he wanted to satisfy, the woman he owed so much to. He kissed your whole body, he fucked you until you forgot you were being filmed, and his passionate panting moans you crazy. His big cock hit all the right places as he hugged your waist to keep you close, as if you were going to escape. No one is foolish enough to want to escape Toji Fushiguro's strong arms.

“I'm cumming, Toji~!” You gasped as he stuffed you from behind.

The older one wouldn't stop moving even though he was sweating in places where he didn't know he could sweat from. He was ramming you full steam ahead, widening your insides and making sure to give you all he could offer. Your wet pussy could barely withstand the monstrosity he had. You moaned for more even though you knew you were about to cum. Toji decided to speed up the process, massaging your clit wretchedly. Your body contorted, falling victim to the brutal pleasure that coursed through you completely. A spasm took over your body, and you finally cum. It wasn't long before you felt Toji's hot cum invade your insides.

After a long livestream, Toji ordered food from the room service. You were eating burgers on the bed while watching Netflix. Your legs wouldn't stop shaking from the stress you had put them through. It maybe was an ordinary burger, but after three orgasms, it tasted like it was the best burger in the world. Toji put his arm around you to pull you closer to his body.

“You did very well,” he congratulated you. “We should do it more often.”

“I'll think about it,” you said with a shy smile.

His hand moved to your side, drawing your attention. Turns out he had hugged you to sneakily steal a fry from your plate. You slapped his hand to make him let go, and he just laughed nervously.

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Title: Homebound.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.9k.

TW: Prolonged Imprisonment, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Behavior, Mentions of Torture, There Is A Kid Involved But Childe Just Sorta Found It In The Woods, and Disturbing Themes.

[Part Two]

He would be coming for you, soon.

The sky was still dark, the stars still as bright as they had been in the dead of night, but the moon was beginning to sink below the horizon, the lampposts that lined the street below your apartment beginning to fade as their oil stocks ran dry. You’d been at your window since sunset, too anxious to do anything more than stare at the scrapes of landscape and, occasionally, glance towards the cradle behind you, where your Lina slept soundly, unaffected by your racing heart or gnawing nerves. It was for the best, as unfair as it felt that you would have to burden her fear as well. You did this so she wouldn’t have to suffer like you had, wouldn’t have to live under the suffocating care of a man with too much power and too little love in his heart.

You were doing this so she would never have to know what it was like to be a part of Childe’s family, and a toddler's cluelessness wasn't going to be the thing that made you give up.

With a shallow sigh, you tore yourself away from the window and brought yourself back into the reality of your cluttered apartment, hastily thrown into disarray after his visit that afternoon. As many of your possessions as you could account for had been ripped from their drawers and thrown from their cabinets, brought out into the open where you could take stock of what few belongings you had. There wasn’t much you needed, really. Any family heirlooms or beloved childhood trinkets had been lost the first time you escaped from Childe, but you filled your pockets with what little you still considered dear to you - a rose-shaped pendant a kind stranger had gifted to you when you first arrived in Mondstadt, a flimsy ring of golden vines and miniature cecilias you had won at a booth during the last Windbloom festival, and lastly, the sphere of metal and glass as-of-yet unbound by any casing. Your Vision, as much as you hated acknowledging the damned thing’s existence.

Your cloak was next, dark enough to melt into the shadows of the forest and long enough to drag against the floor as you tied it around your neck. A swab of shapeless, black fabric accompanied it, but before you made use of that, you found the powered sleeping draught a healer had given your sometime back, when the nightmares were still too vivid to be suppressed by exhaustion alone. Gritting your teeth, you spread a small portion of the lilac dust over the pad of your thumb, and approached the cradle.

It was a small mercy, really, that whatever resemblance Childe had seen in Lina was lost on you. She had reddish hair, but it was too light, closer to blonde than ginger. Her eyes, while blue, were brighter, more curious, more full of life than those of a man who felt nothing but bloodlust and obsession could ever be. She did not have her abductor’s freckles, his pale skin, and you were thankful each time you looked at her that you did not see Childe, that she would never be bound to him by blood or by likeness.

You could remember the day he brought her home, no more than a few months old and bundled in his blood-flecked coat. He’d made it out to be a miracle, as if the archons had descended from Celestia and laid the child that you had selfishly refused to give him at his feet. You’d already decided to run away by then, already started to plan how you’d escape his awful little cabin and his awful frozen nation, but Lina had forced you into immediate action. It was one thing to submit yourself to Childe, to play soft and innocent for another week while you prepared. You couldn't have left Lina in his care for any longer than absolutely necessary and still expected to be able to live with yourself.

That might’ve been why your heart ached as painfully as it did as you reached down, slipping your thumb past her lips and spreading the powder across her gums. She stirred, her expression souring, but you swallowed back your remorse as the sleeping draught took effect, as she relaxed and fell into a sleep too still to be natural. The guilt was nearly overwhelming, but you would have to stomach it. Whatever happened, she couldn’t wake up. Not before you made sure she was somewhere safe.

Steeling yourself, you pulled the cloak’s deep hood over your head, lifted Lina from her cradle, swaddled her body in the black fabric, and slipped out of your apartment and into the night.

Childe was in your apartment.

In your living room, sitting in your favorite (and only) armchair, bouncing Lina softly on his lap. You could hear her cooing as soon as you stepped through the door, see her sitting upright and gripping at the fingers of an offered hand, taste the apology you'd been practicing for taking so long at the afternoon market, but it took you a little longer to notice Childe, to process that he was here, in your house, holding your daughter. Like he had any right to. Like you hadn’t gotten away from him.

“I can already tell - she’s gonna be a fighter.” He was already grinning, already pushing himself to his feet. You couldn’t move, couldn’t run as he came to stand next to you, holding her against his side. “That’s our little Atalanta. Barely a year old and already shaping up to be such a fierce warrior.”

Atalanta. You’d almost managed to forget that Childe had given her a name of his own – a name fit for a hero, at that. Your Lina wouldn’t be a hero. She wouldn’t carry a name that demanded a place in the tales of adventures and on the tongues of storytellers. She would live a quiet, happy life in Mondstadt. the city of freedom. She would be great if she wanted to be, but she wouldn’t be a weapon. She wouldn’t be what he would’ve raised her into.

“She's growing like a weed, too.” And yet, you couldn’t seem to say that. You couldn’t seem to move. A hand fell to the small of your back, his smile taking on a softer drawl as he let his head lull to the side. “We’ll have to redecorate the nursery. I tried to keep up with all the milestones, but it’s been… how long? Nine months?” He paused, chuckled. “You kept me lonely, you know that? I didn’t even have our little Atalanta to keep me company.”

