#but i’ve been having this idea from a long time ago

[euaphoric]

𝟎𝟏. 🥛 ✶𓏲ּ “ i want to sew all my love into you ” — [ 정국이 ]

he was comfort, security, and need, all in one. it had a name; home <3

pairing ◞⁺⊹ husband!jk x wife!reader genre ◞⁺⊹ married/domestic au, pwp, slight age difference (jk is older by 5 years)

warnings ◞⁺⊹ insane tooth-rotting fluff bc i’m in need of high dopamine levels, cute n soft smut, you’re a clingy wifey, minor mentions of anxious/sad thoughts, o/c is kinda whiny and hella attention/touch-starved, o/c just misses her bby fr, daddy kink, major impreg kink, foreplay, they get all sentimental n mushy gushy at the end agghhh, aftercare bc koo is the literal definition of the perfect husband ^_^ wc ◞⁺⊹ 4.6k

音楽 — eyes locked, hands locked by rv

i’m vv excited to be back and writing again, i missed it sm ;(( i did this poll i few days ago and this idea won but i’ve decided to write them all so this is the first of three !! (〃ﾉωﾉ)ﾟ+°

summer days grew humid, each was hotter than the last. though it isn’t your least favorite season, you prefer to spend most of your time indoors as the heat often makes you feel faint and the air can be suffocating. usually these lazy, torrid afternoons were shared with your lovely husband, either you two would be laid up on the sofa or in bed watching your favorite shows/movies but today went a little off schedule.

you were all alone in your bedroom, feeling a bit sulky as your husband wasn’t around to tend to your needs or give you any affection. it’s not jungkook’s fault though; he’s been toiled away since this morning, offering to help your parents move and rearrange some of the new furniture that arrived today. you decided to stay at your family beach house this summer for a change of scenery, you hadn’t been here since you were seventeen, let alone seen your parents in person since last year. spending some quality time together has been long overdue and you couldn’t be any happier about it.

both your parents absolutely adore jungkook, they thought he was the sweetest, kindest, most generous person they’ve ever met— which says a lot considering they’ve never been a fan of anyone you dated previously. when you introduced him to them a few years ago, they had slightly pre-judged him based off his outward appearance, assuming that he wouldn’t be the type to take relationships seriously or even want to settle down and get married someday. but not even hours later their perceptions of him changed drastically, your parents could tell that he was a genuine soul who loved you unconditionally and would do absolutely anything for you.

that very same day, your mom spoke with you privately to express her virtuous first impressions, saying how much she loves him already and this is who you should’ve been dating from the start. your parents had extremely high standards for your future partner, especially your mom— but jungkook exceeded every single one of their expectations, checking all the boxes off their list. “i can tell just by the glint in his eyes whenever he looks at you… he’s more than in love, he’s infatuated. the way he talks about you as if you’re the most wonderful thing to have ever came into his life— he’s definitely going to be the one you’ll marry.” your mom gets all teary eyed as she spoke those last few words, picturing her one and only daughter all grown up, in a beautiful wedding dress, finally getting to see you live your happily ever after.

not even a couple months after graduating from uni you got engaged to the love of your life, proudly getting your degree you worked your ass off for and becoming a soon to be wife. you had to move across the country for a job offer of a lifetime but it was worth it, jungkook was beyond supportive in any decision you made and was there with you every step of the way, holding your hand through it all.

shortly after moving, you two got married and the rest was history, it was stressful dealing with so many life changing events all within a span of such a short time but you somehow managed. had it not been for jungkook’s constant encouragement and willingness to work/talk things out, you would’ve been a complete trainwreck. he was the balance you needed to keep yourself afloat, you felt so lucky, more than blessed to have a caring, understanding man like him.

the more you daydream about him, the more you wished he was holding you right now. you’re feeling lonely, so empty, and a little sad, his absence fills your mind with restless thoughts, hoping that he’ll come to your rescue soon enough. before jungkook, you were highly independent, never needed anyone to take care of you because you did everything for yourself; he never gave up on gaining your trust and has shown time and time again how dependable he is. you’ll forever admire how much effort he’s put into getting to know you over the years, that no one’s ever came close to making you feel the way he does— so high as if you’re soaring through the sky, living in heaven on earth.

he was the main provider of the household, you didn’t have to worry about anything nor lift a finger, all you did was focus on your career. you had a worry free lifestyle, the perfect job, perfect husband, what was there to possibly complain about? most aren’t so fortunate to be in your position so you never took any of it for granted. you love him more than anything in this world, you couldn’t stand to be away from him for another minute, you miss your hubby so much :( you craved his presence near you, needing him around you physically, wanting his soothing touch to ease your mind.

you wanna feel his sunkissed skin against yours, his warmth, the way his scent clouds your senses as he trails kisses down the curve of your neck, tangling your fingers in his dark, wispy hair. you want to lay your head on his broadened chest while snuggling up into him, hearing the gentle sounds of his heartbeat, intertwining your small hands with his large ones. you desire for him to kiss you everywhere, leaving no surface of you going untouched, pinning your body down between him and the mattress, like a flower pressed into the pages of a book and all that’s written is his name over and over. so many different scenarios play in your head as a means to pass the time, but they can only keep you sane for so long.

you’ve grown desperate for him at this point, finally coming out of your room to see what he might be up to now, searching the entirety of the house. you ended up finding him downstairs in the living room with your mom right beside as verbal assistance, not only did he lift and move most of the furniture but now he’s helping to mount up the new TV without even breaking a sweat in the process. was there anything he couldn’t do? probably not, he was a man of endless talents. your dad was sent out to go grocery shopping so your husband was pretty much doing everything on his own while your mom simply watches in amusement.

she was yet again impressed by your husband’s handy work, “wow jungkook, you’re really strong!” he was indeed. now you’re getting flashbacks to when he’d manhandle you and lift your body with ease in one swift motion to switch positions. his hands needed to be all over you right this second or else you’ll simply die of attention starvation. “mom, are you gonna keep him busy all day? ‘m getting really boreddd.” you childishly whine as if you weren’t a fully grown, married adult. to be fair though, it’s been hours since you’ve seen him and as much as you wanted to give him some space to help out around the house, you still had your needs to. the need in question being him in your bed, immediately.

“why don’t you go sit by the pool or something? you’ve been cooped up in that room since this morning, get some fresh air!” your mom suggests an alternative to wait but you shook your head in an instant, “nuh uh, too hot, i’ll melt like an ice cream cone!” you’d rather stay locked inside your air conditioned room than having to deal with the searing hot sun baking you well done at 450 degrees. “i’m almost done sweetheart, promise.” jungkook quickly reassures before hammering one of the nails into the wall, the way his veins would protrude through his arms as he repeats the action made you mindlessly clench your thighs together. he could make anything look insanely hot, it was almost unfair.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

after another twenty minutes or so he was finally done and now free to go, thrilled to have him all to yourself once again. you practically yanked his arm off as you led him up the staircase but your mom had one more thing to say, “will you be helping us tonight with dinner? i’m making your favorite!” he turns for a second to answer, “uh- yes of course !” that enthusiastic, bunny-like smile of his that you’ve grown to love for so long never fails to make you melt, just so effortlessly pretty without even trying.

but now you realize that you only have a limited amount of time with him, great… you’ll have to wait even longer to have him exactly as you’ve imagined. there’s only so much pent up sexual frustration you can take, you’ve been patient for almost eight hours. that’s probably the longest you two might’ve gone without having sex— okay maybe that’s an exaggeration but you do have a very active sex life with your husband, you try to do it at least twice a day and if you’re both feeling a little friskier it can sometimes go up to 4-5 times~.

your sex drive used to be quite low, never really seeing it as a huge necessity for you— until you met jungkook, of course. there was an immediate sexual attraction that you felt towards him, you’ve never felt so drawn to anyone before, he was irresistible. you’ve had some internal issues with your performance in the bedroom, it took a lot for you to reach your peak but could never get yourself to finish (unless you did it yourself) but with jungkook? that’s a whole different ballgame. you could simply cream in your panties just from kissing those luscious lips of his, he ignites a fire in you that’ll never wither into ashes.

once the door to your room was closed, both his hands found purchase around your waist, caging you into him and pulling you in for a deep kiss, melting right into his hold. your bodies flowing with pure lust and greed for him, not even thinking twice as your hand travels down lower to palm him through his sweats. he let out a breathy chuckle from your sudden actions once he pulled away, “someone’s feelin’ kinda slutty tonight.” he teased, which you took no offense since that’s just your collective humor.

“mhmm, ‘m only the biggest slut for you. now stop neglecting your wifey and gimme all your love.” since he hasn’t been giving you much attention all day you were acting a bit whiny about it, jungkook didn’t like that word though, neglect? that just wasn’t something in his vocabulary when it came to you. “huh? don’t ever say that again, you know i’d never purposefully neglect you, ever.” he made sure to emphasize that, he knows you weren’t being serious but it does hurt a little to know you may secretly feel this way. he loves you and you can feel it without him even needing to say it, that’s how intense it is.

“it was just a joke koo… didn’t mean it like that.” you jut your lip into a tiny pout, leaning in to kiss him again but he turns away, denying you the void of what you wanted most. “a joke is supposed to be funny last time i checked.” he retorts before sneaking off to make a beeline towards the bed, confused when you don’t follow suit after him. “what’re you standing there for? get your little butt over here.” he impatiently demands, patting his lap for you to sit on top. you listen and make your way over to him, straddling his lap with both legs on either side of him as he brings you in closer. he wraps his arms around your waist again, tightly holding you in his grasp, your frame sinks right into his chest.

he locks his lips with yours, kissing you slowly, taking his sweet, sweet time; what’s the rush? you had the rest of the night at your disposal. needy hips languidly rock back and forth against his semi hard-on, the fabric of the pajamas shorts you wore were so thin you could feel his cock throbbing underneath. you audibly gasped when he brushes up against your weak spot, it feels amazing, your panties turned into a sticky puddle from the pleasure; moaning into the kiss as he inhales your sighs. you were more than hungry for him, you were ravenous— only the taste of him could quench your avid thirst. you’re already as close as you can be but you wish to be even closer, if it was impossible you’d crawl into his skin and fuse your bones together to become one, you’re so in love it sickens you.

“need you to touch me,” you whimper for more when his lips drew from yours momentarily, “please.”

jungkook loves seeing you like this, his pretty wife acting all hot and bothered just for him, but he’d lying if he said it wasn’t the same way for you too. “where baby ?” his warm breath against you leaves a shiver to your spine, his voice low and raspy. “everywhere.” you beg in desperation, “just wanna to feel you, need you so bad…” you continued to grind your core onto his clothed erection, becoming even whinier as time passes.

he smirks at that answer, knowing that he’s the only one that can have you in this way. “need you too baby,” his tone is nothing short of a whisper, lazily rutting his hips up to match the pace of your movement, “been thinkin’ about you all day, can’t wait to fuck this little pussy.” his middle and index finds your clit to rub through your pajamas, making you bite your lip so hard it’ll leave a bruise. you’re both so horny and desperate for each other like some hormonal teens, you’re about to explode from how sensitive you are, your whole body feels tingly.

“jungkook!” a familiar voice shouts from a distance, it was muffled but you know that was definitely your mom who just called for him. “come back downstairs, i think something’s wrong with the remote, it’s not working— help !” she sounded a bit overdramatic which is how she usually is most of the time. you groan in annoyance, getting even more frustrated that you had to stop, all you want is some private alone time with your husband but no, the universe said not today! you really wanna curse your mom for being a total cock block right now .. -_-

๑ ๑ ๑

“i’m gonna put a baby in you someday.” your husband casually says while rubbing your stomach, his inked skin splayed across your bare form. “in this cute little tummy right here.” he points near your belly button, planting a small kiss to it. you two were finally alone once again and this time it was for good. after jungkook helped your mom figure out what was wrong with the remote (it wasn’t broken, she just forgot to put a new set of batteries in) and ate dinner with you and your parents, the night was bound to end like this.

this isn’t the first time he’s said something like this and it surely won’t be the last, but you burst into a giggle, “quit kidding around kook.” he’s always playing around but you can count on one hand how many times he’s actually finished inside you, since you’re not on birth control for health reasons you have to be extra careful to not end up getting pregnant. there’s been a handful of times where he’s had to run to the store and get you a morning after pill which you’d just hope for the best and leave it up to the universe. you have noticed that jungkook has been more vocal about wanting children lately, so maybe he’s hinting at finally taking the next step.

“and if i told you i wasn’t?” he shifts slightly, eyes flickering up to stare into your gaze. “would you let me paint your walls ? give you a baby so i can see my stunning wife bear our children?” the thought of you carrying his child pops into his head a lot, probably on an hourly basis— he’s more than ready to start a family, but he’s still not sure where you stand 100% on the idea. there was no pressure on his side, but it’s important to make sure you’re both on the same page.

your hands snake up to his chin, cupping it firmly, ready to make the final say once and for all. “yes koo, i’ll let you do anything to me. i trust you, i trust us.” that’s all you need to withstand through any obstacle(s), trust and trust alone. if that doesn’t exist, the foundation will be sure to crumble— disintegrating into nothing. you’ve never trusted someone as much as you do jungkook, he’s the reason you even get out of bed at times, makes you want to push yourself to become a better person. real love is the refusal to never give up on one another, even through the toughest, most ugliest moments.

what you’ve come to realize is that you have all of him and everything he’s promised to provide is all yours; his heart, his last name, his vow to stay by your side forever— through sickness and health. he’s given every single aspect of himself he has to offer, the only thing left that’s missing is a tiny addition that carries both you and jungkook’s DNA. you’re more than curious to see what the outcome will be, harboring no regrets inside. jungkook’s smile grew wider, feeling faint tears rim his eyes at the thought of you putting all your trust in him. you have no idea just how much that means to him.

his head lowers back to your torso, imprinting a trail of kisses, slowly making his way down further and further. your skin feels as if it’s on fire, boiling hot like the scorching summer heat. he took an ample amount of time to worship your body, leaving wet kisses to your inner thighs, “i’ve wanted this for so long…” he hums against your flesh, insides buzzing with raw passion and desire. “want to finally do this together.” he gently nibbles, a faint bite mark appears to which he repeats on the other side. “your tits are gonna get even bigger, more plump and so full of milk,” he continues, elated with so much enthusiasm, “that pregnancy glow will make you even more gorgeous.” he wasn’t saying all of this for nothing, he truly cannot wait to experience it all, how your belly will grow each month, all the random/weird food cravings you’ll get, and gracefully handle any sudden mood swings.

you were aching for him, you couldn’t even answer back, your heads reeling with too many thoughts— the thought of him stuffing you to the brim with his cock. you were topless but wanted him to take off the rest, wanted him to fuck you until your body physically shakes and you can’t think of anything but him being buried balls deep into your sousing cunt. you had to savour every last bit of this though, etch every little detail in your brain to replay as a supercut one day; remembering the time you two made love to conceive your first child.

jungkook’s slender digits move skillfully to hook around the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down along with your drenched panties. “it’s crazy to me how this is all mine,” he pauses to admire your glistening arousal, scooping it up with his one of his fingers to have a quick taste. saccharine. “i have the prettiest, sexiest, hottest wife in the whole fucking world.” he’ll never not compliment you, even when you’re old and gray he will always remain the same. “stopp~” you toy with your bottom lip, cheeks turning rosy at his constant sweet talk. then you become a pile of mush, simply too absorbed with pleasure as he sunk one of his digits into you, thrusting in and out slowly. “fuck.. feels s’good- please don’t stop.” you beg for this to never end, bidding all concept of time to vanish in hopes of it lasting infinitely.

“we’re going to create the most beautiful family,” he coos, licking a stripe to your clit, swiping up and down as he continued pumping his fingers in your wetness, “just you and me.” he only came up for air to say those last few lines, diving right back in to drink up your deliciousness. his tongue adds light pressure to your overly sensitive bud, making you twitch and subconsciously jolt up— his free hand forcibly brings your hips back down, locking you in place so you have nowhere to go— forced to take all that he gives you. paradise. that’s what this is. you’re already close to the edge, the broken moans that escaped your lips are like a soft ballad to his ears, cursing under your breath, panting, crying out his name repeatedly.

“ah! s’close… don’t stop, don’t stop..” you plea so pathetically, voice getting shakier as you reach your climax, his face was soaked, fucking drenched. he’ll willingly drown, submerge himself into the flood of you, no other place he’d rather be than between these perfect, plush thighs. he drives you into further insanity when his pace drew more rapid, finding the ultimate sweet spot. the lethal combination of his fingers and his tongue working to give you a mind blowing orgasm, all you could do was utter feeble, plaintive cries, latching onto his fluffy hair as you ride out your sudden high that’s stampeding into you full force. your body goes inert, limbs pliant beneath his embrace. “you did so good for me angel, m’so proud of you.” jungkook briefly pecks both your thighs, giving it a little smack once he comes back up to face you again.

he quickly discards the rest of his clothes, but everything’s moving in slow motion. his movements are frantic yet it still wasn’t quick enough, he needs to feel you so badly. his manhood throbs against your folds, sliding his shaft between the puffy, saturated lips, making such delightful sounds. “quit teasin’,” you whine, not in the mood for prolonging this anymore. he doesn’t say anything, just twisting a smile in response, but he’ll give you exactly what you want. who is he to deny his wife’s orders? so he finally enters you, filling you up little by little, inch by inch; and when he’s fully settled in, your walls clench around his length immediately. “never fails to amaze me how i fuck this little pussy on the daily but you’re still so fuckin’ tight… always squeezin’ me babe.” his breath hitched towards the end, already sounding so pussydrunk from the way you suck in the entirety of him.

your legs hook around each side of his waist, keening at the way his cock drives into you, slow but sensual, moving your hips to match his rhythm. “be good for daddy and wait for me. wanna cum together.” he husks, to which you obediently nod at his request. your jaw slacks open wide from his cock hitting your walls beautifully, each stroke he gave sent you to a further state of delirium. he picks up his speed a little more, his brain empty with no thoughts but this warm, dewy pussy swallowing him up, groaning as you leave scratches along his back. jungkook’s sweet compliments never stop, they only intensify. ‘you’re all mine, and i’m all yours baby’ ‘your face looks so pretty when it’s all fucked out’ ‘love fucking this perfect little cunt’ and ‘i love you so much, my angel baby.’ it brings you to the verge, strings of shattered moans evade your senses.

your hands greedily come up the sides of his face, pulling him in for a frenzied, yet passionate kiss caging him in just in case he has second thoughts, trapping him with no choice but to cum inside. “shit— keep going like that and you’re def getting pregnant tonight.” he groans against your lips, this only made you clench around him tighter, “please daddy- wan’ your cum, put your babies in me..” you want him to paint your walls white, milk him for all he’s worth and some. his strokes get sloppier as his high approaches, squeezing your thighs as he plunges deeper. it doesn’t take much longer for him to shoot a hefty in load inside, planting every bit of his seed as the waves of your second orgasm ripples through you. you’re both heavily panting and gasping for air, when he pulls out you’re left empty again, but at least you were stuffed with his hot cum. he looks down at the mess he’s made, sodden and creamy, picking up some that’s spilled out of your cunt to push back in. “we can’t let any go to waste, right ?” “mm… yea.” you bit your lip, still shaking, electricity flowing through your veins.

he topples over in exhaustion, way too tired to move. well, at least for now— he’ll be able to go again in another hour or so. “you’re going to be such an amazing mom,” he says while snuggling up in the crook of your neck, “remember the day i asked you out? i thought you were gonna say no.” that was random… but also jungkook is known for saying the most unexpected shit at the oddest times. “what ?” you were so confused, firstly this came out of nowhere but also why would he ever think that? it was basically love at first sight with each other. “wasn’t nearly as confident back then, i used to practice in the mirror how i’d do it.” he chuckles at those old memories, in hindsight none of it was necessary because he didn’t say any of the lines he rehearsed. defeated the whole purpose.

