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kakujis · 1 year

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do you love me? 3;

synopsis: they wake you up at 3am and ask if you love them. 1 + 2 + 4

ft: hanma, ran, and rindou.

warnings: gn!reader, insecurities, clingy bfs, jealous!rindou, swearing, mentions of drinking, not proofread, reader is a lil mean in hanma's ): and thaat should be it!

a/n: is it me or are these getting longer?! anyways, here's part 3! the last one will be mitsuya, draken, and chifuyu! i’m running out of steam thinkin’ of scenarios uh oh. anyway, writing ran's bit was so much fun, since i feel like he's a goofy loverboy. i kind of struggled w rindou’s but i hope it still falls together nicely! ALSO WHY IS HIS SO LONG WTF and here's a special lil tag for @fuyuluvr ♡

the city is quiet as the hum of a motorcycle comes to a stop. hanma’s not sure how he ended up here, well actually he is, subconsciously driving straight to the one place that always riles him up, setting his veins on fire faster than the rush of a zipline.

he hums to himself, taking off his helmet, and nudging down his kick stand. he looks upwards, toward your bedroom window, his heart already starting to flutter in his chest. stuffing his hands into his jacket, he walks up, getting ready to scale up towards your window. he glances around, although no one’s around in this dead of night, he would rather not have anyone calling the cops on him.

they’re probably asleep, he thinks, as he peers back up, nails digging into the stone as he uses his leg to boost himself up. he hoists himself until he’s up to the sil, laughing a little to himself when he notices you left it open like you were expecting him.

he tumbles in, knocking over your lamp in the process. “oops.” he says. meanwhile, the crash has you bolting awake, screaming, no, screeching as you grab your alarm clock, holding it up, ready to throw or swing.

he throws his hands up defensively as he approaches, “it’s me!” and in your sleep deprived state you scramble back, the grip on your device tightening.

hanma barks out a laugh, before he switches on your bedside lamp. “hi baby. ♡” he chirps, seeing your shoulders slump as you settle, a particularly loud sigh escaping you as you place one hand over your chest. he kicks his shoes off as he jumps onto your bed, diving straight into your comforter, laying on his stomach.

“you scared the shit out of me!” you yell, “besides, what time is it?” you look at the device in your hand before you realize it’s off, ripped straight out the socket. frowning, you toss it onto the floor, before crossing your arms and facing him.

“you were really gonna fuck me up, huh?” he muses, honey eyes twinkling at the idea of you actually swinging on him. he would’ve dodged of course, but it would’ve given him an excuse to grab you and have you underneath him.

you sigh again, “shuji, i don’t have time for this. i’ve got a work meeting tomorrow morning.” you grab your blankets, shimmying underneath them and pulling them up, “we can hang out this weekend or something,” you yawn.

“eh?” is all you hear as you turn over, shutting your eyes in hopes of getting some sleep. maybe he’d fall asleep with you or maybe he’d leave, but the only thing that’s really on your mind is this stupid meeting. just a few more days until the weekend, has been your new mantra, if you can just tough it out, you’ll be golden.

it’s quiet for a few minutes, but the dip in your bed is still there and soon enough he’s asking, “do you love me?”

“no, shuji, of course i don’t…” you start, sarcasm tinting your voice as you roll back over, but you stop when you see his defeated expression. it’s different from the shuji you know, his solemn eyes studying you, as he nervously plays with your sheets in one hand.

hanma shuji has been so damn bored. it’s been like this ever since you got a job, constant “i can’t”s, and “maybe next time, shu.” he wants so badly to go on late night rides with you again, the sound of your laughter ripping over the roar of his motorcycle.

he wants to stay up with you until sunrise, at the top of your favorite hill, hands intertwined and shoulders brushing. he wants to snap pictures of you at the top of this hill, thinking you're prettier than any sunrise. you make him feel like he’s invincible and that everything’s okay.

shuji has been so bored, but more so than that, he’s been lonely, unsteady. he misses you so fucking much, nothing’s as fun without you, everything’s dull like the world’s covered in sepia.

“c’mere,” you say, opening your arms and he crawls forward, collapsing into you. “i love you, shuji, i do.. and i’m sorry.”

you realize now how distant you’ve been. unbeknownst to the two of you, just how stressful a new job could be, you were just trying to jumble a new set schedule but you had been snappier, neglectful, and even downright mean at times.

shuji tried his best to accomodate you, going off on night rides by himself, always saying, “it’s alright.” when you’d turn him down again. he tried to busy himself more with his friends, but his mind always wandered to what you’d be doing - did you miss him too? - checking his texts every now and then in hopes there’d be a new message.

“shuji?” you whisper when he doesn’t respond and you think he has every right to be upset with you. but instead he says, “yeah?” his face suddenly dangerously close to yours, the tip of his nose lingers by yours and your face heats up at the proximity.

“um,” you stutter and soon there’s a smirk dancing on his face, “d-did you hear me?”

“i heard you. loud and clear, ♡” he says, lips ghosting over yours, “i was just replayin’ it in my head.”

shuji always has you melting and tonight is no different, so you close your eyes and let him kiss you. deep, sweet, and full of all the things the two of you don’t know how to say. you pout when he pulls away and he grins, “so cute.”

an idea strikes you then as you gaze at the love of your life. “hey… wanna go for a ride?” besides, what's the harm in losing a little sleep?

the way he perks up has you giggling, you’re sure if he had a tail it’d be wagging a mile a minute. he’s practically beaming, as he starts to pull you up and off the bed. he stops for a second, head tilted and finger on his chin, “wait, don’t you have a meeting at in a couple hours?”

you nod, “yeah, so bring me home by 5?” you smile at him as you reach for a jacket.

“i can do that.”

ran:

for the first time in his life, ran haitani cannot fall asleep. he lays there, one arm resting above his head, the only noise being the sound of your soft snores as his mind continues to wander. he thinks about the dinner you two had earlier. it was dumb, the entire situation, your friends were clearly too drunk to be saying reasonable things. ran knew this, he’s been the same way countless times before.

but when she hiccuped, arm slung around you, “maann, can’t believe you ended up with ran! you used to only talk about rindou in high school ehe.” ran felt his stomach drop.

you froze at that, quickly glancing at ran whose face was otherwise unreadable. she continued, incessantly giggling, “seriously seriously! everyday was ‘man rindou looked sooo cu’-“

“thats enough!” you had said, placing a palm over her mouth to muffle her. “lets get you home, okay?” desperately glancing at the rest of your friends, who took the hint and helped her out of there.

ran remembered how after everyone left, you had tried to talk to him, “listen..” your hand reaching towards his.

but for some reason, he had stopped you. “it’s fine, people say dumb shit when they’re drunk,” he mused, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “don’t worry about it.”

and maybe the reason was that he was scared, scared to hear you admit that yeah, you did like his brother. and when that didn’t work out, you settled on him.

he shakes his head, getting up from the bed and padding over to the bathroom. turning the faucet, he douses cold water on his face. don’t be stupid, ran.

when he walks out, he stops when he sees you sitting up, sleepily rubbing your eyes. “ran?” you mumble, “are you okay?”

he settles back into an easy grin, walking over and climbing back in. “yeah, i’m alright.”

“liar.”

he blinks. “what’d you just say?”

“i said, you’re a liar.” you huff, placing your hands on his cheeks, swiveling his head towards yours. “you’re upset.”

“and why do you think that?” he says, but there’s a red tint dusting on his cheeks, and his eyes flicker from you to various objects around the room.

“first of all, you’re awake,” you emphasize, “when is ran ‘if i don't get enough sleep i’ll kill you and your family’ haitani awake at 3am? hm?” you dart your head every time he tries to look away trying to stay in his vision.

he sighs, “okay, you got me.” he stills, looking at you with a crease in his brow. “do you love me? and.. was what your friend said right? that you used to like my brother?”

you soften at his question, “of course i do. i love you and only you. let me explain?”

he nods and you drop your hands, opting to intertwine them with his. sighing, you begin, “okay so, in high school there was this… friend- okay no i hated that bitch-“

you give ran a look as he whistles, caught off guard by your vitriol, as he motions you to continue on with a little grin, “don’t mind me.”

“there was this acquaintance,” you continue and ran nods, “and every single guy i was into she would try to take them from me, so i pretended to like rindou because.. i was scared.. she would actually get together with you.”

its your turn to burn with embarrassment, looking down at your interlocked hands as you reveal the secret you kept for so long. you glance up at ran and groan out a “what?!” when you notice his shit-eating grin.

“i’m really a catch, eh?” he teases and you scrunch your nose. “don’t make that face,” he points, “you’re the one who tried to gatekeep me.”

“ugh fine,” you pout, your face on fire, “this is so embarrassing… ah!” ran pulls you down, hugging you tightly. “ran?”

“man, i feel like a million bucks! who would’ve thought the person i’d been chasin’ all throughout highschool felt the same way. i should’ve asked you out sooner.” he pinches your cheek, cooing, “my baby.”

you can’t even focus on the fact that he casually mentioned the two of you were mutual crushing for so long. if you could die from embarrassment you would. on the flipside, if ran could die from love, he would. he’s never admitted it before, but he’s always felt a little insecure, so he hides it behind a mask that only you get to uncover.

“did i ever meet her?” he asks, face to face with you. he can’t stop smiling, instead continuing to poke your cheek as you pout.

“hmm, maybe. i dunno, i tried to avoid her a lot of the time.” you answer, “why?”

“cause if i did, you wouldn’t even have to worry about it.” he says, running the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “i’ve only had eyes for you after all.”

was he always this cheesy? seriously, you might die. “i’m gonna die,” you profess, your face and body on fire, moving your hands up to hide your expression behind them. “if you continue, i’ll seriously die.”

“dying in my arms is super romantic though.” he muses, “i bet it’d be a dream come true for you.”

“shut up!” you groan, burying your face into the pillow.

“babe, seriously, it’s a dream of mine. romeo and juliet, who?”

“ran haitani, shut up!”

rindou:

rindou haitani was seething. on the outside, he had it all. a club that he owned with his brother, able to play his music to an excited crowd, and to top it all off, a loving partner who did their best to support him. but on the inside, he was someone who hid from his emotions, snuffing them out before they had their chance to reach the surface and maybe that’s why, in rare moments, when he couldn’t snuff them out he waited until you fell asleep to think about them.

maybe it was his fault for inviting you out, but it’s always been a dream of his to watch you dance to his music. at first you refused, something about how crowds aren’t really your thing. but he persisted, noting how you always dance for him when he plays his music so why not do it at his club?

“besides, you always get along with everyone you meet, just try it.” he insisted, beaming when you said “okay, just this once.”

he wasn’t usually jealous, something he prided himself on, that you could hang out with whoever you wanted whenever you wanted and he’d have no issue. but tonight things were different. you looked amazing under the neon, pulsing lights, feeling the beat down to your bones as you swayed and moved on the dance floor.

ran was supposed to stay close to you, but the two of you got separated by the mass of bodies. from his view up top though, rindou could see you clearly, and when someone came up to you to dance, he was sure you would deny them. but perhaps it was the slight buzz of alcohol running through your veins or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through you that caused you to say yes.

you didn’t grind on them, thankfully, but still, the way you laughed and cheered, eyes fully on them was like a kick to rindou’s gut. at one point, they leaned in to say something to you and rindou almost stopped his set, wanting to take you home immediately. but instead, he grit his teeth and kept playing.

he didn’t have the heart to tell you anything on the way home either, the way you excitedly bounced up and down detailing to him about how much fun you had and how you’d love to go again. he shut those emotions down again, instead laying a hand over yours, smiling and saying, “i’m glad you had fun, love.”

but now as he lay there in your shared bed, one arm around you as you slept on his chest, he was steaming. he has a continuous fight with himself in his head over it, how he isn’t the type to dance anyway, so it’s fine if you have fun dancing with someone else. but also, have you ever had that much fun with him before? like you did tonight with some stranger? he’s so pissed off he can’t remember, especially when he thinks about how close they were to his baby.

when rindou is lost in his head, he never notices the things he does outwardly to keep himself calm. like the tapping on your arm or the shake of his leg, but you do, rousing out of sleep, peeking one eye up at him.

“rinnie?” you croak, voice hoarse from the amount of shouting and laughing you did tonight. “you okay?”

he looks down at you, unable to control the frustration clearly etched across his face. “i’m fine. go back to sleep.”

“no.” you say, even in your half-asleep state you can tell that something’s up, “what’s wrong.”

“nothing.” he huffs, trying his best to not let his emotions get the best of him. but if there’s one thing rindou hates, it’s talking about his feelings.

you pause, trying to think your words over carefully. “did i do something wrong?” he doesn’t respond, and you mull it over again, when an answer comes to you. “oh… i won’t go to the club anymore, if that’s what you want, i bet i looked pretty lame dancing out there-“

“no!” he interrupts, “no… you looked amazing…besides, i love watching you dance.”

“then what is it, rindou? i can’t read your mind, y’know?” you remind him and his face softens.

“i know…” he replies, and you wait for him to continue. that’s something that he’s grateful for, that when he does talk, you never rush him, letting him go at his own pace. “it’s just… did you have to dance with that guy tonight?” he mumbles, voice trailing off so that it’s barely audible.

“hm? i didn’t hear you, did i have to..?” you ask, tilting your head.

“did you have to dance with that stupid dude tonight?!” he nearly yells, rushing out his words and you blink, a little taken aback.

“oh…” you realize, he’s jealous. you realize now that from where he was looking it probably did look bad, his partner, dancing and laughing it up with a stranger. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know that bothered you so much…”

for some reason, that sets rindou off and he scoffs, pissed off once again. of course he’d be annoyed, of course he’d be jealous. you’re his partner. “do you love me?”

his question comes out more like an accusation and you hate it because it stings. in turn you say, “i do. do you trust me?”

he wants to bite back, but when he looks at you, he can’t. you look so hurt, he sighs, rubbing his temple with his free hand, “… sorry. i do trust you. i’m bad at this.”

“i know,” you say and he glances at you, surprised, which makes you smile. “you’re awful at telling me how you feel, so you act all cool and tough instead.”

“aren’t you mad at me?” he asks, your sudden smile catching him off guard.

“hmm… not really mad, just a little hurt is all.” you say, because even though he was the one who told you that you get along with everyone you meet, you know rindou inside and out, culminating from the many years the two of you have shared together.

rindou doesn’t want to seem controlling, but because of that he neglects to establish his boundaries, too focused on how comfortable you feel. it’s his own weird way of control, if he doesn’t push you, let’s you do your thing, then you’ll stay. you won’t leave him like he’s scared you’ll do if he ever says no.

he apologizes again, his frustration turning to shame. you're so patient, even when he snaps at you or can't find the words. but you shake your head, “thanks for telling me. let me know what bothers you, please?”

“i’ll try,” he mumbles, glancing away, and you know that means that next time he probably won’t. he’ll most likely bury those feelings deep inside until you catch wind, but it’s the fact that he’ll at least try that makes you happy. it’s okay, you’ll always be there when he needs it.

you settle back into your original position, closing your eyes and within a few minutes, you’re dozing off asleep.

tonight really did a number on you, he thinks, while playing with your hair, maybe i should be more honest with you… i love you.

but there's a few things that rindou doesn’t realize. like how he’s talking out loud, or that you’re still just barely awake, his “i love you,” warming you up like the morning sun. as much as you wanna mention it when you wake up, you also don’t wanna embarrass him. for now, you’ll keep this a secret.♡

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma shuji x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #hanma shuji #ran haitani #rindou haitani #pibby writing #RANS WAS MY FAVORITE JSYK !!!!

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occamstfs · 1 month

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Coast Guard Compensation

Here's another military TF, delinquent disrespects the Coast Guard and finds definitely sub-standard civilian processing -Occam

Marcus was being issued a simple ticket for drinking while driving a boat. That would’ve been the end of it if he had just shut his mouth. Unfortunately his brother was not quick enough to prevent him from tearing into the officer. Before he even begins to return to his boat Marcus is shouting at the officer swearing that he shouldn’t even have the authority to issue tickets. That he knows better than some doofus elinstee. He tosses the ticket into the sea as he continues to shout, “this is just bullshit dude! You’re just taking it out on us to feel like a man huh? Couldn’t even do well enough in boot camp to make the Army so you’ll make it all our problem!”

Ensign Harrison’s eyes followed the litter as it blew into the ocean before returning to the still shouting man. Harrison’ smirks as he approaches Marcus who despite being at least a foot shorter continues on his tirade. Jacob has seen his brother get this fired up before but nothing like this. He could only gawk as brother continued to shout vitriol as the officer approached to tower over him, Jacob could not even think to move or intervene.

Harrison lifts Marcus by the collar and simply states, “on top of driving while intoxicated you have also littered into the fine blue sea, and verbally assaulted an officer. Under the authority invested in me by the US Coast Guard I am going to take you back to the station.” Marcus rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to retort but is tossed like a sandbag into the USCG boat. The Ensign briefly scowls at Jacob, who despite being sure this is not appropriate, can not bring himself to take any action against the man who is by all intents kidnapping his brother.

Having established his dominance he returns to his boat to accost the problem at hand. He speeds away in his boat hearing nothing but the boat cutting through the wind and crashing through the waves. The toss seems to have knocked Marcus unconscious, to the sick pleasure of the man driving the boat. Though as they near shore, he comes to and begins anew the derision of his captor. He groans out a “you fuckin’ glorified beach cop…” To which Harrison just smirks in retort, grabbing the only barely conscious Marcus into his patrol car and starts driving back to the station.

He stares at Marcus in the rearview mirror and once he sees the glimmer of conscious return he finally offers a reply, “you don’t know what yer talkin’ about kid.” Marcus squints his eyes at the officer driving his car, knowing something weird was occurring. Something so far out of his hands was happening to him and he needed to use everything in his power to have some curve on the ball. The dick in front of him was arresting him against his will and he was not going to go down without a fight. He is going to use the only weapon afforded to him and use his mouth.