Something very large and very sharp lodged itself in the back of your throat. “Lina.”

Childe’s smile faltered. “What was that, dear?”

“Her name is Lina.” You were smart enough not to try and tear Lina out of his arms, but that did little to stifle the temptation. “You’re not welcome here. Get out and get away from my daughter.”

He let out a breathy laugh, pulling away from you and returning Lina to her cradle, unbothered by your meager threats. “You’re really going to be stubborn about this, huh? I let you go on your little trip, gave you more than enough time to live out your little fantasy in this rotting shack of a country, and you’re still going to be stubborn?” Another laugh, another faltering grin. He started towards you, careful to keep himself between you and Lina, but it was an unnecessary precaution. You were rooted to the ground, unable to move as he embraced you – wholeheartedly, this time, both arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you off the floor and into his chest. You could feel his smoldering breath fanning over the side of your neck, his blunt nails burrowing into your sides as he fought to keep you as close as possible, but you did nothing to resist him. You weren’t going to fight him in front of Lina, no matter how much you wanted to claw at his face, to shove at his chest, to get him away from you. You weren’t going to make her watch that. “Come home. I’m only going to ask once.”

He hadn’t asked at all, but it would’ve been a waste of time to point that out.

“Are… are you going to hurt me, if I refuse?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to hurt you either way. You ran away from me. You stole my daughter.” Spoken softly, with more than a note of anticipation in his voice. “But, if you don’t put up a fight, I’ll try not to break anything that won’t heal.”

His subordinates were swarming the area around your apartment. They couldn’t wander openly, not with the attention their concentrated presence would draw, but you could feel their eyes burning into you from side streets and alleyways as you descended the narrow staircase, prying into you for a moment before moving onto their next target. They were looking for someone who fit Childe’s description – a sweet, doe-eyed thing carrying a child made from sunlight and laughter, not someone dressed for weather much more hostile than anything Mondstadt had to offer, trotting a formless heap of material. What interest your attire would’ve garnered dissolved completely as you joined a large group of passing drunkards, thrown out of their taverns and sent to stumble home at some unholy hour, too belligerent to do anything but welcome you into their numbers. It was a small blessing that you'd spent as much time in the taverns as you had, despite how little you cared for wine. There wasn't a barfly within Mondstadt's walls who would think to question your presence among them.

You followed them north, through the city’s commercial district, keeping your head low and Lina wrapped in your arms until you reached the gate to the eastern port. The drunkards continued on, but you remained.

It was deserted, as you thought it would be. You knew Fatui agents were posted at the city’s gates, waiting to catch you if you tried to flee this nation, too, but the eastern port wasn’t so eye-catching, wasn’t such a vital thing to guard when it came to blocking off the possible escape routes of runaway captives. Even if it hadn’t been so easily forgotten, it would’ve been a waste of men to guard. There was only one bridge over Cider Lake, and no one in their right mind would try to swim across, especially with a child in tow. Unless you could walk on water, the main gates were the only way in or out of the city.

Unfortunately for Childe, you weren’t as helpless as you’d been the first time he stole you away.

You followed the shore for as long as you could, until the city’s walls threatened to bend and reveal your position to the agents posted at the main gates. With no lack of trepidation, stepped onto the sand and reached into your pocket, taking up your Vision and holding it tightly in your clenched fist. The chill bit into your palm, unhindered by any casing, pure Cryo energy pulsing beneath the hazy surface of the glass. You hadn’t been able to look at it for weeks after you arrived in Mondstadt, and even after you’d started to overcome your aversion, it was hard to imagine a world wherein you could carry it proudly, where you could give such an awful thing the care and attention it’d take to learn how to use it properly.

Not that you had time to practice, right now. It was all you could do to give yourself a few seconds to catch your breath as you stepped out and onto the lake, the glassy water instantly freezing underneath your feet. A hairline crack formed across the surface as you shifted your weight onto it, but the ice held, and you let your shoulders slump, relief replacing a fraction of your anxiety. It was slow progress, each step hesitant and unsure, but you persisted, even as frost crept up the heel of your boots, even as a chill more pointed and more penetrating than any you’d felt before seeped under your skin and into the gaps between tissue and bone.

Even as, as much as you loathed to admit, you realized that the cold was not quite as unpleasant as you'd hoped it would be.

“But, if you don’t put up a fight, I’ll try not to break anything that won’t heal.”

You glanced towards the cradle, towards Lina as she struggled to sit up and started to look for her suddenly absent source of entertainment. It wasn’t good to lay her down so quickly, to leave her unattended while she was still awake, but once again, you doubted it’d be of any use to tell Childe that. “What’ll happen to Lina?”

“I’ll take care of Atalanta, obviously.” You could feel his lips against the curve of your throat, the points of his teeth against your skin. “I've had to wait months for this. Do you really think I’d neglect her now?”

You were more worried about how she’d turn out under his full attention.

But, you pretended to consider it, pressing your lips into a thin line and going quiet. After more than a few seconds, you brought your hands up to his chest – not shoving, but nudging gently, softening yourself into something delicate, something he’d be able to understand. There was a throaty, disappointed groan, a minute or so of resistance, but eventually, he lowered you back onto your feet, letting his hand fall to your hips. “I’ll come with you,” you started, slowly, deliberately. It hurt to say, the sentiment searing your throat and catching on your teeth. The fact that you, of course, did not mean a word you said was only a minor salve. “But, Lina deserves one last day in her home, and so do I. Give us until dawn tomorrow, then we’ll both come willingly.”

He bowed his head, falling far enough to let his lips brush against your forehead. He’d always thought of any distance between your body and his as an unnecessary frivolity, a luxury he wasn’t willing to give you. Apparently, your time apart hadn’t lessened his distaste for separation. “You know how pointless it is to run, right? The Fatui have every plank of wood in this city under surveillance, and my subordinates won’t be as forgiving with you as I am.”

“Please, Childe.” You lean into him, melting against his chest. He was a soldier, a warrior, not a diplomat. If you were sweet enough, if you spoke in a way that appealed to his delusions, then he would listen. “Just one more day. Then, you’ll have us for the rest of our lives.”

There was another squeeze to your waist, another lingering kiss to your forehead. “One day.”

There was no need to look at him as he pulled away. You could practically hear his smile.

“Then, you’re all mine.”

You made it to shore unscathed, but your trek through the forest was not so painless.