“since the day we first met i knew you were the girl i’d spend the rest of eternity with.” his fingers trace down your spine as he spoke, you’re so overfilled with joy that you could cry. you regret absolutely nothing, the only thing you do is all the other men who came before jungkook, all those losers who were wastes of time, but that journey has led you here and this is where you’ll stay for the rest of your life. it still feels like the honeymoon stage with him, a never ending blissful rollercoaster. “i want to sew all my love into you,” his hands danced around your skin, inhaling your natural scent, you feel so soft and smooth. “thread by thread, seam by seam, i’ll tether our intricate souls together.” you hummed to his words, he’s a romantic at heart just like you, he still writes occasional love letters to you and is always doing something to bring a smile to your face— whether it be coming home with your favorite candy, buying you flowers, or taking you out on cute, fun dates. every day is like a new surprise, never knowing what you’re gonna get when it comes to your husband’s spontaneity.

you’re both a little sticky, sweaty, and smell of nothing but pure sex. jungkook ends up carrying you all the way to the bathroom, deciding to run a nice, relaxing bath for the two of you. he adds your favorite lavender bubble bath, making the water extra bubbly and soapy for you which he knows you love. when you're both in the bathtub, your backs facing him as he uses a pink loofah to clean you up, embedding gentle kisses to the nape of your neck and shoulders as he does it. he held you for what seemed like forever, just admiring each other’s company while under the water, almost falling asleep right in his arms.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

let’s make the circle

that’s inside of us.

every day it rotates like that,

color me ☆ 彡

am trying to write longer stufff, i enjoyed writing this story a lot, lmk what you think . ! ! !

to see more chaos click here (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ ♡♡♡ (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jjk smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic

[sluttywoozi]

Interlude No. 9 | yjh x reader

Interlude No. 9: Jeonghan broke up with you three months ago, so why is he at your door now?

Rating: sfw (minors still shouldn’t be here) | WC: ~3.3k

Pairing: yjh x reader | Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, a lil romance

Warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, breaking up and making up

Reader Notes: drinks wine, owns a blow dryer

You’re halfway into your second glass of wine and fully done with your skincare when a knock sounds on your apartment door. 

It sounds familiar for some reason, and though you normally would never entertain the thought of accepting an unexpected caller after 9 PM, your gut is telling you to answer. So onto the side table your glass goes before you stand on tired legs and slowly make your way to the hall. You should grab the bat but that gut feeling is still there, the one that says you have nothing to worry about, so you pass the closet you keep it in and continue on to the door. 

Closing one eye, you sweep aside the cover and look through the peephole, gasping at what, or rather, who, you find. 

Yoon Jeonghan. 

The man you dated for two years, the man who broke up with you three months ago without an explanation. 

The man you still love. 

You can’t see much, but you can see that he looks awful. His hair is long and sloppily tied back, his glasses are low on his nose, and his eyes are red, glassy. He gnaws at his lip as he waits, his posture growing worse with every minute that ticks by until he’s all but wilted onto the floor. 

You don’t know what to do. 

You blocked his contact after he left you, swore you wouldn’t speak to him again no matter how many friends you have in common, but here he is at your door, looking, for all intents and purposes, dead inside. 

You can’t see him anymore but he didn’t walk away, which means he must have finally sat down in the hall. You’re just glad he’s not making noise, your neighbors have always been nosy and you hate the idea of them knowing about this. 

He doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere anytime soon, so all you can do is unlock your three locks and open the door a crack, just enough to spot him. 

His gaze shoots up immediately and he rushes to stand, his limbs clumsy as he picks himself up off the floor. 

“Hi,” he breathes, brushing his clothes off and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

You ignore the way your stomach drops at his voice, ignore the way it feels like a balm to your frayed nerves, and ask quietly, “What are you doing here?” 

He glances away and pushes up his glasses, swiping a hand over his eyes and down his face before saying, “I wanted to talk to you, about us.” 

You bristle, unhealed hurt rising up within you at his words. 

“Now you want to talk? You didn’t seem to have anything to say three months ago when you left,” you remind him harshly, pretending your heart doesn’t ache at the way he flinches and tries to hide it.

“I- I fucked up, I fucked everything up, I know that. But I’ve been trying to talk to you this whole time, ever since I walked out. Please, just listen to me this once, and I promise, if you never want to hear from me again, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sounds distraught, as close to tears as you’ve ever heard him, and you know you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway. 

You open the door and step to the side, ignoring his deep sigh of relief and pushing down the shock when you smell the cologne you bought him last year as he walks past you. 

You didn’t live together but he knows where to go, making his way to your living room and settling into his corner of the couch. Maybe you should offer him something to drink, but you don’t feel like playing host right now, not when the wound you thought had scarred over has started bleeding again. 

Bypassing your spot on the sofa, you sink into the chair farthest away from him, tugging a blanket over your lap as if it could protect you somehow. 

He stares at you, his gaze a deep pool of sorrow and guilt and his fingers fidgeting in his lap. 

“Well?” You prompt him when he doesn’t speak, almost wishing you had the forethought to grab your glass of wine. You could use it at a time like this. 

“I- I guess I should start off by saying I love you and I’m in love with you and I never stopped being in love with you,” he says it like it’s a vow, like he fears you won’t believe him. 

You say nothing, swallowing around the pit of anguish in your throat. 

“When I left, it was because of me, not because of anything you did. You’re perfect, you always have been. I just- I couldn’t give you what you deserved. I saw how happy you were when Joshua proposed to his partner, and we both knew I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get married, but I knew that you were sure.”

“I wanted you to be free to find someone who could give you that, and I thought breaking up with you was the right thing to do, but as soon as I left, I knew it was the absolute dumbest and most cowardly thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“I shouldn’t have made that decision for you, I should have told you how I was feeling and let you make the choice yourself, even if the outcome would have been the same.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan chokes out, his face pinched and his eyes full of saltwater. 

Tears are threatening to stream down your face, your heart squeezing in your chest like someone is wringing it out. It’s time for you to respond to him, but you don’t know what to say. 

You’ve missed him more than you ever thought possible, and a part of you is comforted by the fact that he never stopped loving you. But another part of you is broken, your trust in him fractured and your faith in him lost. 

You feel like he’s misunderstood you on a fundamental level, like the years you spent together were for nothing because he obviously doesn’t know you as well as you thought he did. You feel like your autonomy has been stripped away, like he thinks you’re a child who can’t be trusted to form your own opinions. 

Most of all, you feel robbed, of the last three months, of the lifetime you would have spent with him, married or unmarried. 

“Why are you telling me this now?” You whisper, needing to know his angle. Is he just looking to absolve himself of guilt? You don’t know if you can do that for him. 

“Because I’m dying without you,” he nearly sobs out. “I’ve wanted to come back since I left but my texts and calls wouldn’t go through, and I didn’t want to show up at your job like a creep, and all of our friends hate me except for Seungcheol so there was nobody to carry a message for me. It’s all my own fault, and I know that, I just- I’m selfish, I can’t let you go without knowing you want me to.” 

“Jeonghan, I never wanted you to let me go. I never wanted to be free. I only wanted you,” your voice breaks on the last word, and you have to look away as you fight the urge to openly weep. 

“Past tense?” He sounds defeated, empty. “You don’t…” 

“Yoon Jeonghan, you’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t love you anymore,” you glare, feeling like you could curse him, hex him and his whole bloodline for his stupidity. “But that doesn’t mean we can pick up where we left off. You broke us, you broke me, and I need time before I can let you in like that again.”

Finally, there’s life in his eyes again, gratitude and love shining on his face, like the fact that you’re even considering it is enough for him. 

“I’ll be here, I’ll wait forever if I have to. And I’m not saying this because I think it’ll change anything, but I do want to marry you, only you, so I mean it when I say forever,” he sends you a watery beam, his face shiny with tears. 

You can’t stop the corners of your mouth from quirking up in a smile, even if you do want to prod further into how he’s suddenly made up his mind. You fear you don’t have the energy for it tonight, not after all of this. 

You also fear you don’t have the heart to send him home alone. He looks a bit better but his cheeks are gaunt, his hair is greasy, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been doing well, and you want to feel vindicated but instead you just feel worried. 

“You can sleep here tonight, on the couch. Let me get you some blankets and pillows,” you whisper, rising to your feet and retreating to your bedroom before he can protest out of some misguided feeling of imposition. 

You gather up his favorite blanket, the one that’s been folded on the chair in the corner of your room since he broke up with you, and his preferred pillow. It still smells like him even though you’ve changed the case countless times, and you have to admit that you’ve been thankful for it. 

You also get some pajamas he left, having neglected to clear out his drawer because you couldn’t bear to open it. 

He’s right where you left him when you return, head tilted back as he dozes, and you set the bedding at the end of the couch before tentatively resting a hand on his shoulder to wake him. 

He blinks up at you and smiles his sweetest smile, and you feel your heart start to stitch itself back together. In a whisper, you say, “Jeonghan, why don’t you take a shower while I get the couch ready?” 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do all this,” he mumbles, his eyes avoiding yours as he bites at his lip anxiously. 

“I know I don’t. Let me do it anyway,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder and reaching down for his hand to pull him up and to the bathroom. 

He follows you obediently, taking the pajamas when you hand them over and grinning shyly at you one last time as the bathroom door closes between you. 

You don't have a lot of time to think as you set up the couch, knowing he takes around ten minutes to shower. You’ll probably offer to blow dry his hair when he gets out, he hates sleeping with it wet, he always thinks it’ll give him a cold. Even after three months without him, caring for him is still as easy as breathing. 

Now that you have space to think, you’re not sure how much time you really need to let him back in. 

Of course, you’re still wounded and bitter that he left you in the first place, but you can tell he wasn’t lying, that he really thought he was doing the right thing. You think he knows now that he shouldn’t ever do something like that again, and while your trust in him is cracked, it’s not as broken as you worried it was. 

Setting everything he should and shouldn’t have done aside, you have to admit that you miss him, desperately, and that you want to be his just as much as you want him to be yours. 

But with all of your feelings so fresh, you think you should sleep on it at least one night, just to be sure you have forgiven him, that you can take him back. 

You should have a few minutes left before he’s done, so you sneak back into your room and grab your blow dryer and hair brush from your vanity, setting up shop on the chair closest to an outlet. 

Soon enough, he wanders out in his baggy shirt and pajama pants, squeezing his dripping hair with a towel and grinning when he sees you. 

“Salon time?” He asks with excitement, and you smile indulgently, waving the hair dryer at him and waiting for him to sit cross legged in front of you, his back to your knees and his head at the perfect height for you to take care of his hair. 

It’s soothing to you, carrying out this routine and having this kind of intimacy with him after all these weeks apart. 

You dry and dry until his silky locks slip through your fingers, and when you finally shut the blow dryer off, the silence in the room is deafening. Jeonghan is leaning back against your legs, his head dipped low and his neck bent at an odd angle, and you realize he’s fallen asleep. 

It must have been soothing to him too, you think, gently scratching your nails over his scalp before whispering his name. 

He stirs, looking around in confusion and tilting his head all the way back to look at you upside down, a sleepy smile stretching his lips. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice hushed and relaxed. 

You fight the urge to lean down and press a kiss to his lips like you used to, smoothing your finger over his eyebrow instead and replying, “You’re welcome.”

He pushes up to his feet, stretching his hands overhead and yawning loudly, before turning and reaching for you only to stop short. 

“Goodnight,” he says, folding his hands behind his back like he’ll touch you if he doesn’t. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper, trying to ignore how weird it feels not to follow it with an I love you. 

You turn and retreat to your room before the words can escape without your permission, closing the door behind you with a soft click. 

You’re already all washed up for the night so you just slide into your side of the bed, pulling the duvet tight around you to mimic the feeling of Jeonghan’s arms. 

It takes you ages to fall asleep with the knowledge that he’s just a few yards away, that you could have him in this bed if only you would ask. 

It’s dark when you wake, your heart still racing with the nightmare that roused you though you can’t remember it. You lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to calm yourself, your eyes locking onto the blur of the fan, just barely visible with the moonlight seeping in through the curtains. 

You hardly ever got nightmares when Jeonghan slept over, but you’ve had innumerable sleepless nights over the past three months, and you were hoping tonight wouldn’t be one of them with him in your apartment. 

Maybe you should check and make sure he’s still here. He could have left, could have changed his mind, could have decided he was right to end it with you and gone home to his own apartment, and you wouldn’t even know until morning.

That anxiety is enough to make you roll out of bed and pad over to the door, your steps quiet and your breath caught in your chest. 

You turn the knob as smoothly as you can, pushing the door open and wincing when it creaks. But when you look over to check if you woke Jeonghan, he’s already sitting up, the lamp on the side table on and a book from your shelf in his hands. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks with concern, setting the book face down on the table and giving you his full attention. 

“I just wanted to… check on you,” you give him a half truth, forgetting that he always could see right through you. 

“You were scared I went home, weren't you?” He murmurs, a tinge of sadness to his voice and a remorseful frown on his face. 

“Maybe,” you fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt, avoiding his eyes. “I just had a nightmare so…”

“Was it that I left again?” He asks, pulling his legs up and making room on the couch for you before patting the cushion in front of him. You take a few steps forward and he lifts the blanket up, covering your exposed legs with it when you settle onto the sofa. 

“No, I don’t remember what happened. I just didn’t get them with you around so I thought you might not be around.”

You have to fight the urge not to crawl into his lap and curl up against him, feeling especially starved for affection after waking so abruptly. You wonder if he feels as far from you as you do from him, stuck in this limbo of being together but not together. 

You think he does when you notice the longing in his soft eyes, see the way his brows are gently furrowed and his lip is bitten between his teeth. 

“How can I help?” He wonders quietly, and you only give yourself a few seconds to think it over. 

Yes, he broke up with you for a reason that he should have talked with you about instead. Yes, you’ve missed him the past three months like you never knew you could. Yes, it’s probably too soon to let him back in like this. 

But you find you don’t care about any of that. 

You just want him close, need to know he’s here and he’s staying and he’s yours. 

So you push aside your bruised feelings and whisper in a fragile voice, “Come to bed with me?” 

He looks unsure but rises when you do, his face smoothing out as he offers you his hand and lets you tug him to your bedroom. He hovers when he crosses the threshold and it occurs to you that you might have to guide him. He was so respectful of your boundaries in the beginning of the relationship that you called almost all of the shots, and you wonder if your two years of progress have been undone over the past three months apart. 

But maybe this is a good thing, you think as you lead him over to his side of the bed and tuck him in. You’re the one who told him you can’t pick up where you left off, and you like that he’s reset a bit, that he wants to treat this like a fresh start, because it is one.  

Before, you would just crawl over him onto your side, but now you walk around the bed, climbing in and tugging the blanket over your body. You pull it up to your chin, still feeling a bit chilled, and it takes you less than sixty seconds to decide cuddling is allowed even if you’re beginning anew. 

So you roll onto your side to face him, your eyes just barely able to make him out in the dark of your bedroom. He turns his head to look at you, his hands folded together on his stomach before he reaches one out across the bed. That’s the only signal you need to close the distance and tuck yourself up under his arm, your cheek resting in the hollow of his shoulder and your hand finding his. 

He tilts his head up, pressing his lips to your forehead and sneaking a whiff of your hair as he tangles his fingers with yours. You take in a deep breath, what feels like your first since he ended things, and let your eyelids flutter shut, trusting that he’ll be here when you wake. 

“I love you,” he whispers, so low you almost don’t hear him.

“I love you, too,” you mumble back. “But if you pull that shit again, it’ll be the last thing you ever do, and I mean that.”

“Please murder me if I do. Obviously I’ve gone fucking crazy if I fuck this up again.”

You fall asleep with a smile on your face. 

AN: yayyy i wrote something!! a randomized wheel told me to write jeonghan so i did and it turned into this and then the wheel told me to make it smutty and i was like no that is not correct! so sorry lovelies but no smut today!! it just didn't feel right after them being apart for so long and jeonghan only just starting to make it up to reader and earn her back (even if she is making it easy for him)

thank u for reading, please lmk what you think!!

#k vanity #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #✨emily writes✨

[try-set-me-on-fire]

I have been crying on and off about that Tommy MCD fic idea since you posted about it. The way you write emotional devastation is soooo good. It always punches me in the gut.

Thank you thank you here’s some more of it… using this as my fuck it Friday post, thanks for the tag @eddiebabygirldiaz, tagging @colonoscopys @homerforsure @chronicowboy @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @daffi-990 @butchdiaz @ anyone else who has stuff they want to share!

Going to put a lot of this under a cut because one its long two it’s a major character death au and there’s a bit about past contemplation of suicide. But it’s kind of happy generally I swear! This is Buck and Eddie getting together sort of!

For more of this au I’ve been tagging it ‘the seconds ticking killed us all a million years before the fall’ (lyrics from standing outside a broken phone booth with money in my hand)

I’ve hated and thought this scene was pretty good in turns over the last few hours so whatever here you go!

Eddie thinks the creaking on the front porch might be a raccoon, at first. It’s light, comes and goes for several minutes. He should probably go shoo it away, but it’s two am and he’s sore all over and can’t be damned. He’s settling further into the couch and his various ice packs when the raccoon knocks. Hesitant, hesitant, loud, loud, louder. Eddie stands up with only a slight groan, ice packs flopping all over the place, and goes to the door.

Buck stands on the other side of it.

If Eddie hadn’t been so exhausted yet in too much pain to fall asleep, he thinks he might have expected this. If he was a little more exhausted, a little more hurt, he might have admitted to hoping for it. As it is, all he can do for a moment is blink at the apparition before him. Buck is pale, wild eyed, looking somehow thinner than when they’d last seen each other not that many hours ago. His hands come up to hover near Eddie’s shoulders as Eddie is also reaching out, so he ends up with his fingers colliding into an awkward fist against Buck’s elbow.

“Eddie.” He sounds wrecked. “I’m- I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s alright,” Eddie says, soft, shaking his head. “I’m okay, Buck. I’m still okay. Like I promised.”

Buck makes a terrible little noise and steps backward, and again, off the porch. Eddie follows, hands out, trying to make sure he won’t trip. “Eddie,” he says again, “Eddie.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, keeping his voice low, calming, less likely to wake any neighbors. “Buck, it’s okay. Do you want to come inside?”

Buck looks up behind Eddie, where the door is wide open. Light spills through, shining in his eyes, in the unshed tears there. “I don’t want to… waste… any time I have.”

“What-”

Buck kisses him. The sound Eddie makes is more frightened than anything, even as his arms come up around Buck, to hold him close, to hold him up. It’s not- it’s wet, and Buck’s fingers almost hurt where they’re dug into the sides of Eddie’s head. Their faces are pressed too hard together, noses crushed into cheeks. Their lips are barely even aligned. Buck gasps a hitching breath into his mouth and Eddie pulls back. Not away, just enough to speak.

“Come inside,” he pleads. “Buck, come inside, just- please, come inside.”

Buck doesn’t let go of him, doesn’t give him an inch, but lets Eddie pull him into the house. Eddie’s not sure how he manages not to trip going blind and backwards, but they make it through the door, down the hall, to the living room. Eddie’s not even sure if he’d count what’s happening as kissing, but Buck’s mouth presses into his over and over as they go.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, between the moments of contact. “It’s okay,” he says as he kicks a shoe or something out of their path, “It’s okay,” as sits back down on the couch. Buck climbs on top of him immediately, and Eddie hopes the combined weight of them doesn’t pop the ice pack that ended up crushed under his thigh. It is kissing, now, the desperate kind of making out Eddie remembers with Shannon in the day or two on either side of his deployments. Eddie slides his hands to rest firm against Buck’s lower back to anchor him — or maybe both of them — and follows Buck’s lead as their lips slide together, as Buck gets his mouth open and chases his tongue, as they gasp raggedly for air without ever breaking apart. He’s not sure, but he thinks Buck is crying. Eddie isn’t, barely. Buck needs someone solid right now, someone who will let him take what he needs and be okay if this is it, if this is the only time they have this. Because Eddie’s not fooling himself. He laid there at the bottom of that pit under all that rubble and heard Buck’s scream, first wordless, and then Tommy, and then Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He knows that this might all be too much, too soon, too mixed up, and if Buck pulls away from this kiss and never comes in for another one that’s okay. He wishes, maybe, that it could have happened different. He wishes Buck had been smiling, and it had been gentler, on a bright afternoon, on a good day. But it’s okay.

It goes until Buck’s elbow catches a bruise and Eddie can’t stop a small, pained sound from getting out. Buck jerks back like he touched a hot stove, eyes open to near circles as he looks Eddie all over. Eddie knows it's sort of a rough picture, all purple and blue and a fresh line of stitches cutting a half moon around his temple from forehead to just under his mole. Buck’s fingers come up to trace it, not quite touching the skin. Just the shape, in the air.