“Really, you must’ve done pretty bad to flunk out of the naval academy right? Their best guys are absolute dullards and you didn’t even make it to step one I bet.” Ensign Harrison’s scowl grows deeper as he pulls the car over. Marcus, refusing to let the chance slip by, turns it up even more. If he can get Harrison to open his door he just needs to bolt. “Oooh scary, bet you feel like a big guy huh! You got a five foot flat guy ten years younger than you in your backseat. I bet you’re just fantasizing about what you can do to me, you fashy pig! You fuckin-” Harrison clears his throat interrupting as Marcus sees veins start to bulge out of his neck and his eyes darken in the rear view mirror. He starts the car going once more and says, “think it’s best if you apologize kid. Ain’t nuthin’ good gonna come out of you talkin’ shit.”

Marcus scrambles to think what his next move should be. Obviously, fashy pig he may be, but Harrison was correct in that the only rational thing to do would be apologize. Harrison even wants to, but any time he even starts to open his mouth to do so his entire throat goes dry and his head burns hot. It distracts him. It angers him. He was going to? What was he? No, he certainly wasn’t going to apologize. To the asshole who ruined his fishing trip, absolutely not.

Harrison’s eyes continue to glower as he exits the car to retrieve Marcus, who in turn observes everything he can about the Coast Guard Station before he’s pulled out. Seeing cameras he starts to hatch a plan before he hears the door slam open and the thought of Harrison disrespecting their equipment is suddenly the only thing in his mind. Jesus that oaf, he’s making them look like even more of a joke than they are. Harrison’s face burns red as he reads nothing but a look of derision in response to this blatant attempt at intimidation.

Marcus quickly tries to escalate, taunting the trooper, “we’re on camera now fash! What’re you gonna do huh, hope you’re ready to-“ He was cut off as a hand is quickly thrust on his neck, a move he was all too familiar with, though he would vastly prefer to be on the other side. He struggles out a performative moan as the hand grows tighter moving up towards his jaw, before breaking out into coughing laughter.

True rage appears in Ensign Harrison’s eyes as he pushes Marcus’ head down into the seat, spitting on his face before letting him go. Still leaning over Marcus, he talks through his teeth, “That’s it you fucker. Hope your little jokes were worth it. You’ve had every chance and you’ve run your fuckin’ mouth. Clearly someone needs to set you straight.”

Finally getting out a sentence without being interrupted, he looks to see an expression of hunger on Marcus’ spit-covered face. Not what he expected and certainly not what he wanted, and as he glances further down he sees an even less pleasant sign growing in Marcus’ swim shorts as a boner swiftly becomes impossible to miss. As Marcus regains his breath he chokes out a “that’s all you got?” To which Harrison begins to feel a heat in his own crotch that is met with both self-derision and an eagerness for the kid to be gone.

Starting to feel out of his depth, despite ostensibly being in charge, Harrison leads Marcus in, taking great care to hide the growing cock in his uniform, which Marcus neglects to attempt, letting his own swing in his shorts. Upon getting inside he leads Marcus to an unoccupied office and locks the door behind him, demanding he stay there and keep his hands off everything while Harrison finishes processing him.

This was beyond irresponsible, but he cannot stand being near the delinquent one second longer, and something about Marcus now makes him think that it’s fine if he’s in this office. Marcus rolls his eyes and agrees though as soon as the lock turns his hands are in a desk drawer. Before he snoops though he wonders about how empty the station is, weird that he didn’t see a single other soldier right? Must be why the pig was trying to flex so hard on him and his brother, trying to hide what a pathetic joke this operation is.

He also briefly thinks about making a break for it, before remembering that Harrison has a gun on his belt. He hasn’t pulled it on him yet but surely as soon as he got the chance to shoot at a runner he’d probably blow his load. He rolls his eyes thinking how Harrison must be compensating. He’s sure all soldiers are, anyone so obsessed with guns and power clearly has something going on.

As he continues this line of thought though, he can’t help but feel that, well, but wouldn’t he want a gun too? Just to have that power? Or just in case? As he thinks about the weight of a gun in his hands he finally remembers that he is rooting around in a desk, as his hands find purchase on what can only be a weighty wallet. He smirks as he palms it thinking of the schmuck Navy flunkee whose credit card is gonna buy him and his brother lunch once he’s out of here. Marcus starts to go through it looking for anything particularly juicy to nab. He hunches over the wallet, conspicuously hiding something, though no one is there to see him.

He shoves the cash into his pocket and finds a license, his eyes glaze over as he tries to look at the name and photo of the man. Not that he cares really though, soldiers are all the same. He continues to hunch and as he does so his back begins growing wider, as if he’s willing it to hide his deeds better. His button up starts to get in the way of his movements so he starts to unbutton it as he feels an itch on the face. He realizes, god, he never wiped that pig’s spit off his face.

His shirt now hanging unbuttoned on his wider shoulders, he raises his arm to wipe whatever surely steroid-filled dried spit remains on his face and finds nothing but a face that is decidedly rougher than it should be. Day on the beach must have been pretty rough on his skin. Maybe he did overdo it today? I mean what was he doing drinking on the job anyway. He pauses before correcting himself, fishing, he was just fishing today. He groans and spins in the desk chair, fuck he needs to get back out there. This room is giving him a headache or something.

It’s kinda hot in here too? Bet that fucker turned up the heater to torture me. Marcus shoves the wallet in his back pocket and goes to stand and inspect other parts of the room before immediately falling over. As he lies on the floor his sweaty chest grows even larger, his traps expand to strain the now unbuttoned shirt as sweaty pecs force themselves into existence pressing into the cold tile floor. Then greater than anything else he feels the wallet pressing against his ass. He might not have noticed how much his upper body has grown, but his legs certainly have and if they want to support it, they need to grow.

He moans to himself. His thighs fill his swim trunks enough to make one wonder how he could even get them on. His ass grows enough to make it clear that the only way they’re coming off is to be ripped off. His bulge on the other side endeavors to make headway to this end as his cock forces its way down his pant leg and his balls swell over twice their size trying to keep up the testosterone production this body demands.

He struggles to his feet, making careful movements as to not burst open his pants then and there. Not to be deterred from his M.O. he hobbles over to a bookshelf and continues to investigate. Marcus sees a bunch of dusty tomes that feel vaguely familiar, though he of course would never want nor need to read whatever droll garbage lies inside of them. Finally he remembers just how bizarre his situation is. What the fuck is he doing? He’s literally being processed for an arrest, or whatever these knock-off cops are gonna do, and he’s just gonna steal some actually important guy’s wallet?

Neglecting to inspect how knows the importance of whoever’s office this is, he instead trains his eyes on the bookshelf. Marcus finds himself eye level with the highest shelf which he knows was not possible when he walked in. He would’ve had to jump to grab any of these books and now he can reach them flat footed. He starts to look down and see just what is happening but as he does there’s another hot flash and he leans against the shelf in pain. God! This fuckin’ place, needs to fix the fuckin’ AC or something. He pushes back against the wall not noticing he stands even taller now as a breeze wicks sweat off his ever more exposed midriff and torso and he sees a conspicuously not dusty manual.

Weird, he’s up to date on all his regulations yeah? He pulls it off, knocking dust loose from the surrounding tomes, causing him to sneeze, his neck bursting wide enough to tear shirt open were it not unbuttoned. His vocal chords thicken as he clears his throat and returns to sit down at the desk. He opens the book wondering what’s so special about this manual, causing a picture to fall to the floor.

He laughs as he grabs it and finds it is a compromising picture of Ensign Harrison. He smirks wondering just what he has stumbled into as he finds himself absorbed into the image. His eyes can’t help but trace the strong curves and powerful muscles of his, the Ensign’s body. His cock gets the messages and finally grows enough to tear a hole in the side of his swim trunks and hsi free hand immediately goes to paw it. God, he needs to see Harrison like this in real life. Drool begins to pool in his mouth as he continues to drink in the image. It spills down his chin as he sees the look of begging in Harrison's eyes, when there is suddenly a scuffle at the door.

Mark takes the second he has to hide the photograph and rip his hand off his painfully erect dick, as Harrison bursts into the room. Nonplussed as ever he looks with a sneer at Marcus with no reaction that he looks any different than when he was booked. Under his breath he complains that Mark’s clothes are far too tight for any respectable man before. He can’t hide the blush on his face though as he asks Mark to button up his shirt before getting to the real purpose he came in, “You didn’t give me your ID uh, kid?” His eyes glaze over at the incongruity of calling the man before him kid and he blushes as Mark sneers at him in return. Raising his sharpening jaw in disdain he produces the I.D. of the Coast Guard officer in his pocket without a second thought and offers it to Harrison.

The Ensign goes to grab it, sniffing the air as he does so and making a clear face of discomfort. Marcus doesn’t notice how he smells, not his problem, if lesser men are bothered so be it. But Harrison makes haste to leave the room, on his way out saying “You better not get your stink on the furniture, ki-, uh, Sir.” Angry at himself for calling that delinquent sir he slams the door and locks it once more, leaving Mark alone in the room, his erection pulsing even larger at being called Sir.

That ball buster needs to learn his fuckin’ place, Mark thinks, I’m in charge here after all. Or? Hm. I mean I pay his wage right, tax-payers and all. Something like that. He rubs his scratchy, sharper jaw as he feels his clothes near their limit. He pauses to decide which drawer to raid next. He settles on the top left drawer and as soon as he does he slams it open only to jump back in shock, his body flexing and tensing as he hears something heavy loudly slam into the back of the open drawer. His biceps rip apart his sleeves as reaches into the drawer and feels ice cold carbon steel. His left arm burns as tattoos he doesn’t remember getting begin to stain his whole arm. He pulls out a gun, His Gun, and begins to inspect it.

He feels a regulation mustache push out of his upper lip, the one he’s always had right? He feels the burn of more ink appear on his torso as it begins to grow shredded. He feels the lengthy hair cut he has always been proud of pull into his head, leaving nothing but a high and tight that can only display the void of a personality that the military demands. He feels the weight of the gun in his hands not noticing as his clothes begin to reform around him. Good thing he got those stupid dress clothes off, he’s at work. He needs to be in uniform.

The scraps of his dress shirt cling back to him and turn into the same respectable military green of any branch. He feels a nylon shirt cling to his sweaty pecs as a thicker top slides over his biceps, struggling to keep them contained. His attention is drawn, as it often is, straight to his cock as he feels his torn swim trunks grow into silkies that are only just able to hide his impressive bulge. He is able to stuff it down the leg of his trousers as they form around his impossibly thick thighs, though even a passing observer would be able to see the beer can running down his leg. His pants are already custom made to fit his ass and thighs, it’s not like he can, or even wants to, hide his masculinity any more. He is thankful though that his, may as well be kevlar, boxers keep him from constantly staining his pants with pre.

Still rubbing his cock through his pants, he releases the unloaded magazine of the gun and moans as wrinkles begin to form under his steely eyes. He absolutely fills his pants with pre and nearly finishes the job before there is another knock at the door. He groans as his body grows once more in agitation, his veins bulging out in aggression as a definitely not regulation beard pushed out of his jaw. But he’s in charge here. He’ll get it back to reg as soon as those fuckers start giving him some respect.

Before waiting for an answer Harrison bursts in, preparing to continue his little power trip, though as he sees the man sitting at the desk, gun drawn and more importantly now in uniform, he can do nothing but salute and shout “Captain, uh! Sir!”

Absolutely not ready or willing to set him at ease Mark gets up and begins to walk over. Captain huh, he likes that. The Captain walks up to Harrison and starts to tease his Ensign. His already deeper voice grows gravelly and gruff as he rubs his thumb across the saluting soldier's jaw, “Now Harry, I don’t believe I gave you permission to enter, did I?” Harrison gulps as The Captain continues, “Now are you here now on business, or is there something else I can do for you?” Harrison glances down to the impossible bulge in his captain’s pants, causing Mark to smirk and all-too-familiarly launch his hand to his Ensign’s jaw. He forces Harrison to make eye contact with him. He gulps once more as he hears the fabric stretch in The Captains pants and his face grows red. He shuts his eyes, feeling his own cock instantly surge into an erection. “I- uh, there was a call, sir!”

The Captain’s look of hunger changes slightly and he grins, “a call hm? At ease, Soldier.” Harrison collapses against the door, his eyes still closed, lest he cum on the spot from seeing The Captain in front of him. Mark then leans over him to whisper to him, his breath tickling the neck of the Ensign, “Now, why don’t we go show these fuckin’ delinquents just what business the US Coast Guard means hm?” Harrison’s eyes open as his body convulses, cumming as he slides down the door, moaning in shame. In turn The Captain stands and prepares to go gather some more recruits, the station has been awfully quiet recently. Just him and pathetic little Harrison, they could use some fresh blood, which he will inevitably gather at whatever bonfire or fishing crew they are about to raid...

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #military tf #muscle tf

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tojisblade · 2 months

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ღ 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒆 ༺ ღ ༻ 𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐 𝒕𝒐𝒋𝒊 ღ

༉‧₊˚. synopsis: one moment, you were doing something as basic as taking out the trash (like, literally), the next moment you were getting fucked by a wanted felon who pretty much broke into your place in hopes you‘d harbor him for a few minutes until the coast was clear. who knew the thrill of crime was so exhilarating you needed a quick one-night-stand to come back to your senses? or did you lose your mind entirely and just didn‘t notice in the process of being fucked into tomorrow?

༉‧₊˚. warnings: you literally fuck murderer!toji, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, he calls you princess (like, a lot of times), toji talks A LOT like dude shut up lmao

༉‧₊˚. this was entirely inspired by a scene in the rookie where lucy made up a cover story for how juicy and dim met, it's basically that but with toji

He was in so much fucking trouble.

Never did he even think the cops were onto him, God, the fucking cops in plain clothes as they were in the same club he was as he was smuggling the poison into some guy’s drink. Now they were running after him, trying to catch him.

Toji quickly ran into a massive apartment complex as he tried to flee the scene. Looking around to see if there was anyone or any place he could hide, as he still ran.

It was like fate when you opened the door, purely in coincidence. You were getting out to take out your trash as you saw him running frantically. “Hey, are you oka–“, you started out asking, but got interrupted.

“Listen to me. The cops are after me and I need a hideout. Can I stay in for a moment until they leave?”, he said, frantically.

“W-what?”, you stuttered, completely caught off-guard.

“Fuck, just shut up”, he groaned before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside of your apartment.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”, you exclaimed, still not completely aware of what is going on. You had dropped the bag in shock as he pulled you in.

“Shut. Up!”, he hissed, looking out of the window, just to see the two cops who were after him walking around the apartment complex with their guns drawn. “Shit.”

He looked around, trying to figure out what he could possibly do with his situation before he finally faced you. “Okay, listen. My name is Fushiguro Toji, and I am being chased by the cops out there. I know, I’m just a stranger, but trust me, I am not going to hurt you, despite how this all seem like, considering the cops are after me.”

“Uh… yeah, duh”, you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Roll those eyes at me again and I’ll reconsider”, he immediately continued. “Do not fucking interrupt me, princess.”

“Fine, talk. You just broke into my apartment, so I do deserve some explanation. Start talking, or I’ll kick you out for the cops to find you.”

“And I apologize for the break-in. I swear I don’t plan on hurting you because that is just unnecessary evil, even for me. I just need a couple of minutes here in hideout so that I can run in peace. Is that okay?”, Toji asked. You were so convinced you had lost your damn mind when you nodded and agreed that he could stay over for a couple of minutes.

“If the cops knock, I am not here”, Toji emphasized again, making sure you got it.

As if on cue, there was a loud knock, startling you. You stayed quiet as you pointed at the bathroom for Toji to hide. Your heart was beating so fast, as you went to the door and asked; “Who is there?”

“Police Department. We want to ask you a few questions”, the officer yelled back.

“Can you please identify yourself?”, you stalled as you checked if Toji had hidden. You looked through the peephole as the cops held up their detective badges before you smiled softly and opened the door for the cops.

“What seems to be the problem, detectives?”, you asked gently.

“We are in search of a murderer going by the name, Fushiguro Toji. Black haired, very tall and muscular. Last seen wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans. He is classified as extremely dangerous. We last saw him entering this apartment complex. Have you seen him, by any chance?”, the officer asked.

You pretended to think a little before you shook your head. “Nope. I was on my way out to take out my trash so, I was inside the whole time.”

“Alright, Ma’am, please give us a call if you see or remember anything. Would you want us to accompany us with you going outside, in case you don’t feel safe?” One of the two detectives handed you a card with his contact details.

You nodded at the offer, tagging along as you took out your trash and thanked the officers for the company. “Could you possibly tell me a little about that person you’re looking for? Perhaps that will help me with my memory or something I can watch out for?”

“I cannot disclose any details yet as it is an ongoing investigation, however, the current suspected M.O of the suspect is that he uses poison in his victim’s drinks. So, perhaps just watch out for your drink the next time you’re out partying.”

“Thank you, officers. I can return to my apartment alone, thank you for the company. I’ll uh… let you know if I see something”, you said goodbye to the officers before turning around.

“Goodbye, Ma’am, have a good night”, they said in unison.

You quickly headed back, your entire body was literally on fire after that short conversation and the fact that you were literally harboring a felon in your apartment had you shaking to your core. Once you locked your apartment and made sure the cops were gone, you were suddenly pushed to the wall next to the door. “Good. You did great”, Toji had you cornered, smirking at you as you looked at him with big eyes, shocked by his sudden action.

“Thank you”, you whispered back, not trusting your own voice. His arm was over your head on the wall, cornering you between his huge body and the wall. “You’re not so bad yourself. Out on a murder charge, huh?”

“So, you asked about me, didn’t you?”, Toji chuckled, biting his lip. “Yeah… what about it? You scared?”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? But God, it makes you oddly attractive and interesting. So, tell me, what is that all about?”, you ask then, a little smile sneaking onto your lips. “A murder suspect in my apartment, who insists on promising me that he won’t hurt me, hm?”

“Attractive and interesting?”, Toji chuckled. “I may or may not have added some extra ingredient to some dickhead’s drink.” He casually shrugged, eyeing you up and down.

“So, that was why they said to be careful of my drinks next time I’m out partying, huh?”, you replied.

“I would never add some additional ingredient to your drink, princess”, Toji taunted before he suddenly leaned in and kissed you. You couldn’t help but immediately melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck, as his one hand wrapped around your thigh and lifted it up around his hip.

The kiss was so full of fire, so much passion and there was nothing but carnal desire and need – it was like the fact that he was a murderer, a wanted felon, flew right over your head. You simply couldn’t care less about it because, fuck, the entire situation was so incredibly hot, the fact that the cops were still around searching the premises was making you feel so tingly.