Each step was labored, made more impossible by the bundle in your arms, the weight of your cloak, the months you’d spend living in domestic peace. Your cloak snagged on every stray branch and boulder, your boots easily caught under roots and stray vines, and the darkness of the night only served to make each obstacle more unavoidable, more difficult to shield Lina from. Even holding your daughter was a challenge, once the adrenaline faded and exhaustion began to set in. Your arms ached where they had not already gone numb, and your chest swelted underneath the heavy fabric, more suited for Snezhnaya's eternal winter than Monstadt's ever-present summer. Resigning yourself to the main road would’ve cut hours off of your journey, but roads were patrolled, and you could not risk meeting another person – knight, adventurer, and agent alike. You didn’t have the time it would’ve taken to explain yourself, let alone pick a fight.

You travelled west, across the valleys of Windrise, through the most wilderness-infested outskirts of Springville. The sky was beginning to lighten by the time your destination came into sight, and with its purpose now obsolete, you shed your cloak and began to descend, taking your time to skirt down sheer rockfaces, to wad through the slow-running streams that webbed across the land. You navigated through the rows of wooden racks and grape vines, not yet in bloom, only letting yourself slow as dirt turned to cobblestone, as the mansion before you turned from a shadowed suggestion to a great, towering structure – secure in the sheer implication of its size.

Finally, finally, you came to a stop before the main entryway. It was all you could do to stand there for a moment, to stare up at the mansion and note all the minute differences between its face and that of Childe’s cabin. When you finished, you raised your hand and, with as much force as you could manage, knocked on the door to Dawn Winery.

A maid answered immediately, confusion turning to abject horror as she noticed the state of your clothing, the leaves and debris caught in your hair, the thousand or so tiny cuts and scrapes pleated over your arms and face. She opened her mouth, but you spoke first, unwilling to spend any longer out in the open than you already had. “I need to speak to Master Ragnvindr.”

She pursed her lips. “The young Master does not—”

“Concerning what topic?”

It was a masculine voice, coming from further down the hall. Somewhat begrudgingly, the maid pulled the door open, allowing you to see into the dim mansion. Diluc stood at the other end of the hall, half-dressed, a length of black ribbon in one hand and his hair gathered in the other. Clearly, you’d interrupted his morning rituals. “I’ve heard,” you started, unwrapping Lina’s bundling and praying that those long nights spent listening to the rumors that swirled in the deepest pits of the darkest taverns would serve you well. “that you do not hold much affection for the Fatui.”

His gaze flickered from you to Lina, to your trembling arms. With little hesitation, he approached you, meeting your eyes as he reached for your daughter. You gave a reluctant nod, and he took her up, holding her to his broad chest. “I've always preferred to keep less blood-stained company.”

“In that case,” You step across the threshold, allowing the door to fall shut behind you.

“How would you like to make a Harbinger very, very angry?”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #childe x reader #tartagalia x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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sebastianswallows · 2 months

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Feyd-Rautha — sad headcanons

— WARNINGS: angst, mentions of kidnapping, child molestation, mentions of Feyd's child by Margot (Marie Fenring), it's just dark and depressing I'm sorry

— A/N: @localravenclaw asked for headcanons yesterday, here you go girly, no returns. This is a hybrid of book and movie Feyd.

His first memories are of ice floes on the black waters of Lankiveil, fitting together like the blocks inside his puzzle box. The wailing of sea creatures underneath the waves. Enormous weapons mounted on ships leaving harbour. The deep bell chimes that floated on the air, colouring it golden, splitting time in measured pieces like a great grandfather clock, from the temple of Ohashi.

He remembers playing in the sea foam. Duelling his playmates with driftwood they picked up in abandoned ships. Filling the nests of rock turtles with the pearls that rolled up on the shore. There were so many that they spilt between his fingers.

He remembers gathering stiff crystalline flowers which grew on the rock their castle sat on, but not what they were called...

And he remembers making his mother a necklace of blue spiral shells, with the help of her handmaids. He wonders now and then what became of it, and then he stops himself.

Childhood memories are too tainted with what came afterwards. With what cut it in two halves.

With the grim understanding, in hindsight, of what his uncle’s touches meant during his first days on Giedi Prime. Skinny little Feyd. Did your father never feed you? How pretty you are, just as he was as a boy. Did you fall and hurt yourself here? No? Are you sure? I can feel a little dent where one shouldn’t be, yes, yes, right between your bones.

They seemed like comforting caresses at the time.

It was always surface touches on the thin and tender canvas of his skin, dry kisses, fondlings with an almost anatomical curiosity to them, and always with rough laughter resounding in the halls.

Many years passed before he realised, through hints gathered here and there, that his uncle was diseased. Longer still to find out that it was a Bene Gesserit who did it. Sexually transmitted, requiring constant treatment, and the cause of his enormous bloat.

Many pieces fell into place in the puzzle box at the back of his mind then. Why his uncle never showed to him the same sort of close attention he showed to the slave boys. Why it was always those large fingers heavy with rings that traversed his body, and traitorously gentle kisses, and long lingering glances once he let Feyd go.

How strange he felt, after being brought up to hate the Bene Gesserits and fear them, when he became conscious of a sort of gratitude he owed the witch for protecting him, beyond the grave, from the worst of his uncle’s attentions.

He remembers the first time he fell sick on Giedi Prime. It was during his first month there, when his body couldn’t take the toxic fumes and the industrial meat. His body revolted, flushing with an allergic reaction.

And he remembers his uncle’s visits, a few of them. How he slipped his fat hand between his thighs to feel them shivering, sweaty with fever, and laughed. The doctors around his bed laughed too, not daring to do anything else. Even at the age of 11, Feyd thought there was something wrong about it, but he had nobody to turn to, nobody to ask. How stupid he feels now.

And then there was a time, a broad swath of his adolescence, when he was planning quite seriously to kill the Baron.

He had devised a naïve scheme involving one of those awful oil baths and a stone lid, and he allowed himself to fantasize that if some day, for some reason, a Bene Gesserit would come, she could help him gain control of all the slaves through mind tricks, like the witches were rumoured to do. And he could escape with her, hidden in the soft folds of her dress while, in his imagination, the palace was boiling with fear and revolution upon the Baron’s death.

He grew out of these childish fantasies at around age 15. Nobody was coming to help him.

It was then that he started taking the arena more seriously. Killing slaves felt good. Feeling warm blood on his hands felt good. And it felt good to be so close to a human body while someone else suffered. It filled something in him he never knew needed filling.

His first taste of spice was around this time too. His uncle deemed him ready. It tasted like cinnamon, but never the same after that. And the dreams…

The dreams that came true scared him. Fate predetermined, fate out of his reach. His hands around a dozen throats could not make him feel in control after that.

But the other dreams, the ones that never came to be, those took him beyond fear, beyond anger, to a pit inside his soul. Demons swirled around him, teasing, tormenting him with the way his life could never be.