“S-sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so- I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says again. He wipes a thumb under Buck’s eye, though it doesn’t do much to clear away the still falling tears. Buck leans into the touch, though, and then in further, head cradling against Eddie’s shoulder as he slides half off him onto the couch. Eddie slides his fingers into Buck’s hair, wraps his other arm around him as Buck coughs muffled little sobs into his t-shirt.

“S-sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Buck.” His hair feels a little limp, greasy. Eddie wonders if he went home at all, took a shower, ate. His own fridge is kind of dire — he was planning on going to the grocery store after work until a building collapsed on him — but he could probably scrounge up something. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Buck scoffs a single, wet laugh. “No,” he says, voice thin, scrubbing at his face as he sits more upright. “It’s not- you didn’t do it on purpose. That’s the job, right?”

The job that killed your husband. Why would you want to do this a second time? I care for you so much and I’m so sorry you reciprocate. “Yeah. Still.”

Buck inhales and exhales, shaky, and nods in thanks. He makes a face and pulls another ice pack out from under him. It’s all floppy now, probably too warm to be effective. “God. Let me…” He stands, gathering up all the ice packs he can see and heading towards the kitchen.

“You don’t have to-”

“I’ll be just a minute.”

Eddie sighs, leaning back into the couch and listening to the freezer door open and its contents get shuffled around. The soft hiss of it shutting, Buck’s footsteps, Buck in the doorway sheepishly holding an armful of frozen vegetables. Eddie arranges peas and carrots over the worst sore spots as Buck sits back down beside him.

“Did you take anything?”

“Yeah, just before you got here.” Extra strength ibuprofen, so he won’t be good to take anything else until morning. Wasn’t going to be a problem when he thought he was just going to sleep, though he wishes he’d taken a smaller dose now so he could spread them out, time it better to however long they’ll be talking here.

“Good.” Buck sighs, looking at him with furrowed brows. “Sorry I… I didn’t mean to be so dramatic, coming here.”

Eddie laughs, startled and genuine. “It’s, uh, been a dramatic day.”

Buck hums agreement, a tired and beautiful smile pulling at his lips. He flops his head sideways onto the couch. “I kind of had a… an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Of what I was going to say. Because…” he searches Eddie's face. “I'm not- I'm not making it up, right? There's something here? You feel it too?”

Eddie can barely breathe. “Yeah, I- it's not just you. But- Buck, I understand why you wouldn't want to do this, why you wouldn't want to take the risk. I- I have feelings for you,” it feels like a childish way to say it even as the words leave his mouth, “But I… you're my friend. I think you're my best friend. And I am truly fine with that. You don’t have to… it’s okay.”

That smile. “That’s the thing. That’s what I’ve been thinking about. N-not just today. Though, I guess- you scaring the shit out of me made it more- more real.” He chews at his lip for a moment. “I… spend a lot of time wishing… that I had more of it, with Tommy. That we had longer together. Or at least that I- that I’d made sure every minute counted, you know? B-but I think maybe I did? I loved him so much and we- it was good, what we had. Just because it ended, that doesn’t mean the rest wasn’t worth it. I’d love him again, knowing what was coming. And, so…” he takes a deep breath. “So I’ve been thinking that… even if I… even if something bad could happen- I don’t want that to stop me from having something good, now.”

“Buck-”

“Hold on,” Buck says, a hand up, a wry smile. “I have a part two.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s turned towards him without really noticing, both of them sitting one leg folded up on the couch so their knees touch.

“I’m not… going to stop loving Tommy. And I’m, uh- kind of a fucking mess, as I just demonstrated. I don’t- know that I’m- going to be any less messy any time soon.” There’s a furrow in his brows that Eddie wants to smooth out. “I don’t know that starting something would be fair to you.”

“I-”

“You’re a very kind man, Eddie.” Buck says it very softly, and one of his hands comes to rest so gently on Eddie’s leg. “I think you’d let me fall apart here forever, but I want- I want you to really think if it’s worth it-”

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice is sharp enough that Buck blinks several times, quick. “Don’t- you’re worth it. Your pain isn’t- it’s not some kind of chore to me. I haven’t been just- hanging around, waiting until you’re a fun guy. I like you, Buck, right now, not- not some other perfectly okay version of you.”

Buck’s fingers twitch against Eddie’s thigh. “You’re a very kind man,” he repeats.

“I don’t even know if that’s true,” Eddie sighs, the material of the couch soft where he rests his cheek against it. “I just…” He thinks back to that first day Buck showed up at the station, and then to every day after that. “I think I always just wanted… to make your life easier.”

“Oh.” Buck shuts his eyes, whistles a breath through his nose. “You- you do. You do, Eddie.”

They’re quiet, at an impasse. The whole world is quiet, here at nearing 3 am with all the colors purple dark outside of this lamp lit room. Eddie can hear crickets and frogs if he listens hard enough. “Tommy was my friend. I’ve felt… guilty.”

Buck opens his eyes again. “For liking me?”

Eddie smiles a little at the phrasing — Sophia’s 8th grade voice saying like-like in his head — and nods. “It feels… disrespectful. He loved you so much, I don’t- I don’t know how he’d feel about it.”

Buck scratches a nail absently against the fabric of Eddie’s sweatpants. “We talked about it, a little.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The jobs we have, you know? It’s not like- it’s not like we never got hurt, never thought about what would happen if one of us…” Buck shrugs, and his smile aches this time. “I told him if I died he had to be sad forever, only love me the rest of his life.”

Eddie laughs. “Mm. Reasonable ask.”

Buck nods, smile getting bigger, almost a grin. “I didn’t mean it, but… You know, I think he would have. He was teasing when he promised, but… he was serious, too, I think.” He sighs. “He told me he was scared I wouldn’t let anyone love me. He said I-” Buck’s voice cracks badly enough he has to wait a few moments to continue. “I’m too easy to love. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t go without it.”

Eddie feels a little wide eyed. “That’s…”

“Isn’t that just annoyingly romantic?” Buck laughs, wiping his eyes. “Reasonable ask. Jesus.” He scrubs harder. “I think he… he wanted to make my life easier, too. You’re… you’re so alike, sometimes.” He winces. “No, that’s- I don’t mean- that’s not why I-”

“No, it’s… I know you’re not trying to replace him.” It’s not like he hasn’t had the thought, himself. He and Tommy got on so well in part because they were alike. Shared hobbies, both army, both carrying around a complicated relationship with their families and their sexuality. But they’re their own people. And- “I wouldn’t want to… try to be that, for you.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

There’s another quiet minute. Hesitantly, Eddie rests his hand palm up next to Buck’s. Buck slides their fingers together, and they fit as well as any hands do. “So… what do you want to do? What do you want to happen?”

Buck squeezes. “I… I’m not sure.”

Eddie nods. “Has there… am I the first person? After?”

Buck’s eyes get a little calculating, like he’s not sure he should say whatever comes next. “I hooked up with a girl, a few months in, uh, a little before I came to the 118. In a bar somewhere, I don’t even remember… And then I went home and, uh-” he winces, glances to the side. “I almost killed myself.”

“Buck-” Jesus, jesus-

“No, no-” Buck squeezes tighter, sits up a little straighter. “I didn’t. I didn’t and I wouldn’t. I- I’m safe, I promise, Eddie. It wasn’t- it wasn’t even actually an attempt, I just… thought about it.” He swallows. “It was close, I guess.”

Eddie’s clinging more than holding his hand. “Buck- if- I don’t want to-”

“No,” Buck shakes his head, firm. “I didn’t tell you because I- I thought if we-” his other hand wraps around the two of theirs. “I don’t want you to think if we move forward you’re putting me in danger. You’re not. I- I wasn’t doing well back then, it was hardly even about- it was a lot of things. I’m going to be okay, I swear.”

“If- If you’re ever not-” words feel like physical objects in Eddie’s throat, choking and uncomfortable. “Promise me you’ll tell someone, Buck. It- it doesn’t have to be me, just- promise me.”

“I promise,” Buck says, solemn, serious. His thumb rubs gently at the back of Eddie’s hand. “I’m sorry, I- I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No,” Eddie disagrees immediately. “It’s… I asked. I want to know. I-” they complete another loop on this circle of a conversation. “I told you, your pain isn’t a chore. You don’t need to hide anything from me.”

“Right,” Buck sighs.

“Buck.”

“No, I-” Buck laughs a little at Eddie’s admonishing tone. “That was a right, I understand, not a yeah, right. I just-” he takes a hand away from the tangle they’ve got going and runs it through his hair. “God, I’m tired.”

Eddie nods. He’s exhausted, down in his bones. “Okay. I’ve got two things to say that don’t really go together, this time.”

“Okay,” Buck smiles at him, eyes crunched up and fond. “Hit me.”

“First, I think…” Eddie sits up straighter, too, takes a deep breath. “I like you, Buck. I- care for you. I- I-” Truth has to go both ways. Fuck it. “I’m in love with you. You should probably know that.”

Buck nods, eyes wet again. “Okay.”

“But I think if we… If you want to try being together, we should take it slow, and if you need to back out, that's okay. You’re my friend, and I swear to you that’s more important to me than anything else. So… So we have to just keep being honest with each other, even if it might hurt.”

“Alright,” Buck nods again, wiping his eyes. He manages a smile. “Was that the second thing, or…”

Eddie shakes his head, lips quirking up. “No. The second thing is, you wanna come sleep with me?”

Buck throws his head back laughing, almost losing balance where he sits. Eddie grabs his elbow to make sure he won’t fall over. “Eddie-”

“It’s late,” Eddie explains, not bothering to keep the adoration out of his voice now that he doesn’t really have to. “You shouldn’t drive home, my bed’s more comfortable than the couch.”

Buck laughs again, resting his elbow on the couch and his chin on his hand. He looks at Eddie, and Eddie thinks there’s plenty of adoration in that gaze, too. He shakes his head, though. “I think I’ll still take the couch tonight, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.”

Buck raises their still clasped hands and kisses Eddie’s knuckles, holding his smile pressed into the skin there for a few moments. “And in the morning we can start to… figure out the rest of it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers. Smiles once, twice. “See you then. Looking forward to it.”

Buck ducks his head, though his smile is still visible. “Yeah. Me too. Go- get some sleep, Eddie. I’ll-” he laughs, looking around them. “I’ll put away your peas.”

“Oh,” Eddie lifts up a bag of mushy vegetables. “No, I can do it, don’t worry about it.”

“Eddie.” Buck stands, gently taking the bag, and hesitating only a moment before he bends down and carefully kisses his cheek. From only a few inches away, eyes soft and close and blue, he says “I want to make your life easier, too.”

Eddie swallows hard, rests his hand against Buck’s cheek for just a second, and nods, momentarily incapable of words. Buck is halfway to the kitchen when he manages to say “Goodnight, Buck.”

Buck turns in the doorway. Smiles. “Goodnight, Eddie. See you in the morning.”

#tag games #fuck it friday #the seconds ticking killed us all a million years before the fall #asked and answered #my writing #major character death #mcd

[sargebarnesx]

Jealousy

Pairing: Jim Hopper x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Age gap, dirty talk, unprotected sex, sex in his office, Hop’s a bit of a dom

Words: 2.3k ish?

Summary: Phil Callahan has a massive crush on you and Jim Hopper doesn’t want to admit that he’s jealous.

Author’s Note: please forgive me for two things: 1. If Hopper seems a bit OOC, it’s been a while since I’ve watched ST but I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while. 2. If I missed any warning/info that should have been provided. I haven’t posted fanfic on tumblr in about a decade so I’m out of practice. Hope y’all enjoy though!

Jim Hopper would never admit to being jealous.

He would describe himself as laid back when it came to relationships. Besides, when was he ever tied down to anyone long enough to get jealous? He would go with the flow, which usually meant he would have one night stand after one night stand and never call any of them ever again.

Until he met you.

You were a decade younger, but that didn’t bother him. You had a past, hell, so did he. He didn’t care. You started working at the station, that was great, he could see you every day and he definitely didn’t mind that. There was only one thing that seemed to be bothering him lately…

Phil Callahan had a massive crush on you.

Jim Hopper would never admit to being jealous, especially not of Phil Callahan.

You wore tight skirts and cute heels to work, a stark contrast from Flo’s ankle-length dresses and sensible shoes. You were young and pretty, what did he expect? You spent a lot of your time flittering around the station, helping where you could, filing, cleaning, making, and answering calls. In between all of that, you found time to innocently flirt with Phil. You knew what you were doing; you knew it was going to make Jim’s blood boil every time he caught you sitting on the corner of Phil’s desk in your tight black skirt that hugged the curve of your ass perfectly. You were putting on a show, albeit one that had maybe gone on for too long. But you wanted to see how long it would take Hopper to crack.

Your white button-up top exposed your collarbone, giving everyone at the station a tiny peek of the smooth skin hiding underneath it. The black pumps that adorned your feet made a clicking sound as you walked back and forth and back and forth. Every time you passed by Jim’s open office door, he looked up from his paperwork in the hope of catching a glimpse. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

Neither could Phil.

Why did that make him seethe with jealousy?

Deep down, he knew why. He knew why seeing another man’s eyes rake over your body drove him absolutely insane.

He knew it was because that body had been writhing underneath him a mere seven hours ago. He knew it was because when you woke up next to him this morning, all you wanted was his dick in your mouth. He knew that you were probably still thinking about the way he railed you before your morning shower with your hair wrapped around his fist. How could you not be? He certainly was.

You were walking around the station with a familiar swing in your hips, a skip in your step, humming one of your favorite songs. Flo had commented that you were in a surprisingly good mood for a Monday morning. No one knew the things the two of you did off the clock and Jim wasn’t sure if they should. He didn’t want people to think you only had a job because you were screwing the chief. You deserved a better reputation than the one he had earned.

Jim heard the clicking of your heels getting closer as you approached his office. “Hey chief,” you said, rapping your knuckles against the door frame. You held a brown folder in your hand. “Whatcha got?” Hopper asked, holding his hand out to take the folder. Before you could respond, you slowly pushed the door closed. “Somethin’ serious?” Jim raised an eyebrow at your actions but didn’t question you further. You set the folder down on his desk gently.

“I can feel your eyes on me every time I walk by,” you say, sitting in the chair opposite his desk and crossing your legs at the knee. Hopper leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out. You can feel the tip of his shoe rub against your ankle. “Yeah?” He remarks, “Can you feel Callahan’s too?” You nod, rolling your eyes, “Of course I can, but you looking up from your paperwork each time I walk by is what’s got me distracted.”

Hopper smirked, dragging his eyes over your exposed thighs. “Is that so?” He asked, “Not Callahan panting like a dog at your feet?”

You run a hand slowly through your hair, flipping it to one side. “Phil has been like that since high school. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to realize that if he hasn’t gotten any from me by now, he never will,” you explain. Hopper nods, his face emotionless as he moves his legs away from you. You follow his actions and lean in toward his desk.

“Besides,” you say, “I’ve had a lot on my mind today and I can’t say Phil Callahan has crossed it even once. You, on the other hand…”

“Me?” Jim asks, leaning back in his chair with his hands crossed behind his head, “What about me?”

He knows what he’s doing. That was your invitation and he knows you’ll take it. He watches as your mouth quirks up the tiniest bit in the corner, always one for a challenge. Hopper watches intently as you stand and make your way around the desk. He happily obliges when you motion for him to push his chair back a bit.

His hands immediately fly to the backs of your thighs when you straddle him and he has to hold back a groan as your hot pussy brushes against him. He takes in a sharp breath as you lean close to his ear.

“The chief wants to know what I’m thinkin’?” Your breath is hot against the shell of his ear. He nods, rubbing his hands from the backs of your knees to the curve of your ass. “I’m thinkin’ about your cock, chief, and how it feels when you’re filling up my pussy,” you place a kiss on the side of his neck, “I’m thinkin’ about laying back on this desk so you can fuck me right now.”

Jim presses his face in the crook of your neck to hide his groan. He hopes his office is far enough away from everyone so they can’t hear him. “You feel too good, baby,” he thrusts his hips up, trying to get closer but there are too many layers, “You know I’ll be too loud.”

You kiss him, deep and hard, taking his hands and pushing them onto your ass. “Maybe Phil will hear you and realize he doesn’t stand a chance,” you whisper with a smirk against his mouth. Hopper squeezes your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

You push yourself back up into a standing position, then take a seat on his desk. “So, are you gonna help me?” You ask, placing your right foot on the arm of his chair, feeling your skirt ride up. His eyes rake over you, going from your hip to your ankle, and you can tell his fingers are itching to touch you. “Or am I gonna have to do it myself?” You lift your left leg and place it on the opposite arm, exposing yourself to him. You trail your fingers down between your legs, feeling the wet heat that has soaked your panties.

“Touch me,” you whine, pushing your panties to the side to thrust a finger deep into your throbbing pussy, “please.” He watches under hooded eyes, his hands resting on your ankles. Your finger circles your clit and you hold back a moan, remembering that there’s only a door separating the two of you from everyone else. His hands creep higher and he traces lightly across your skin. “Unbutton your shirt,” he murmurs. You pull your fingers away from your pussy, wet and glistening, and slowly slip your buttons open.

One by one, you expose the skin of your chest to him. He can see the black lace of your bra and the swell of your breasts, heaving up and down as you pull your shirt off. “Fuck,” he mutters, “You’re so damn beautiful.” He gets closer to you with these words, filling the space between your thighs. He places a kiss at the base of your throat and you gasp as his beard tickles your skin. “Jim…” you groan, “I need you right now.”

He stands, crowding you, towering over you, with one hand on his belt buckle. You can see how hard he is, how his big dick strains against his uniform pants. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you on my desk?” He asks under his breath, palming himself over his pants. You nod, lying back over folders and papers. He hooks a finger in each cup of your bra and pulls, exposing your tight, hard nipples. “You are so turned on, baby,” he whispers against your nipple before wrapping his lips around you, “Bet that sweet pussy is soaked.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. You want nothing more than to have him ram his thick cock inside of you, but his tongue on your tits is driving you absolutely insane. You wrap your legs around his waist. “Jim, please,” you’re getting desperate at this point. You want him inside you now.

His belt falls open first. Then he pops open the button and lowers the zipper. You’re one layer away from finally feeling him. You tighten your legs and pull him into you, whining when you feel his length pressed against you. “Easy, baby,” he says softly, “Be patient.”

He pulls away from you and pushes his boxers down, finally. His cock bobs between the two of you and he hisses when the cool air hits him. He pumps himself a few times while you watch, wetness pooling between your legs. You want your panties off, you want him to fill you up, you want to feel him. “You ready for this cock, baby?” He says. You nod, “I’ve been ready. You know this pussy is yours.” He smirks, reaches under your skirt, and pulls your panties down your legs in one movement. You squirm as he takes his place back between your thighs. The head of his cock brushes against you and you moan, bucking your hips towards him.

Jim is grinning; he loves seeing how much you want him, how much you need him.

“You want it all?”

You nod again.

He pushes into you, so familiar, so filling. He groans into your mouth, bites down on your lip, and pumps his hips back and forth. You’re gripping his biceps, your noses are touching, and his eyes are trained on yours.

“Atta girl,” he groans, “Atta fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this. Taking my cock on my desk at the station. You think Callahan could take you like this? You think Callahan could make your pussy this wet?”

You shake your head.

“You want Callahan to fuck you on his desk out there? You wanna tease him until he can’t take it anymore?”

His thrusts are getting sloppy, his desk is creaking beneath you. He’s already gotten you there twice and is working towards a third. “Oh…baby…girl…fuck,” he moans, his words each enunciated by a snap of his hips. Your hands are gripping the hair at the base of his neck and you know without a doubt that your bottom lip will have an intense indent from your teeth.

“You want my cum? You want it deep inside this pussy?” He growls. You nod, unable to form words, unable to think with the cloud of bliss that is currently fogging up your brain. “Use your words, baby. I wanna hear you…” he says, gripping your wrists and slamming them down on his desk above your head. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice shaking, “Yes, please, cum inside me.”

Suddenly, you feel like a rubber band snaps somewhere deep inside of you. Your back arches off of the desk and your eyes squeeze shut; you wish he didn’t have your hands pinned above your head because you’d love to dig your nails into his strong shoulders. Then he’s moaning - loud and deep, while he spills himself inside of you. Your body goes limp as he wraps his arms are you. He’s so warm and you cry out at the absence of his heat when he pulls out of you. “Jim…” you whine.