“Mhm, princess, you taste so sweet. I wonder if your pussy tastes just as sweet, hm?”, he whispered against your lips, smirking. “Will you let me have a taste?”

“Maybe… but maybe I won’t. You’ve got to earn it, mister.”

“What a tease, princess. But you know what, you shouldn’t tease me, because believe me, I can do better than that”, he continued, before he leaned back in to kiss you once more as you grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, your eyes going up and down over his very toned and muscular body.

And you felt so insanely lucky to think about the fact that his body would be on top of you or underneath you in just a couple of minutes.

“So, you wanna move this over to the bedroom or are you not that much of a gentleman and just fuck your women against a cold ass wall?”, you giggled.

“Oh, I sure as hell do not keep my women cold and standing, mh? Wouldn’t be so fair if I fuck you into oblivion and don’t give you a comfortable place to come down from the highs I give you, hm?”

“Someone’s cocky. But alas, unfortunately, there has been nothing but talk so far, honey”, you reply, giggling before you squealed in shock as he lifted you up over his shoulder.

“Where’s the bedroom, princess?”, he asked, voice rough. “Need to teach you how to properly speak to me before I reward you with pleasure you have never felt in your life before.”

When you pointed to the room, he immediately went in and dropped you onto your bed, quickly climbing onto you, practically ripping apart your clothes. “God, princess, you’re so hot, so gorgeous underneath me”, he groaned, lips wandering down to your tits before he wrapped them around your one nipple, sucking and licking over the sensitive nub. Your body arched into him as you let out a whine and Toji smirked, enjoying the way you responded to his touch.

“Reacting so fucking gorgeously for me, princess. Can’t wait to taste your pretty pussy”, he teased. “Did I earn it, princess?”

You nodded frantically. “Fuck, just get to it”, you whined.

“So bossy, princess. Such a little slut for the murderer you harbored in your home and protected without knowing what dangers could possibly await you”, he snickered, “Does it excite you? Knowing you lied to cops for me, for someone you don’t even know?” Toji’s lips wandered down your body, slowly reaching your pussy and he pulled your panties aside to lick over your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds as he spread your legs apart with his hands.

“Fuck don’t stop!”, you cried out, back arching again into his grip around your waist.

He looked up at you, smirking as some saliva was running down his chin, and he was watching your every reaction. Toji had grown obsessed with how well you reacted to his touch, his tongue over your pussy. “Reacting so prettily for me, princess. Want more? Want me to fuck you? I’ll bring literal heaven to you, princess. If you let me.”

You were nodding once again, fingers buried in his hair as he lowered his head back again to your pussy and you felt two of his fingers against your entrance, slowly slipping in and fingering you slowly. Your eyes widened in surprise, you let out a choked sob as his fingers hit your sweet spot – you cried out as he continued with the constant stimulation.

“Please, Toji, fuck me, please?”, you whined, attempting to pull him closer back on top of you. However, he was obviously way stronger than you and could stay where he was with no trouble at all.

“It’s rude to interrupt a man while he’s eating, princess”, he grunted, “let me make you cum first on my mouth, princess, then I’ll fuck you.”

You whined as he increased his finger’s pace, continuing the sweet torture on your pussy with his lips as well and your hips were jolting up as you got closer to your release. A cry left your lips as you begged him not to stop and felt him smirk against your clit, promising not to stop until you came for him.

It didn’t take too long for him to fulfil that promise. The way everything practically shattered around you had you thinking about the last time you had felt this much pleasure at once. “Holy shit”, you choked up. “That was… intense.”

“Told you, princess, I’ll bring literal heaven to you”, he smirked, slowly climbing on top of you and watching you come down from your high. “Did I keep my promise, princess?”

“You sure as hell did. But…”, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer for a kiss, “if you don’t put that damn cock of yours inside me anytime soon, I bet the cops will be very interested in knowing where you’re hiding.”

“You little minx… don’t worry, princess. I gave you a promise and I intend to keep it. You’re about to have the most intense night of your life.”

As he pulled down his jeans, your eyes widened as you saw his cock’s girth and length. You had already assumed that he was big, considering his big ass ego, but you didn’t expect this. He noticed your hesitation and laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, princess, I won’t hurt you.”

“You’re a wanted criminal, do you think I trust your word?”

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you and I kept that promise. I told you I would bring you to heaven and I did keep that promise, too, didn’t I?”

You considered his arguments and shrugged. He had a good point with that.

“So, do you believe me when I tell you I won’t hurt you?”

You nodded.

He smiled softly at you before he aligned his tip with your entrance, pulling your panties aside once more and finally, pushed his cock inside slowly, inch by inch, slowly getting you used to his size. Your back arched when he was buried inside of you fully, a tear rolling down your cheek as your body was basically on fire.

“You’re so tight, princess, feels so good”, he groaned, waiting for a moment to let you adjust to the stretch. “Can’t wait to fuck this tight pussy of yours.”

“Please, fuck me”, you whimpered, nails raking over his back as he slowly started a tender, gentle pace and before you knew it, he was starting to build a merciless, brutal rhythm, making your tits bounce with the frantic way he was thrusting into you.

The sound of his hips snapping against yours had your eyes rolls back, your legs were wrapped around his waist as you held onto him and you were pleading him not to stop, practically crying and he fucked you so good like you never had been before.

“Goddamn it, princess, you’re so fucking hot when you get fucked like this. Do you like how I fuck you, hm?”, he rasped, lips wandering over your neck. His hips stuttered as pleasure like he never felt before coursed through his body, getting closer and closer to the edge. “I’m going to cum, princess, where do you want me to cum, hm? On your pretty tits? Or maybe inside of your tight, perfect pussy, hm? Give you a good old load of me and make you feel it drip down your thighs when I pick you up and fuck you against the wall over there?”

His words had your eyes roll back at the visual. “Please, inside”, you whined, sobbing as you clenched around him and finally reached your peak, coming around him again, sputtering in pleasure. “Fuck, Toji”, you practically wailed.

“Am I keeping my promise, princess?”

“Yes, fuck, you are, stop asking me that and cum in me”, you groaned in annoyance.

“Still so bossy, princess”, he laughed before he continued his rough pace and shortly after let out a choked breath, hips stilled as he came inside of you. Toji wasn’t moving at all, trying to come down from his high as he relaxed. “Fuck, princess, you feel so incredible.”

“Oh, honey, this was better than anything I have ever felt before.”

“I’m glad I got to prove to you how good I’ll fuck you”, he chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and laying down next to you.

“Hey, I thought you were going to fuck me against the wall and have your cum drip down my thighs?!”

“You wanna go again?”

“Hell fucking yes”, you snorted and squealed when he got up on his feet and pulled you up before pushing you against the wall, lifting your legs around his waist as he kept you up against the wall and quickly slid his cock back inside of you, fucking you again and bringing you to yet another earth-shattering orgasm and another one.

And the most exhilarating part of this was that you could hear the detectives through the thin walls, discussing their next move to finally find the guy who currently had his cock buried deep inside of you.

The one who you had lied to the cops to, making you an accessory to the murder he had committed.

But you couldn’t care less about it, because goddamn, this was the best fuck you had gotten in your entire life.

#♡ // toji #♡ // aly writes #jjk #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk toji

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perpetual-fandom-brainrot · 5 months

Text

Some CoD Hybrid Reader Drabbles

Hybrid reader stuff, if it's not your taste I recommend clicking off and finding something better to read (*cough cough* Temporary Relocation *cough cough*)

TW: Descriptions of violence and gore

Other than that mostly just fluff

I've gone down a rabbit hole (two kinds) and I can't help but think about some concepts I want to see interacting with this trope like...

If reader was a bunny hybrid, separated from their fluffle so just aimlessly wandering around. Used to having other bunny hybrids around to help with grooming/cleaning so you don't entirely know how to do that, either, at least not effectively. I imagine you wouldn't be found by the 141 while they're on duty, but rather one of them (or their family members) would find you while on leave. They'd take you in and take care of you, and start noticing just how good of a fight or flight system you have. Maybe with some good training, you'd make a good soldier...

If reader was a dog/wolf hybrid, kidnapped owned by some of the not necessarily best people in the world since only being a pup. In fact, these people end up being wrapped up in activities that the 141 ends up sticking their noses- and barrels- into. As they're stalking around the building where you're kept, making sure all of the targets are taken care of, they train their guns on you for a moment. It's when you back up quietly, whimpering with a raw and dehydrated throat, that they realize you aren't a threat. They unlock your prison kennel and tell you to move it before you're definitely a liability (whoever dictates this choice gets mega whooping from their higher-ups later). When they run into you again on the way out, finishing ripping out the esophagus of another target who would've otherwise interfered with exfil, that you're offered a position as a soldier. And you accept.

If reader was a cat hybrid who spent their time wandering streets, taking bites of abandoned food and finishing drinks long forgotten in order to survive, only for that very town to be the one Ghost and Soap arrive in while fleeing from Graves. You're crouched behind a dumpster when Graves is rounding up the cops, and even though you're bringing claws to a gunfight you can't stand to see him acting as judge, jury, and executioner. You find a Shadow nearby, not expecting anyone in their previous path to still be alive, and silently get their weapons off of them. You wait for your moment, using your intricate knowledge of the alleyways and buildings and rooftops to stay undetected, taking out the Shadows around Graves. You take an angle at Graves himself, jumping from a rooftop and landing on his shoulders, pulling his hair until he's stumbling backwards and you both fall into the fountain. You grab a beer bottle off of it and bash it directly over his head, making sure it shatters and knocks him unconscious. You scurry off, disappearing into the night before Soap has a chance to get down and speak to you, or even process what he just watched.

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adnauseum11 · 3 months

Text

Listening Post (John Price x Reader)

John goes M.I.A, and all is not as it seems at first.

900 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

You’re starting to get worried. It’s out of character for John to ignore you. Even when he was still on active duty, he would tell you if he was going to be in the field. He’d never compromise himself with any details but he’d at least let you know he was away. And he always let you know when he was back on grid, his simple ‘back here’ text enough to reassure you that he had made it home once again. You stand in your kitchen, gnawing a thumbnail and obsessively looking at your phone.

He wasn’t in the field any more, and he shouldn't be away, you had plans to do Trivia Thursday night this week at the pub. He would have told you if he had left town. If you weren’t dating the wretched man, you would send him a text about being a miserable bastard and try him again the next day to see if his mood had improved.

You scroll back in your texts, checking the timestamps. He’s never let a text go unanswered all day before. What kind of trouble could an ex-SAS Captain possibly get in to? He can take care of himself. Surely, he’s fine. He’s been in his share of fights. If the cops had picked him up for something, you would have got wind of it, you’re certain. You’re trying to convince yourself to remain calm, annoyingly something that’s normally John’s job between the two of you.

You realize you’re going to spend the evening standing in the kitchen, agonizing in silence, so you resolve to sort the situation out one way or another. You pull on your jacket, thumbing through your phone to a ride share app. You find yourself in front of John’s flat less than 20 minutes later. His car is there, and instead of making you feel better you get a sinking sensation in your stomach. At least if he was away, you could tell yourself he was busy. Now it looks like he’s just dodging you.

You let yourself in using the key he gave you years ago, knocking gently and calling for him. Nothing. No signs of life in the kitchen or living room. His neat flat looks immaculate. You’re heading down the hall when you hear low groaning. A flame of anger licks at your belly and you have to keep yourself from stomping the rest of the way down the hall.

If he’s cheating on you before you’ve even had sex, you’re going to string him up by his balls. If you have to pay to find someone who knows how to do that, you will. It will be worth it –

By the time you clear the doorway, you’ve convinced yourself of what you’re going to find. Even brace for it, your face screwed up into a wince. So, when it’s just John, sweating buckets and groaning in pain in the middle of his bed it takes you a full ten seconds to reboot your brain.

“What’s wrong?” You’re leaning over him, not bothering with pleasantries or admonishments now, running your hands over his face and chest with anxious movements. You’re instinctively looking for a wound of some sort before you can process your own actions. He squints at you, grabbing your hands and covering his eyes with your palms, curling towards you.

“My fucking head. Holy shit.” His voice is like gravel, and you wonder how long he’s been like this if he’s openly admitting to what ails him. You’re crawling into the bed, moving on autopilot despite never having seen him like this. John’s misery does not like company, thanks very much. But it seems those old rules of engagement for you both are shifting. You’re pillowing his head on your thighs, curling over him protectively and making sympathetic noises softly. As relieved as you are he’s not up to anything nefarious, guilt at it being a thought at all is hot on its heels.

“A migraine?”

He confirms with the tiniest tilt of his head, pressing his cheek into your thigh while you gently cup his forehead. He’s burning hot, sweaty to the touch. You’re stroking a palm over his hair slowly, easing him off your lap so you can run around his flat, gathering anything you can think of that might help - ice water in a bowl with a facecloth, a bottle of water, fruit from the bowl in his kitchen. He’s groaning again by the time you get back and arrange everything on his bedside table.

You spend the rest of the night playing nurse, finally able to get more information out of the miserable man on what might make him feel better. The cool cloth helps, as does the darkness and gently stroking his scalp. You’re able to get him to lightly doze after a few hours of concentrated efforts. Grateful for the small stash of clothes and essentials John insisted you bring over a few days prior, you keep one eye on your sleeping patient while you change into pajamas. The thought of leaving him alone like this makes your stomach drop and your skin crawl, as does the slow realization he’s likely been dealing with these episodes alone for some time.

You manage to crawl back into bed without disturbing him, resuming your slow stroking passes over his scalp. Your insides are wobbling dangerously, like you might fall into a heaving cry at any moment. You’re supremely grateful when exhaustion takes over, silencing any and all thoughts.

Next Chapter

#fanfic #john price x f!reader #john price x reader #call of duty #captain john price #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers

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antifrgl · 11 months

Note

maybe something about the aftermath of hobie’s canon event and how the reader would try to comfort him

there are so many theories abt his canon event, so for this i just assumed that he somehow got close to a cop (that he obviously didn't want to die) ??? sorry for the mistakes !!

comforting hobie after his canon event ☆ atsv

hobie x g-neutral reader.

he definitely zones out while he's trying to process what just happened, it just feels so unreal to him.

certainly, a thousands of thoughts run through his mind as he's internally panicking.

he just needs to go, but where ? he needs to see someone, quick, but who ? he needs someone to slap some sense into him, but again, who ?

after a few seconds that felt like hours for hobie, it eventually hit him like a thunderbolt.

he needs his safe place ... and all he could think of is you !!

brushing all his thoughts aside, he just swings to your place AND completely ignores the fact that HE'S NOT hobie brown right now !!

at this point of your relationship, hobie didn't reveal to you his spider-man's activities although you were pretty close, he just didn't feel the need to include you in his other life, until that night.

"what the ..."

SPIDER-PUNK ???

spider-punk is knocking on your window while his other hand (you assumed) glued to the wall like his feet ??

spider-punk was pretty famous, no, VERY famous, so famous that you can't even believe your eyes ???

LIKE ?? WHAT IS SPIDER-PUNK DOING AT ONE AM KNOCKING ON YOUR WINDOW ???

eventually, you allow him to come in ?? but he just ... doesn't move, nor speak, which suddenly frightens you 0_o

yep ..

it finally hits him ..

he's not hobie brown right now ..

yet, it's not enough to make him just swing away and pretend like nothing happened :/

while a silent and awkward atmosphere blankets your room, he finally comes in and stands there for a second, before reaching for his mask ...

"wait, HOBIE ?!"

no, it's not that surprising, it definitely makes sense you think ...

he never meets your gaze, he prefers to lower his head, still no words escaping his lips, only loud breathes, hinting that the boy definitely had it rough a few minutes ago ...

once you took a few steps closer, like an instinct you just cup his cheek with the palm of your hand and carefully lift his head and damn ..

it was such a sad sight.

hobie couldn't really function properly, but he certainly felt relief, almost regretting to not have revealed his secret life, his doubts and problems to you earlier in your relationship.

you just froze as he suddenly leans in and rests his head on your shoulder.

the both of you eventually stay like this for a good minute, then two, then three, then four till hobie breaks the silence with a tired voice.

"can i sleep here, tonight ?"

liar.

the boy couldn't close one eye through the whole night, but your presence sure calmed him and somehow kept him warm.

he felt a sense of security, something that he never experienced before !

the day after, you wake up without finding hobie next to you BUT before you could panic, you notice an unfamiliar note.

"thank you. ay, keep this a secret, will you ? - hobie"

BUT no need to worry !! there's no need to feel useless or whatever !! you did everything right !!

hobie wouldn't want to talk about what happened, certainly not just a few minutes after it happened, but he'll definitely explain it to you someday (:

the boy just needs some time alone, before he eventually comes back to you, after facing his spider crisis ...

#hobie brown x reader #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spiderman x reader #marvel x reader

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princessbrunette · 4 months

Note

i’ve been really projecting with these posts lately, but reader who is scared easily and sensitive to violence at a party with rafe when a fight breaks out way too close to her for her liking, and rafe has to quickly remove her from the situation before she starts panicking.

tw: some guy grabs readers ass non consensually & there’s blood n violence in this !!

before you, rafe never had to care about who was watching when he got rough with people. he knew he could take a beating — he was 6’4 for gods sake and as time passed he definitely learnt to hold his own in a fight — but since getting together with you, he’s had to be more wary. he remembers the first time he’d pummelled some guys face in right infront of you. he didn’t know what he was expecting, but the drive home you were in stunned silence, patching his knuckles up with wide watery eyes. as soon as he asked if you were okay you’d burst into tears — like, not just a little sniffle, like full on bawling, shaking, can’t hold yourself up tears. something had traumatised you in the past, clearly — and rafe had triggered that.

he didn’t like that.

he was stubborn in nature, yes. he wouldn’t change for anyone. however, you were the exception. you were his everything, his obsession. he couldn’t handle the thought of scaring you and then losing you forever. fuck no, not on his watch.

he’d gone a long time without slipping up. balled up his fists under the table when someone would disrespect him over dinner. clenched his jaw and held it together when someone would look at you for too long. he even took deep breaths when his father would be breathing down his neck over family business. he was handling it— until someone crossed the line.

some random guy, a nobody really — a copy and paste kook in a polo shirt that had grabbed a handful of your ass at a beach party, drunk out of his mind nonetheless— but that didn’t make it any less okay. you were a shy, meek thing. rafe knew you weren’t even gonna stand up for yourself in a situation like this, even after you’d yelped loudly and jumped away from the man. picking on quiet, harmless girls who won’t fight back? now rafe just wouldn’t tolerate that.

it’s safe to say he lost control. it happened in a flash really, one moment he was processing what he’d just seen, next moment he had the guy by the collar, holding him up against a giant rock on the sand. rafe doesn’t know why he looked at you, but he was glad he did. you stood, in the middle of the chaos, the crowd forming — tense, wide eyed— comparable only to a baby deer moments before its limbs are shattered and crushed by an oncoming truck. he couldn’t do that to you, not again.