Dreams of impossible futures are the ones he hates the most. Dreams where he is wed to an Atrides bride, where his son sits on the Imperial Throne, where their enemies are humbled, and absolute power brings peace.

Feyd wakes up still on Giedi Prime, still under his uncle’s fat thumb, still with his concubines to pacify him while his true destiny is nowhere in sight. And when he does dream of a Bene Gesserit, she is not there to kill his uncle or to help him escape. She’s there to use him.

And sometimes, Feyd dreams of a little girl with a sweet and simple name, with her hair in dark ringlets, and sullen eyes like his. She runs through blue and silver halls, she plays in a field of flowers, she breathes the salty sea air of a distant planet and meditates upon the cliffs. He dreams of never meeting her, and wakes up wondering why that troubles him so much.

#Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd-Rautha #Feyd-Rautha imagine #Feyd-Rautha headcanons #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune imagine #Dune headcanons #sswallow;headcanons #sswallow;made a thing #Feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha headcanons

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a-casual-kpopfan · 6 months

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Day Off - Jiwon

A/N: I've been really vibing with these little short stories. This did not go through any editting at all, hope you all enjoy. <3

~~~~~~~~~~

*Ring*… *Ring*… *Ring*

And there it is, the dreaded iPhone alarm. This alarm is what gives all high school and college students nightmares, then coming with them into adulthood, the alarm becomes a part of a person throughout the rest of their lives.

*Ring*… *Ring*… *Ring*

You wake up from what was your splendid slumber to that accursed alarm, but there’s one good thing about this alarm.

“UGH!”

It’s not yours.

You hear a woman groaning, following with a hand slapping down to a nightstand next to your bed and the alarm ends. You stay laying in your bed, facing the edge of it while you feel movement on the other side, you chuckle as you stay relaxed. As the movement gets closer towards you, a hand lands on your shoulder, gripping you slowly then suddenly a body is now on top of you.

“O-ppa.”

Your ear was filled with her voice, she’s now wide awake which means you’re wide awake. “Yes, honey?” Your voice was groggy, it was a low tone, your throat felt a strong vibration once you spoke. “It’s time to wakey, wakey…” She whispers into your ear, then begins leaving a trail of kisses from the farthest end of your cheek, making a slow way to your lips.

“Baby, you know it’s your day off.” You turn yourself slowly while she’s keeping her position on top of you; now facing frontwards, you see what is the cutest thing to wake up to in the morning. Jiwon’s hair messy and all over the place, her lips are pouting right at you. “I know oppa, but I don’t want to waste the day.” Jiwon lays belly first on top of you, nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes.

“You know, you have the prettiest eyes.” Her eyes are an extremely dark brown, the black pupil blending in perfectly with the colours of her corneas. “Do I have prettier eyes than Heoni?” Jiwon’s pout grows bigger, you remember the last time you saw all the members, you had answered that their maknae Jiheon had the prettiest eyes, Jiwon hasn’t let you off the hook for that.

“You always had prettier eyes than her baby.” You move your nose away from hers, losing contact but instead you kiss the tip of her nose, which in turn converts her lips from a pout to a smile, cheeks lighting up like a fire. “Good!” Giggles fill the room, Jiwon now sitting up on top of you full straddle, she covers both her cheeks and just smiles at you. “I should be the only one you look at!” Her voice has always been quite loud, bed talk is no different, Park Jiwon is definitely the loudest member from her group, Saerom has told you horror stories about it.

“What do you want to do today baby?” You continue looking up to your girlfriend who’s just casually sitting on top of you, pretending to think, but you got a feeling she already knew how to start today. She looks at you as if she’s wants… No… needs something, something she hasn’t had for a long time. “Baby… We just woke up…”

Jiwon lips become loose again; her tongue moistens her bottom lip. “Then let me…” Jiwon slowly disappeared under the blanket that you two shared. “Baby, w-wait!”

No stopping now…

~~~~~

The sounds of sizzles and the smells of scrambled eggs fill your apartment’s small kitchen, the table was filled with a bowl of rice, sauteed gai-lan with garlic, a large grilled pork belly. Since waking up, both you and Jiwon were… Occupied throughout most of the morning, you decided to make a full lunch instead to regain energy.

Jiwon wearing only one of your t-shirts, a pair of underwear and an apron, you on the other hand wearing a pair of your old college basketball shorts and a baggy sweatshirt, not worried about the oils possibly spraying on your clothes or the smell being stuck to your clothing. “Mmm, everything is smelling great oppa.” Jiwon enjoying the time cooking with you in the kitchen, it’s been so long since the two of you spent quality time together.

Jiwon has shut off the stove, pouring over the eggs into a bowl and handing it off to you. “All doooone!” Her voice is soothing for you; you miss her presence whenever she goes on tour or is practicing for a comeback, with the time today, you want to enjoy what time you have left before she leaves again.

Lunch is all set, placing the bowl of eggs on the table while Jiwon makes her way to the table with a small container of kimchi. You watch your girlfriend take off the apron, you couldn’t help but watch Jiwon set the apron on the wall, with her t-shirt flaring up exposing the pink frilled underwear. “Hey, you perv, you’d think I wouldn’t know you would look?” You up from looking at Jiwon’s little tush to her face directed right at you.

Caught red handed, although you were not flustered one bit, this being typical behaviour while the two of you finally have alone time. “It’s not my fault that my girlfriend is a sexy idol.” Smirking at her, which was met with a smirk of her own, walking slowly towards you. You watched her as she moved step by step, each thigh coming after another, you just kept watching Jiwon get closer, passing by her designated chair.

She pulls the chair you’re sitting in out, with you on it. “Damn, have you gotten stronger?” Jiwon lifts her t-shirt, showing off her mid, slapping it confidently that her mid has become solid as a rock. “You did get a good look at them earlier, didn’t you?” A big smile was on her face, you chuckle. “Well sorry baby, I was… Distracted…” While giggling Jiwon props herself to sit on you, both legs hanging off one side, arm around you neck, she draws a finger along your jaw.