“Shh,” he says, digging through his drawers to find a random towel that he knows is buried in there somewhere. It’s scratchy and has a couple of holes, but he uses it to clean you up. His rough grips have turned to soft touches. He gingerly puts your heels back on your feet while you fix your bra and pull your shirt back on. When you stand, he pulls the bottom of your skirt down and gives your ass a gentle squeeze.

It’s a silent remark, something that tells you he enjoyed himself, that he loves you, and that he wouldn’t mind a round two this evening when you both get home.

“How do I look?” You ask, gesturing to your hair. Hopper leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette, “Gorgeous, as always.”

You smooth your hands through your hair and quickly swipe under your eyes, realizing then that you’ve been in Hopper’s office for far too long, your mascara is far too smeared, and your once crisp and perfect shirt is far too wrinkled.

With one last glance at him, you reach for his office door handle and pull it open. An officer is standing there, frozen in place with his fist in the air as though he was about to knock. You slip past him, grab a stack of folders on your way back to your desk, and call over your shoulder, “Oh, hi Phil!”

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x you #david harbour #stranger things smut

[shhhsecretsideblog]

No Time To Hide

This was something I wrote for an Imagine You’re Pregnant prompt, original post here. Thought I’d make a side blog and post it here as well cos I really enjoyed writing this and might be tempted to write more birth fics

Eva opened the wooden window of her small cottage, letting the cool autumn air whip through her hair. The smell of woodland and damp grass filled her nostrils as she took a long, calming breath.

Describing herself as a green witch, Eva loved her little cottage hidden away from everyone deep within the rich forest. Coven life was never something that appealed to her; the idea of being constantly surrounded by other witches, their opinions and their magic, was torture for Eva. She much preferred her own company, free to live her life the way she wanted. Free to use her own style of magic, without the distraction or judgement of others. It was why she decided to live here in the heart of the forest. There was a river that flowed through the centre of the woodland, the ancient trees stood tall around her home, and the forest floor was packed with all manner of plant life. It was perfect; just her, the elements and Mother Nature.

Despite her preference of living alone, as time passed Eva began to yearn for something… it wasn’t romance or friendship, but the idea of a child. Children were never something she had considered, but as she grew older Eva had begun to see the benefit of having children. Someone to pass all her knowledge and wisdom to, someone to love and care for and share all that she’d learnt. She wanted to pass on this way of living, to create a legacy.

A few months ago, nine to be exact, she enchanted a local townsman - not that he would ever remember it. And now here she was, rocking side to side and cradling the underneath of her heavily pregnant stomach, preparing herself as birth drew near.

The cramps had started yesterday afternoon, small and barely noticeable at first. Eva had been terribly uncomfortable these last few weeks, suffering constant aches and twinges, so she did not immediately give them any thought. However when they got sharper and more frequent, forcing her to pause whatever she was doing, they soon got her full attention.

Not knowing how long this could take but knowing she would eventually lose mobily as her labour progressed, she collected all her preparations and got the supplies ready. Blankets, towels, sterilised medical equipment, all within easy reach in the main living room. Snacks and drinks lay available on the coffee table and a pot of hot water sat by the open fire keeping a constant warm temperature.

“Mmmnnngghhhhh” Eva moaned deeply as the latest wave peaked. She leaned forward resting her elbows on the window sill, jutting her hips back and swaying them slightly. The baby was low and heavy in her pelvis, the head pressing downwards as her body slowly opened up.

When the latest pain had eased Eva straightened and looked down at her swollen stomach, speaking lovingly towards her unborn babe. “You’re really coming aren’t you little one? I’ve not done this before so please take it easy on me.” Her child responded with a gentle kick prompting the witch to smile.

Over the next few hours Eva got into a good rhythm riding out the contractions, each one hitting sooner than the last and with incrementally more vigour. She paced, rocked, squatted, kneeled, trying to find any comfortable position to ride out the waves. Her low and heavy stomach made moving from position to position cumbersome; one hand staying on her bump or her lower back at any given time, while the other kept her supported on whatever furniture or surface was nearby.

As the contractions ramped up, creeping steadily towards unbearable, the witch’s teeth clenched tight and she growled behind them. Three minutes apart. Holding on to the back of her armchair Eva lowered herself into a deep squat. Sweat covered every inch of her body, her thin linen dress and underwear clinging to every curve of her fertile frame.

Her hips were in agony, the pressure building. She opened her mouth to wail but no sound came out, shocked into silence by a sudden burst between her open thighs. Immediately the pressure eased and Eva could catch her breath again. The wooden floor below her feet was soaked; her waters had broken.

“Oooooooh okay- We’re getting so close- Are you ready to come out now baby? I cannot wait to meet you.”

Eva stood up, cradling the curve of her spasming bump. Her bare feet stepped ungainly out of the puddle on the floor and she quickly threw a tea towel down to soak up the worst of it.

“It’s just you and me, little one. We can do this.” Eva reassured herself, rubbing circles around her swell, preparing for the intensity to soar now her waters had gone.

However, before the next contraction could strike the witch startled at the sudden loud interruption of ringing bells. Rapid and urgent, the piercing chimes echoed all around her cottage, howling through every room.

Witch hunter!

The enchantments set up around her hidden home in the forest hadn’t gone off in decades - she had almost forgotten the wards were still in place. And yet the incessant ringing immediately chilled her to her very bones, suddenly haunting her with long forgotten memories of the brutal murders of her fellow witches.

Her stomach clenched with a new, different sensation - fear. At any other time Eva would arm herself with weapons and potions and storm outside on the offence, making sure to take down her enemy before he had the opportunity to strike. But now… the pressing weight in her hips and the constant aching of her contracting womb showed she was in no position to attack, or even defend herself, if put up against a murderous witch hunter.

She had to get out of here. The warning bells throughout her home would soon reach the ears of the witch hunter and then he would beeline straight to her hidden sanctuary. She needed to find somewhere else to hide.

Distracted by the chimes, Eva was unprepared for the next contraction when it ripped across her body, rooting her to the spot. She doubled over in pain, palms planted firmly on her thighs.

“Unnnhhhhhhhhhhhh no-no-no-no……” she whimpered through strained breaths as the pain skyrocketed and her belly hardened. Panting heavily the witch ignored growing desire to bear down. Her waters had broken, she was probably almost fully dilated, if not already. But she couldn’t stay here. If she stayed, both her and her child would certainly be killed. She had to leave and find somewhere safe to deliver this baby.

After what felt like an eternity, the contraction finally faded and she bolted straight out the back door of her cottage, leaving barefoot with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had wasted precious minutes since the warning alarm riding out that last pain - she couldn’t afford to waste any more time gathering supplies to take with her. Eva took off as quickly as she could, disappearing deep into the lush green forest.

She barely got out of sight behind the first set of oak trees before another contraction was already upon her. Two minutes apart. Leaning against the rough bark of the nearest tree, Eva squeezed her eyes shut and tried hard to swallow the whimper creeping out her throat. The unbearable pressure was demanding in its silent request and her knees trembled with the effort of ignoring it. The baby was so heavy, and dangerously low. Feeling like it would just fall out if she took a step too wide. Yet she remained strong, persevering and weathering the storm in her uterus, determined to keep this baby inside of her until she got somewhere safe.

The second the pain let up an inch the witch was on the move again running as fast as she could across the forest floor. Over ferns and moss, rocks and fallen branches, thankfully the hardened soles of her bare feet were used to the uneven terrain. She made sure to keep off the main footpath and stayed hidden within the dense trees, but it made for more of an obstacle course than she’d like. With added weight of her labouring belly she couldn’t move at speed and on a few occasions nearly lost her balance. But deeper and deeper into the forest she went.

The trees became her allies, providing cover and support when she was forced to stop with each new powerful contraction… 90 seconds apart... 60 seconds apart. A large, ancient willow tree with an unusually curved trunk was the latest comrade in her fight for survival. Eva had pitched herself within the alcove of the trunk, out of sight and leaning back against the bark, lifting the weight of her hardened stomach with both hands. The long hanging branches brushed the forest floor in a circle around her position, hiding the witch behind a nature-made curtain.

“Grnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Eva could no longer hold in the animalistic sounds of her extremely advanced labour. The baby was right there, nestled deep in her widened cervix, desperate to be born.

“Nooooooooo-please-baby-wait-a-bit-moreeeeeee-” she begged through gritted teeth. The next contraction started before the current had even finished and the need to push was too powerful to refrain. Knees bending and thighs widening, Eva’s body pushed of its own accord.

It felt right, pushing. It was what she was meant to be doing - to follow nature's primal instinct. And yet she couldn’t forget the very real threat of the witch hunter, still hidden somewhere in this forest, poised and primed to kill her.

The fierce contraction continued to hold her hostage. A long grunt escaped her mouth as her body pushed along with the pain.

“I can hear you, witch!” A gravelled voice taunted from across the thick forest.

Eva’s eyes widened and immediately clamped her mouth shut, biting her lips together drawing blood. Half squatting against the tree, every muscle in her body continued to strain as it forced the baby lower and lower and lower. She couldn’t stop pushing even if she tried. One of the hands cradling her stomach shakily ventured south, lifting up her dress and feeling between her legs. Through the thin damp fabric of her underwear she could feel the baby’s head begin to enter the world.

She panted silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. The forest stretched out for miles, completely uninhabited in all directions; she was all alone. There was nowhere to go and no one to help. Heavily pregnant, being hunted, and seconds away from birthing this child.

A loud snap of wood echoed from a few metres away. Eva suddenly bolted like a startled deer, consumed entirely by fear and survival, and disappeared again into the thickened wood. She ran, wide legged, the heavy boulder of a baby’s head deep in her pelvis screaming to be born. Push! Her body cried out. Stop running and PUSH!

But she couldn’t. If she stopped she’d be dead.

Another contraction ripped through her as she ran. 30 seconds apart. Her muscles tensed and squeezed as she ran, her body trying to force the baby out despite the mother’s desire to hold on a bit longer. She could barely stay upright, the raw adrenaline no longer enough to keep this birth at bay. Her legs became jelly, all she could feel was pain and pressure and fear. Eva faltered, she couldn’t go any further. Out in the open she planted her hands against the nearest tree, widening her stance, and pushed. Hard.

“Mnnnnnnnrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!”

More of her baby’s head began to appear behind the fabric of her tight underwear.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh-Hecateeeeeeeeeeee!” she whimpered, praying to the deity.

Her baby was close to fully crowning, she could feel it. The white hot agony of being widened and stretched beyond anything she imagined made her eyes water and throat nauseous. She retched, a dry heave, and desperately tried to catch a breath through the dual need to push and the sudden urge to vomit. The texture of the rough bark beneath her palms was the only thing keeping the witch semi-grounded and preventing her getting swept away in the overwhelming sensations currently tearing her body apart. Still bracing the tree, Eva’s head dipped as she took slow deep breaths, ignoring the instinct to push in order to ride out the sudden nausea.

An ominous whistling sound drifted through the trees carried on the wind. Eva could barely hear it over the thundering beating of her heart, that is until she heard:

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The voice sang.

The witch hunter was close. But so was her baby... Eva felt between her legs again to evaluate just how bad her situation was. It was bad. Her underwear was stretched beyond repair as it housed a significant portion of her baby’s head, filling her cupped palm. Ignoring all the pain and her body’s pleas to push, she panted heavily and tried to think! She needed a plan to survive.

The witch hunter had physical strength, yes, but he did not know these woods like Eva did. This was her home, her sanctuary, and she knew every inch like the back of her hand. Beyond her laboured breaths and the unnerving whistling of the approaching witch hunter, Eva registered another sound nearby - the swooshing sound of running water. The river - she was by the river!

Lifting her head the witch frantically scanned the surrounding area, getting her bearings of where she’d ended up within the woodland. She was a few hundred yards from the river’s edge, about a mile from her cottage. It wasn’t an area she often visited because of…. That’s it! Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, and there was no way to know if it would work, but it was her only shot of survival.

She took a steadying breath through the current contraction squeezing her womb, fighting once more against the primal need to push. The baby’s head filled her underwear, millimetres from a full crown. If she pushed again there was no way she’d be able to stop until the head was fully born.

Whimpering through the pain Eva stood up straight, one hand staying between her legs, and she prepared herself to move. Just get to the river. She told herself before making her way unsteadily east.

The sound of rushing water grew louder as she stumbled slowly through the forest. One step. Another step. Nearly there. She knew exactly where to go, and where to avoid, desperately trying to stay focussed on her surroundings and not succumb to the agonising pain crowning between her thighs. Keep going.

“You can’t escape me, witch!” The voice threatened, getting closer.

Eva stumbled into the side of a tree, her bare shoulder scraping against the bark. Pausing, she took a brief moment to breathe through the pain. It was a mistake. The second she stopped to inhale deeply her body started bearing down again, forcing the baby down. Immediately the head came to a full crown in her damp underwear and she screamed.

“WITCH!” The murderous voice roared.

Eva turned and saw a flash of black leather through the distant trees, and it was coming her way. Cupping the baby’s head she tentatively wobbled forwards, knees trembling, staggering towards the riverbank. The blinding pain was constant, her eyes barely focussing. She had to make it to the exact right spot or her plan would certainly fail. Her footsteps were shaky but determined as she continued the last few carefully placed steps in her journey. Behind her the crunching sound of a disturbed forest floor drew ever closer.

Reaching the river’s edge Eva collapsed against the large boulder that sat on the grassy bank. She made it. Turning around against the stone, the cold granite pressed against her back as she faced the woods and waited for the imminent arrival of the witch hunter. But the baby’s head inched lower, her body stretched to its absolute limit. She wanted to cry, to howl, to scream. Instead she focussed inward, drawing on all the power from the earth under her feet, and taking a deep breath she finally, and intentionally, followed her body’s demands. Teeth gritted, a growl behind them, she pushed with everything she had. Her whole body trembled, bearing down against the pressure of the large round head slowly appearing between her thighs. The ears… a nose… she could feel it all. Her hands frantically scrambled under her dress and within seconds the baby’s head popped out into her underwear and she cupped it quickly within her palm. The relief was instant and for a brief moment Eva’s heart calmed as she held her child’s newly born crown.

The witch’s reprieve was short-lived as the approaching footsteps from behind one of the nearby trees resulted in another person soon entering the river's edge. The witch hunter was dark haired, full beard, but was not as athletic as Eva was expecting. There was sweat glistening on his temple and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath a thick leather jacket. His mouth practically drooled at the sight of her and he gripped the long hunting knife in his hand. The lust for her death was haunting.

“At last… you’ve given it a good go, I’ll give you that, but you cannot escape your fate.” The man said as he took a step towards her, threateningly swishing the knife in readiness. “You are an abomination, evil incarnate. Witchcraft has no place here. My family has been taking your lot out for centuries. And it looks like I get the honour of not only killing you… but the next generation as well.” He glared at her pregnant swell.

“No- no! This- this child is innocent…” Eva panted, still holding the head of her half-born babe hidden under the draped fabric of her dress.

The witch hunter scoffed and took another two ominous steps in her direction through the fallen autumn leaves. Eva watched each step with a laser focus.

“No descendant of a witch is truly innocent.” He drawled, tilting his head with an unnerving animalistic incline. “Wickedness will run through its veins, there is no saving its soul.”

Eva couldn’t take her eyes off his feet, watching every step he took. She chose this location for a reason, knowing she needed to end up exactly here by the rivers edge - dangerously using herself as bait. His heavy boots crunched through the orange leaves, sauntering slowly towards her like he was toying with his prey. So close. Her heart stopped, breath held as Eva prayed to all the Goddesses for her plan to work. Then whoosh!

The witch hunter was suddenly hoisted in the air by his foot, caught in a primitive trap laid here many years ago by the previous inhabitants of these woods, whom were long dead and forgotten. The man roared as he was pulled sharply towards the sky, his arms flailing, the hunting knife falling from his hand in his shock.

Eva exhaled heavily and closed her eyes in pure relief. The steady thumping of heart pulsed around her body, beating once more now the immediate threat disappeared. The man yelled and shouted at her as he hung limply from the tree, but the sound barely registered with the witch. Her senses had been overtaken by the sudden movement of the baby, turning inside her, and an all too familiar urgent weight pressing down signalling her work was not yet over.

Eva tried to move but she was too far gone, too deep in labour, every muscle seemingly locked in position. “Unhhhhhhhh Hecate….. mnnnggghhhhh the baby- the baby is comingg…..” she whimpered, the pain splitting her in half as she was stretched once more with the baby’s shoulders. All her bodyweight was pressed back against the boulder, and she managed to sink towards the ground. Squatting deeply, her large rounded stomach rested heavily between her thighs.

“Ohhhh it’s coming…. I- need… mnghhhhhhhh I’ve got to… got to pushh...”

She ripped off her underwear as the next contraction started, freeing the baby’s head from the confines of the damp linen. With both hands ready to catch, the witch pushed with renewed determination. “Urghhhhhhhhhhhh!” One shoulder was out! Then the next shoulder. She took a breath, panting, holding the child dangling from her body. Eva became suddenly hyper-aware of the breeze and leaves, the nearby river and the crisp autumn air, all the elements surrounding them which her child was now being born directly into. Trembling, she beared down fiercely once more and within another few minutes a newly born witch entered the world.

Eva sobbed with relief, quickly pulling her daughter up over her stomach and placing her against her chest. The infant made a soft gurgling sound, her first breath, and then started to cry. To a new mother it was the most beautiful and reassuring sound in the world.

“Disgusting…. Filthy little vermin.” The witch hunter sneered with venom.

Eva had forgotten her audience and looked up with hatred at the man still swinging upside down from the tree. She held her baby tight and secure against her skin, as if shielding the child from the mere sight of him.

“You should drown that thing in the river.” He spat.

Red, blinding fury overwhelmed the new mother. With the pain gone and her baby safe in arms, pure fury raced through every pore of the witch’s body, consuming every atom of her being. Rising slowly, babe still clutched in hand, Eva approached the hanging man with eyes glowing with revenge.

“When I get free, I'm gonna enjoy splitting you from ear to ear!” He roared.

Her head tilted in observation watching the man’s disgusting arrogance in his determination to kill her despite still struggling against the rope binding his leg. Apparently unaware his threats were idle and his attempts to escape the trap were futile.

The witch bent down carefully to pick up the large silver blade that had fallen amongst the browning leaves. The man didn’t see the new mother pick up his weapon, and didn't notice the switch when the hunted became the hunter. Eva stalked silently, murderously towards the hanging man.

Before he could open his mouth to mock or belittle or challenge her, Eva’s hand swished past his vision in a flash, the blade gliding through the witch hunter's throat like a knife through butter. The man’s eyes widened, taking a heartbeat to register what just happened, before the cascade of blood erupted from the open wound and he began to choke and splutter.

Eva dropped the knife.

Delicately readjusting and shhhing the newborn cradled in her arm, she took one final look and started their journey back to the cottage. Eva found comfort in the sounds of the forest; of the flowing river, the whistle of a breeze, and the drip drip dripping of her enemies blood now pooling onto the forest floor.

#birth kink #pregnant kink #clothing birth #panty birth #birth denial #public birth #forest birth #giving birth #birth fic #birth fiction #fpreg birth #tw: blood #tw: death #my writing

[boysbellyrubs]

Detectives

hello. so i’ve gotten into crime novels and detective stuff lately, and so i made these characters :)). i tried to give some little details and clues to their personalities and friendship, but i’m not the best with that lmao.

—-

Detective Inspector Jack Woods was not a stranger to gruesome and disgusting crime scenes, taking pride in never getting queasy over it. It was something he often boasted about it, foregoing his nonchalant attitude to actually brag about not getting sick over a few mangled bodies. This time, he wasn’t bragging. Staring at the body of a young man that had been shot and ran over in a hit and run was enough to get his stomach churning. It was dark and cold, but Jack was sweating.

The other officers were milling about, talking amongst themselves before one came right up to Woods’ face, expecting conversation. He tore his eyes away from the body, “Yes?”

She stiffened at his tone, “Body was found around half an hour ago, with no signs of any other persons on the premises. Do you want a closer look at the crime scene?”