“get her out of here!” he heard himself growl, directing his attention to the nearest person by you. they didn’t move until he yelled “GO!” and suddenly you were being whisked away. he hoped you were gone, but he didn’t wait to see— fist connecting with the young man’s face.

he beat the shit out of him.

not like, a few punches and some rolling around in the sand. beat the shit out of him like, blood splattered on rafes face and up his arms, the crowd falling into shocked silence, topper yanking rafe away before he had a murder charge on his hands. it got ugly, and he was glad you were nowhere in sight when he fell away from the scene, raggedly panting.

he’d stumbled home, doing everything in his power to regulate his nervous system. shit, he probably had the cops show up and shut that party down but he couldn’t find it in himself to care right then. tanny hill finally emerges into vision, and he walks with the heel of his hands pressed to his eyes, face screwed.

“stupid, stupid— fuckin’ man up.” he mutters to himself, smacking the side of his head hoping to knock some sense into himself. he sniffs, shaking himself off before deepening his voice, speaking “man up.” again out loud. he gazes up at the house, and sees the only light on being the lamp in his room. you were there.

when he gets inside, he heads straight for the shower — not his own, because he’d have to go to his room for that. he uses his fathers, washing off the blood and the sweat that had gathered at his hairline, wiping down his face until he felt like him again. he breathes into his hands, a deep hot sigh, before drying off, changing into a sweater and sweatpant shorts and headed towards his room.

you’re sat on the bed, staring at the wall. not great, but atleast you weren’t crying. he edges into the door, swaying on the spot as he stares at you for a moment. you look back at him, but don’t say a word.

“hey… baby.” he speaks quietly, unsure of what to say.

“what happened?” you ask reluctantly, like you really didn’t wanna know, like you were silently begging him to lie. he presses his lips together, frowning and waving his hand up by his head like he was trying to conjure the words.

“you know i…” he sighs, edging towards you and sitting at your side, body turned completely towards you. he hesitates before grabbing both of you hands, squeezing lightly at your smaller fingers. “i did something that i had to do… okay? i-i-i have been really trying to get a hold of my anger. i know it’s an issue, a’ight? i know. but he touched you and… i didn’t think i just… i had to teach him a lesson. you understand, right?” his eyes are wide and intense. you almost want to look away.

“i just don’t like it, rafe.”

“i know.” he responds quickly, letting go of your hands as he nods, facing away to lean forward, pressing his face into his hands. he leans back, raking his fingers through floppy hair as he stares ahead with plump parted lips. “i know.”

there’s a silence between you two, and he nearly jumps when your hand creeps around his bicep, softly resting your temple on his shoulder. he’s frozen, staring at you from the side.

“did you get in trouble?” you whisper.

“nah, no i didn’t.” you feel him shake his head.

“thanks for sending me away… although i didn’t like when you yelled. it was scary.”

“i know, baby.” he jumps into action, wrapping both arms around you so he could tuck you under his chin. “i wasn’t yelling at you though. you know that— hey, you know that, yeah?” he pulls away briefly to lock eyes with you.

“yeah.”

he kisses the top of your head, pulling you back in.

“good… i’ll try not to fight anymore. infront of you anyway.”

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble

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divinehedons · 9 months

Text

nothing good.

navigation: masterlist

pairing: javier peña x foreign journalist!afab!reader

word count: ~3k

summary: javier peña recounts a tumultuous affair with you, one that while all-consuming, occured only within the span of three meetings.

warnings: this fic contains explicit sex, minors DO NOT interact! p-in-v sex, canon-typical corruption and javi's morbid consumption of cigarettes, angst angst angsty angst.

note: this is a self-indulgent fic written with getaway car on repeat in the background. because of that, i've started singing it as, "javi in the getaway car." i hope you enjoy and thank you so much for the influx of support! reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

"Do you remember how we met, cariño?" he whispers, quickly followed by the sound of a long exhale. A motion so familiar, you could swear you smell the menthols he always smoked; lounged in bed, in the office, after a long day, on the walks you both took.

It was that train of thought that pulls you back to the day you yourself remembered well. The threshold of you and Javi. It was a humid evening, like any other humid evenings you had in Bogota. The racuous night life, ruled mostly by hijinks and crime, and the smell of electricity in the air. You remember the dress you wore that evening. You remember feeling sort-of-nice about yourself.

His version: he was on the lookout for a tip about a syndicate in the city, some loose connection to Escobar with a few boys. You, the helpless, lost, and lovely little lamb who happened to knock on his car window asking if he can help you find your hotel. That he looked like a cop, anyway, so you thought you'd ask. He's met enough of the lost tourists every now and then, although none as pretty or as goddamn fuckable as you were. So of course he drove you back; he flirted tooth and nail to get in your bed, too. He didn't get the collar for the arrest when their target did eventually show up. But he didn't mind it one bit.

Your version of the story varied in some aspects.

Your version: Escobar had lured enough attention to fly you out to Columbia- you, the pretty face that could get through places your colleagues couldn't go to. You got close that evening, even meeting with a local dealer with your bashful eyes and a few drinks at the local watering hole. But the moment he feels up your skirt, you knew you had to get away. So you pretend to go to the restroom, using the nearest payphone to call in a tip, and then climbing up the bathroom window and into the back alley where you slipped away. Five minutes later, you see the typical undercover cop, not as undercover as he thinks he is.

So you decided to save him, knocking on his window with the flirtiest smile on your face. It's easy to know what he wants, with his eyes sneaking glances at the valley of your chest, the curves of your body. It's easy when you lean over to kiss his cheek as thanks.

"I'm Javier, what's your name?" You look over with a small smile and reply with your own.

"Nice to meet you, Javier."

The decision is right there, so you take it. You fuck a cop so you can hide the inklings of suggestions that can expose your doing.

"We fucked that night, didn't we?" You hear him laugh at the other end, your crass wording summarizing the excitement of that evening.

But you did fuck. His moustache nuzzling against the crook of your neck as his cock drives you wide open, your legs on his shoulders, your moans forever echoing within the receses of his brain even when he left you, satiated and reporting back to process the paperwork of the arrest he didn't get to make.

Sometime before that, though, you find out he's more agent than cop. It turns out, men are much more willing to talk when they're fresh post-coitus. He speaks about the American South momentarily, evidently guarded. He cups his hand over the match you lit up, chasing the flame to light a cigarette as he makes his first awkward excuse to get out of your room. You laugh at him, turning over to call for room service as he dresses himself.

"See you never, cowboy."

He thinks of your warm cunt on the long night that follows after. The taste of your wetness would remain in his memory even after the next time he fucked a different girl; an ambitious lady of the night he wanted to recruit as his spy. You'd haunt him as your laughter emanates when the nights are too quiet, trailing before those four words he mutters under his breath when memory hits him too strongly.

See you never, cowboy.

—

From the other end of the line, he mutters something in Spanish, knowing you understand very little. "Fuckin' haunted me like a ghost, baby." Another deep breath, this time followed by the swig of whisky. "Funny thing was, the next time I saw you, you were coming outta prison."

"To be fair, Peña, I was recovering a stolen camera." You laugh too. "And it was a police station."

Ah, that stolen camera. Javier remember the day when he would have knelt before that camera of yours in complete submission for bringing him back in your life.

He had been checking in on Carrillo, a week or so after, planning out the fragments of their next plan of action when he sees you, fuck eyes and all, right at the front desk of the station, flipping frantically through a Spanish-English dictionary in an attempt to try and understand the procedure you were supposed to be doing.

He leaned against the doorway for a moment, finishing the last of his cigarette before chuckling as he exhaled the smoke. "She said you're supposed to fill out the form," he finally said, watching your head turn and recognize his voice as he tips his head slightly. "Did you get into trouble or somethin'?"

It takes a moment for you to collect the form and make your way to him while the officer disappears to retrieve your belongings, a moment before you settle down into the nearest seat beside him with a breathy thanks, searching your bag for a pen. "No, no trouble... My camera got snatched while I was exploring the city. It was empty, but I'm glad it turned up again."

When you finish filling up and handing over the form, he stands beside you, easily translating between you and the officer. An affair that had been going on for half an hour, over and done with barely fifteen minutes since Javi saw you.

He takes the chance before you slip between his fingers again.

"At the risk of being painful turned down by a pretty woman, d'you maybe want to go out tonight?"

You look to him, and he barely catches the glint of hope, maybe even mischief, in your eyes. But you play it along, tilting your head to the side as if weighing your own options. It was a foregone conclusion. You've been thinking about him, too.

"C'mon. I'll show you around like a true local."

You sigh, smiling lightly as you reach for his hand, scribbling the hotel you were at now and the room number.

"Tonight at 8, Javier. I'll be waiting."

Admittedly, you had your own reasons for involving yourself with the agent. Because, in the week beforehand leading up to the robbery of your camera, you knew you were being followed by unsavory company. You knew too much. You talked to too many people. You linked too many powerful people to a much bigger conspiracy.

You understood, most of all, that these men were capitalizing on troubled people battling their own addictions.

You had to get out of the country. You had to get out fast. And when you did, you had to make sure the incriminating photos you had taken were in the hands of someone who wouldn't destroy them.

The evening rolls around and you dress up well, applying the finishing touches of your lipstick when you hear the knock on the door. It's the image of him, leaning against the doorway, with his leather jacket and combed hair, reeking of menthols. It's how you'll always remember him.

"Ready to go, sweetheart?"

You smile at him, slipping on your cardigan while you fiddled with the prints in your pocket. The folded up collection of evidence that could very much have you killed.

"Born ready, agent."

The evening he planned was conventional, albeit the order different. The stereotypical dinner and a movie for him became a movie and then dinner. The reason was logical enough. "Well, that way, I'm sure we have something to talk about over dinner and it's not awkward." You laugh, but you eventually remark it as a smart move.

He takes you to see Indiana Jones, and he flirts hard. He plays off slipping his arm around your shoulder. He plays off pulling you close to him. He plays off sneaking popcorn from your tub. You play it off too. You play off the fact that you could've caught him staring at you for half of the movie. You play off the fact that you eventually lean your head on his shoulder. You even play off the way you hold the hand from the arm he had wrapped around you, pretending you didn't see the way it produced a shit-eating grin to his face.

Javi takes you for empanadas after. letting you talk about how much you enjoyed it, how you crushed on Harrison Ford (He's so smart, isn't he?), and even how you'd never survive such scenarios.

"You worry your head too much, pretty baby."

Somehow, between empanadas and the late night haze, you end up tugging Javier back to your hotel room, giggling like a teenager as you kiss him again, his mouth, where skin was uncovered by his moustache, had turned rouge from your lipstick and the way you kissed each other so hungrily.

He pushes you into the room just as you giggle and tear your cardigan off. "Hm, thank you for tonight, agent," you whisper, pulling him close for another kiss as he shuts the door behind him. He chuckles deeply, thick fingers trapping themselves in your hair as he tugs, forcing you to tilt your head back so he can attack the expanse of your neck.

"So respectful, pretty lady. It's why you're such a good fuck—"

You laugh, fingers reaching blindly to unbutton his shirt, to free him fast enough of his clothes. He's not so patient. He simply grabs and tears your clothes open, a brute show of strength that leaves your head spinning and your knees weak. All of it, happening so fast, until he was fucking you from behind, your hands gripping the headboard as the torrent of desire overtakes you both.

"I'm starting to think you love this cunt, Javier," you moan out, earning a growl from him as he wraps his large left hand around your neck, pulling you back so you arch your back for him. It makes you squeal, moaning into the warm, humid air of the Colombian evening.

"Maybe I do, corazon. What'ya gonna do about it?"

Just then, he thrusts the hardest, spearing you wide open. The sound that comes from you is so heavenly he almost thinks he just heard an angel sing to him.

"That's it. Take it like a good girl..."

It is the image of your face, features induced by an orgasm that he almost started believing again. He, who left a woman on the altar, the eternal betrayer. He, who had fucked his way through the prostitutes of Bogota. He, who looked at every woman from head to toe. He, the eternal womanizer, brought to his knees just by you.

Perhaps that was why fate had brought you into his life. To teach him a lesson he'll never forget.

That time around, he's not tripping over himself to get out of your room, completely basking in the way you look, chest heaving as he retrieves the packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. It's that brief distraction that you use, not only to slip the folded up prints in the pocket of his pants in the other end of the room, but to get the camera you just got back, loaded with new film as you take a picture of him with a fresh cigarette between his lips.

The flash that goes off reveals your intentions. "Now, now, you didn't ask if you could do that, pretty baby," he says smoothly, puffing out smoke, letting the tension build between you. You smile cheekily at him, winding the reel forward. It takes a moment, but you recognized it in his eye.

Just as easily, he pounced at you with the renewed beastly strength of a panther, pinning you down and smirking at the sound of your giggling, hair sprawled beneath you as he grabs the same camera, taking a photo of you, laughing and smiling so brightly he would've thought you were the sun.

When your laughter fades, it's when you speak to him. It's as if you could never trick him as you planned to beforehand. "I... I left a few prints in the pocket of your pants."

He pauses, cigarette now halfway done as he raises his brow.

You think, retrospectively, that you recognized the moment the palatable magic between the two of you fades into nothing. That you recognized the moment the dream ended and reality set in.

He stands, smudging out his cigarette as he inspects his pockets. And there it was, the pictures you never meant to see, the pictures that you knew would greatly help the manhunt against Escobar. The path that would lead Peña to fulfill his duty.

"Where—"

"I don't think it matters."

He sends you a glare, turning over to the next print. And then the next, and then the next. "You lost the fuckin' right to tell what does or does not matter." Then, methodically, he folds them up and sets them down on the ruined sheets. "Are you some fuckin' snitch?"

It was your turn to glare, sitting up from where you lay on the floor, hands propping you up behind. "No—" you began, "I do this for a living, Javi."

Perhaps that was when he knew that it was over. He tries not to show it: the sweet shock as sharp as a gunshot wound.

Again and again and again, the same words you said when he first met you echoes in his ears. A warning, he now sees, that he should have listened to when he had the chance.

See you never, cowboy.

—

From then on, it became an administrative affair. You never saw him— but they spent agent after agent organizing your escape from the country without your head getting blown off.

The last time you saw Javier Peña, it was the night the Embassy was driving you to the airport, guised under a different name. Left alone in a small office space, he looks to you like a wounded puppy, betrayed and barely hiding his hurt.

"Is it such a mystery?" you ask him, turning away to pretend to fix your hair in a mirror. Really, all you wanted to do was to stop seeing his puppy-eyed face. Because, you knew too, that one word from him would be enough to make you stay, safety be damned. "You know the place where you first met me. I was always going to leave first."

He scoffs, standing up and walking away.

There were two versions of the last meeting:

Your version: the last thing you saw of him in Bogota was his wide shoulders, turned away from you, walking away and shutting the door to give you some so-called privacy. You grit your teeth, clenching your fists around the letter you wished to give him before you left. You turn around, dropping it into the nearest bin. The conclusion of an affair marked for a messy end. "See you never, cowboy."

His version: you, disappearing into the backseat of an unmarked car. In the early evening, he sees the silhouette of your frame, calmly seated as the car started, driving away into the dark Columbian evening. The shadow of you, riding away in a getaway car. He puffs the last smoke out of his cigarette, dropping it in the ashtray to allow the last embers to burn through whatever was left. Then he turns around, going back to his work without another word said.

He should've known. Nothing good starts in a getaway car.

—

He called you, now months later, when he received an envelope containing only two prints, shipped all the way from another land. The prints made it evident from who he receive the package.

It was the two pictures the second time he fucked you. Moments before everything fell apart and set you flying away like shrapnel.

Bogota, to you, had become a distant memory. A job you did some time ago. If it wasn't for Javier, you would have never remembered the name of the city. Not when the rest of the world was brimming with stories.

Bogota, to him, now only existed with the shadow of you. He catches himself, every now and then, thinking about how you'd enjoy the new movie they released over the weekend. How you'd hold on to his arm and talk his ear off about the things he found interesting. How the beds he found himself laying on contained the ghost of your perfume.

So he buried himself in work. And then slowly, he fucked other people just to find traces of you in their willing bodies and dark rooms. It was never the same. And he's starting to think it'll never be the same.

Having recounted everything, the two of you listen to each other's breaths, not caring for how expensive such a call was going to be.

"So..." you tried to start, clearing your throat. "Why did you call?"

He thinks about it himself for a moment. He swallows once. Then another time.

"You know, if you asked, I would have shared my life with you."

#javier peña #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut

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rius-cave · 23 days

Note

In most murder cases, if that is what Adam is charged with, he would have a trail by jury to see if they find him guilty.

Unless the prosecution wants to give him a plea deal for confessing to the crime (Say instead of being charged with 2nd degree murder it's knocked down to manslaughter for 10 years instead of 20)

Some trials are done solely by a judge but most are done by a jury. It can take years alone to go to trail and the actual days in court can take months.

So even before Adam is fully sentenced, he could be in prison at minimum a little over a year just for holding.

Hope this helps!

Oh! Interesting! Well that would certainly be a way of getting him in there and then quickly out! Hmmmm, could a year be enough to redeem this specific version of Adam...? Maybe, maybe not, I think he would need more time.

That'd be interesting. Imagine he's been in prison for a year, MAYBE starting to show signs of being better, but then he gets called in for his verdict, and he's so sure that he's going to be out of there that he does something completely stupid towards Lucifer, basically fucking up his entire process, mocking Lucifer and the rest of the inmates as well. But then, obviously, he is found guilty, and Adam has to go back there to an awaiting and angry Lucifer.