“Should we have our meal?” You smiled and leaned forward to meet your lover’s lips halfway.

~~~~~

“Look honey, they have a Takoyaki stand!” Jiwon points with her finger poking out slightly in a glove, over to a busy stand, smoke and steam coming out for a little cart with quite a line up. “It’s been a while since I had som-” You look to where your girlfriend was, but in typical Jiwon fashion, she’s disappeared away from your side only to see her lined up for the Takoyaki. “Honey, over here!” You see a small figure sticking out their arm, with a hand covered by a glove, of course it’s Jiwon lining up for food.

You couldn’t help but smile as you walk over to her lining up with her, shortly joining her, the wait time for the line was terribly long. In normal circumstances, you wouldn’t attempt to wait in a line like this, preferably going somewhere else for food, but this isn’t normal circumstance.

You waited patiently; the line moves ever so slowly. The cold was creeping up your body, but it seems as though Jiwon wasn’t feeling cold Fall breeze. “Are you not cold baby?” You put your hands inside your jacket while your girlfriend wraps her hands around one of your arms while the two of you wait for the line to move.

The line is slow going, but your patience has paid off as both you and Jiwon had gotten a fresh portion of Takoyaki, you were amazed about how great the food smelt. The cart didn't look different than the others that you've seen, you look over to Jiwon who's holding her own little paper bowl of Takoyaki. You can see in her eyes how ready she is to devour it; you almost feel bad for the octopus that was harvested to make this. You pull your girlfriend to the side of the cart to some small tables for customers to eat their purchases at the market.

"Look oppa, the bonito flakes are still moving!" Jiwon looks so cheerful; you almost feel like you're going to fall in love with her all over again. "Baby, did I ever mention that you're the cutest thing that lever seen?" Your lover is suddenly flustered. Putting down the little bowl on the table, then following up to cover her face to hide her now even more pinker cheeks from the blushing. “Aish, why do you have to embarrass me now? In public too!”

After getting settled at your little table, Jiwon picked up a piece with a toothpick given at the cart. “Baby, wouldn’t it be too hot to eat?” You try to warn her while you’re trying to open a little hole with your toothpick, but before you knew it, you hear muffled scream.

“MMMMM!” You already knew it were to happen, you didn’t even have to look over to what sounds to be a little Jiwon steaming hot fumes from her mouth. You calmly open up a water bottle and handed it over to her, which she grabbed in a furious manner. “I tried to warn you baby.” You take a small bite out of your takoyaki, thankfully it was cooled down enough to safely eat in peace.

After knowing that your portion was cool enough to eat, you switched yours with Jiwon’s. “Wait, but that means you have to wait for them to cool again.” You watched your girlfriend pout, but you didn’t care. “It’s okay baby, you can eat first. Waiting isn’t a problem.” You kissed her forehead, turning that pout into a smile.

You watch Jiwon eating the food a little bit more cautiously while you create small holes to let the hot air out of yours.

Seeing your girlfriend happy was always the priority.

~~~~~

“Okay… Grand Prix mode… 200cc… You ready to get your ass kicked?” Jiwon gets herself set, sitting down next to you. Trying to keep your composure, you compare your made kart with Jiwon’s, you’re using King Boo while she chooses Rosalina. You knew she was trying to match your weight class so you wouldn’t abuse her off the track.

“Okay, let’s start!”

You and Jiwon get quite competitive when someone suggests to turn on the Switch and run some Mario Kart, usually it would be Jiwon’s idea.

A few tracks went by, she placed 1st place in the first track, but you followed up in the second track, after the third track both you and Jiwon are tied for 1st place, coming down to a winner takes all fourth race.

“You may have kept up this long, but I’m going to win!” You look over to your left, Jiwon leaned forward, glasses tipping slightly at the tip of her nose, tongue sticking out while slightly biting on it with her teeth. She’s dressed in sweats, her hair is tied up in a bun, she couldn’t look anymore differently when she’s up on stage, but then again, this is the Jiwon that you fell in love with.

After a fight of bananas and red shells flying everywhere, an untimely blue shell had taken you out of your 1st place ranking.

“I WON!”

Your girlfriend is jumping up and down for joy, after a tough long battle, she was the one who came out victorious coming away with the golden trophy. “Yah, if that blue shell wasn’t launched, I would’ve won!” You try to defend yourself for losing, you were first for majority of the race, but not long enough.

After a minute of cheering, Jiwon lets out a long and strong yawn.

You smiled, turning off the switch with your controller and setting the controller on the side. “Come on baby, I think today is coming to an end.” Standing up from the couch, moving towards you the cheerful winner, you wrapped your arms around her waist, engulfing her in a hug. “But I don’t want to go back to work…” The energy in this woman disappeared in an instant, like the game zapped her of any remaining energy.

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll have another day off together and we’ll do more together, okay?”

Jiwon hugs you, putting her face into your chest, then looking up with a pout. You couldn’t stop yourself from continuing to fall in love with her more, kissing her lips in that pout.

Pulling away from her, the pout has converted to a smile, accompanied by pink cheeks.

“Okay.”

“I’m beating you next time.” Jiwon would only giggle while the two of you walked over to the bedroom ending what seemed to be a good day off.

#park jiwon #jiwon #fromis_9 #kpop fic #fromis_9 fic #idol x reader

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powderblueblood · 6 months

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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER FOUR — HOT SKIN and a HALL PASS

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summary: rules, you've recently learned, are for breaking– sanity is also, apparently, relative. after making a statement in the cafeteria, you play hooky with eddie in main street vinyl. content warnings: MINORS DNI tension you would need a chainsaw to cut through, farm-to-table snarking, do they even know they're yearning, nancy wheeler i'm sorry i shittalked you again (it will get better i swear) word count: 4k

Dear reader, do you ever feel like you’re completely losing your grasp on reality?

You’ve cruised through life almost seamlessly up to this point. Yours is a well-oiled machine, one you painstakingly built yourself. But do you ever feel like you’ve spent so much time constructing something so carefully that it doesn’t make sense to you anymore?

Like you can’t see the forest for the trees, or the treason for the thrill.

Do you ever want to light your whole life up in flames, just to see what’s really fireproof?

“So, which is it?”

You’re standing at your locker, making a bad job of touching up your now-flaking under-eye concealer when a voice rings out from the other end of the hall. It bounces off the cool metal of the lockers, the tack of the linoleum. It makes your shoulderblades go tense.

“Has little Lacy been hiding a pair of brass balls this whole time, or is she on a suicide mission?”

You’d roll your eyes, but your face is aching.

“Showing up with me this morning would have been one thing, but sitting yourself at my little table of outcasts? At lunch? The most important social event of the day?”

Munson lets out a low whistle from where he leans, a couple of lockers up from yours.

The hallway is deserted save for the both of you; you, out on a forged hall pass and him, probably just ditching to ditch. You peer at him from behind your locker door. He’s standing slanted in a long, lithe line made bold and jangly by his carefully curated metalhead armor.

You, and this comes with a hefty dose of begrudgery, have to hand it to him– he leans great.

“Talk about blowing up your reputation beyond repair.”

You know he’s making fun of you– he’s not exactly subtle about it, nor is he about anything. It’s all in the lilt of his tone, how ridiculous he thinks the interwoven politics of the cafeteria are, how dumb he thinks you are for considering that in the least bit important.