Jack looked past her shoulder to the body again and shook his head quickly. He wasn’t about to go and puke in front of everyone. She gave him another strange look but left, going back to her partner. The police lights were disorienting so he turned away, breathing sharply through his nose. He could still feel his stomach twisting, his brain holding onto the picture of the boy's disfigured body. Jack stared at the ground. What was up with him tonight?

All day he had felt like he wasn’t really all there. With a tickle of a headache blooming behind his eyes and the smell of any and all food making his belly churn, he was worried he might be coming down with something. He couldn’t afford a week off work, with cases piling up left and right, and an upcoming court case, there was no way the Chief would be pleased with it. He tried to calm his thoughts when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Rough night, huh? Kid looks like he got shredded.”

Jack closed his eyes, “Shut up, Harry. That’s insensitive.” The hand left his shoulder and Harry skirted round to his front.

“Alright, sorry. What’s up with you today?” Normally Jack would join in on Harry’s banter. Something to take the pressure off the situation. He was in no right mind to do so tonight.

“It’s nothing. I’m just-” He didn’t know he was going to say. He didn’t know if he was sick, but he couldn’t just admit he was getting queasy from a body. What kind of detective would he be? He settled on, “Long day.”

Harry seemed to agree, moving to stand beside him now but looking towards the crime scene. “Have you got any idea though? No leads or anything.” Jack heard him shuffle his feet, a nervous tick the other did whenever he complained. He faced him,

“I know. I think I’m gonna head back to the station, Harry. Clear my head.”

“Sure. You don’t mind if I tag along?” Harry was a little younger than Jack, and he seemed to like following him around. Jack didn’t mind much, he liked feeling useful. He often got paired with the younger detectives, although he was only 28 himself. Sometimes he wondered if the Chief thought he was older than he looked.

To answer Harry he shrugged and nodded, walking towards his car. Jack got in the drivers side although he was in no mood to drive with the way his head spun. He nearly pulled over and asked Harry to drive for him but they made it to the police station without any issues. Harry chatted his ear off the entire time, talking of his weekend and the possible suspects for the current murder. He was a good detective and Jack actually liked him. His past partners have been more often than not useless or assholes.

“What do you think Jack?”

Oh, he had been speaking? Jack was too focused on putting one foot in front of the other to even listen. He turned his head, “What?”

Harry’s face fell, “Have you not been listening? Something is up with you tonight. What is it?” He grabbed Jack’s arm, forcing him to stop. Before Jack even got a chance, a voice down the hall turned both of their heads.

“Woods, Lawrence! I hear you’ve got a pretty gnarly case on your hands.” Detective Parsons strode down the hall towards them. He was one of the older detectives and never really left the building. He was always trying to get involved, especially with them. Parsons happened to be Jack’s least favourite person in the entire bureau. He held down his groan.

“Yeah, it was bad.” Harry had still not learnt the art of short answers so Parsons was always given a reason to continue talking.

Parsons came right up to them, “Heard his head was pretty much destroyed. Got any leads?” Jack nearly puked at the reminder of the scene. Before Harry could answer, Jack quickly replied,

“No. But we’re busy so we’ll be seeing you Parsons.” He grabbed Harry’s shoulder and turned him around. Jack heard Parsons stupid mouth open again and stutter out a few words before giving up. He smiled a little to himself.

Harry chuckled a little, “You really don’t like him, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

They made it to their desks and dropped their notes (Harry’s notes) into a fresh manila folder, and decided that the night was over and that the case could wait until tomorrow. Jack sighed with relief, feeling his knees wobble a little as he picked up his coat draped over his chair. His eyes unfocused for a moment, and his ears filled with blood. He really needed to go home and lie down. Jack clocked out with Harry and they quickly left, not wanting anyone else to come up and talk to them.

Even though he was so close to being free, Jack felt his body degrading. Every step he took felt like it was plunged into glue, and pulling his leg up was impossible. He felt his shoulders slouching and his head felt like it was attached to a pogo stick. His stomach whined at him. Jack had been ignoring it all night, and now it seemed ready to give him payback. Harry had stopped talking beside him, finally recognising that his partner was not going to give him a response. As they entered the car park, Jack felt his stomach kick up a notch. He immediately stopped walking, placing a hand on his belly.

Harry turned, “Jack? You good?” His eyes flickered to the hand on his stomach and his eyebrows scrunched up. The air was suffocating him in the dingy underground car park, and Jack desperately needed a wall to lean against. He took a couple steps backwards and then spun around bent over, puke spilling through his mouth and onto the floor. He felt his body stagger and he finally hit a wall with his shoulder, stabilising him enough to continue vomiting. Jack’s mind produced HD quality images of the boy's body and he violently coughed up another round. He could barely hear Harry’s worried words next to him and the shy hand resting on his back as he heaved.

His stomach growled at him, pulling a groan from his lips. Jack bent forward more, spitting up rancid saliva and squeezing his middle. It was nearly impossible to open his eyes, knowing that when he did the concrete would be spinning. He coughed again and his stomach seemed to calm down, enough for him to twist himself around so his back was pressed against the wall. Jack let his head fall backwards.

Harry stood right in front of him, hands on his upper arms, “Hey, Jack? Jack, you with me?”

Jack groaned but gave a slight nod, one of his hands covering his aching eyes. His head felt like it was about to split open. Harry was muttering to himself about how ‘he knew something was wrong’ and ‘why didn’t he say anything?’. Jack smiled a little to himself,

“Didn’t realise you cared so much, rookie.” He mumbled. Slowly, he lowered his head and took his hand away from his eyes. Harry’s face swam into view,

“Of course. And I’m not a rookie anymore.” Harry grumbled. The other smiled a little more. God, he needed to get home. His eyes flickered to the pool of vomit beside him and he moaned at the sight, feeling like just a glance was going to send him puking all over again. He pushed off the wall, shrugging off Harry's arms lightly and took a step towards his car. Harry quickly caught up to him,

“Uh, do you need a hand or anything? Like getting home?”

Jack tried his best to unlock his vehicle, fiddling around with his keys. His hands were shaking violently and his bag weighed ten tons on his shoulder. He blew out a breath, handing the keys over to Harry as he leaned his hand on the roof of the car. The ground felt uneven and his mouth was filling with saliva again. Jack spat,

“Ugh, Jesus. Give me a sec, Ha-urp-rry.” Jack leant back, putting a few metres between himself and the car. He burped again. Just what he needed. Jack felt his belly curdle and suddenly he pitched forward and vomited up thin, yellow bile onto the concrete. It burned his throat immensely. He burped again, the rancid smell wafting into his face caused him to gag again and a little amount of foamy spit dribbled out of his mouth. He hoped Lawrence wasn’t watching this.

Jack straightened up, still clutching his abused stomach and tried his best to stabilise himself. It took staring at a random car’s license plate and a few short breathing exercises before he felt stable enough to turn around. Harry was sitting in the car, god bless, and was scrolling through his phone. Jack got into the other side, collapsing into the seat and (gingerly) threw his head back.

“Sounds like gastroenteritis. Stomach flu, duh. But uh, do you need anything before we start driving, I can probably find a bag or something just in case.” Harry rambled on. He looked over at Jack.

Jack gave him no response except for a snort. The kid meant well but if he didn’t start driving right now, Jack was going to throttle him and then probably puke on him. He mustered up some energy, “Just drive.”

—-

not much sick in this fic but just cause it’s the introduction. let me know if y’all wanna see them some more 😊😊

#i already love them lowkey #pls pls like them #emeto #stomach ache #sickfic #vomiting #emetophilia #oc's #Jack #Harry #belly kink #stomach flu

[beauty-and-passion]

TMA - Chapters 41-50: Everyone is Michael

Hello people, welcome back to the beginning of TMA season 2! Ten more chapters are waiting and I am ready to find out if this season is gonna start with a bang or not.

I have high expectations.

<< Main Masterlist < Previous post 

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MAG 40.1 - Season 2 Trailer

Oh, a trailer! And it was… absolutely incomprehensible and cryptic af. All I got is that a trapdoor should’ve been locked, which translated from author-to-reader means: “The trapdoor is open and some weird supernatural shit will come out of it during the season”.

Well played, Mr. Sims. Now I really want to know more.

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MAG 41 - Too Deep

Ooooh, statement of Jonathan Sims? And it’s about the recently discovered tunnels! I love that we start season 2 directly from where we left in season 1: Jon is recovering, Jane Prentiss is recently dead (I suppose they burned her, considering the ashes) and there are a shit ton of tunnels to explore.

Also, Jon is now paranoid. Great, that’s exactly what he needed.

Jokes aside, this is an amazing choice from a writing perspective, because it’s perfectly justifiable. Jon got assaulted by Jane Prentiss and her worms on July 29th, now it’s September 2nd. It’s been a little more than one month, of course he’s still haunted by the idea that Jane (or other things) might be alive and spying on him.

Even if the feeling of being watched is not just paranoia. I bet everything that it’s Big Brother’s fault for that.

And just to confirm my words, it seems that the Archives have been built on part of this ex Millbank prison, which was built by following the idea of the Panopticon. You know, the prison centered around the idea of making the prisoners feel like they’re always watched, thanks to the central tower.

I love the idea of the Panopticon: it’s extremely cool and I’m very happy to see it here too… but it also proves I am right and Big Brother is some supernatural shit who watches everyone and has something like one million eyes or whatever.

The goddamn weird tunnels. And what about that incorporeal voice telling Jon to leave, right after inviting him to go down? I am extremely curious now, I want to know more! Who was it? Big Brother? Another supernatural shit?

Ah, so Jon will now add supplements to the statements, hide them from his staff just like he hid the existence of the second tape recorder and will put these parts away with precise instructions for his replacement, in case he dies. Great, so he’s this paranoid. Basically one step away from being pathological.

Fine, from one side, I can understand him because he faced some heavy shit not too long ago and he cannot trust anyone. So his sentence “Trust can get you killed” is understandable.

But I also watched Gravity Falls and I’ve learned that “trust no one” doesn’t help, especially if there is a demon watching/haunting you. So please, Jon: please. Be safe. Don’t pull a Dipper Pines on us. Don’t force me to start calling you Jon Dipper. Or Jipper.

And trust someone before some bad shit happens. You’re trying to find Gertrude Robinson’s killer and we all know it was Elias (don’t “first suspect” me and yourself, we both know it was him). So, since Elias already killed one person and he’s in cahoots with the Lukas family, you REALLY need as many allies as possible.

_______________________________

MAG 42 - Grifter’s Bone

Here we are, back with simple, meh statements. This time, it’s “weird supernatural band kills with their weird supernatural music”. It’s a shame we don’t see how they do it, I would’ve loved to see the whole process. But I also understand that leaving this to the reader’s imagination is a good choice to make something scary.

Also, Alfred Grifter looking up after the massacre and asking “Encore?” is probably the most badass move of the series until now. He might be some minor supernatural shit, but that was a real power move. I respect him a little bit after this.

Glad to notice Jon’s skepticism is back too, but after the end of season 1, now I know why he does it and I understand. Also, his skepticism doesn’t seem as “stubborn” as before and that’s another great writing choice because it shows how all these supernatural shits are affecting him.

Also, since Jon is in Paranoia Land now, I suppose that emphasizing skepticism helps him hide his true intentions, which are… sigh, controlling Martin. Seriously, can this poor guy take a vacation? First the worms, then Jane Prentiss, now Jipper. Martin can’t even be competent, that his boss will question it - all while insulting his poetic skills. The paranoia made Jon even more of an asshole than before.

What? Martin is worried about the others finding out he’s been lying? Lying about what? Jane Prentiss? His supposed incompetence? His poetic skills? His need to go on vacation? In any of these cases, don’t worry, Martin: just take your stuff and go as far away from this Institute as possible.

I still dream something like this for Martin.

_______________________________

MAG 43 - Section 31

I feel Basira will be a recurring character from now on. I mean, she is currently working on Gertrude’s case and she is a Section 31 - i.e. she dealt with supernatural shits before. But she’s not the only one: we also have Alice “Daisy” Tonner, who came in contact with “spider husks” and, for me, that means one thing only: “Spider Mom & gang”. So I bet these two women will probably be involved again with any other supernatural shit happening in this Institute.

It was also very cool to find out the name of the guy from MAG 12: Diego Molina. And I remember that, when he and Gerard were brought to the hospital, Gerard asked if Diego had “a small book bound in red leather and a brass pendant with an eye design”. The eye pendant is probably related to Big Brother, while the red book basically confirmed it was one of Leitner’s chaos books. I already suspected this considering Gerard was after that, but glad to see an implicit confirmation.

Speaking of the supplement, Jon gained access to the tapes in Gertrude’s room and I’m glad about that because we will surely find something cool and scary. But I’m also sure that’s the easiest way for Jon to get himself killed, so I’m a bit scared for his life.

Also, how weirdly cute is this part?

“I only ever spoke to Gertrude once or twice during her time as archivist. I-I was very new. I don’t remember what her voice sounded like.”

Jon sounds so young, here. Almost like a child. I mean, I imagined he was in his thirties or something, but I actually have no idea how old is he. Is he younger? How old is he?

Also, it’s just nice to see this little moment of him being so… soft and human, with his predecessor. He barely knew her, he barely spoke to her, he probably looked at her and saw just an older, stern figure. But now, he’s in the same position. They became a lot closer than they ever were. It’s fascinating - and there’s a lot of potential for angst too, so I’ll brace myself for it.

_______________________________

MAG 44 - Tightrope

A statement recorded by Gertrude! it was such a pleasant surprise to finally hear her voice! And she sounds amazing <3

As soon as I heard it was a statement from a guy in Algasovo, I felt it was connected to something I already knew. I remembered there was a circus mentioned in season 1 and, after a little bit of research, I found it: MAG 24, Цирк другого: the Circus of the Other. Ringmaster Gregor Osinov and organist Nikolai Denikin - whose granddaughter recorded the abovementioned statement.

Sure, here it’s called Другой Цирк, which is correctly translated as “Another Circus”. So my question is: which is correct? Did the circus change its name? MAG 44 is from the 70s, while the photo mentioned in MAG 24 was from 1948. Maybe the circus was called Цирк другого, then it changed its name after Denikin left and became Другой Цирк. Anyway, it was very interesting to read and I was so sure it was the smae circus mentioned before (despite the different names). So when Jon mentioned Gregor Osinov, my smile grew bigger than ever :D

Speaking of Jon, he asks some very interesting questions: Gertrude knows a lot more than it seems. And she didn’t finish recording everything in the archive. Why? Was that her way to oppose Big Brother/the Lukas family/the “crimson curse”? Maybe Big Brother can “eat” these statements, so by stopping her recordings, Gertrude was voluntarily leaving it hungry, as a sort of “fuck you, I won’t get eaten by you” kind of thing.

Or maybe she just wanted to not do her job anymore, thus provoking the Lukas family to fire her for not doing anything. Or maybe she was just too busy trying to find a way to escape, to record statements like an insane you-know-who who keeps recording stuff because he wants to find out the truth even if the truth can get him killed.

Did someone find Jon’s tapes? Or is he in full Jipper mode and maybe the drawer wasn’t even ajar? In any case, now he’s hiding them too, which reminds me of Gertrude and her secret hidden library and I don’t like the parallel at all. I don’t want to see Jon dead on a chair, in a room, surrounded by his secret library.

_______________________________

MAG 45 - Blood Bag

Another meh statement, even if this time I’m quite perplexed by the weird turn of events.

I mean, once Dr. Thompson sold his syringe, there was a sudden spike in heat, the ‘haemoglobish’ became real blood and the mosquitoes decided to wait for their moment to kill the doctor. They’re a lot of weird consequences and they don’t seem too connected either - especially the heat. Why is there always some heat involved?

While speaking of the mosquitoes planning revenge… yes, this is the most plausible thing. These little bitches always plan revenge on everyone.

So, the doctor’s buyer is “Indonesian, I think, or Samoan”. It’s Salesa, isn’t it? Yep, Jon confirms it. Well, I suppose he will be another recurring character. And if Gerard can smell Leitner’s book, Salesa can smell any supernatural shit and make a profit from it. In this case, I suppose the syringe was a real lucky charm or whatever, considering how everything degenerated once the doctor got rid of it.

“Can’t stand mosquitoes. Horrible things.”

You and me, Jon. You and me. Glad to know that, even if he’s in full Jipper mode, he can still be very relatable.

I know Jon was super paranoid with Martin, but he might have a point about Tim. I mean, a guy with this resume decides to work in a place that isn’t so appreciated by normal people? And he doesn’t seem too interested in the supernatural either. Why is he here, to bribe people to get info and do whatever the fuck he wants? If that’s the reason… honestly, mood. I loved him before, I would just appreciate him even more for the power move.

Jonathan Sims, Master at Hiding Things, gets caught by Martin in 0.2 seconds because he’s so clever to record his paranoid thoughts in the middle of a working day, in a place where everyone can enter. A genius.

But now I’m curious to know where he will go to record these statements. I can almost see him, all crammed up into a closet, while Martin searches for him with a cup of tea in his hand.

_______________________________

MAG 46 - Literary Heights

Oh gosh, I LOVE this chapter.

First of all, as soon as Michael Crew was mentioned, I immediately checked the previous chapters and here he was: MAG 17, the Boneturner’s Tale. Also, if my last theory is correct, Michael Crew and Supernatural Micheal are the same thing. And you know what? I think this statement confirmed it. But one thing at a time.

Second: my man Leitner! Ex Altiora my beloved! We finally know where it was and what it is! It’s a poem and I ADORE the plot. It’s such a perfect mix of weird, suspense and desperation… uuuurgh, I’m so mad I can’t read it, because this plot can be developed into a fantastic story.

And now, let’s put together all the pieces we have:

Michael Crew is interested in the Leitner.

Michael Crew has “a branching pattern of white scar tissue” on himself.

Jon reminds us that, in MAG 4, Mr. Swain said there was a “woodcut of the dark night sky, with the branching, arching design of the Lichtenberg figure” inside Ex Altiora.

This drawing isn’t mentioned by Mr. Knox here.

Lichtenberg figures have a branched shape, similar to the shape of lightning discharges, and appear on the surface/inside insulating materials during dielectric rupture. But they can also appear on lightning victims.

They are also “natural phenomena which exhibit fractal properties”.

In MAG 4, Mr. Swain says Michael Crew got struck by lightning when they were kids.

Michael Crew is surrounded by smells associated with lightning and electric discharges.

Michael Crew has been followed by a tall, thin figure, “its limbs angular and branching”.

Supernatural Michael has angular and branching limbs.

Supernatural Michael Is associated with fractals too.

The figure also “crackled and fizzed, lit by a strobing white light, as though the lightning was within the room itself”.

When Michael Crew reaches the bell tower, the prays something with the words “altiora,” “vertigo,” and “the vast”. then he says “I’m yours”, leaps through the open window and disappears.

Now, here’s my explanation:

Micheal Crew was followed by a supernatural shit. This supernatural shit was the same immense figure mentioned in the poem of Ex Altiora.

Micheal probably came into contact with it when he was a child and got struck by the lightning. Since then, he started to resonate with Vertigo/the Vast just like Jane Prentiss started to resonate with the Hive.

(Also, since Jane Prentiss’ supernatural shit was “the hive”, I think I’ll call this one “the vast” because it was a bit odd that he specifically said “the vast” with a definite article)

So, since Michael Crew came into contact with the Vast and started to resonate with it, he was accompanied by smells associated with lightning/electric discharges and he started to search for all kinds of magic books, trying to find a way to properly connect with it/being consumed by it, just like Jane Prentiss did with the Hive.

In Prentiss’ case, she connected through the wasps’ nest and got “consumed” by the Hive. Michael Crew tried to do the same by using different methods mentioned in the books, but failed. He had to find something stronger to connect to the Vast. And that something turned out to be a tale featuring the Vast itself, told by my man Leitner.

So Michael got it and waited for a storm. And as soon as the storm came, he ran towards it, calling for the Vast. And when the Vast appeared, it looked like that figure similar to an actual lightning.

Michael sang/prayed for it (please notice how Mr. Knows refers to his words like a chant first and a prayer later, just like Jane Prentiss talked about the song of the Hive. These little shits truly talk through songs) and closed his invocation, by saying “I’m yours”, which can be also read as “I give my body to you”.