Lucifer is livid, and oh boy, he gets punished.... Hard.

This would probably be Adam's lowest point in this entire AU. Lucifer is still mad at him, but he actually starts feeling bad for him now that's definitely been sentenced. It's amidst this emotional turmoil that Adam finally, FINALLY, opens up to Lucifer, just out of sheer desperation. He tells him about his past, his childhood, his kids, the shitty life he had up until he became a cop... And then Lucifer in turn talks to him about how he got in there as well, the things he had to do to protect his daughter, the things some of the others went through that landed them in jail (Angel, Husk, Pentious, etc). Adam finally starts understanding that, just like him... Maybe not everyone in there is as bad as he made them out to be, maybe they really did not deserve to be there....

This is how Adam starts improving for real.

#something something it gets worse before it gets better #hazbin hotel #adamsapple #ask #prison au

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serasvictoria · 1 year

Text

The House

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader x Steve Harrington

Summary: A test of courage to spend a few hours in the Creel house on Halloween night turns into something else entirely.

Word Count: 9148

Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Fingering. Hand jobs. Oral (m receiving). Deep throating. Face fucking. Unprotected sex (P in V). Overstimulation. Swearing. Alcohol use (they drink a beer). Eddie and Steve kinda have a “good cop, bad cop” thing going for a bit (don’t know if that’s worth a warning). Never explicitly stated anywhere, but this takes place after graduation so Reader is of age. And please let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: A day late! I can only apologise, but this fic was a lot and only got longer and longer so that’s my excuse. This is my first time writing Steve in a smut fic so fingers crossed I’ve managed to do him justice🤞🏻

Beta read by the magnificent @mylifeisactuallyamess. Thanks again! ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Even now, as you walked up the steps to the front door, you still felt that same rush that you did when you were a kid.

Everyone in Hawkins knew about the old Creel House. The place where Victor Creel killed his entire family in a horrific way that didn’t seem like a human could have been capable of it. People avoided it like the plague and it was almost as if the whole town was waiting for the walls to finally crumble and turn to dust so they could forget that it ever even existed.

“Scared?” Eddie’s grin is wide, bordering on demonic because he was ever the showman. “We can still go back.”

“I’m not scared,” you retort. “Are you?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s just an old house. Its only occupants are probably spiders, mice and bats. Nothing to be scared of.”

You didn’t believe him.

Every kid in Hawkins had gone through the same rite of passage on Halloween night.

Small groups of kids would gather on the sidewalk in front of the house and watch as someone from their group would walk to the front door, knock, stand there for at least thirty seconds before hightailing it back to his or her friends and the process would repeat itself until everyone had done the same thing.

You had managed to do it when you were ten years old, but only barely. It was different now that you were older and wiser and knew that there was nothing to be afraid of.

It was just your mind playing tricks on you, making you believe that every shadow was a lurking demon or that every time the old wood creaked that it was the dead children of Victor Creel out to get you, forever stuck in the old house.

The reason that you were here now was because of one of Eddie’s dumb ideas. He had practically dared you into going to the old house on Halloween night, not just knocking on the door, but actually spending some time inside, too. He probably thought that you’d be too chicken to do it, but you had surprised him by saying that you’d be game.

The days leading up to it had been spent trying to put the other person off from going through with it. Citing various urban legends that surrounded the house, with the murders coming front and center obviously. Neither of you would be deterred however and that was how you found yourself standing in front of that door right now.

In a way you couldn’t quite believe that you were dumb enough to actually go through with it, half expecting that the floorboards would snap in two underneath you the second that you set foot through the door, but it would be worth it simply to wipe the smile off Eddie’s face.

It took him a short while before he managed to get the door open and the hinges creaked loudly when he slammed his shoulder into the old wood.

“Ladies first,” Eddie says with a bow and his arm gesturing into the dark house.

“You pussy,” you mock and then you step inside. When you turn around, he’s still standing right there on the threshold, staring at you wide-eyed. “Are you coming?” You pull your hands into your underarms and flap them around like they’re wings. “Or are you chicken?”

“Pfff. No way.” He straightens up immediately and takes a couple of large strides into the house until he’s standing a short distance in front of you. “Was just waiting for you to chicken out.”

“Yeah right,” you counter. “I could see the look on your face, you know.”

“Sure you could,” he huffs. “Come on. Lets explore.”

It was even creepier on the inside than outside. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The furniture had been left behind, picture frames hung askew on the walls or had fallen to the floor entirely, curtains hung in tatters on the rails, wallpaper was left to peel off the walls and the paint, which had probably been vibrant one day, had dulled over time.

Eddie had brought a couple of flashlights and while he wasn’t really illuminating much apart from his face by holding it underneath his chin almost the entire time, it did work brilliantly by making you focus more on him than on your surroundings.

Leading you into the back of the house, the both of you came to a standstill in what had probably been a study at one point or another. Some of the planks that had been put in front of the windows were missing and the pale blue moonlight was filtering it. It cast the space in an eerie glow.

“This is perfect,” Eddie declares. “We can hang out here.”

“What was the plan anyway?” You run a finger over one of the windowsills and look at the caked dust on the pad as you bring it up to your face. “You never were clear about that.”

“Nothing apart from drinking a couple of beers,” he shrugs.

“Huh,” you look around the space once more. “You just wanted to sit on the floor? Your jeans will get dirty.”

“I have a blanket in the van.”

“Of course you do,” you sigh. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me.”

“I sleep in there sometimes,” he responds.

“Sure, Eddie. Is that why you have condoms in the glovebox too?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. Again.” He gives you the finger and you roll your eyes. “You wanna come with me and get the blanket and the beers?”

“No thank you,” you reply quickly. “I’ll wait for you right here.”

“Right here? You sure?” He actually sounds worried and you were somewhat sure that he wasn’t taking the piss. “You don’t have to act like a badass just to impress me, you know.”

“I’m not!” You step closer to him until you’re close enough to nudge his shoulder. “Just be quick, alright?”

“Fast as the wind, babe,” he says with a wink. “Promise.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but not because of the creepy house this time. Eddie flirted with everything that had a pulse, but it still made your heart flutter when he called you by an endearing nickname.

Eddie whistles as he walks off, some tune that you can’t quite place and that you highly suspect is from some random horror movie seeing how it sounds a bit sinister. You can hear him off in the distance, on the porch right outside, then on the path, until you can’t hear him at all anymore.

Now that Eddie had left you on your own, you weren’t so sure if you could handle it. You had merely told him that you could so he wouldn’t make fun of you (not that he ever would) and you were regretting it now.

It was as if every part of the house creaked now, as though the walls were talking and were telling you to get the hell out of here, but you couldn’t. Your legs were frozen in place, unable to move. You brought your hands up to your chest, feeling your heart beat furiously inside your ribcage and you took in a deep breath in the hopes of making it stop.

It didn’t work.

If anything it only felt like more adrenaline was being pumped through your system, triggering even more feelings of fear. You found yourself wishing that Eddie would come back soon, to have him fill up the silence by cracking dumb jokes, anything to pierce through the silence of the house. If your mouth had been able to move, you would have called out to him, but your jaw was clamped tightly shut.

When you feel a hand touch your shoulder, your entire body jolts before you breathe a sigh of relief, and you almost say the name of your friend as you turn around and find yourself staring straight into a Michael Myers mask instead.

You scream. It’s louder than you have ever screamed before and seconds later, you curl in on yourself, hands wrapped around your body and rocking back and forth on your heels.

The voice that answers isn’t Eddie’s voice and it barely even registers who was underneath the mask when he pulls it off, crouches down in front of you and tries to get you to calm down.

“Hey, hey,” Steve says softly before saying your name a few times. “Jesus Christ. Relax. It’s just me.” By this point, you’re crying and you can see the horrified look on Steve’s face over how badly wrong this prank even went. “Oh fuck. Please calm down.”

But you can’t.

So Steve does the only thing that he can think of doing.

From out of nowhere, he suddenly presses his lips down on yours and he keeps them there until you eventually reach out, tangle your fingers in his shirt and sigh. He pulls away slowly and you blink a few times just to make sure that he was really there.

“Okay now?” You nod and Steve smiles at you as he wipes your tears away. “Jesus, I didn’t even know you could scream that lou- Ow!” You slap his chest suddenly. “What was that for?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Steve!” When you try to hit him again, he grabs your wrist instead to ensure that you can’t hit him again. “Can’t believe that you’d do that to me!”

“It was Munson’s idea,” Steve jerks his head back to the doorway where Eddie stands, blanket and six pack of beer in his hands and staring at the two of you, his expression unreadable. “He thought that it would be funny.”

“Not funny, Eddie!” You flip him off. “Why would you even ask him to do that? That’s such a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles before walking over to where you and Steve were, spreading the blanket out next to you and sitting down on it. “Shoulda seen your face though,” he says, but there’s no real amusement in his voice. It just feels a bit… empty.

He pulls one can of beer from the plastic rings and gestures at you two to take one as well. You and Steve share an awkward look and then you join Eddie.

Instead of listening to Eddie’s voice as he fills the silence with all kinds of stories, you find yourself listening to Steve talk instead. He talks about work and Dustin who had come in to ask for the scariest movie that they had, which Steve had to deny him on account of his age. He recounts Dustin’s reply word for word and you laugh until your sides hurt.

Eddie is uncharacteristically silent. He keeps looking at you and then at Steve, biting his bottom lip and looking down into his can of beer wistfully.

Eddie had planned the whole thing out.

Steve would scare the crap out of you and then Eddie would swoop in, acting all heroic, you’d fall into his arms and then he could finally tell you exactly how he had been feeling about you for a while.

Instead, Steve had completely stolen his thunder and had ended up kissing you instead. Suave bastard. Leave it to King Steve to ruin everything.

Maybe he should have asked Dustin to scare you instead, but since he had other plans Eddie had never asked him about it. Instead opting for Steve because he didn’t have a date for once in his life.

Now he’s forced to sit there as Steve makes you laugh and he hates that he even feels this way. Eddie had prided himself in the fact that he has never once been jealous of Steve, hell, he really liked the guy too, but he sure was green with envy now.

Steve throws a couple of odd looks in Eddie’s direction as well, as if he was silently asking him what the fuck he was doing and why he wasn’t joining in with the storytelling because Eddie was far better at it than he was, but he got nothing back in reply.

“Oh, Steve!” you suddenly exclaim. “Didn’t you have to get that thing?”

“Thing?” He looks confused and honestly, anyone would have. “What thing?”

“You know,” you hiss and your eyes dart over to Eddie until you see some spark of recognition bloom in Steve’s expression. “That thing.”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he mutters, unconvincingly. “Now I remember. So I guess I should uh… get it huh?” You roll your eyes at Steve’s sad attempt at acting. You’d think that he would be somewhat better at this. “The thing.”

“Yeah, you should.” You pull on his arm to drag him in closer so you can whisper in his ear. “Give us a couple of minutes, alright?”

“Sure,” he replies. He gives your shoulder a stiff pat and gets to his feet. Steve can’t seem to resist giving you and Eddie a weird thumbs up which he follows up with the immortal words, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids.”

A groan escapes your lips and you mouth the word, “Go,” at him until Steve leaves the room. You look over to where Eddie is still sitting, unmoving like a statue, and you can’t help but feel sorry for him. You really needed to get to the bottom of his sudden mood change.

“What’s gotten into you?” You sidle up close to him and put your hand on his forearm. “You’re so quiet.”

“Nothing.” Eddie couldn’t keep the dejected tone out of his voice and you frowned at him. “Long night.”

“It’s about ten thirty,” you say softly. “You’re usually not in bed until around two in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, I did a lot of stuff today, you know.” It was the weakest excuse that he could have come up with and he hoped that you bought it. “Had to help Wayne with some stuff around the trailer.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in reply and he can tell straight away that you don’t believe a single word that he’s saying. “Sure.”

“What?” Eddie can’t stop himself from bristling slightly at your reply. “It’s true.”

“No, it isn’t.” You shift until you’re sitting right in front of him, but he seems reluctant to look you in the eye. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s really going on? If you don’t tell me, I’ll just go home.”

That got his attention.

“You can’t leave!” There’s a bit of a panicked look in his eyes, but at least he’s looking at you now. “I’m sorry, alright? But please don’t go.”

“I’ll go if you won’t talk to me,” you repeat once more. “So spill. Tell me what’s up.”

“Alright,” he said with a groan. “It’s Harrington.”

“What about him?”

“Are you for real?” Everything about his tone of voice tells you that he seems to think that you should get it, but you have no idea what he’s on about. You look at him questioningly until he follows up on his question with an annoyed sigh and says, “He kissed you!”

“Yeah, he did,” you shrug, because you hadn’t minded at all. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes! He wasn’t supposed to-“ Eddie swallows his words back down. If he told you what the problem was, you’d laugh at him, of that he was certain. “Eh. It’s eh… he’s lame.”

“No. Fuck off. Don’t do that, Eddie. He wasn’t supposed to do what?”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. He didn’t have a choice now. He had to come clean. If he didn’t, you would leave and he definitely didn’t want that to happen. “He wasn’t supposed to kiss you.”

“And why not?”

“Because… ‘cause… that’s what I wanted to do,” he eventually mumbled.

“Oh yeah?” In all the time that you have known Eddie, you never once thought that you’d hear him say that. You had dreamed of it, of course, but it’s quite different to actually hear him say it. You actually give the back of your hand a squeeze just to make sure that you’re awake. “You wanna kiss me?”

“Yeah.” He says it so softly that you can barely even hear him at all. “I do.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Wait.” Eddie blinks in surprise. Very much like you were thinking earlier, he obviously hadn’t expected you to say that. “You want me to kiss you?”

“You can if you want to,” you reply shyly. “Just saying.”

“Shit.” He looks at your face more closely, probably to check if you’re being sincere, but there’s no hint of a lie to be found anywhere. “Shit. Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You look down at yourself and pull on a stray bit of thread that came loose from the hemline of your shirt. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” The thread is instantly forgotten when he says that, making you look back up into his dark eyes. “Yes, I want to.”

You lean forward a little, moving into his space, and Eddie’s eyes widen, surprised that you even want him to kiss you. He leans in, too, close enough for him to count your eyelashes if he wanted to, and being this close is making his heart race.

This was really happening. This was actually fucking happening.

Your lips touch, nothing more than a light brush against each other as you finally make contact, and he finds himself pulling away just a tiny bit, only for you to give chase and pressing your lips back on him with some more force. Your hands move to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair to ensure that he can’t pull away.

Eddie gives in all too easily and your lips press and slide against each other. His tongue moves over your lips, following the crease between them, and you open your mouth to give him access. His tongue dives into your mouth, seeking out yours so they can move together.

You sigh and his hands move to your waist, pulling you in closer until your chests are pressed flush together. Eddie can feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through your shirt and bra.

A loudly creaking floorboard pulls the both of you out of the moment.

Your heads turn as one to see Steve leaning against the doorway, his arms folded in front of his chest, and with an amused look on his face.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

“We were until you interrupted,” Eddie grumbled.

“I guess,” you say with a mischievous grin. When Eddie pinches your arm, you wink at him. “I was kidding. That was a good kiss.”

“Better than mine?” Steve asks as he settles back down on the floor in the same spot where he was sitting before.

“Didn’t last long enough so I can’t exactly compare you guys,” you giggle.

Steve takes a sip from his beer and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He wipes his mouth with his hand and suddenly asks, “You want to?”

The whole atmosphere in the room changes suddenly. The three of you exchange looks and there is a pause as you wait for someone to raise any objections, but nothing happens.

Even the house is silent, like it’s holding his breath as it waits for events to unfurl.

The silence drags on and from the way that Steve is looking at you, eyebrows raised and one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile, makes you realize that you were supposed to say something.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you let slip, speaking so quickly that it almost comes out as one word because your nerves briefly seem to have taken control of your mouth. Steve tilts his head to the side when you give him that as an answer. This was not the time to be flippant. “Yes. I do,” you amend yourself with more certainty.

“Okay.” Steve shrugs with a grin before getting up and sitting down next to you. He brushes some hairs out of your face and his hand lingers on your jaw as he leans in slowly. “Now be sure to tell us who’s the better kisser.”

Kissing Steve is different.

With Eddie there was an underlying sweetness and a hint of hesitation, but Steve kisses you with a lot more certainty. He doesn’t hold back like Eddie initially did and hits you with the full force of what he can do.

You’re reduced to moaning into his mouth within seconds, the muscles in your thighs quivering as every press of his lips goes straight down to your core. Seemingly noticing this, Steve’s hand drops down to your lap, his fingers gingerly brushing over the front of your jeans at first before pressing down harder and making sparks fly from your cunt.

Not wanting to be outdone, you feel Eddie’s chest pressing against your back. He removes your jacket first and then his hands circle your waist momentarily before he cups your tits and gives a squeeze that’s almost too gentle. You mewl between the two boys and your mind has a hard time processing that this is even happening at all.

You pull away from Steve’s lips with reluctance. “What are we doing?” Steve’s lips settle on your neck where he starts creating marks by sucking on your skin. “Are we going to have sex in a haunted house?”

“You wanna have sex?” Eddie attempts to sound scandalized, but it doesn’t help that he’s chuckling and then Steve starts laughing, too. “Such a filthy girl.”

“If I had known this beforehand, I never would have kissed you,” Steve agrees. “You actually want us to fuck you on this old floor?”

“I dunno,” you gasp. “You guys just want to keep touching me like this?”

“Like what?” Steve counters as his deft fingers pop the button of your jeans, pull the zip down and then slides them in. “Like this?” He doesn’t have much room to work with, but his digits slide up and down your wet panties and you push up into his hand. “You’re soaked, babe.”

“Fucking knew it,” Eddie breathes into your ear. “She’s practically gagging for it.”

“You were right,” Steve acknowledges and the pad of his index finger rubs circles around your still covered up clit.

“You guys planned this?” The question spills out of you in between little gasps and moans as two sets of hands keep touching you. Eddie’s lips are on your shoulder, dragging back and forth, and Steve keeps his beautiful eyes on you at all times. “That’s just so-“

“Right?” Steve interjects.

“Filthy?” Eddie says at the same time.