Munson’s idea of survival in high school is attacking conformity with a nuclear bomb, whereas yours is a little more artful.

“I know this might be hard for you to comprehend, Munson,” you sigh, and the sound rattles through your ribcage– you are tired, tired of him, “given that your understanding of object permanence has clearly been stunted at an infantile level, but the world does not revolve around you."

"No?!" he croons, sarcasm slicking out of him.

"I was catching up with Ronnie.”

“Right, because you guys have been such good gal pals up to this point,” Munson scoffs.

His face, framed by those wild waves, materializes in the reflection of your locker’s mirror, peering over your shoulder. You slam the door and pivot to face him properly, impact ringing out like a gunshot.

He does a little jump, a shadow of his shock at you on Harrington’s porch.

That reaction is like a shot of espresso straight to the veins.

Good. Be afraid. Asshole.

You're sure as fuck awake now!

“Lab partner love never dies,” you say, leveling his stare. “You’d know that if you showed up for Biology once in a while.”

“Maybe I need a tutor. I could use someone to help me brush up on anatomy.”

“Sorry. I don’t teach remedial.”

“Maybe you should start. Rehabilitate your image.”

“Again, who died and made you my parole officer?”

His expression cracks; a gasp of a laugh. “Oh, so you remember all that?”

“My hippocampus is alive and kicking.”

“Your hip– what?”

Your lips purse, and just as you’re about to throw another verbal dart at him, the voice of Ms O’Donnell cuts through the both of you.

“I hope you two have a damn good excuse for loitering in this hallway– because if not, Mr Munson, I believe you’re less than one detention away from suspension.”

Munson’s got this terminal disease where he’s more smarm than charm, despite his warped perception of himself. There’s no way he’s going to handle this with the grace that’s necessary, because O’Donnell hates him anyway.

He keens his head in the teacher’s direction, ready to roll out some useless excuse.

Before he’s even got the chance to speak, you cut him off.

“Hall pass, Ms O’Donnell.” You flash the fake yellow slip at her, careful to obscure the names– you’ve usually got one of these forgeries to hand, just in case you need it, and teachers generally trust you enough not to check them out. It comes with the whole work-life balance you’ve been treading for the entirety of your high school career; you’re well-liked and you’re maintaining an impressive grade point average. They don’t give a shit what you do other than that.

“The Weekly Streak has run into a printer snag and Nancy Wheeler’s car is on the fritz. Eddie,” his first name, which you never ever use, feels weird and heavy on your tongue, “offered me a ride to the printers to make sure it gets worked out– it’s a big issue. What with the game this weekend and everything.”

O’Donnell’s eyes narrow. You nudge Munson right in his funny bone– hard enough for him to wince.

“Right?”

“Right! That big game. Front page news, Ms O’D. Gooooo Tigers.”

The teacher clicks her tongue against her teeth, her rock hard stare challenging the delinquent beside you– it’s entirely likely that Munson could have blown it for himself just by virtue of being alive and in O’Donnells sight line, but you know she’s got no reason not to believe you.

See, your reputation at the school newspaper precedes you; it’s just about the only thing that really holds your interest within the monotonous structure of Hawkins High. With your finger on the pulse of Hawkins’ student body, it only makes sense that you serve as a fierce and unforgiving editor of the Streak’s society pages– funnily enough, that hardline professionalism included never giving Munson’s infamously lame Dungeons and Dragons club a single mention in them.

Vetoed, you’d drawled at one of the more well-mannered members that had shyly approached you about writing a piece. Not Ronnie– she knew better than that.

How come? they’d whined, as their fearsome leader glowered near the lockers just like he was doing now.

On grounds of irrelevance. I’m not wasting valuable inches on a make believe board game club.

This activated Munson. Lacy, you wouldn’t know valuable inches if they rammed you in the–

“Make it fast,” O’Donnell decrees, and you feel her watch you as you take off down the hallway. With a snappy quirk of your painted fingers, you gesture for Munson to follow your lead. And you better believe he does, almost tripping over his ratty Reeboks trying to keep in step with you.

You both heave open the double doors, squinting against the unseasonable late autumn sunshine. Heels of your ankle boots clicking against the concrete, you make an unconscious beeline for the parking lot– for Munson’s van.

“So– what now?” he asks, dur-dur dumb as all hell.

“What now is I just got you a free pass to play hooky,” you say, little miss cactus flower, prickly with annoyance. You shield your eyes against the blazing light. “Weren’t you ditching anyway?”

“Yeeaaah,” Munson hums, scratching the back of his head, “But… the plan kind of was to smoke a joint and go to the record store.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complete waste of time,” you hear yourself saying before you realize it, yanking at the van’s passenger door. You pause, raising an expectant eyebrow at Munson. Isn’t this your cue?

Baffled, bewildered, but grinning despite himself, he extends that silver ringed hand and helps you haul your ass into his beat up chariot.

Completely losing your grip on reality.

–

It’s a fugue state. It’s an out of body experience– you’re watching yourself from outside your corporeal form and you have no logical control over what you’re doing.

That’s the only way to explain why you’re standing in Main Street Vinyl, elbow to elbow with Eddie Munson.

But that might also be the weed talking.

You don’t know where the hell he gets this stuff, but it’s strong– way stronger than the shit he’s sold to your friends ever since he started dealing. Well, you guess it makes sense that he’d keep the good shit for himself. You’d do that too, if you were him.

What if I was him, you idly wonder, peering up at him as he flicks through letters R through T in the metal section. His tongue peeks out of his mouth as his ringed fingers work though the vinyl, carefully considering each one.

This is what you mean by obvious– you, for one, would have the good conscience not to look so stoned while you’re so stoned.

You definitely don’t look stoned right now.

No one can even tell that you’re looking at him, up from underneath those thick lashes of yours.

He’s got thick lashes too, come to think of it.

Munson is actually not completely unfortunate looking– but again, if you were him, there’s no way you’d wear your hair like that. You’d keep it long-ish, though, you think. He’s got a point there; a nice curl pattern. Maybe to your ears. And the clothes obviously have to go– that denim vest is a patchwork disaster. Did he sew all those patches on himself?

A vision of him hunched over the thing with a needle and thread in hand flits through your brain, pricking himself more than he can pick up a stitch. He’s gone out of his way to make himself look like this– kind of similar to the way you pick up your skirts so they’re always impeccably just short enough.

Now, the leather jacket you could forgive if at least the collar was different. Maybe one of those Brando-style biker jackets, you could rock that. Or a brown leather number, to bring out your eyes– which are his eyes, of course, his crazy dark empty universes of eyes.