And so, he jumped. And by doing that, he gave his body to the Vast and the Vast became him. And that turned him into Michael the Supernatural Shit, also known as Best Boyo of this series.

If all of this is true, then:

it’s very cool

his name isn’t Mr. Distortion, but Mr. Vast. Still cool, but Best Boyo is better :P

And if this is true, that also means my previous Leitner theory was completely wrong. His books don’t turn you into the protagonist: his books are about the real, actual supernatural shits living in this world and by getting the right one, it’s easier to connect to the supernatural shit in question. They’re like… facilitators, in a way.

That also puts into question Gerard’s work. What is he actually doing, by searching and destroying all Leitner’s books? Maybe he’s saving the world, because without books it’s more difficult to connect to these supernatural shits. But destroying the books doesn’t mean getting rid of the supernatural shits themselves and these books might actually be useful to recognize all supernatural shits and “catalog” them. I don’t know, I need more info about these two guys and what they’re actually doing.

And yes, there’s also Spider Mom taking possession of the hidden tunnels of the institute and she’s probably the one who opens the door and maybe she even walks around in her human form and that’s very cool too. Just… how fricking cool is this statement?! I think it’s among my top favorites, along with MAG 2, MAG 5, MAG 20, MAG 26 and MAG 39.

(Now that I think about it, I should probably do a top of my favorite statements once I finish the whole series. It would be fun.)

_______________________________

MAG 47 - The New Door

Holy shit. Just holy shit.

I thought this was just a simple statement. A statement featuring a tall blonde guy. And yes, I was 200% sure it was Michael. But I just though he appeared and did some weird supernatural shit.

For a while, he did it: he made a door in that house, Mrs. Richardson got lost inside it for three days and escaped just because one of the mirrors was “empty” and didn’t reflect Michael. So she did what everyone who met a supernatural shit did: she went to the Institute. My theory about “hiding behind a bigger predator” seems even more convincing.

I loved the little moment when Mrs. Richardson asked Jon if he believed her and Jon admitted that yes, he believes her. It’s a tiny exchange of words, but it’s enough to show the massive change in Jon from season 1. Before, he would’ve been more stern and showed more skepticism (fake or real whatsoever). But now, after all he went through, he’s showing a softer, more empathetic side. Jon is truly evolving as a character.

And speaking of characters, time to talk about the real shit and time to overanalyze everything:

*

Michael’s voice is perfect

First of all, I ADORE Michael. Sorry Tim, you deserve the world, but Michael’s soft laughs and the way he gently mocks Jon because he’s this powerful supernatural shit while Jon is just a mere human it’s just too adorable. His voice is too adorable. And the distortion effect makes him very creepy - but still extremely adorable. I love him so much.

*

Domains?

This part about domains is very fascinating and, in a way, it confirms my theory about the supernatural shits having territories like mafia bosses.

But it seems like they don’t simply take a place and own it. It’s a bit like they are these places. As if these domains are an appendix of them. So I suppose Michael doesn’t simply “make doors pop up”: he is the doors and the corridors. such a cool concept, it makes these supernatural shits look even more eldritch and… well, supernatural. Love it.

But also: if my theory about Big Brother is correct, does that mean Big Brother isn’t just hidden in the Magnus Institute, but is the Institute? Mmmh, I need more details.

It’s also very interesting how Michael refers to Mrs. Richardson as “the Wanderer”. Since it doesn’t seem like Mrs. Richardson is a supernatural shit, I suppose that “the Wanderer” is a name to identify the people who enter the domain of a supernatural shit and become food. But since calling them “food” isn’t nice, Michael (and maybe other supernatural shits) opted for a more sophisticated name, like “the Wanderer”.

Also, Michael reconfirms he’s a poet and I love him so much.

*

The concept of identity (and maybe my theory already failed?)

That’s another interesting part. Michael considers itself a “what”, because “it requires a degree of identity I can’t ever retain”. And this connects to its domain: since it’s so huge and can “overlap” reality by creating new spaces inside it (inanimate spaces), it was probably easier for Michael to identify itself as a “what” rather than a “who”.

But this distorted appearance made me think: wait, probably my brand new theory about Michael as Mr. Vast is completely wrong.

If Michael’s power is being distorted and making weirdly long, distorted corridors (that confirms Michael was probably the voice who told Jon to leave, when he explored the tunnels in MAG 41), that doesn’t line up with the previous statement, where the Vast’s power was related to lightning and to being this colossal figure.

At the same time, Michael laughs with a weird, distorted effect as if it’s more people in one figure and this detail seems coherent with my theory.

So I think there are two possible solutions now:

my theory is correct and Michael can both be hugely vast and very distorted

my theory is wrong and Michael Crew just offered himself to another supernatural shit

Or maybe the correct option is:

3. Mr. Sims is the biggest troll of all mankind and he made a series in which every supernatural shit is named Michael and this explains why everyone is named Michael and why Michael is such a familiar name. If this is true I would respect him even more.

Jokes aside, I really need more information now. Especially I need Michael (this one at least) to talk about itself and its powers. And maybe all other Michaels should talk a bit about themselves too. At least enough to confirm if my theory is right or wrong.

*

A war?!

No, wait, you cannot drop this bomb, tease us like this, then leave. Stay here and explain!

Okay, so the Institute is important. It should stay where it is, because losing it would bring imbalance in the hidden war that’s going on - between supernatural shits, I suppose.

In MAG 41, Jon said the Archives stand on an ex-prison, built around the concept of the Panopticon. This could explain why this place is needed: a place from where you can spy on everything and everyone is a great leverage in a war.

My question is: what are the sides of this war? I suppose that one side is Big Brother and maybe the weird supernatural fog of the Lukas family, but the other? The supernatural meat? And the spider gang? On which side was Jane Prentiss with the Hive?

And what are they all fighting for? To take over the world? To eat as many humans as possible? Or maybe the “All Michael theory” is correct and since all these shits are named Michael, they decided that the last one standing will officially take the name Michael and all others will have to choose another name? All while Best Boyo Michael decided “fuck this shit, I’ll keep this name anyway because it’s just a name and my identity is more than this”?

You know what? I love the All Michael Theory. It’s stupid and yet it somehow works. If it’s true, it would immediately turn the whole series from dramatic to comic, but I love it.

_______________________________

MAG 48 - Lost in the Crowd

Oooh, a statement settled in Italy! Never visited Genoa, but now it deserves a visit. After all, I already think about this goddamn series every time I see a spider and have to kill it, so why not going to Genoa and fearing weird supernatural shits? Apparently, they love to go anywhere. Was this one taking a vacation?

Speaking of vacations: honestly, I never expected to see my man Gerard, rebel punk and goth, chilling in Italy with a bright shirt on. I hope you’re also wearing some nice shorts, Gerard. And no combat boots. Or sandals with socks. The Italian fashion police can be way worse than any supernatural shits.

So, my man went to Mrs. Nunis, told her she was “marked” and told her to think about her mother. To remember her. To, you know, feel less alone. I immediately thought about Naomi and how she too felt alone, when the mysterious fog tried to “eat” her in MAG 13.

But this time there wasn’t really a fog: the sunny day simply became overcast. So maybe the fog isn’t supernatural but… the clouds are? But then, what about the weird fog from MAG 33? Or maybe, the fog simply hides the real supernatural shit, which is this weird faceless crowd. And this time the fog was on vacation too.

Or maybe Italy’s weather is too warm for the thick UK fog, so the fog dispersed and left only the crowd. I’ll admit it, it would be hilariously funny if a supernatural shit is simply an atmospheric element end you can get rid of it by traveling far enough or by using, idk, an electric fan.

So one question remains: what was Gerard doing in Italy? Was he truly searching for a Leitner? Or maybe he was really taking a vacation? I like to think it’s the second one: unlike Jon “Trust No One” Sims and Martin “Self-preservation is overrated” Blackwood, my man Gerard knows when it’s time to get the fuck out and take a vacation. So he left all the supernatural shits and books to chill on a beach, take a cafè and eat some real food.

Great choice, Gerard, Genoa is a beautiful place.

Speaking of the supplement, Jon realized Michael was warning him about Sasha! But unfortunately, thanks to Not!Sasha’s evil powers, Jon cannot understand what the problem with her is. Damn you, evil imposter! Give Sasha back!

Jon “Jipper” Sims, Master of Secrecy, after being caught by Martin in 0.2 seconds, got caught both by Martin and Tim again and they both immediately realized Jon was spying on them. So they reported him to Elias.

See? See where “trust no one” brings you, Jon? Please, stop spying on them like a creep. why don’t you start spying Elias, instead? He’s the most suspicious guy that ever walked on this planet, why the fuck are you wasting time with your team when you have him?

_______________________________

MAG 49 - The Butcher’s Window

I read the title and I immediately was: “The meat is back, isn’t it?”

But it’s not just the meat, it’s our old friend Jared! And he does incredibly weird creepy things! And I like them, because they’re creepy without being gorey. You know, it’s just too easy to use gore: scaring without gore is harder and I appreciate it.

Also, what the fuck is the weird… underground superleech he’s feeding? Is that the boneturner? Is this the name of this supernatural shit? After all, every supernatural shit seems to have a name that starts with the definite article: the hive, the vast, the boneturner.

And if we add up all the things we discovered until now, that means that Jared became the Boneturner/the body of the Boneturner thanks to the Leitner’s book that “facilitated” the connection and, since he became that thing, that thing also became him. So the underground creepy superleech is still part of him and by feeding it, he’s feeding himself too.

You know, the whole process of feeding it was creepy, fine, but it made me smile too because… come on, it looks like a guy throwing snacks at his dog. That’s funny.

But not as funny as the mental image of this weird superleech I got, that resembles something like this:

This is a sea lamprey. It’s not a leech, but it’s the closest animal to represent what I imagined. And yes, this is a real living creature on this planet. You’re welcome, glad to know this will haunt your dreams too.

A-ah! We finally got more info about Elias! I knew it was weird that he managed to go from filing clerk to head of the Institute, but I had no idea he became head of the Institute just in five goddamn years. What did he do, did he kill everyone else? Did he kill James Wright too? Did this man also “die on the job” as Gertrude?

Also, how absolutely, insanely funny is it to think that Elias was a pothead? I read it and I was like… what? This guy?! I always imagined him like a posh guy and now you tell me he was smoking crack or whatever? That’s too funny, I love that and it would be hilarious if that’s the reason why he killed everyone else: not because of the Lukas family, not because of the supernatural shits: just because he wants to hide his past.

_______________________________

MAG 50 - Foundations

Oooh, another old statement addressed to Jonah Magnus! I suppose that’s how the Institute started: with this guy walking back and forth inside his house, surrounded by creepy stories. A bit like Jon now. And nope, I don’t like this parallel.

The story itself is very meh. It’s not really creepy nor scary, just “mysterious guy appears outside an office” and “fingers on a stone uuuh”.

This statement probably served to remind us about Robert Smirke’s existence. Jon probably forgot, but I remember that in season 1, he said Tim mentioned him an architect he was obsessed with and this architect was Robert Smirke. So I suppose this guy is important.

We also have Sir George Gilbert Scott now. When Mr. Kempthorne said Scott’s projects had odd symmetries and seemed claustrophobic, they reminded me of the underground tunnels of the Institute. Is it possible that one of these guys is responsible for the construction of the ex Millbank prison? I suppose only time will tell.

I died laughing when Tim thought Jon was hitting on Basira. How he went from “That woman is weird” to “Good job boss, get her”. He’s the best, I love him.

_______________________________

In conclusion

Oh my, what a start for season 2! We have more Michaels than ever, too many theories and lots of mysteries I still can’t grasp.

I want more. I want to know more about Michael, I want to find out which theory is correct. Is Michael Crew one of the many identities of Best Boyo Michael? Is Michael vast and distorted or they’re two different Michaels? Is every supernatural shit named Michael? Is Elias just a pothead trying to survive in a world full of supernatural shits? Is Gerard still on holiday?

We’ll meet back soon with ten more chapters.

>> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

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#the magnus archives #tma #magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #michael #michaels everywhere #gerard keay #jurgen leitner #leitner books #elias bouchard

[kryjjovnik]

This photograph depicts a cadaveric spasm in a drowning victim grasping grass from the river bank. Also known as postmortem spasm, this is the instantaneous rigor cataleptic rigidity —a rare form of muscular stiffening that occurs at the very moment of death and persists into rigor mortis. Nevertheless the condition itself is not part of rigor mortis, which is characterized by a progressive rigidity of the deceased body due to biomechanical changes in muscles occurring 10-12 hours after death. It is a persistent occurrence when it happens, and the individual will continue to hold that pose from death until putrefaction allows for decay of the affected limb. However, cadaveric spasm can be seen in archaeological remains if the affected limb is buried. While the cause is still unknown, it’s generally associated with violent or traumatic deaths and intense emotion. It’s mostly seen in victims who have ended their lives.

#forensics #rigor mortis #cadaveric spasm #not fully my words but i’ve woven a couple sources together #this image has been haunting me ever since i saw it on tumblr like 10 years ago but i can’t find the original source anywhere on the web now #when i saw it for the first time it had a very distinct source now i can only trace it back to forensic slides about postmortem interval and #a single article from 2013 which links it to a no longer functioning site #you have no idea how long it took me to find this picture just based on ‘uhh drown victim hand clutch soil?’ lol #i’m being a real nerd now but it also makes me think of #L'Inconnue de la Seine #or #La Belle Italienne #which if you don’t know is this infamous death mask of a girl who presumably died by s**cide and the 1900s people were bonkers about it #making a bunch of artistic and literary works inspired by it #her and this image aren’t directly related but my brain likes to group them together and i think there’s something in that  #she drowned in the seine river in paris btw

[mars-ipan]

ough periods are SO weird when ur genderfluid and sex ambivalent

#marzi speaks #pseudosexuality moment #WAUGH!! WHAT IS HAPPEN #like. ok i’m pretty sure i’m pmsing at the moment #bc the pseudosexuality has been going. CRAZY!!! among other things #like. i keep almost having a libido? it’s freaky and it makes me far too aware of the fact that i have sex organs #i don’t know when i did it but i divorced my physical body from the concept of gender and sex so fucking long ago #so it is SO weird to be reminded of it. like. nuh uh. no that’s not a thing i do #so i’ve been like dissociating a little the past few days #and i can’t tell if it’s because i’m feeling sex-repulsed (which tends to happen when my hormones do hormone things) #or if i’m feeling dysphoric because the idea of being biologically gendered is gross and yucky #fuck! maybe it’s both! i dunno! #at least i’m not super emotional like i was last pms. that one was. it was a time

[sunrizef1]

Girl back home

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x wife!reader

Warnings: cursing (I think)

Authors note: this took forever, but now I can actually work on whiv now that I’ve finished this

Summary: Everyone keeps trying to set Logan up, but no one bothers to ask if he's already got a girl (surprise! he does!)

Word Count: 4.2k (jesus)

“What about her? she’s pretty,” Alex asks as he points at the five hundredth model to walk past the Williams garage that day.

If it hadn’t been his home race, Logan might have walked away an hour ago when Alex’s pointing started but instead, he stayed, choosing to endure Alex’s unrelenting matchmaking.

“No, Alex. I’ve already said no to about 50 other girls you’ve pointed out, what makes you think she’d be different,” Logan groans, his head leaning back to rest against the wall behind them.

Alex purses his lips, a frown on his face, “Why won’t you let me get you a girlfriend?”

Logan pauses to stare at the ceiling of the garage for a second before he turns his head to face the man next to him, “I don’t need a girlfriend.”

“Yeah sure man, I’ve seen you stare quietly at a wall by yourself more times than you’d probably admit. If that doesn’t scream “I need a girlfriend” then I don’t know what does,” Alex shrugs before turning back to face away from his friend, his hand coming back up to point at a pretty-faced blonde girl making her way past the garage, even smiling when she locks eyes with Logan, “Ooh what about her? She seems to like you!”

Logan just hums in response, his eyes closing as he leaves Alex to talk to himself.

In reality, Logan truly didn’t need a girlfriend. He had something even better, a wife. Who also happened to be you. You had met when you were kids and had been in love ever since. You liked to joke that it was love at first sight but every time you said it, Logan would wonder how much of a joke it really was.

You had been there for every step in his career, through the wins and the losses, through karting to Formula racing. So when he proposed after the end of the f3 season in 2020, no one close to you was really surprised.

You got married shortly after, neither one of you wanting a big, flashy wedding. Instead, the wedding was small but still nice, just some close friends and family in attendance. Even Oscar had been there and he made sure to reference the event to everyone who wouldn’t understand when around Logan. He loved to talk about the “party” Logan had in 2020 to the other drivers who, frankly, had no idea what he meant.

When he got his move to Formula One, you were over the moon for him. You didn’t worry about long-distance. You had made it work in the past and you both had total confidence in each other to make it work. You continued your degree in engineering and he continued his career in racing. You tried to make it to races when school would let you, which wasn’t often, and he was more than happy to fly you out when he could.

Logan genuinely loved you more than anything. With that being said, this meant that he did not have the time of day for anyone trying to set him up with the Instagram model of the week who had decided to visit a garage.

But at the same time, he also didn’t feel the pressure to share your marriage with anyone. He didn’t really know any of the other drivers very well and if they wanted to know more about him, they could ask. It’s just that no one ever did.

Except, it seems, when they wanted to set him up.

“Hey, Logan!” A British voice calls out to the American, whose head shoots up at the uncommon voice.

“What’s up, mate?” The blonde asks Lando, pocketing the phone where he had just been texting you to ask about your engineering final.

Lando grins and places a hand on the American's shoulder, raising his voice to be heard above the sounds of the paddock, “I was talking to Oscar and he mentioned something about your love life and something about you being lonely, I don’t really remember what he said but anyway, I’m talking to this girl and she has this friend who I think would be perfect for you.”

Logan’s face drops at the brunette's words, a frown replacing his smile, “I’m cool Lando, thanks though.”

Lando furrows his eyebrows, disbelief written on his features, “You sure, mate? She’s sooooo fine.”

Logan just nods his head in response, backing away from the McLaren driver slowly, “Yeah I’m sure Lando, you have fun thinking about your girlfriend’s friend though.”

Lando doesn’t seem to catch the diss as he just glances up and down at Logan before shaking his head and turning on his heel to head back to his garage. Logan sighs before taking his phone back out of his pocket to see another text from you. A grin breaks out on his face as he sees your name.

Logan hadn’t talked to very many of the drivers on the grid, often feeling on the outs of a lot of conversations. So he’s even more surprised to see Charles Leclerc making his way toward him at a club. A club he had only agreed to come to so he coule be Oscar's designated driver, by the way.

“Eyyy, it’s the American!” Charles says, the alcohol clearly present in his voice. The lights are too dimmed but if they were brighter, Logan would be able to see the lipstick smudges around his white collar.

“Hey, Charles,” Logan replies, scepticism laced in his voice. The Monegasque leans closer to him, the drink in his hand sloshing around in the cup.

“I have something to tell you,” Charles slurs a bit, leaning dangerously before a pretty brunette comes up and grabs him, based on her lipstick shade compared to Charles’ shirt, she had already been more than acquaintances with him before this conversation.

Logan glances at the pair before responding dryly, “Oh no.”

Charles grins before pointing back to where he had come from, a dark-haired girl sitting at the table, “That’s Natalie.”

“Navaeh,” the brunette pipes up to correct Charles as he nods in response.

“Yeah, Nivia. Anyway, she’s a friend of mine and she’s been eyeing you all night, thought you’d want her number.”

Logan rolls his eyes at the very clearly drunk couple in front of him, increasing his headache from the pounding EDM, “What an assumption there Charles. I’m actually good though.”

“What?” Charles asks, squinting to see the blonde under the club lights.

“No thanks,” Logan smiles tightly before moving to step around the couple and probably tell Oscar that either they were both leaving or Oscar was getting an Uber, “You guys have a good night though.”

The couple is already too busy sucking face to realize he’s left.

“I just don’t understand why they keep trying to set me up, I’m perfectly happy with you,” Logan complains to you over the phone a few nights later.

You were sat in your dorm, engineering work strewn across your desk and your roommate at a party somewhere. You were trying to get as much work done as possible before Logan came to Austin for the GP so you could spend the weekend with him.

“I mean, have you told them you’re married?” You ask, trying to stifle a yawn as your hand moves to write down the equation for the problem in front of you.