“Unexpected,” you say instead. “I had no idea-“

“I didn’t exactly plan this,” Eddie reveals. “Didn’t get further than kissing you if I’m honest.” You crane your neck, turning your head slightly so you can just about see him. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither,” Steve affirms. “And what about you?” He addresses you now, looks for even the slightest hint of doubt on your face. “You can still opt out. No hard feelings.”

“I could,” you reply teasingly, wanting to keep them in suspense for a little bit even if you were already ridiculously into this. “You guys wouldn’t hate me for it?”

“I wouldn’t,” Eddie’s lips move against your skin as he talks, the collar of your shirt pulled to the side to give him more room to work with. “I’d just be incredibly disappointed.”

“And you?” Your hand loosely curls around Steve’s bicep. His fingers never once stopped working you over, continuing on with their ministrations over your soaked through panties. “Would you be disappointed as well, Steve?”

Worldly Steve Harrington gives you nothing to work with, nothing apart from a smirk, because he already knows what you want. He had seen it written all over your face from the moment that you agreed to let him kiss you again.

You’re so fucking hungry for both of them.

“Fuck it.” You knock your back into Eddie’s chest. He gets the idea and pulls away. Steve merely looks at you with his eyebrows raised when you peel his hand out of your jeans. You take a deep breath. “Fuck. It.”

Getting to your feet, you take a step back and both the boys look up at you expectantly. Reaching down to the hemline of your shirt, you pull it up over your head. You kick your sneakers off and then strip out of your jeans.

So now you’re standing in what was probably once the dining room of an old house, a house that may very well be haunted, and you’re in your underwear. You’re standing in front of two guys, two very hot guys, and you’re about to embark on something that you had only ever dared dream about.

Eddie gets up first and all the uncertainty from before is gone. It’s replaced with confidence now that you’ve made it clear that you are very into this.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath as his eyes rake up and down your body. He cups your cheeks and kisses you with such force that it makes your head spin. “I always had you down as innocent, you know?” You laugh at that. “For real,” Eddie emphasizes. “Because you always looked like it. So sweet and perfect. Silently asking to be defiled.”

“Sorry.” You’re having a hard time not scoffing in his face, because you were far from as innocent as he’s making you sound. “Did I burst your bubble?”

“You’re fucking filthy, sweetheart.” His words make a shiver run down your spine and you swear that it makes you go even wetter as well. “But I never thought you’d be this filthy.”

“Maybe you’ll find out exactly how bad I really am.” Your hands move to his vest, sliding underneath the leather jacket and pushing it off his shoulders until it falls to the floor with a thud. “You want to know what I’m really like?”

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out and your hands slide over his chest, feeling every muscle through the thin Hellfire shirt that he wore. “What are you gonna do?”

“You’ll see.” You don’t remove his shirt, nor do you tell him to take it off, not yet. Your digits skim over his nipples over the fabric and you see Eddie’s hips jerk forward a little. “I want to make you feel good.” His beautiful eyes were squeezed shut for a second there, but as soon as you start undoing his belt, he looks down. “Will you let me?”

With his belt now hanging open, you start undoing the button of his jeans and then slowly slide the zip down. His eyeballs almost pop out of their sockets when you sink down onto your knees.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, somewhat unable to believe his luck. You pull his jeans down roughly, down past his knees. When you pull his plaid boxers down, his big dick nearly pokes your eye out. “Oh fuck.”

Grabbing his thighs, you make Eddie turn a fraction, just to make sure that Steve has one of the best views in the house. Your gaze falls down to his hand which is palming the front of his jeans to relieve some of the tension that’s building.

You know for a fact that Steve is packing, it’s all in the way that he carries himself. It is something that is also confirmed by his tight jeans that leave nothing to the imagination. It’s all right there, on display for everyone that wants to see.

Eddie’s just about had enough of waiting and he grabs his cock so he can wipe the ruddy tip over your cheek, just to remind you that he’s still there.

“Didn’t forget you,” you say as you look back up at him. Your index finger swipes over your cheek, to gather the drops of precum that he smeared over your skin, and you stick it in your mouth so you can suck the salty fluid off. “I’d never.”

A potential smartass reply dies in his throat and turns into a groan instead when you finally take his cock into your mouth.

This is as much a show for Eddie as it is for Steve and you start licking Eddie’s cock like it’s a popsicle. The noises you make are over exaggerated, humming and moaning like you were having the best meal in your entire life.

Steve’s hand slides down into his jeans and the way that he angles himself, just about able to wrap his fingers around himself, makes the reddened tip of his dick poke out of the top of his boxers.

You gesture with your hand in an effort to make Steve come closer, which he does. You circle the fingers of your free hand around the base of Eddie’s cock and lazily start jerking him off to make sure that he wasn’t being left out.

When Steve’s close enough, you attempt to push down his jeans, but when you’re only able to uncover part of the trail of hair that goes down into his underwear, he gives you a helping hand instead.

Steve doesn’t work slow. He pushes the fabric down just far enough for his cock to jump out and you audibly gasp when it’s finally revealed. He’s long, thick too, and you honestly can’t wait until he impales you on it.

You spit on the palm of your hand, reach down and lubricate his shaft with your saliva. Then your digits curl around the velvety skin, squeezing once, and then your hand starts gliding up and down his length.

Turning your head back in Eddie’s direction, you take him into your mouth again, deepthroating him to make up for your previous neglect. The noises he makes are a fair indication that he’s more than willing to forgive you.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with your mouth full,” he remarks. “Don’t you think so too, Harrington?”

“Yeah, she does,” Steve agrees. “She can’t give us any lip now.”

“True.” Eddie’s hand moves to the back of your head, just to make sure that you can’t pull away. “Bet you’d like to though, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

You manage to get out a distorted “uh-huh” and the boys laugh cruelly, amused at your current predicament. Though it couldn’t exactly be called a predicament when you were this into it.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you keep moving your mouth up and down Eddie’s cock, mirroring the speed with which your hand was working over Steve’s. Both of them swear under their breaths and their joined moans are like the sweetest music that you've ever heard.

“Such a good girl,” Eddie comments.

“Think that you earned yourself a little reward, baby,” Steve adds. He pulls your hand away from him and you would have asked him why if you could have, but he moves until he’s right behind you so you can’t see him anymore.

Soon enough, you feel him though. One of his hands settles on your stomach and starts to dip down lower until it’s between your thighs. His fingertips move over your panties and come to rest on your mound, his touch feather light and barely applying pressure at all. You whine pathetically and Steve chuckles in your ear.

His free hand moves in, hooking the saturated cloth under his thumb and pulling it away so that your cunt is now exposed to the cold air. He is still hardly touching you, his fingers digging into the top of your thigh, about an inch away from your burning core.

When his fingers finally touch your pussy, you sigh deeply, satisfied that he’s finally touching you right where you want him to.

Steve wastes no time. He slides his fingers between your wet lips, picking up enough moisture and sinks one finger in shortly after. One finger quickly becomes two and he fucks you with his fingers so fast that you can barely keep up with his onslaught on your cunt.

Steve’s erection pokes in your lower back, as a reminder that he’s still hard, his hips gently rocking back and forth against your flushed skin.

Since you’re now too focused on the pleasure that Steve is bringing you, you in turn lose sight of Eddie. Though you could have argued that that was impossible to do seeing how his dick was still firmly pressed into your mouth.

Eddie’s hands grasp your face, his touch far from gentle now, fingertips threading into your hair. His hips advance forward, holding your head still as his cock hits the back of your throat and he starts rocking back and forth.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says in a tone that sounds far from apologetic. “Had to take matters into my own hands.” You look up at him, tears already forming in your eyes, blurring your vision. “You don’t mind, do you?” Eddie relaxes his grip on you slightly, just enough so that you can shake your head a little. “Good fucking girl.”

Steve’s fingers curl up inside you, pressing against your sweet spot, the one that makes your toes curl, and you moan loudly around Eddie’s cock, who can’t help himself as soon as he feels the vibrations from your voice and presses in deeper than before. He can feel the muscles in your throat fluttering around him deliciously.

Saliva bubbles at the corners of your mouth and spills out as you choke around him. You breathe in deeply through your nose, letting Eddie continue to use you for his own needs.

Steve doesn’t let up either, his fingers not so much thrusting now, but more curling and constantly prodding that ribbed part inside. You can feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach, muscles tightening around his thick digits and your orgasm hits you with the power of a freight train.

You would have screamed if you had been able to. Instead the sounds of your sudden climax come out all garbled. Eddie doesn’t grant you a moment reprieve either, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he keeps fucking your face.

The first spurt of his cum hits the back of your throat and you do your best to swallow, to devour everything that he gives you, but when he pulls his softening dick out of your mouth, a little trickle of his seed comes out, mixed with your spit, spilling down your lip and chin.

“What’s this, sweetness?” Eddie notices immediately and his thumb wipes the residue away gently. “You made a mess.” He forcefully shoves his thumb into your mouth. “Suck.”

You do as he commands and your tongue twirls around it, cleaning off whatever leftovers were stuck to the pad of his finger and he doesn’t pull it out until he’s satisfied that you got rid of everything.

“Good girl,” he coos. “Isn’t she well behaved?”

“Very.” Steve’s lips brush against the shell of your ear and the skin on your arms bump instantly. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me, too, baby?”

“Yes,” you reply resolutely. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Even better,” Steve says. “We like that, don’t we?“

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Eddie sits back down, right in front of you and Steve, and he looks on hungrily. “What do you want Stevie to do to you, sweetheart?”

“W-want him to-“

“Don’t tell me,” Eddie cuts you off with a grin, “tell Steve.”

When you turn around to face him, Steve has an expectant look in his beautiful eyes, waiting for you to tell him exactly what you want him to do to you.

“I want you to fuck me, Steve,” you confess, “want you to fuck me real good.”

“Oh yeah?” He reaches out and trails his fingers from your shoulder down your bare arm. You shiver as soon as he makes contact with your skin. “Is that what you want?”

“Y-yes,” you confirm, “that’s what I want.”

“Take off your bra.”

Steve doesn’t just ask you, no, he’s telling you, and you’re willing to comply with his demand partly. You reach around your back and unhook the garment. You hold the cups in place with one arm and slide the straps down your arms with the other.

“Take it off for me?” You bat your lashes at him and bite your bottom lip.

“Sure,” Steve chuckles. He removes your arm from your chest and your bra simply slides off as soon as that happens. “Would you look at that,” he whistles through his teeth. “Aren’t you pretty.”

The urge to cover up is damn near overwhelming, their intense stares are practically killing you, but as soon as you shift your arms, the movement so slight it should have been imperceptible, Steve notices.

“Don’t.” His hands come up to your elbows, firmly holding them in place. “Don’t cover yourself up.”

An apology forms in your mind, but there’s little chance to actually utter it. Steve dips his head down, until he’s level with your chest, and licks a line from between your tits up over your sternum.

His lips start moving over your neck and to the bottom of your jaw, nice and slow, kissing his way up until he can blow air into your ear. It makes you shiver.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve speaks in hushed tones, almost as if he doesn’t want Eddie to hear what he’s telling you. “I always thought so, you know?”

“I didn’t,” you answer. His hand is on your lower back, index finger hooking underneath the elastic band of your panties so he can pull it away from your body and snap it back.

“Well, you are.” He picks at the waistband impatiently. “Why don’t you take these off, too?”

“Gladly.” You reach out, place a few fingers on his thigh and tap his jeans. “Are you going to do the same?“

“Guess I’ll have to.”

It doesn’t take that long until both of you are completely naked from the waist down. It does not escape you that you’re the only one that’s completely naked now either.

“You gonna let me fuck you in front of Eddie?” Steve husks in your ear when he leans in. “Make him watch while I split you open with my dick?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

“Please? Damn, I love that.” Steve sits back, long legs spread out in front of him and his arms positioned behind. You move in to straddle his hairy thighs and wait for him to make a move, but nothing happens. He flashes you a wide grin and says, “Go on. Put it in.”

Your eyes fall on his massive erection and you can’t help but swallow hard.

Obediently, you rise up, position his cock in front of your entrance and sink down on him. It’s insane how he just seems to keep coming, like there’s no end to his cock, but you’ll be damned if you let him break you.

Not when Eddie’s waiting in the wings to take over as soon as Steve’s done with you anyway.

You keep letting yourself sink down a little bit more at a time, taking inch after inch, until you finally reach the end of him. You inhale a sharp breath as you try to adjust to his size.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you whine. “You’re in so deep that you’ll be coming out my belly button as soon as I move.”

“Think that you can’t take it?”

“Fuck, you think that little of me?” You grind your hips against his, slowly, slow enough to savor the feel of him. “I’d like to try.”

“Shit,” he laughs. “You’re a fucking dream, babe.” Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his yellow sweater and you pull on it harshly. “Off?“

“Yeah, off.” He pulls the sweater and the shirt that he had on underneath off. As soon as his chest is bare, you run your hands up and down his chest, feeling his chest hair on your palms. You lean forward to lick a stripe up his neck and when you reach his ear, you take the lobe between your teeth and give a gentle tug. “I’m gonna move now,” you tell him.

“Go for it.” He can’t resist smacking your ass and squeezing you roughly when you finally start rocking against him. “That’s it, baby.”

Hanging onto his shoulders, you start riding him. It’s all you now, Steve barely moves, instead looking closely at the point where your bodies meet and how your cunt greedily keeps sucking his cock back in.

Arching your back, you push your chest out and put a hand on the back of his head to pull him in closer until he figures out what you want him to do.

His lips latch onto your nipple, his mouth hot as he sets to sucking gently. You buck up, hips lifting so far up that his cock almost slips out entirely, but you catch yourself just in time and slam back down.

“Fuck, Steve.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on the strands every time that his tongue swipes over your hot skin. “Feels so good.”

“You feel good,” He exhales against you. “So fucking tight. You fit like a glove.”

Finally he moves, angling his hips so he can fuck up into you, and you mewl his name. He rams in so deep that it should have been painful, but the ecstasy that’s budding is starting to overtake all your other senses.

Shoving a hand in between your bodies, circling your clit with two fingers. The combination of his thrusts along with your own assistance are electrifying and you start chasing your release with desperation.

Steve mutters words of encouragement which you barely hear, because of your climax peaks and flows in waves through your body, from your cunt to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Your body goes limp, your head sagging forward slightly, and you need a second to recollect yourself. The only thing that even snaps you out of it is the fact that Steve is still rock hard. Tilting your chin back up, you stare deep into his blown out pupils for about a second before he surges forward.

There’s a sense of urgency in the kiss that he gives you. He’s barely able to press his lips on yours as it is, but Steve still tries. You feel his tongue at the corner of your lips and you close your lips around it so you can suck it into your mouth. He gasps, the kiss turning sloppy again, and he wraps his arms around your waist tightly.

“You gonna come, pretty boy?” He presses his head against your shoulder, teeth scraping over your skin as his thrusts grow more uneven. “Huh? You gonna come for me?”

“Fuck,” he breathes against your skin.

“Fill me up, Steve.” His hips jerk more roughly up into you. “I want your cum so bad.”

You scream when Steve bites down on your shoulder hard, his climax finally hitting him and needing another outlet. The last few thrusts are weak and then he stills entirely. His tongue laps at the mark that he just left, lazily following the outline of his teeth that was already appearing.

“Sorry,” he breathes against your skin. “Couldn’t control myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply and you push him away from your shoulder so you can cup his face and look him in the eye. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve kisses you then and you can feel him smiling against your lips. “So, so good.”

Steve hangs onto you for a bit longer, his arms still wrapped around your waist, unwilling to let you go. You come down from your high together and you’re almost reluctant to let him go, but you hear Eddie exhaling deeply behind you (you don’t even remember him lighting a cigarette) and realize that you have to let go of Steve.

You start shifting a few seconds later, having now entirely caught your breath. Your lips find Steve’s again and you kiss him lazily when you push yourself up, softly groaning when his now soft cock slides out.

“Don’t move.” There’s an underlying sense of hunger to Eddie’s voice and you can hear him move in behind you. “Hold on to Steve’s shoulders.”

With your ass still in the air, you hold on to Steve, whose gaze is fixed entirely in your face. Then you feel a hand on your ass, squeezing, and another one on your slit, fingers sliding in all too easily after Steve spread you open.

“Fuck, it’s leaking out, man.” Eddie sounds impressed as he says that to no one in particular and then two fingers appear in your line of vision. It’s wet with your and Steve’s bodily fluids. “Suck.”

Like earlier, you oblige and start sucking off whatever was on there. The only difference now is that you can feel the tip of his cock prodding your opening. You moan around his fingers when he slides in entirely in one fluid movement.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Told you,” Steve chimes in.

“You did.” Eddie pulls his hand away from your lips and moves it down to lightly grab your throat. Then he pulls back before slamming back inside you roughly. “This fucking pussy,” he groans in your ear. “It’s sucking me right back in.”

“Still haven’t had enough?” Steve places his hand over his heart and pouts at you. “You wound me.”

You don’t answer. You don’t think that you’re able to remember any words at all now that Eddie is plowing into you while you’re practically in Steve’s lap.

Eddie’s ringed fingers squeeze your neck, cutting off your air supply for a split second.

“He asked you a question.” Eddie’s voice is low as he hisses in your ear. “You still want more?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out. “Can’t- can’t get enough.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Guess I’ll just have to give you what you want then.” The speed of his thrusts increases until he’s pounding into you and reducing you to nothing but a whining mess. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

It’s nothing short of insane that Eddie is even able to keep up this manic pace at all, the sound of his skin slapping against yours so fast that you can’t keep track, but somehow he manages.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, your eyesight glazed over by now. You’re so far gone that you haven’t even realized that you had started crying.

“You’re so pretty like this.” When Steve wipes a few fingers over your cheek, that’s the first time that you notice that your skin is wet. “Are you close?”

In an ideal world, you would have been able to answer his question. You would have been able to say “yes, I’m close, so close.” But nothing except incoherent babbling comes out of your mouth as you nonsensically string words together.

“I’ll give you a hand, yeah?” Steve sounds sweet, that’s about all that registers. Your body jumps when his fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing fiercely. “You’re okay,” he says just loud enough over Eddie’s groans. “Come on. Come for us.”

“C-can’t,” you whine. “Ca-can’t.”

“Yeah, you can.” His fingers don’t stop stimulating your swollen bundle of nerves. “One more, baby. Last one.”