The kind of eyes with the kind of stare that nails you in place and makes you want to do crazy shit like ditch class and get loaded and stand dumbly in a record store. Those eyes.

That are staring at you. He’s staring at you. Right back at you.

“I can read your mind,” Munson monotones, unblinking.

You go flush, heat crawling all the way up to your ears. “Wh–what?”

Then he nudges you and snorts, breaking the spell.

“You have gotta stop thinking such dirty thoughts about me, ice princess. You’re gonna melt.”

You scoff, shaking your head– but the cartoonish move is more to ground you in reality than a reaction to him and his idiocy. You’re Wile E Coyote after blunt force impact with an Acme anvil, shaking the circling birds away.

“They don’t even have what I’m looking for here.”

Stalking around the stacks of records, with no clear direction in mind, you feel Munson’s laser stare follow you. “Yeah, they don’t usually file Madonna next to Motörhead, Lacy.”

They’re both filed under M, aren’t they? is what you want to say. “I don’t listen to Madonna,” you protest instead, all quietly miffed and earnest with a crinkle in your brow.

“Mm, don’t think that’s true,” Munson smirks, rounding on you around the rack. “You gave me a pretty spot on rendition of Like a Virgin– or does your hippocrampus not recall?”

“Hippocampus,” you breathe out, but it’s lost in the din of Main Street Vinyl’s quiet, carpeted atmosphere, “I don’t listen to her, like, recreationally. I can’t help if that song’s an earworm.” A beat. “I also can’t help if you’re a particularly serenadable virgin.”

“She’s gonna touch me for the very first tii-iime…”

“That was a threat.”

You make an active attempt toward tunnel vision as you slowly tread through the store, feeling the high starting to turn on you– this was the part smoking weed that you hated, the few times that you’d imbibed in it. That lack of control over the way you were coming across. For a girl trained in the art of saying all the right things, this was dangerous. Your tongue felt both loose and heavy in your mouth, like it could come out with anything and you couldn’t stop it, it’d just roll on out.

The malevolent presence of Munson and your pathological need to one up him wasn’t helping matters.

Ever since the parking lot at school, you’ve been stalking around like there’s a target on your back. Evidently, you’re not the kind of girl that chills out when you smoke, which is equal parts a relief and a disappointment to Eddie. He wonders what you’d look like, mellowed out and floating. Your eyebrow unarched and your lips not poised for attack.

He’s also acutely aware that he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with you then, either.

But he can’t tear his eyes away from you, a hyperfocus that he’s assuming is a symptom of his own buzz. Every little twitch and jump you do– it’s like it’s begging him to pay attention. Like if he looks away for even a second, he might miss something.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, eyes trained on you while you thumb through the records.

As much as you love music, and you do, you have a tough time describing exactly what you want to listen to. The notes in the songs that you revisit again and again read more like physical feelings, sparking off in your nerve endings. For example, listening to River by Joni Mitchell feels like something heavy is sitting on your chest. Listening to Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees feels like you have fairy lights at the end of your fingertips.

“I want something that sounds…” you say, noticing the distinct feeling of cottonmouth setting in, “Ticklish.”

“Ticklish,” Munson deadpans back at you.

“Something that sounds like someone’s running a xylophone mallet down my spine.”

He regards you for what feels like an excruciatingly long timewith this terrible, awful look on his face– brows ticked up over his glassy bloodshot eyes, pink mouth peeling into a grin, and this look, this look of wonderment. Like he can’t believe you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re saying shit like this to him.

Join the club.

“... You don’t get stoned a lot, do you?”

“Ugh!” you groan, a little louder than you mean to– the cashier shoots you a glare as you stalk past Munson, stalk past him, cheeks flaring pink. “I know what I’m talking about. I know it when I hear it– I heard a record just like that earlier this year! It’s like, some band from Scotland or something? Totally incomprehensible lyrics, yeah, but that’s what it felt like. It was like… bone deep.”

You hear Munson emit the teeniest hehe! and you just about snarl at him over your shoulder.

Rounding on the alternative section, limited as it is, you feel a welcome sense of familiarity. You haunt this corner when you can, when you’re out of sight from prying eyes. There’s only one other regular purveyor of this little corner of Main Street Vinyl that you know of. You trace a thumb over the spines of the cassette cases–it’s mostly tapes, rarely ever records because tapes are easier to import and harder to damage, and it’s always haphazardly organized–and then you spot it.

Victoriously, you thrust it in Munson’s face, which is right over your shoulder. He’s frequenting that spot a lot recently. “Ha!”

“Oh!” he chirps, sounding almost pleasantly surprised and plucks the tape from your fingers. “... Cocteau Twins?”

You falter, eyelashes flickering as you look up at him. Dammit. He even pronounced it right.

“You know them?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He runs a thumb over the plastic casing, edging a little closer to you. That came outta left field.

“This shit… sounds like what a haunted music box would sound like.”

Aaand we’re back in the room.

“Okay…?”

“This is creepy, cursed doll music.”

And the room is filled with assholes.

“Alright.”

“This is what you hear right before you’re about to get possessed by the ghost of Tiny Tim. The whiniest little bitch ghost of all time.”

And all the assholes are named Eddie Munson.

“I get it.”

“You better be careful with this stuff, Lacy-Wacy,” he teases, mocking that fraudulent concern ripped straight from an episode of Donahue. He taps the cassette case against your forehead. “Music like this is a gateway drug. A gateway drug to hanging out with, like, Jonathan Byers.”

You reach out and grab his wrist, tugging his hand and that damn tape away from your face. You’re shocked to find that the skin under your fingers is blazing hot–same as you felt through his shirt when he helped you to the door in your drunken stupor.

Does he always run this warm? you wonder. Is it all that Satanic poseur poison coursing through his stupid veins?

“Well, it’s a little late for that,” you tell him, and you’re not quite sure why. Probably because every secret you swore would die with you is slowly but surely punching its gnarly hand from the grave, like fucking Carrie from fucking Carrie.

Munson doesn’t even express any overt shock, like he’s learning to roll with the punches of you revealing bits and pieces of yourself through sheer annoyance with him. He just cocks his head, challenging you with a silent, Really?

This chick. This blink-and-you’ll-miss-it chick.

“I ran into him in this corner a lot,” you explain breezily, tilting a shoulder up like it doesn’t bother you, like it’s never bothered you. “We’d always be standing next to each other at the listening booths, and I’d be listening to stuff I couldn’t take home and he’d be listening to stuff he couldn’t afford to buy and… We like a lot of the same music. We went out on like, one date if you could even call it that, and it didn’t work out.”

“Because he’s a creepazoid?”