Logan shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible through the small phone screen, “Nah, but it’s just that no one’s asked you know? I’m just waiting for someone to say “Hey Logan, you got a girl back home?” Before they try and set me up with some Instagram model they know.”

You smile softly as he talks, his hands moving to mess with his blond hair periodically. He eventually looks back to the screen once he’s done ranting and is met with your smiling face filling his phone screen, “What?”

“I love you,” you say warmly, your grin practically splitting your face.

Logan blushes before laughing and shaking his head to hide the redness on his face, “I love you too. I’ll see you next week yeah?”

You look down at the now-completed homework in front of you. Homework that could’ve taken about 2 fewer hours if you weren’t on call.

“Yeah I’m done with this. I’ll turn it into my professor tomorrow and after that I am free. When do you get in?” You ask, shuffling the papers together and sliding them into your bag before moving out of your chair and flopping onto your bunk, sleep clouding your eyes.

“Uhh,” Logan pauses, glancing at his suitcase. In reality, he was supposed to get in twenty two hours and six minutes from when he hung up the call, his flight leaving in three hours and arriving in Austin after a 16 hour flight and a 2 hour layover in DFW followed by an hour long flight to Austin. He would effectively be arriving about a week before any of the other drivers. Besides maybe Daniel. But he couldn’t say any of that. He wanted to surprise you, especially now that you had no work to do. So instead he just hums, “Next week I think.”

“That’s great, babe,” you yawn, a small smile on your lips at the idea of him being back with you again, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah?” Logan grins.

You hum, your eyes drifting closed slightly, “Yeah.”

Logan notices your less-than-awake state and finally decides to end the call, “Goodnight, I love you.”

You yawn again, your eyes fluttering shut, “Good morning Logan, I love you too.”

The call ends quickly after and Logan glances at the time, grinning when he sees the 8:24 am displayed on his phone screen. You’d both had to deal with the difference in time zones for so long, you probably had all the time zones memorized. Or at least you remembered enough to call out good morning instead of goodnight while he was in Qatar.

His flight touches down twenty-two hours later and the first thing he does is call you.

“Hey what's up?” It's about 10:30 in Austin and the only thing you were doing was picking up barbeque from this place on the edge of campus that your roommate had been raving about.

“Not much, just bored,” Logan replies, his eyes scanning the background of the face time call for where you could possibly be this late.

You glance down at your phone for a second to do the same, eyebrows furrowing, “Where are you? It looks dark.”

Logan glances around slightly before replying, “In a car,” he wasn't lying, he really was in a car. Just one that was ubering to your campus instead of one with his team in Qatar, “Where are you? It's like 10 pm over there.”

“Just picking up some food,” you reply, eyes looking over the moonlit sidewalk that threads through the well-kept grass that surrounds you.

“This late?”

You laugh, “I slept through dinner.”

Logan smiles before sliding forward slightly when the car stops, “Are you just going back to your dorm?”

You look around quickly, “Yeah it's like a quarter mile back though.” You tighten your grip on the bag in your hand, the plastic having started to slip. Maybe your Ugg slides hadn't been the best choice for this walk but you'd manage.

“Oh yeah I know where you are, I remember eating at that place last time I was there,” Logan pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and tips the driver, checking periodically to make sure you hadn't clocked him.

“Yeah yeah, really good stuff and the owner remembered me today, guess I've been there enough times,” You laugh, starting to move back in the direction of your dorm once again.

By the time you had stopped to readjust the bag of food and your shoes, Logan had already started to speedwalk in the direction of your dorm. As he walks he passes enough drunk college kids to fill the football stadium they had all visited so many times.

You're walking pretty slowly, enjoying the moonlight shining brightly on the campus. Your shoes definitely weren't making you any faster to be fair.

“You turn your assignment in?” Logan asks, hoping you don't notice his eyes darting around the campus in search of you.

You nod, reaching a hand up to rub at your sleepy eyes, “Yeah, he even gave me extra credit for turning it in so early.”

Logan nods absentmindedly and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him do it before his eyes lock on something and he abruptly ends the call, “I've got to go, love you!”

You stand staring at your phone with a confused look on your face for a moment, words dying on the tip of your tongue. Weird.

You shake your head before moving to walk again, Logan's weird actions at the forefront of your mind.

Before you can even take a step, someone calls out your name and you turn quickly to see Logan standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

You gasp and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug warmth spreading through you from his arms. You move to spread kisses all across his face and for a few minutes, you both just stand there, not having seen each other in a few months and taking the time to readjust.

“I missed you,” you mumble into his shoulder, unexpected tears starting to spring from your eyes.

He just sets you down before wrapping a hand around the side of your face, “I missed you too.”

You bring a sweater-clad hand up to wipe away a tear before grabbing the food in one hand and grabbing his hand in the other, starting to lead him back to your dorm.

He grabs his suitcase as you start moving, “Is your roommate here?”

“No, you know how she is. She'll be with her new boyfriend for a few weeks so we're fine,” you wave away his question as you walk toward the building a few hundred feet away.

He smiles in response, “Hope you got enough food for two.”

You just laugh joyously.

A week and a half later, you’re stood in the hotel room Logan’s team had provided him, the room much nicer than your cramped dorm room. You had spent the last 12 days exploring Austin with your husband, making up for the time spent away from each other.

You had accidentally slept through Logan’s departure for the morning, waking up to a text explaining that, with your busy class schedule, he wanted you to get as many days of sleeping in as possible but he had gotten you breakfast and it was currently sitting in the kitchen.

You smiled at the text, appreciating Logan’s thoughtfulness. In the kitchen was a coffee from your favourite coffee shop as well as a McGriddle from McDonalds, which, no doubt, hurt Logan to order considering he wasn’t allowed to eat them.

You quickly ate the food, texting Logan to thank him. He texts back surprisingly quickly, considering he was supposed to be in a meeting.

He filled you in on how his morning had gone before asking when you’d get to the paddock for the race. You replied that you’d be there soon, quickly sliding on a light jacket over your tank top and jean shorts, preparing for the Austin heat.

Considering you had never been in the COTA paddock before, you would rather be in any situation other than your current one. There were about three hours until the race and you had no idea where the Williams garage was. You had gotten in just fine but, for some reason, you couldn’t find the blue of the Williams employees anywhere.

Logan wasn’t answering his phone, which you expected considering he had already been reprimanded for being on his phone during a meeting once this morning. Now you were left by yourself, trying to navigate the busy paddock.

You were somehow in a sea of orange, eyebrows furrowed. You turn in a quick circle, eyes setting on a curly-haired man in an orange polo who you take a few quick steps towards, hoping he can help you with directions.

“Excuse me,” you call out to the man who turns around swiftly, eyes pulling across your figure before landing on your face.

“How can I help you, love?” The man replies, a British accent laced through his voice and a sharp grin on his rosy lips.

You glance around slightly, leaning away from the man’s hungry gaze, “Do you know where the Williams garage is?”

He nods his head but keeps his eyes locked on your face, his smirk unfaltering, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just down that way.”

He points to nowhere in particular, moving to lean against the wall you’re standing near, “What’s your name, darling?”

You have to hide the smirk that tries to escape you at the fact that this man clearly has no idea you were married and also clearly thought you’d be an easy girl to flirt with considering his unwavering confidence.

You tell him your name and a grin breaks out on his face, “Pretty name, I’m Lando.”

Ah, so this was Lando. You had only ever seen him with his helmet on and from what you heard from Logan, his current behaviour made perfect sense. Logan hadn’t talked a lot about the Brit but he had mentioned him a few times considering he was Oscars teammate.

You hum, glancing around amusedly around the garage. You and Lando talk for a few more moments before a shorter figure clasps a hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes with the newcomer, grinning when you see a familiar boy standing behind Lando.

"Hey Osc," You smile at the Aussie. Oscar glances sideways at Lando, eyes shifting across his face before they turn to you. You just smile sweetly at the man who reciprocates the grin back at you.

"Hey," Lando glances confusedly between the two of you at Oscar's response. When Lando's confusion goes on a bit too long, Oscar turns and swings an arm around your shoulder, effectively moving the both of you away from the still-confused McLaren driver.

"I assume you're looking for Williams, then?" Oscar asks, running his free hand through his hair which had already begun to stick to his forehead from the Austin heat.

You hum in affirmation, sliding your sunglasses down your nose as the two of you step into the sun to make your way to your husband's garage.

Oscar makes conversation as he pulls you along, talking to you about how his season had gone and also asking a lot of questions about your engineering classes.

“I’d do a video for you, shock all your classmates,” Oscar says when you tell him you had to do a presentation explaining the engineering behind a piece of machinery and you had chosen a Formula 1 car.

You laugh, shaking your head as you do, “Yeah? I'd take you up on that, but I have a driver who'd be much easier to get a video from.”

Oscar snorts, smiling as you reach the Williams garage, “Lando?”

You roll your eyes as the name leaves his lips, hitting the back of his head with the small bag in your hands, “Don't get me started on Lando. You know he tried to set Logan up with one of his friends?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, “What?”

“Yeah, Lando said you told him Logan’s love life was lonely or something like that,” You reply, glancing around passively in search of your husband.

Oscar somehow manages to furrow his eyebrows even deeper, mouth opening and closing in disbelief, “That’s not what I said at all.”

“Tell him that.”

You both walk into the garage after that, you move to make conversation with Benny who’s sat to the side, surprise crossing his face as he sees you.

Oscar, though, spots Logan and makes his way to him quickly. He clasps a hand on the blonde's back who turns to face him with a grin, “What’s up Osc?”

“Lando was flirting with your wife,” Oscar states flatly, trying to push down the grin on his face.

Logan blinks a few times in an attempt to understand what the Aussie just said, “What- why?”

“Don’t think he knew she was your wife, mate.”

Logan rolls his eyes before turning around slightly to resume his conversation with his engineer. He stops mid-turn and swings back around to Oscar quickly, eyes wide, “My wife’s here?”

Oscar laughs at the American's face, stepping out of his line of sight so he can see you conversing with Benny.

Logan grins, sliding past the other boy to step toward you as quick as he can, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Oscar can’t hear what you two say to each other but he can see the love painting your faces as Logan plants a kiss on the top of your head. Benny smiles at the two of you, walking away to let you two talk.

As Oscar leaves the Williams garage, he briefly debates telling Lando you were married, especially to Logan, but he eventually decides not to. He’d figure it out eventually. Also might help to have him learn the hard way.

You sat in the garage for the entire race. But when Logan ends the race in eight, you’re jumping up happily to follow the Williams employee guiding you to where he’ll be.

The moment he’s done being weighed, he runs over to you, pulling his helmet off and unzipping his suit to his hips.

He grasps the side of your face, pulling you to him as he kisses you softly. He pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against yours, lifting a hand to grab the one you have against the side of his face, fingers brushing over your wedding ring.

“Thank you for being here. I love you.”

You can’t help the lovely laugh that escapes you, throwing your head back a bit to escape the heat rising on your cheeks, “I love you too, dork. I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles before leaning to catch you in another kiss.

Lando had finished the race in 4th. Not bad considering who had finished in front of him. He’d already talked to his team so he was now just roaming around, looking for someone to talk to.

He locks eyes on you and takes a few steps toward you before someone comes running past him. He looks over to see Logan grasping your face in his hands before pulling you down into a kiss.

He can’t help but stand in shock for a few moments although he can sense a couple people walking up next to him. He glances beside him to see Charles and Alex, both also staring at Logan in disbelief.

“What the hell?” Lando asks, to no one in particular. Luckily, or unfortunately, for him, someone has an answer.

“Are you lot staring at Logan and his wife?” Lando doesn’t look over to catch the amused look on Oscar’s face as he asks the question. But Alex does, and he furrows his eyebrows at the younger man.

“Sorry?” Alex asks the Aussie who just smiles and turns back to the couple, still smiling in each other's embrace.

Charles is the first one to notice anything and he smacks the other two on the head when he does, “They’re both wearing wedding rings.”

Alex blinks for a second, caught in the strange reality that he hadn’t noticed his teammate wearing a wedding ring the whole season. He pulls out his phone to go through old photos and low-and-behold, Logan’s wearing a ring in every single one.

“Jesus Christ,” Lando mumbles, running a hand through his damp curls, “I flirted with her.”

“Yeah,” Oscar nods, hands on his hips, “I probably wouldn’t talk to Logan for a while if I were you. Unless you want to find out how they do it in Florida.”

Lando gulps at the boy's words, of course, having no idea how they “do it” in Florida but only assuming he’d end up with a black eye. Oscar has to stifle a laugh, knowing Logan would most likely just laugh it off if Lando genuinely apologized. Not that Lando would.

Oscar's eyes drift across the trio of confused drivers, most likely all going through their memories of the times they had tried to set Logan up.

“You told me he was lonely,” Lando finally whines out, turning back to Oscar who shakes his head.

“I told you he was lonely because his girlfriend couldn’t make it to any of the races. If you would listen, you would’ve heard that part.”

Lando has no defence to that and turns his head back again to watch as Logan laughs at something you said, fingers intertwined together.

When the news spread across the paddock the next day, Logan received a lot of incredulous texts from drivers and employees alike, all shocked that he was in a relationship, let alone married.

Logan didn’t read any of them, he was too busy hanging out with you.

Except, of course, the message from Oscar that included three specific drivers all with their eyes wide as they stared at him and you.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant x reader

[kingpains]

hi! i've been following your stuff for awhile, and i was wondering if you still write? i enjoyed your writing just as much as your art and it would be really rad to read any new stuff w/ your characters

if you meant to send this to me: that’s super nice! thank you very much for asking, i’m surprised you’ve made it to This account if you were around when i used to post my writing! since i’ve been jumping around and remaking like crazy for the past while, it’s a bit of a shocker to see anybody ask if i still write. its been a while since i’ve even mentioned any writing of mine online

i am still writing stuff! not extremely often, but Sometimes. mostly about my DND campaign nowadays, though i do have some TINY ficlets on my A03 about hatoful boyfriend and persona 5. i think i might have an unfinished/never to be finished chaptered fic from years ago there too, but that’s not very satisfying, lol. i’m @/kingdrafts there if those fics are of any interest to u

i’ve written a lot of little drabbles with OCs over the years since i stopped posting my writing, but they don’t have much of a coherent Through Line or real narrative. it’s almost all Character Analysis in a vacuum with mostly New characters. you can shoot me another ask or a message if you’d like me to put those on A03 too, but i’d ask that you pinky swear to leave comments on any you read lol

#going out on a limb to interpret this as a genuine ask #since i did have one (i think) anon for a while YEARSS ago who used to ask about my writing every so often #i don’t have a great track record with people from That era of my online experience being genuinely nice/not trolling me. but #it’s more fun to be a little trusting than to be cynical all the time #with the assumption this is the same anon being genuine: this is genuinely very sweet and i’m beyond flattered #i really enjoy writing and the idea of someone finding my stuff interesting enough to seek it out years later is very touching #so much so that i’m having trouble believing you’re FR but you’ll have to forgive me for the caution pls #but yeah! you can check out the stuff already on my A03 or send me an ask if you want me to put OC stuff up. i’ll give it a shot #haven’t TOUCHED liel in years but there is someee dante stuff? it is mostly new characters though #and of the new stuff most of it is One DND Guy. i’ve been playing him for a year and a half and his campaign actually ends Next Week #so i’ve been in a big writing mood for him lately. funny coincidence #sorry for the long ass reply w/ half of it in the Tags lol #if you are the same 2019 anon at least you probably know that brevity is not a strong suit of mine #anon #ask

[wheresarizona]

but I would die for you in secret

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 7.1k+

a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.

To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.

Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.

So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.

Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.

If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.

You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.

There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.

It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.

Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.

That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.

It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.

Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.

Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.

The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.

The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.

And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.

It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.

Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.

For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”

“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.

There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.

“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.

You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.

“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.

“No-none,” you stammer.

His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”

His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.

His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.

Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”

Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.

Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.

“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”

The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”

“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.

“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”

He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.

It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.

The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.

You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”

His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.

Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.

“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.

“Yes.”

The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.

The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.

He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”

His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.

His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.

You’re so close; you’re just needing—

Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”

That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.

A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.

It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.

Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”

His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?

He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.

All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.

His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.

When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.

Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.

He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”

The question has your tight walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.

The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”

“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”

He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.

The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.

For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.

It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.

Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.

“Joel?” you break the silence.

“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”

His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.

“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.

You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”

His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”

“Well, there’s Ellie—”

“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have feelings for me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me…?”

“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.

One word has your heart picking up in speed.

“I love you, too.”

His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”

A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.

“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”

His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”

Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”

He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.

This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.

“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”

His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.

“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”

“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”

Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.

“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”

“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”

Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”

“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.

“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”

“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.

You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.

“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”

“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”

“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”

You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.

“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.

“I do,” you reply.

“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.

“‘Cause no one else can?”

He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.

His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”

And something about that declaration thrills you.

“I’d like that.”

He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”

You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.

The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.

All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.

From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.

Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:

It was time for him to tell Ellie.

Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.

If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.

He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.

He hates that.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.

When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.

He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.

The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.

It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.

It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.

His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.

“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.

“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”

He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”

She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I asked you first.”

She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.

“I was at the same place you were.”

He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.

He meets her eyes. “And that is?”

She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”

“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”

“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.

“You done?”

“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”

His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”

“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”

“Were we really that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”

“What topic?”

“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”

He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”

She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”

“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”

His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”

“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”

“You’re what?!”

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #wheresarizona writes #joel miller x you #Joel miller/yo

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.

MASTERLIST | Next ->

“I don’t like this.” 

“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.” 

He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?” 

“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.” 

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago. 

He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink. 

He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her. 

“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting. 

As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care. 

He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long. 

His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic. 

Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not. 

He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack. 

Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week. 

You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head. 

You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath. 

“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-” 

“Classified?” You finish for her. 

Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...” 

The less there is to make you a target. 

You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time. 

What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.” 

You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal. 

That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military. 

That, and the excuse for violence. 

Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented. 

In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you. 

“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together. 

“Tired.” You run a hand across your face. 

“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.” 

You look nervous. 

He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly. 

This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega. 

His omega. 

As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy. 

“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand. 

He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly. 

He doesn’t even want to think about that. 

Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy. 

“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand. 

You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed. 

“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.” 

You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side. 

He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents. 

“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say.

Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit. 

Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about. 

“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?” 

Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.” 

Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went. 

“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.” 

“What sort of hesitations?” He asks. 

“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.” 

Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right. 

Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.” 

“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega. 

“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”

“That could be dangerous.” Price says. 

“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.” 

Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.

“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.” 

He hasn’t failed her yet. 

Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked. 

The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.

You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags. 

Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment. 

You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent. 

You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk. 

One more to go. 

You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk. 

This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible. 

Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane. 

“Coming, Si?” 

Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared. 

You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute. 

Nothing that could dampen your natural scent. 

You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack? 

“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door. 

Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly. 

Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says. 

You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no. 

You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back. 

“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.” 

It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression. 

Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?” 

Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.” 

Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it. 

You can hold power over them. 

The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to. 

You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.

Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile. 

Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell. 

You’re beginning to see the dynamics already. 

“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in. 

All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha. 

Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”  

Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs. 

“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?” 

You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.” 

“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer. 

You nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“You lived on base?” He asks. 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.” 

“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it. 

It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say. 

The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well. 

“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.” 

“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent. 

You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.” 

“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks. 

You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.” 

“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks. 

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.” 

“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks. 

Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance. 

“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.

“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.” 

You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails. 

Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.” 

You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either. 

“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we���re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.” 

You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting. 

“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach. 

His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell? 

What if they don’t like the way you smell? 

“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you. 

You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier. 

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.” 

All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible. 

“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen. 

He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack. 

You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs. 

“Ready?” 

You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin. 

He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland. 

His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others. 

“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you. 

You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours. 

He’s testing you. 

You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl. 

He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting. 

Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached. 

You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place. 

“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?” 

You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head. 

“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.” 

His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland. 

You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you. 

“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze. 

“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this. 

“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”

He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him. 

You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat. 

You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper. 

“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek. 

You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze. 

You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them. 

They could if they wanted to. 

It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you. 

“You hungry, pup?” 

Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work. 

Pup. Price called you Pup. 

You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you. 

The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment. 

“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again. 

You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.” 

“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.” 

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out. 

“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear. 