“You can do it,” Eddie grunts behind you. “I want you to squeeze me dry, sweetness.”

Despite their encouragement, you’re convinced that you can’t. You came twice already, the most that you’ve ever climaxed in one night, so you’ve already gotten more than you ever could have wished for.

“I-I sw-swear that I- fuck!”

To say that you’re surprised when another orgasm tears through your body would be an understatement. You imagine that this is what it must be like to be struck by lightning. There’s no part of your body that isn’t tingling. You dig your nails into Steve’s shoulders and drag them down his chest all the way to his hips where they come to a standstill.

“Fuck!” Your walls clamp down on Eddie like a vice and he swears loudly as soon as it happens. “You’re fucking- holy shit.”

You barely even notice how tight his grip on your hips is, but come morning there would be an imprint of his ringed fingers on your skin.

Eddie fucks you straight through your orgasm and since Steve seems to be refusing to pull his hand away from your clit, you start screaming through your teeth from the overstimulation. Every muscle in your body jerks, desperately wanting to pull away, but they won’t let you.

There’s no escape from this and your only choice is to ride it out, to let it happen until Eddie finally pumps you full with his cum as well.

The noises that he makes change subtly at first, changing in pitch, his voice getting higher the closer he gets to his release. Eddie shouts your name, one final push, and then you can feel his warm seed filling you up and joining the mess that Steve left a bit earlier.

“Christ,” Eddie’s out of breath which is all down to how much he exerted himself. “Your pussy is fucking perfect.” His softening cock slides out, instantly making you feel empty. A few seconds later, you hear a loud thud. “I could sleep for days.”

“Insane,” you mutter. “You guys are insane.”

“Maybe, but that was hot as fuck,” Eddie replies from somewhere behind you. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“You trying to tell me you didn’t have a great time?” Steve asks and you briefly meet his gaze before looking away again. “Don’t get all shy on me now.” His hand cups your chin, tilting your head back up until you’re forced to look at him again. “You got a mixture of my and Eddie’s cum oozing down your legs. So don’t act all coy.”

“Wasn’t,” you murmur. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say that.”

“There,” he says, satisfied once more. “Feels good now that you’ve admitted it, huh?”

“I was feeling pretty good before,” you admit.

“Really?” You turn your head to look at Eddie who’s sprawled out on the blanket, his head propped up by his arm. “I hadn’t noticed,” he finishes with a smug expression on his face.

“Thought I was hiding it so well, too,” you joke. “Nice to know you’re not just a pretty face, Ed.”

“Shucks, sweetheart, didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Seriously, have you seen you?” You gesture at him with your hand, as if that simple gesture would be enough to explain what words couldn’t. “You’re a handsome devil. Take it from me.”

It had always mystified you how he didn’t have more women fawning all over him, with his big doe eyes, full lips and amazing hair. And you weren’t even talking about his tattoos.

“Same thing goes for you, Steve,” you say to him, even though you don’t think that he needs the validation. With the amount of girls that were throwing themselves at him for a large part of his high school days, he’s probably been told that he’s good looking plenty of times before. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, “I’d much rather look at you though.”

“Charmer.”

“I can’t help it,” he explains. “I see a pretty girl, I need to tell her.”

“Are you giving me the King Steve treatment right now?” You lean in to kiss his cheek suddenly and whisper the following words, “Because you don’t have to, you know.”

“Nah. I wouldn’t dare.” Steve turns his head so he can catch your lips with his. “That was all me.”

“You’re actually making it worse,” you gripe. You nudge at his cheek gently before moving away from him and sitting down next to where Eddie is still spread out on the blanket. You drape your arm over the section of his stomach that’s bare from where his shirt has ridden up. “That’s quite an achievement.”

“I aim to please,” Steve gives you a two-finger Cub Scout salute and a wink which comes across as so cocksure that you can’t help but giggle. He wiggles his eyebrows and adds, “And you definitely look very pleased, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh god, please stop.” Reaching over Eddie, you grab what remains of the six pack and hand Steve a beer, “Here. Now shut up.”

“What about me?” Eddie pushes himself into an upright position and takes the can that you offer him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

A short silence falls over the three of you, nothing to be heard but your breathing and the soft creaking of the house as it seems to come back to life around you. It doesn’t seem as scary to you now as it did in the beginning.

Funny how that changed in a matter of hours.

When you feel Eddie’s hand circle around your ankle, his thumb caressing the back of your heel, you suddenly feel the need to inquire, “Same time, same place next year?”

“Next year?” Eddie sounds nothing short of annoyed that you had even suggested waiting that long. “Fuck that. I want to do that again tomorrow.”

How Eddie can say that when his touch on your leg gets more insistent, his hand already shifting to your calf, making it painfully obvious that he wants to do it again right now is beyond you, but you’re not foolish enough to point it out.

“My parents won’t be home until late November,” Steve helpfully throws in. “So.”

“That’s settled then,” Eddie replies with some finality in his voice, not even waiting for your answer.

They already know your answer after all.

“You guys are going to kill me,” you huff and you try to ignore how Eddie’s hand is slowly moving up past your knee. “Come morning, I’ll be dead,” you say directly to him now, but Eddie simply grins and shrugs.

“Do you mind?” Steve moves in closer next to you and nuzzles your neck. He starts leaving open mouthed kisses all along your jaw and murmurs against your skin, “You can take it. I know you can.”

“I’m not so sure,” you answer, but you still turn your head so you can give him a kiss. You gasp into Steve’s mouth when Eddie’s hand reaches the apex of your thighs. “But I’m willing to give it a go.”

“Attagirl.”

You can’t remember who said that afterwards, but you decide that it doesn’t matter, not when they were gearing you up for another round. Not when there was the prospect of more of this on the horizon whenever you wanted it, but you’d always remember this night, the night when it all started, the Halloween night that changed your life…

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #mar writes

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verybadatwriting · 2 months

Text

Just a Little Stab Wound

Summary: Reader, a vigilante, is injured and goes to Peter for help.

Warnings: injuries, blood loss

Notes: I experimented a little, and wrote this on paper for the first draft. I think I like it.

Gn!reader

Word count: 1,141

He was just trying to study for a chem test when his phone buzzed. At first he ignored it. After two more buzzes, he finally glanced down at the notifications, and saw they were from you. He smiled before reading them.

Need you

Pete

i’m hurt. on way. be ready.

He hurriedly replied,

how hurt?

u there?

Y/n??

When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a fast reply, he went about gathering a whole bunch of first aid stuff.

“Pete?” He heard a tired but authoritative voice. Crap. He’d thought Aunt May was asleep.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, both bemused and amused.

“Science homework?” He said, wishing it had sounded less like a question. Aunt May did not look like she was buying it, but instead of challenging the answer she sighed and reminded him to clean up once he’d finished “Whatever it is you’re really up to.”

Peter nodded itching to go prepare his room. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the bottom bunk and laid it on his floor. He tossed a pillow on top, and made sure that the first aid boxes were close at hand. This next part he always hated. The waiting was excruciating. Never knowing if you were only a moment away, or if you had bled out in some grimey back alley.

You were a vigilante, like he used to be, before he joined the Avengers. You though, you did not have the favor of law enforcement, since some (okay, much) of your activities weren't exactly legal. Peter met you while you were both stopping a robbery. Both of you had a fun time, probably due to the fact that you had the same sense of humor. Just before the cops arrived, you and Peter fled to a nearby rooftop.

All that said, you and Peter had become friends, and then something more. You’d been to his home before, usually just to hang out, but also if you were injured he’s who you’d head to.

For the most part, Peter was used to it. He appreciated having someone his age who really understood the weight that came with having superpowers. If talking to you came at the price of occasionally patching you up, he’d happily help you out.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only ten or so minutes, you landed on the fire escape and knocked on his window. You smiled when he looked up and let you in. As he got closer, he saw it was more like a pained grimace.

“Oh my God,” Peter whispered, eyes drifting to your abdomen, which was painted red with your blood. You held your hand against it, but the blood still leaked out.

“Hey Pete,” You said, gasping through the pain before promptly tumbling through the window and into his arms.

Peter gingerly lifted you over to the blanket and set you down. You held pressure on the wound as you lay there, splayed out on the floor. Peter was readying a wad of gauze bandaging when out of the corner of his eye he saw yours start to drift closed.

“Hey!” He said. “You need to keep your eyes open, okay?” He asked. Reluctantly, you complied.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” You murmured.

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, not taking his “pretty” eyes off the gash across your body as he continued bandaging.

“Keep talking, love,” He prompted you.

“M’kay,” You hummed. “Just for you, pretty boy.”

At this, Peter’s cheeks flushed and he glanced at you, worry filling his eyes.

“You must be delusional from blood loss.”

“Nuh uh!” You protested as he turned back to work. “I’m just incredibly lucky and got you.”

A few minutes later, Peter had you all patched up. Then he helped you sit up, a rather painful process. Your shirt was filthy so he helped you out of it and upon seeing how much blood and grime covered your skin, he retrieved a basin and rag to gently wash the filth away. After he was done, you put on one of his t-shirts.

“It’s comfy,” you said.

“Looks good on you,” He replied.

After a moment, you looked up at him, truly taking in the worry lacing each and every one of his features.

“Thank you,” you finally, quietly said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” You asked, leaning your forehead onto his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, but he stayed careful not to hurt you.

“You’re in no shape to even think about going home,” Peter said. “So you might as well spend the night.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

He gently scooped you up and somehow managed to climb up his bed’s adder. He set you down on your side, facing away from the wall, and tucked you in. He climbed back down, and started cleaning up while you drifted off to sleep.

You later felt him slip into bed behind you. It was comforting, having his chest against your back. You nestled into his arms and stayed like that the rest of the night.

Peter woke up first. He didn’t dare move a muscle. From how peaceful you looked right now, nobody ever would have guessed that you’d come awfully close to death just a few hours ago.

He heard his aunt get up and start making breakfast. Her footsteps slowly came down the hall to his room. Hastily, he covered your face with the blanket.

“Hey, Peter,” Aunt May called as she entered the room. “Do you want eggs? I’m making some.”

“Sure! Thanks!” He said, internally cringing at his voice, which sounded way too cheery. For one wonderful second, Peter thought she was going to leave. Then, her eyebrows shrunk together as she noticed the suspiciously human shaped lump in her nephew’s bed.

“Uh,” she started, “Who’s that?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asked after a moment. She raised an eyebrow in response.

“Uhm, Aunt May,” Peter said, “This is my partner. They’ve got superpowers, like me, and they don’t really want other people to know who they are. Last night they got hurt, like really hurt, and they came to me. Please don’t be mad at them, they didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

His aunt just stood there, this stressful moment stretching on forever. Finally, someone broke the silence.

“I’s okay, Peter,” you said, pushing the blanket away from your face. “Hi Ms. Parker. I’m Y/n.” Your groggy voice wavered slightly, as if afraid of what she might say. Your face, soft from sleep, made Peter fall in love with you all over again. Seeing the way Peter looked at you, combined with your honesty and desperation, Aunt May seemed to relax.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”

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e-m-christina · 7 months

Text

Heat of the Moment - Eddie Munson Pt.1

SUMMARY: Eddie surprises you one night by turning up outside your bedroom window. But can you stay quiet enough to avoid being caught by your father, Hopper? Find the original request here.

LOOK WHO IS POSTING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A YEAR? I'M DOING THIS REQUEST IN TWO PARTS, AND PART TWO WILL BE MUCH LONGER, THIS IS JUST A WARM UP SINCE I HAVEN'T UPLOADED IN A WHILE.

WARNINGS: Smut, fingering, oral, traumatised Hopper.

MASTERLIST -- REQUESTING INFO

A groan escaped your lips as you glared at the blank sheet of paper in front of you. Like always, you had managed to put off doing your homework until the last minute, and now you were stressed out of your mind, trying to write a two-thousand-word essay on the French Revolution.

Setting down the pencil, you rubbed your heavy eyes and stood up from the desk. You guessed you just had to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t going to finish the essay that night.

‘The French and their damn revolutions will be the death of me’, you muttered to yourself as you stripped out of your clothes and threw on a tank top and shorts, before flopping onto your soft bed. You would need to come up with an explanation to tell Mr Thompson why your history essay was three days overdue (even with the extension he had granted you) and you highly doubted that you could use the excuse that your grandma had died twice over. Before you could conjure some lame excuse, you heard a tapping noise come from your window.

“What the hell?” You muttered, grudgingly rolling over to glare at the burgundy curtains that covered the glass. There it was again: tap, tap, tap. Your eyes widened when a voice hissed through the window.

“Psst, Y/n? Y/n, are you in there?” The voice whispered, followed by another round of tapping. You sprung from your blanket laden mattress and rushed towards the curtains, pulling them open.

“Eddie?” You whispered, dumbfounded, as your boyfriend stared back at you through the glass with a grin plastered to his face. What was he doing there? If your dad caught him in your room in the middle of the night, there would be two graves in the backyard by the morning.

“The one and only!” Eddie blew you a kiss through the open window before rapping on the glass again. “Open your window a little wider so I can get in.”

“Are you mad?” You hissed. “What if my dad finds you in here? He is a cop, he knows how to hide bodies-”

“Don’t worry, he won’t. I’m sneaky, like a ninja.” Eddie said, giving you the puppy dog eyes you just couldn’t say no to. “Please open the window?”

“Fine, but if you make any noise, we’re both good as dead.” You shivered as the cool night air hit your skin when you shoved open the window. You chewed your lip and glanced at the door behind you to make sure it was fully closed as Eddie clambered through the window (knocking over a couple of trinkets in the process).

“See? Like a ninja.” Eddie panted once he had emerged through the window frame, only to pause when his eyes landed on your pyjamas. “Wow.

---

If you want tagged in future works, PM me or leave a comment!

TAGS:

@nxrdamp @ifuccedurmom @twistxdx

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things 4 #fanfiction #smut #romance #fluff

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hobiebrownismygod · 5 months

Note

Can I get a Hobie Brown x reader (fem or gender neutral, whichever you're comfortable with) from his dimension and does fights? Like 'underground', paid, street fights. She tells Hobie about it and he comes with her, and she is constantly telling him that he can't help her, at all, he can't interfere.

Thank you, And I hope you a happy time

And he's cool with that until this cop comes in right before her fight and says that he won't arrest everyone there (or something) if she can beat him.

She wins, of course, she's good at her job and Hobie patches her up after. I kinda want to read a terrified into soft Hobie.

If not that's perfectly fine, Take as long as you need

Thank you, and I hope you a happy time

This was so fun to write! I had to change it slightly tho :/ Sorry this took so long btw, I was fairly busy. I hope you enjoy it!

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Fight Club

TW: Established Relationship, Blood

_______________________________

Hobie had never been more in love.

Watching the girl of his dreams beat the living daylights out of a full-grown man made him want to kick his feet in the air and giggle out loud. Strong, gorgeous and borderline psychotic? Just his type.

Honestly, at first he'd been against the idea of the love of his life putting herself in danger with street fights, but that was before he realized just how good she was at it. He'd also been against the idea of watching it, absolutely terrified of seeing her get hurt, but after a couple reassuring words he'd decided that it would be best to go see her. At least, if he was there, he'd be able to keep her safe, no?

So here he was, leaning against the wall while standing on the sidelines, watching his pretty girl sucker punch a dude so hard he fell unconscious. Of course, Hobie was the first to walk up to her with a water bottle, giving her a kiss on the cheek while he wiped the blood of her face.

"You did amazing, darling. Honestly, I 'ad no idea you were that strong" he teased, head cocked to the side as he took a step back. Still a little out of breath, you nodded and shot him a smile. "It's my job, isn't it?" You leaned toward him playfully. "Well, you're bloody good at it." He winked.

He rubbed your shoulders and talked to you softly for a few minutes while you got ready for your next and probably last fight of the day. Although he tried to keep on a brave face, he was nervous.

Terrified of the fact that you might get hurt.

Sure, he knew that was basically impossible, what with your skill and your experience, but he was still going mad thinking about all the horrific possibilities. It was hard to push them to the back of his mind. Especially when he saw you get hit back.

You couldn't dodge every punch after all. You had to take some. Hobie couldn't handle that. For a moment he felt like he should just climb into that ring himself and show your opponent a piece of his mind. Or even just use his web to trip the guy. What harm could it do?

Hobie raised his wrist towards the ring, aiming for a moment before he hesitated.

"You can't get involved. I can handle myself, Hobes." your words in the car when he'd drove you here stuck in his mind. He scoffed under his breath. Of course. He couldn't get involved. His girl could take care of herself. He half-heartedly pulled his hand back just in time to see you kick yourself to your feet, knocking the other guy to the ground in the process.

He cheered with the rest of the crowd while you climbed on top of your opponent, blocking his airflow until he surrendered. He booed at your opponent who walked out of the ring with a broken nose and a shameful look on his face. But before he could run over to congratulate you again-

BAM BAM

Gunshots.

Some people screamed, others stood their ground, the entirety of the audience turning to see what looked like a police officer walk through the door, pistol in his hand and a smug expression on his face. Someone must have tipped him off.

"Y/N!" Hobie called out quickly, approaching you and grabbing you by the arm to pull you behind him. He didn't have his mask with him at the moment, but he'd figure it out. He had to protect his girl.

"Stay behind me."

"Hobes, it's alright." you said with a slight smile, coming to his side. As the officer approached, you shot him a sly grin. "What seems to be the problem, officer?"

The officer looked you up and down, a distasteful expression on his face. "This looks to me like an illegal street fighting ring. And you seem to be the ringleader." He said coldly.

"Me?" you asked in mock disbelief. "A leader of a fighting ring? You must be mistaken, officer."

He laughed out loud. "Yeah? Makes sense. You don't look like the type to be able to fight."

Hobie clenched his jaw at this. He was already pissed off by the officer in his presence, but hearing the entitled asshole call his girl weak? That was crossing the line. "She could take you any day." He muttered under his breath.

You gave Hobie a wide-eyed glance and the officer glared at him. "What was that?" He asked threateningly, pointer finger edging dangerously close to the trigger of his pistol. "I said she could take you any day." Hobie replied, a little louder this time, staring the cop down.

"Yeah!"

"Beat the pig down!"

The audience chimed in to Hobie's statement, a small group of people even beginning to chant, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

The cop looked taken aback, as if he didn't know how to react in this situation. Then of course, he was too prideful to turn down a fight against a girl.