“Because he was hip deep in it for Nancy Wheeler,” you supply, a green monster gurgling in the pit of your stomach. “Like every other respectable member of the male species.”

It was the summer before junior year, a punishingly hot one even by Hawkins standards. You’ve never been good in the heat and that summer made your entire body feel ill-equipped, your skin ill-fitting. Main Street Vinyl had those big, big box fans right near the cash desk which was right near the listening booths, so you would spend the majority of your time there when you weren’t being forced to the lake or Skull Rock with your friends.

Jonathan would look at you with alarm at first, like you were trespassing. Then he’d spy what you were listening to and sneak these small, shy smiles at you that you indulged in– at first, because you weren’t copping a lot of male attention from anyone else that summer. Eventually, it was because his shadowy eyes were always ringed with this tenderness, with knowing. Like you two were sharing a secret. It made you be able to look past the greasy hair and crippling social awkwardness.

You know you rocked his world the day you breezed past him at the listening booth, leaned in and whispered, I love Linda Thompson's voice, don't you?

But still, the Love’s Baby Soft scented specter of Nancy Wheeler loomed large. You picked what you thought was a secluded spot in the park for your ‘date’, which included a conversation that was almost entirely cruise directed by you. Said conversation completely flatlined when you both spotted Nancy Wheeler cresting a hill, walking her family dog.

At this point, you and Nancy were most familiar with each other from the school newspaper– she, the peachy-cheeked junior, the rising star that was sure to make editor and you, the girl who knew where the parties were happening and where the bodies were buried.

The picture of coquettishness, she offered you and Jonathan an awkward, stilted wave. Jonathan spoke a grand total of three words after she left, zeroing in on the spot where she appeared like a man possessed.

You didn’t acknowledge his existence after that.

It’s not that you were particularly hung up on Jonathan Byers, but you didn’t expect someone like him to be able to elicit that cold sinking feeling you were used to experiencing at the hands of other boys and their ignorance. Maybe it hurt more because you thought you had something in common– something real, something that wasn’t shotgunning a can of Busch. Whatever it was, it made you sure of two things.

You hated Nancy Wheeler, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

You wished you didn’t hate her. But you also wished she’d dissolve into a fine mist.

“Wheeler’s a priss,” Munson pulls you out of memory lane in a harsh left turn, face contorting into a half-grimace. It’s the general consensus on Wheeler– the shoes are too goody for everyone to be falling head-over-heels with her, if you want Eddie’s honest opinion. There’s no there there, not like with–

“I’m a priss.” It sounds like you’re defending her. In some weird way, you might be.

I know what guys like you think of me.

“No, you’re a bitch.”

His weight on the word bitch makes your knees feel unsteady. The way he says it. It’s not enunciated like an insult. It’s a dagger cloaked in velvet. It’s warm, like he is. It’s almost filthy. It makes you look at his mouth.

“You’re a stone cold killer bitch,” Eddie’s voice hums low in his chest. His heartbeat is picking up, and he wonders if you can feel it where your freezing fingertips are squeezing his pulse point, “and I think–”

“You two truant assholes gonna buy anything today or am I gonna have to call the goddamn dog warden on y’all?”

Heaved back into reality by the clerk at the cash desk. A trickle of cold sweat runs from the nape of your neck into the collar of your sweater. Heaved back into reality to see you’re still clutching Eddie Munson by the wrist, and he’s looking at you like you’re the last Popsicle. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day.

It gets so hot here in summer.

“I think,” you breathe as you unstick your fingers from him, suddenly aware that you’re parched and starving and your face hurts, “it’s time for me to go home.”

“I– yeah,” Munson stumbles, also perturbed by the interruption. His red-ringed eyes gain a little more clarity. He’s seeing something you’re not seeing. He shouldn't be letting himself see that. “Let’s go.”

Let’s go back to the van. Let me make you look at me like that again. Let me see if you’re cold all over. I can fix that.

“No, I gotta…” Your head pounding, your thoughts swimming– the sharp and stupid realness of this whole afternoon coming into perfect view. What are you doing? “I need to walk it off.”

He inhales sharply, a strangled chuckle– oof. That other shoe, that buckled heel of yours, clattering to the floor. He should have expected that, right? There’s no way you’d wanna… Because you’re you and he’s…

Eddie retreats back into himself a step or two; it looks like he’s gone all bashful, a little color dropping out of his cheeks. His hands clasping behind his back. His heart is in his big intestine.

“That’s the second time you’ve turned me down today, sweetheart. Keep it up, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like me.”

Munson, get the fuck out of here before I ban you again! and Jerry, can’t you see me talking to somebody right now! explode in a cacophony, the boy and the keeper of the keys to the record store hollering at each other. You take this moment of interruption to nudge the door open with your shoulder. But you don’t start into the street without giving him one more look.

“Lacy.” He’s grinning this dumb grin, eyes gone soft at the corners.

He’s giving this one last nudge.

Your heart thumps. A reminder– this is really happening. Shit. Fuck.

“That’s the thing, though,” you say, attempting to smooth your expression out with a frosty smile. “I don’t like you, Eddie.”

author's notes: of course, my eternal eternal ETERNAL THANKS for all the love you have shown this story and the anons you've sent!!! writing is crazy so thank you for caring about mine. onto the fun stuff because you know i love a reference: - he leans great. a shameless my so-called life drop but eddie to me is a kind of stunning midpoint between catalano (left back twice) and krakow (would go down on you for days) - someone in the tags said ronnie and lacy should hold hands and i don't disagree. lab partner love never dies! - there's never a bad time to listen to ace of spades by motörhead - there's also never a bad time to listen to treasure by cocteau twins, which is the album lacy is referencing - i always fee like the zombie hand reaching out of the ground motif is unfairly accredited to the living dead franchises or something like that, but of course the most iconic instance to me is from carrie (1976) because women own horror - god, we really need to bring back listening booths in record stores! like we really need to bring them back lest romance die forever. - richard and linda thompson, also forever!!!!! my headcanon for this re: jonathan byers is this particular record is a joyce byers influenced choice. joyce and lonnie loved this record (when they were happy... lol) and played it all the time when jonathan was a baby. their original copy got lost (or destroyed) and sometimes jonathan will play it in the main street listening booth but he won't bring it home because he knows it's painful for his mom. - all my stone cold killer bitches in the house make some noise - jerry from main street vinyl you will always be rob from high fidelity in MY HEART (eddie is barry even though he doesn't work there lmao) - ok my hellcats! that's all the cultural education for this chapter!! thanks again for reading, reblog and scream at me in the asks because i so appreciate (and need) the support and i'd also love y'all to send me prompts! don't be shy! i love an in-universe blurb!

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x f!reader #e. munson by powder

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