"How about this, officer?" you began, an idea popping in your mind. "Fight me. If I win, you let us all go, scotch-free."

"Wha-" he started, shaking his head no, pistol raised.

"Why? Too scared to fight a girl?"

His eyes narrowed. He shoved the pistol in his holster, approaching you with a determined look on his face. "Fine. But if you lose..."

"I won't."

Hobie watched you in awe, unable to stop a small grin from spreading across his face, completely lost in you. Your determination, your skill, your bravery, it was all so...so...?

Beautiful.

You were beautiful.

And then he found himself standing outside the ring again, watching yet another fight, except this time the stakes were much higher. "Beat his ass!" He called out as you swung a punch as the badged man in front of you, effectively smacking him to the ground.

The officer was a fair match, obviously trained well. Both of you had landed a couple hits but it seemed as though you were winning. Of course you were winning. You were trained for this. But that didn't stop Hobie from stressing and biting his fingernails out of nervousness with each botched swing.

Eventually, one well-timed kicked sent the officer flying across the ring, hitting his head against the floor with a nasty crack. Although he tried to get up, he was completely beat, meaning you had won the match. And the crowd went wild.

Everyone had been expecting you to win, but it was an exciting moment nonetheless. You fought through the swarm to fall right into Hobie's welcoming arms, despite him still being a bit shaky with nerves. "You did so good, darling" he said softly, holding you tight and closing his eyes, as though he was afraid you'd disappear.

"Thank you." you replied, smiling up at him. "You look like a ghost, Hobes" a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you caressed his cheek gently, a slight hint of red appearing on his face at the motion. "Were you really that nervous?"

"I-I-" he stuttered, voice still trembling slightly. "Shut up! You bloody scared me! Look at you-" he started, pulling you a little closer and concernedly inspecting you all over. "-covered in blood and scratches...I'm gonna have to patch you up once we get home, hmm?"

"You love patching me up."

He shot you a sly grin. "I s'pose I do. Doesn't mean I like seeing you hurt though."

You took his hand in yours, running your finger over his ruined, cracked nails. "Look what you did." you said, shaking your head teasingly. "Old habits die hard?" He tried, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek.

You laughed. "At least I ended up winning. Saved you a couple weeks in jail, didn't I?"

He shook his head, suppressing a wide smile. "Yeah you won. You beat his arse. And I loved watching it."

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film-bro-hotch · 1 year

Text

Victim of a Bad Habit - Hotch x Fem!Reader -- one shot

This is completely self-indulgent and simply because my brain is hyperfixating on Love and Human Remains. Please enjoy

Synopsis: You grew up with Hotch. You always knew him as the cocky asshole who slept around. The two of you were in a weird friends-with-benefits-type relationship. You kept it up through high school and would hook up during winter and summer breaks from college when you were both home. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since graduation, and honestly you hadn’t thought of him Not until he showed up at your job one day, asking questions about a recent murder.

Warnings: smut 18+, oral sex (f receiving), consent king Hotch, flashbacks mixed with pining, smoking, Hotch is an asshole, you are an asshole, I think that’s about it

WC: 3.6k

You were running as quickly as you could, or at least as quickly as the mix of your heels and Philly potholes would allow. You slept in a little later than usual and had to skip your morning coffee, just trying not to be late. You looked down at your watch. 9:03. Okay, you just had a couple more blocks to go. Maybe your editor wouldn’t notice that you weren’t at your desk yet.

Crossing one more street and taking large strides to maneuver the crosswalks of downtown Philly, you managed to make it to the newsroom at 9:09. The hustle of the place was normal. There was always someone running around, someone on the phone making calls. What you weren’t expecting to see was a couple of police officers and men in suits.

Sure, talking to cops was part of your job as a reporter, but you usually spoke to them on the phone, over email, or you went to them. Cops rarely ever come to you.

“You’ll want to talk to Ms. L/N. She is the one that ran the story. Her editor should be here soon as well.”

So your editor wasn’t there yet, perfect. But the cops wanted to talk to you. You ducked into the hallway to your office, trying to make it seem at least like you weren’t ten minutes late. You were logging in to your computer when you heard a knock on your door and someone say, “Ms. L/N?”

When you turned from your chair, the last person you expected to see was your old go-to hookup, Aaron Hotchner.

“Holy shit,” you said in disbelief. “If it isn’t the biggest asshole I know. It’s been a minute, Hotchner. You really know how to keep a girl waiting.” What you hadn’t accounted for, though, was change. His lips were creased in a tight line, and annoyance seemed to be pressed permanently into his face. His partner looked more shocked than Aaron did, though there was some amusement behind it.

“Excuse me?” his voice made it sound more like a command than a question.

“What? Would you have rather I called you a whore?”

His partner’s snort of either shock or laughter interjected before he could say anything. “You two know each other?” he asked, his voice wavering a bit like he was trying to hold back a laugh.

“Old friends,” you said.

“Former classmates,” he said at the same time, earning your raised brow.

“Okay,” his partner said, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t had coffee yet. You want some coffee?”

“I would love some coffee,” you say. “Cream and sugar is fine.”

The other agent gave a nod and looked over to Hotch, but he only gave a firm shake of his head. He looked back to you, smiling in a way that told you he knew at the very least that the two of you messed around back in the day. “I’ll have that right out sweetheart,” he said before closing the door and heading down the hall.

You stood from your chair, moving a little closer so you could lean on your desk, arms crossed. “So, law enforcement?”

“FBI, actually,” he said dully.

“A Fed? Damn, you really made something of yourself…but it seems you got a little boring in the process.”

He bristled at that. “I am not boring.”

“Maybe not boring, but compared to the Hotch I know, this guy is…well, I have yet to see that shit-eating grin you used to always have.”

“People change.”

“That much?”

You weren’t sure how, and you weren’t going to ask, but somehow Aaron had gotten the keys to the theater’s rooftop. He was smiling like a fool as he climbed up the ladder, taking your hand and pulling you up the rest of the way.

“You sure no one is going to call the cops on us? I would rather not have to explain to my parents that I was caught having sex on someone else’s private property,” you said, giving him a critical look. You thought he was crazy when he suggested this, and he probably was. But you said yes anyway.

“Oh come on, live a little, Y/N.” He already had a cigarette in his mouth and was in the process of starting his lighter. When he managed to light it, you plucked it from his mouth, feigning annoyance.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to wait on a lady?” you asked.

“You’re considered a lady?” he countered, earning him a rough shove to the chest, but you were both laughing.

“You can be such a dick sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah. Keeps the people I don’t like away,” he mused, taking the cigarette from your lips and replacing its warmth with himself. His lips brushed yours, feeling the bump from where his lips were starting to chap. It was getting colder, and he more than likely forgot to put on a moisturizer. It was almost a surprise to you considering he was always preening himself. You pressed yourself into his arms, feeling his stubble brush against you.

“Good thing I tolerate assholes,” you mused before going right back to the kiss.

Well, he was certainly still an asshole. Just one that grated your nerves a little bit more. You had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell you what changed, what seemed to make him such a different person. Was it really the job?

“Okay, fine. What does the FBI want anyway?” you asked, tilting your chin up a little bit. You could be pompous too.

“The recent string of murders,” he started, and you nodded.

“I know. I’ve been covering them,” you interjected, mostly just to get on his nerves. Which you did, it seemed.

“Your article about the one two nights ago, it had some information that came from anonymous sources. We need to know who those are.”

“Ah ah ah, it isn’t that easy, Hotch. I take my sources very seriously. I’m not just going to give them to you.”

“Why not?” he seemed more in disbelief than anything

Oh? Why not? You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. He sounded like a spoiled child who didn’t get his way.

His partner came back in then, holding two steaming cups. He handed one over to you which you gladly took. Toying with Hotch really was exhausting. “Thank you…I don’t believe I ever caught your name.”

“Hotch didn’t introduce me while I was gone? Seems like he’s slacking. I’m Agent Dave Rossi,” he said, extending his hand. You happily took it, not bothering to look at Hotch as you did it. You knew how bruised his ego was, and you loved kicking it while it was down.

You leaned back against your desk, one arm across your body still and the other holding your cup of coffee. “As I was saying, I can’t just give up my sources, no matter how much you say it is going to help you in your case.”

“And if I get a subpoena for you?” Aaron challenged.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to understand, but anonymity is something we take very seriously. If I grant my sources that, they will get it. And if I get subpoenaed, what do you think is going to happen? Like every other journalist, my paper has funds for this kind of stuff already set aside. I’ll have to pay a fine or spend a little time in jail, so what?”

“So what? Do you not care about justice being served? About protecting the community you are writing to?” Hotch asked, an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“Maybe if you did your jobs a little better, reporters wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

You seemed to really have struck a nerve then. His jaw clenched, and he looked at Rossi. “We are done here,” he said before storming out of the room. Rossi offered you a half smile, pulling out his wallet and handing you two cards, what you assumed were their business cards.

“If you change your mind. Oh, and thanks for the coffee,” he said as he turned, closing the door to your office on his way out.

You only had a few classes with him in high school, and to be honest you really didn’t talk when you saw each other. You both had your circles you ran in, and they didn’t overlap. Sometimes you would give the other a nod in the hallway. It was known that Aaron got around. Some rumored that it was not just with girls, but you didn’t care about that. It wasn’t any of your business anyway.

You simply took the time he would have with you and relished in them when you could. You were usually out late in some part of town or your room when your parents were gone, which was more often than not. You never went to his place. No one ever did.

One of the last times the two of you did anything together, you were both 22 and on break from college. It was just a couple of months away from graduation. He had just gotten into the law program at George Washington. You were lying on the roof of that same theater. You don’t think he ever got rid of the key he had back in high school.

The two of you had been drinking, and you were sharing a cigarette. Your hands were in his hair as you asked, “You really want to do this? Go into the whole law thing? You can’t exactly sleep around being a lawyer.”

“Sure I can,” he said with that stupid grin, “name a lawyer who doesn’t.” He had a point there. Your free hand was still running through his fluffy black hair.

“I mean it. Like, do you think you’ll enjoy it?”

“Law is black and white. There is a right and a wrong. It’s that kind of simplicity that draws me to it. I don’t have to think when I work, so I can spend every moment outside of it pondering everything like I always have been.”

“And this thing we are doing? Trespassing and all that, right or wrong?”

“Oh, very wrong, but that’s what makes it fun.”

That was the last time you saw that devious smile of his. No trace of it was on whatever you saw today. You wanted to know what happened to the man you once knew, the man that had such an annoying grin that somehow managed to make you smile. You shook your head. You had gone years without thinking of him, you can go the rest of your life pretending it didn’t happen.

You spent the rest of your day working like usual, calling sources for your next article, brainstorming new ideas. Even with his business card shoved to the back of your desk drawer, you felt called to it, to him. You had gotten most of your things in your bag, ready to leave for the day. Even at the door you felt you were missing something. You knew what it was, but you also knew you couldn’t leave without it. “Fucking bastard,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the card and shoving it into your pocket. For safe keeping.

When you got back to your apartment, you threw your stuff on the kitchen table like most days, lounging and deciding that dinner would be something you thought of later, that today was far too tiring to think of what to cook. You stayed like that for a long while, surfing the tv channels and finding nothing that was satisfying. Nothing could seem to take your mind off of him and the way he was nothing like the man you remembered. Against your better judgment, you pulled out the business cards, deciding to give Hotch’s partner a call.

He picked up after the first couple of rings. “Agent Dave Rossi.”

“Hey, this is Y/N L/N, the reporter from the newspaper. I know it’s a little late, but I was wondering if I could talk to one of you.”

You could have sworn you felt his smirk through the phone. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. If you would like to come to us, we are staying at the Marriott on 2nd Avenue.”

Just down the street from you. “That would be perfect. 30 minutes okay?”

“Sounds great. Room number is 317.”

You said goodbye and hung up the phone, grabbing your keys and wallet, shoving them into the tote bag you usually kept in the kitchen. You could just grab some dinner on the way back. If you were talking to Rossi then maybe it wouldn’t last too long. You left your house, walking along the sidewalk a few blocks away until you reached the hotel. It was nothing fancy, pretty standard really. You figured people wouldn’t exactly like their tax money being spent on housing federal agents in 5-star luxury hotels every case they had. If only that was true, that would be quite the story. You take the elevator up to the third floor, hanging a left and finding the room with relative ease. You knocked, stepping back and waiting for Rossi to answer.

But the man that opened the door was not Rossi, and he looked nearly as shocked as you.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his shock turning to annoyance.

“I called Agent Rossi…said I wanted to talk. This was the room number he gave me.” You should have expected this. He seemed to eat up the little bit of the interaction he saw between you and Hotch earlier today.

Hotch seemed to think for a moment, but finally he stepped back from the door. “Rossi isn’t even here. He’s back at the police station working on paperwork. Just come in and we can talk,” he said, giving you room to step in. It was then that you noticed he had changed into more casual clothes. A George Washington Law School sweatshirt and some sweatpants. He looked like he was about to go to bed.

“Listen, I’m really sorry for earli-” you had started, but he cut you off.

“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” His tone said otherwise. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees. There was a long moment of silence between the two of you, a tension that the other seemed to refuse to break. You were the first one to speak.

“What changed?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything about you. It’s like you are a different person,” you would have continued, but his agitation stopped you.

“Jesus Christ, not this! Can’t you just deal with the fact that I’ve grown up and you haven’t!” he snapped.

“I haven’t grown up?” you asked, baffled.

“You called me a fucking whore in front of my coworker!” Well, he had a point there.

“I know that was uncalled for, and I’m sorry, but I called you an asshole, that’s different.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“I’m trying to fucking apologize, Aaron! Would you just let me?!” That was the first time you had raised your voice at him, and it seemed the two of you had run out of steam. You were both quiet, neither wanting to challenge the words that hung thick in the air.

“What changed, Aaron?” you asked again.

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes not meeting yours. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his eyes deciding that it was much more interesting than facing you. “I was a stupid kid, Y/N,” he started. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t think I would care. I saw so many cases go through my door as a prosecutor, and I felt like even though I was serving justice, I wasn’t making any difference. I wasn’t saving any lives. I felt - I was so lost. I went through high school and college coasting, and I was so lost.”

You were quiet as you moved closer, placing a hand over his. You felt his calloused edges, and his fingers brushed over your cuts and scrapes. “Still picking at your fingers?” he asked, finally meeting your eyes.

“We all have our bad habits,” you said, your fingers finding themselves lacing with his.

“Mind if I pick this bad one back up again? Just this once?” he looked up at you, and you could feel a part of your past self smile. There was still a hint of him there. You took your free hand, running it through his hair. It was shorter now, parts of it stiff from a little bit of a heavy hand at the styling gel.

“Please,” you found yourself whispering. Your breath was taken out of you as he pressed his lips to yours, your hand still in his hair and gripping the back of his head as you pulled him closer. His weight pushed you into the plush hotel mattress, still holding on to his hair. You winced a little, his teeth colliding with your bottom lip as he tried to deepen the kiss, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. You could hear his soft chuckle against your lips, feel the way his laugh made his chest shake. You started to move away from his lips, your kisses peppering the corner of his lips, down to his jawline, but he pulled away abruptly. You expected regret, for him to tell you to get out and not call him again. But when you saw his face, you saw that stupid, shit-eating grin he had been missing.

“I think I owe you a little something. For being a bit of a dick, I mean.”

“A bit?” You asked, raising your brow, but he didn’t give you time to complain. His lips were on your jawline now, slowly moving lower to your neck, staying in a few places a little longer, with the intent to leave a mark no doubt.

He worked devilishly, moving to your collarbone. You went to unbutton your top, but he stopped you. “Ah ah ah, my job.”

Oh, damn him. His fingers were agonizingly slow, going one button at a time, leaving a kiss at each place that had once been covered. When he reached your breasts, one hand slipped to your thigh, the other taking hold of your bra strap. “Is this okay?” he asked, pulling away from his work to look at you.

“Keep going,” you breathed out. His hand slipped behind you, unclasping your bra with an ease that surprised you despite his known history. He pulled it off your body, leaving your breasts exposed for him. His lips continued their journey, one hand gripping your left breast while his lips toyed with your right. You couldn’t help the high pitched yelp of surprise when you felt his teeth graze your nipple. “Aaron,” you managed, feeling yourself squirming underneath him. You could feel a heat growing between your legs, one that you tried to stifle by keeping your thighs closed.

Of course he noticed, and you could nearly feel his smirk in his kisses, the way he moved from your breasts down to your navel, stopping occasionally to leave his mark. He looked up at you then, asking for permission to go further, and you nodded. “Your words. Use them,” he scolded. If you were in any other situation, you would have rolled your eyes, but at that moment you needed him, so you gave in and said, “Yes.”

His fingers were nimble as they unclasped your belt, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down, throwing them to the side. Next was your underwear which in his eagerness he nearly ripped. You opened your mouth to complain but stopped as he moved closer, placing your knees on his shoulders and starting the real work. You nearly came undone by his first touch, something he was surely going to tease you for later. One hand was still on your thigh, gripping hard enough it was sure to leave a mark come morning. He kissed the most vulnerable parts of you, slowly pulling you apart like an intricate braid that only he knew the secrets to. You could feel yourself building, and Hotch could too. He pulled away just long enough for you to groan, your body begging for his return. “Aaron,” you called, hearing him laugh from between your legs.

“So impatient,” he toyed.

“Asshole.”

“You already knew that one.” It only took a few more waves of his devilish hand to bring you to your peak, gripping the cheap, white bed sheets and crying out, gasping to regain your breath. You could hear your heart thumping in your ears, a sound that nearly overwhelmed you when Hotch came back up, grinning like a fool and kissing you. Tasting yourself on his lips, your hands back to his hair and his hands cradling your face. It all felt so right, and for a moment it felt like you had that Hotch back.

“You think we could keep this bad habit up?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath. Hotch just gave a little laugh and shook his head.

“No, I don’t think we will.”

“Glad we are on the same page,” you breathed as you kissed him again.

The two of you laid like that for a while, sharing the occasional kiss but mostly just staying in each other’s arms for as long as time allowed. You still weren’t sure if you would be there come morning, but that didn’t matter. You would be back one of these days. You were both victims of bad habits.

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