His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes. 

Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear. 

The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing. 

He’s proving his ability as a provider. 

In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can. 

You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you. 

He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks. 

A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost. 

Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult. 

I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #a/b/o

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Cat and Mouse

(Perv!Eddie Munson x Perv!Fem Reader)

Summary: Eddie thinks you are innocent and oblivious to all the pervy things he does behind your back, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re fully aware. Not only that, but you like it, and you just might be a bit of a perv yourself. WK: 8k (idk what happened)

Warnings: Where do I even begin? This is filthy guys… Panty stealing, honestly just Eddie and Reader both taking things of each others without asking (and using them to pleasure themselves), Maybe a tiny bit of angst? Idk there’s like a second where they’re both doubting themselves but it’s solved quickly. SMUTTTT!!! Unprotected P in V, Oral (M and F receiving), overstimulation(on R), hair pulling, slightly sub!Eddie? Idk he’s just really down bad(but so is R), dirty talk but like dirty dirty. Idk what to tell y’all they’re pervs, they’re gross, this is feral. If I missed anything pls lmk!! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: Listen… idk what came over me with this one… a horny demon possessed me and wrote this.. It was fueled by my feral period brain and all the perv Eddie fics I’ve seen where Reader is innocent, which is still very hot and I love it but I’m a whore so I wanted to write something where maybe she wasn’t as innocent as Eddie thought. That’s it, that’s all I have to say, pls enjoy the filth. 😌 (also shout out to @take-everything-you-can for mentioning something about taking Eddie’s shirt, I kind of took that idea and ran a mile with it.) My Masterlist

You met Eddie a few months ago, you were working at your uncle’s comic book shop when he came in looking for some dice. He came in a few more times after that, always needing something for his campaign, or looking for a comic for one of his younger friends he told you about. He would always stay and talk to you for a while, telling you things about his life, asking about yours. Eventually he asked you if you wanted to come to one of his shows and the two of you had basically been inseparable since.

You hadn’t known him long but it didn’t take long for you to pick up on a few things. Like how his eyes would always linger on your thighs when you’d cross them on his bed in your little ruffly skirts, or how they looked like they were going to pop out of his head when he noticed you hardly ever wear a bra. You noticed he always talked to you in this way that made you seem so innocent and pure, untouched. You weren’t, but noticed he liked it, so you played into it.

You started to notice things going missing, a pair of underwear that didn’t quite make it in the dirty clothes basket, a tester vile of your perfume you had left over from before you decided it was worth buying the whole bottle, a picture of you from your stack of polaroids that was of you at the beach in your little red bikini.

So you started leaving things. Your dirty underwear on display, always at the very top of your laundry basket. A nearly empty bottle of your favorite lotion sitting next to the trash, ready to be thrown out. A picture of your tits with your forearm just barely covering your nipples at the top of the stack of Polaroids.

Each time they would be gone, and you weren’t sure at this point if he was just playing along or if he was the one that was really that naive.

•

The first time Eddie saw you he was convinced you were an angel. Standing behind the counter at the comic shop downtown in your little white sweater and pink skirt. When he walked up to look at the dice in the glass underneath the register he could see your white thigh high socks. You had this cute ribbon in your hair and when you spoke your voice sounded like sugarcane. You asked him if there where any sets that stood out to him, and then you surprised the hell out of him by asking if they were for D&D. You had never played, but your cousins and your uncle did, so you knew the basics.

He couldn’t stop himself from coming in after that, finding any excuse to make a trip to see his favorite girl. Maybe he would decide he needed a new mini for an NPC or offer to go get a new release of a comic for Dustin while he was at school. He always spent a while standing there talking to you, getting to know you, ogling you because he just couldn’t help himself. How could he? When you would lean over the counter giving him a perfect view of your tits through your thin shirts and hardly ever wore a bra? When you would ask him to hold the ladder steady so you could get something up high and he would get a perfect view up your skirt of whatever panties you wore that day? You were irresistible.

He learned that you weren’t only beautiful but actually really cool. You knew a lot about comics, you had read Tolkien, you loved horror movies possibly more than he did, and you were down to give any music a chance.

You also had this innocence about you, like you almost didn’t realize how much he wanted you. It just made him want you more. You’d look at him with those big round eyes and pouty lips whenever he would tease you about something. When he would compliment you outright you always made this little squeaky noise and he would notice you squirm or press your thighs together.

But once you started hanging out with him outside of work that’s when he really lost control. The first time he was at your house he saw a pair of your panties next to your laundry basket. Clearly dirty by the way he could see your juices left behind on the crotch of them. You were in the bathroom changing and he just couldn’t resist. He picked them up off the ground and held them up to his nose, inhaling your scent. He felt slightly sick but he had already gone this far so he figured he might as well just have a little taste. He licked the patch where your pussy was, and even though they had mostly dried you still tasted divine. His head spun and his cock hardened as he imagined what you would really taste like. He heard the bathroom door across the hall creak open so he quickly shoved the panties into his back pocket and sat down on your bed, one leg bent at the knee crossed over the other to try and hide the very prominent bulge in his pants.

Then there was the time you had to run down to the mailboxes to check your mail, he already had been subtly staring at the small vial of your perfume after you proudly announced to him that you decided it was your signature scent now, showing him the larger bottle. He figured you wouldn’t need the small one anymore, it was almost gone anyways. So he did what he’s been finding himself doing more and more often when he’s in your room, he pocketed it. That night he sprayed it on his pillow, holding it to his face while he had your panties wrapped around his cock. Bucking into his hand with reckless abandon, imaging what yours might feel like instead.

Then there was the day he was at your apartment before you were supposed to meet up with some of his friends for a movie night and you wanted to shower after work. He was bored, snooping around a little like he usually does when he gets a moment alone in your room, and he came across a stack of Polaroids. His heart warmed when the top one was a photo of you and him at a metal show you went to with him and the guys a few towns away.

You were always surprising him and that night was no exception, banging your head until your little ribbon was about to fall out of your hair. He fixed it for you, of course. He kept looking through the stack of photos, seeing images of you and your friends back home, some of you and your cousins, and tons of you here in Hawkins. Mostly of you and him, some with his friends that were now yours too. But when he got almost to the bottom of the stack he saw a photo of you and your friends at the beach, all smiling wide at the camera. He could only see your neck and shoulders but he could tell you were wearing a little red bikini of some kind. He eagerly flipped to the next photo, hoping there might be one that proved him right, and he was not disappointed.

This picture was just you, laying on the beach with your legs outstretched in front of you, your hands were buried in the sand and just like he thought you were wearing a bright red bikini.

The way you were leaning back on your hands was making your chest stick out and the way one of your legs was slightly bent made it so he could just see the curve of your ass from the side. Your skin glistened with what he assumed was a mixture of sunscreen and sweat and he wanted to lick it off. Your eyes were adorned with heart shaped sunglasses that matched the red of your swimsuit and if he looked close enough he could tell even your toes matched.

He felt his cock harden immediately, licking his lips at the sight. Without even really thinking he shoved the photo in the back pocket of his jeans, hoping you wouldn’t notice it missing.

You tempted him twice that day, it was just too easy when you threw your clothes on top of the basket after your shower and walked into the kitchen to get a snack. Your panties were directly on top, the crotch side up, and he could see a fresh wet patch there. He couldn’t help it, he pocketed them and excused himself to the bathroom, running his tongue along the cloth where your juices had collected. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he felt like he was going to pass out. It only took a few tugs of his cock before he was spilling cum all over his hand and exiting the bathroom with his pockets full of treasures like nothing ever happened.

•

About two weeks into this cat and mouse game you still weren’t sure you were just playing with yourself, you were alone in Eddie’s room. He ran out to his van to check for the tape he was looking for and you were sitting on his bed and one of his shirts was thrown haphazardly near his pillows like he had taken it off right before going to sleep. The thought came to you and before you could question it you were grabbing it and holding it up to your nose. It smelled good but not like you were expecting. You were expecting the scent of weed mixed with tobacco, apple shampoo and the aftershave you got for him after you told him the smell of the one he was using smelled like a 60 year old man’s wife picked it out for him.

It smelled like those things, but it also smelled like… you, your perfume. But there was something else. When you picked it up it felt slightly dry and maybe a little bit crunchy and upon closer inspection you noticed that it was dried cum. Did he spray your perfume onto his cum shirt? Was he smelling it while he stroked his cock? Thinking of you? The thought made your pussy pulse and your head spin, but it wasn’t what you wanted. Plus, he would definitely notice this missing. So when you heard the trailer door swing open you acted fast. Grabbing one of his discarded shirts that was on the ground near his bed and shoving it into your bag.

That night you did something you would’ve felt ashamed of if you weren’t positive Eddie’s done something similar, maybe even dirtier from the looks and smells of that shirt you found.

You wrapped Eddie’s shirt around your pillow and rode it until you came three times. As you drifted off to sleep still holding onto the pillow you wondered how much longer you could go without actually having the real thing.

•

Eddie was starting to wonder if you were doing this on purpose, his first indication of that being what he was currently holding in his hands. You were in the kitchen making lunch for the both of you and he was snooping around, as one does. But something caught his eye when he was walking by your shelf, something that wasn’t there before. Right on top of the stack of Polaroids he had found the bikini photo in was a picture of your tits. Your nipples were covered by your forearm, but your tits nonetheless. He was absolutely positive this hadn’t been there before, he definitely would have noticed.

Did you notice that he took the bikini photo and leave this here on purpose so he would see it? Did you take this for someone else? The thought of that made him sick to his stomach. His thoughts were bouncing around in his head like a ping pong ball trying to decide if he was reading into it, if he should take the photo or leave it. If he took it would you be mad? Would you be offended if he didn’t?

Before he could contemplate his decision further he heard your steps coming down the hall so he made a snap judgment and shoved it in his pocket. Practically launching himself onto your bed, he grabbed one of your cute frilly pillows, threw it on his lap and hoped it wouldn’t come off as suspicious.

You were walking down the hall with two bowls of Mac and cheese when you heard a shuffling sound and then the creaking of your mattress like someone just jumped on it. You smirk to yourself, wondering if Eddie saw the gift you left him.

When you open your bedroom door he’s sitting on your bed with a pillow in his lap, he flashes you a smile that is almost believable but you could see the slight flush in his cheeks. You set his bowl down on top of the pillow, and smile back.

“There you go Eds, one gourmet bowl of Kraft, as promised.” You mock curtsied, setting your own bowl down on your nightstand before walking over to your dresser under the guise of grabbing some socks. Making sure to glance as subtlety as possible at your shelf, and just as you thought, the photo was gone.

“Why thank you madam” Eddie held the spoon in his hand with his pinky out as he dramatically took a bite.

You giggled at his antics, as you grabbed the socks out of your top drawer you saw an opportunity to tease him further. You had already seen Eddie eyeing you in your little house shorts and your tank top so you pulled out your white thigh thighs, the soft fuzzy ones that you only really wore at home and made a show of putting them on.

You kept your back to him, bending over extra as you slid them slowly up your legs. You make sure to pull them up as high as they go. Leaving only a small section of skin between the top of the socks and the bottom of your shorts.

Eddie was pretty sure he was going to pass out and he thanked his past self for putting this pillow where it is right now. He watched as you pulled on your socks wondering how something as mundane as putting on fucking socks could be this sexy. When you snapped each one in place it made the meat of your thighs slightly giggle and the way they were sitting just under the curve of your ass was making it look extra juicy. He wanted to bite into it before he made his way between your thighs and spent the rest of his god damn life there.

“Fuck” He swore under his breath and hoped to god you didn’t hear him.

“Hmm? Eddie, you okay?”

You turn around and look at him with that fucking look you always gave him, like you didn’t know how sexy you were, like you didn’t know you drive him fucking crazy.

“Uh - Yeah! I was just saying fuck this is really good, I forgot how much some good ol’ kraft hits the spot.” He smiled and hoped his excuse was convincing enough, taking a large bite for good measure.

“Right? It’ll always be my favorite no matter how many homemade or restaurant kinds I’ve eaten, nothing beats it.”

You crawl onto your bed, making sure he can see down your shirt and plop down next to him on the pillows, leaning over to grab your bowl off your nightstand. Eddie can see your ass even more when your shorts ride up and he suddenly feels like he’s got to get out of here before he says or does something totally humiliating.

“I - uh - I just remembered I have to help Wayne! I told him I’d help him move his stuff into my old room since he has been so tired and hasn’t done it! So I’m - I gotta go!” He stood up swiftly, turning away from you and throwing the pillow down behind him. He didn’t turn around, just kept marching towards your door with his bowl still in hand. Only when he was practically out of your bedroom door did he turn his head to the side and address you.

“Thank you for lunch! I’ll leave the bowl in the sink! I’ll um - I’ll see you later!”

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, ditching the bowl in the sink, grabbing his shoes not even bothering to put them on as he ran out the door to his van in only his socks.

You sat there with your mouth hanging open, eyes wide as you stared at your bedroom door wondering what the fuck just happened. Did you go too far? Were you making him uncomfortable? Maybe he changed his mind about you… Or maybe… maybe he ran home to jerk off… maybe you did go too far but not in a bad way. That’s what you hoped at least.

You bit your lip and clenched your thighs as you entertained that possibility. Was he going to go home and jerk off to your photo? Maybe with your panties held to his nose or wrapped around his cock? At least that’s what you liked to imagine he did with them, you could be wrong.

•

You were wrong, but not about that. Eddie normally used your panties exactly how you imagined. But not right now, no. He didn’t even make it home, hell, he barely made it out of your apartment building before he was pulling off into some trees and furiously tugging at his cock while he practically dripped drool on your photo. He made sure not to though, he couldn’t taint it like that. It had to remain in perfect condition in case this was his only chance to see your tits.

He grunted and whined, spitting down onto his cock and rubbing it around his tip with his thumb. His pace increased as he imagined it was your hand, or even better, your tits. He imagined sliding his spit slick cock between them while you sucked and licked at the head, he imagined covering your face and tits with his cum.

“FUCK!” He throws his head back against the seat, his eyes cross and he practically bites through his bottom lip as he cums all over his hand, his pants, even some on his shirt.

After he came down from his high, the reality of what he did hit him. He not only probably confused the hell out of you by running off like that without barely saying goodbye, he just jerked off in his fucking van to a photo he took from your bedroom. This was getting out of hand. He had to get himself under control, maybe some distance would help.

•

You hadn’t seen Eddie all week, ever since he ran out of your room like a bat out of hell and that was unusual. You guys usually saw each other a few times during the week, even if it was one of you bringing the other lunch while you were at work.

You called him a few times, either getting his voicemail or only having a brief conversation before he came up with an excuse to get off the phone. You started to wonder if you were reading things wrong after all. But that just didn’t make sense, why would he take all those things if he didn’t like you? If he didn’t want you in the desperate way you wanted him? You almost felt like you needed him.

So you decided to make a last ditch effort, no beating around the bush this time you were going to be straight forward. You grab Eddie’s shirt, your Polaroid, and your white lacy thigh highs with the little pink bows that he bashfully complimented one day.

You wrap the shirt around your pillow like you have done so many times now you’re almost ashamed. You take off your shirt and shorts before pulling on the thigh highs, leaving you in just your little white lace panties and socks.

The first photo you take is a shot from above of your tits, you can see your thong and the very top of your lace adorned thighs.

The second features your face, your eyes wide in that way you know he loves, your middle and pointer finger shoved down your throat with your lips wrapped around them. If you look close enough you can see a bit of drool dripping down between your boobs.

The third photo is a full nude, your legs spread and pussy on full display for him.

The next one is the one you’re most excited for, the one that sparked this entire plan. It’s an upshot of you from the neck down, you’re straddling the pillow that’s wrapped in Eddie’s shirt in just your socks, your free hand grabbing onto one of your tits.

The last photo is you in the same position but it’s from below, you have your fingers on your pussy, opening yourself up for him against the material of his shirt.

Satisfied with the spread, you gather them up, grab your discarded thong and remove the shirt from your pillow. You fold the panties and the photos into the shirt like they’re a gift to be unwrapped and put them in a little box. Then you write out a note.

Eddie,

if you wanted my panties… all you had to do was ask. You’ve taken all my cutest ones now. But that’s okay because I took something of yours too, I thought you might want it back.

Xoxo - Your angel.

You sign the note with the nickname he had awarded you and fold it in half, putting it on top of the shirt and then you put the lid on the box. Now all you had to do was give it to him, everyone had planned to meet at Gareth’s for a movie night tomorrow and he was supposed to pick you up. You could give it to him in the car before you get there and tell him not to open it until he gets home. It was the perfect plan. Hopefully.

•

Eddie was nervous on his way to pick you up for movie night, he had managed to avoid you the entire week, much to his dismay. He felt pathetic but he missed you, and even though he was still feeling guilty he was excited to see you.

He pulled into a guest parking spot in front of your building and was surprised to see you already standing there. He usually had to come in while you finished getting ready because you were perpetually running late. But you were standing there in a little white dress and a soft looking pink knit sweater, holding a little box in your arms. He figured it was some kind of baked goods, you pretty much always brought treats to every get together.

You saw him pull in and waved as you walked over, he jumped out of the car so he could come around and open the door for you.

“Hi Eddie, this is for you. But don’t open it now, open it when you get home. Okay? Promise me?”

You sounded nervous, hell, you looked nervous. What was in that box? He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the night not knowing.

“A gift? For me? Angel, you shouldn’t have.” He tried to play it cool, even though he was feeling anything but.

“I didn’t spend any money on it or anything… but I’m not giving it to you unless you promise you won’t open it until you get home later.”

“Yeah, I promise.” He smiled at you reassuringly.

You handed it to him nervously, and he took it with glee, immediately shaking it like a Christmas present.

“EDDIE!! Don’t do that, you’re never going to guess what it is so just wait, please!”

You were looking at him with this pouty look on your face and he literally would’ve said yes to murder at that moment so he agreed. You let out a breath of relief as you got into the car, now all you had to do is wait.

•

Movie night wasn’t awkward like you feared it might be. When Eddie picked you up he acted totally normal, like he hadn’t been ignoring you all week and you couldn’t tell if that annoyed you or not. Maybe a little. You wanted to ask him about it but you also didn’t want to make things awkward by bringing it up so you tried to act as normal as you could.

That little box in the back of Eddie’s van was in the back of your mind all night though, you couldn’t stop overthinking and second guessing your decision. You even almost went out to his van at one point to take everything out and shove it in your bag but you talked yourself out of it.

Eddie was in a similar boat, he was having fun, he was engaging and acting as normal as he could but all he could think about was what possibly could be in that box. He knows you made him promise but there are several times where he has to physically stop himself from just going out to his van to look in it.

When the last movie ends you and Eddie were both quick to gather your things and leave. Him wanting to get home as fast as possible to see what was in the box and you wanting the looming thoughts of how he might react to just be over with.

Your goodbyes were chaste, neither of you bringing up the gift you had given him. He walked you to the door like he always did but he didn’t ask to come inside and the hug he gave was much faster than the usual bear hugs he would normally give you.

•

Eddie sped home, he lived in a studio apartment a few miles from yours and the drive had never felt so long. He pulled into his parking spot with a screech, grabbed the box from the back and rushed inside.

He didn’t even bother to take his shoes off, throwing his jacket across the back of the couch before plopping down on one of the cushions with the box in his lap.

He took a deep breath before opening it. At the top was a note, he unfolded it and as he read it he swore all the blood from his body went directly to his cock.

Underneath the note was his shirt, his favorite Iron Maiden one he hadn’t been able to find for a few weeks.

It was folded neatly so he gently took it out of the box, it felt heavier than it should and when it was fully in his grasp he could feel that there was something inside it.

He sets it down in front of him on his coffee table so he can unfold it and his jaw drops when he sees what’s inside. A pair of your panties, a little white lace thong is sitting under a stack of Polaroids.

His hand shakes as he reaches for the photos, when he sees the first one he actually moans, and then they somehow just keep getting better. But he stops dead in his tracks when he sees the second to last one.

You have his shirt wrapped around your pillow and you’re straddling it in nothing but those fucking socks, and he’s seriously going to lose his mind, especially when he sees the last photo of you in the same position, spread open for him.

It took him a second to get past the fog of lust to realize what this means. You knew. You always knew what he was doing. It all makes sense now. The way your panties were always so easy to steal, how he always happened to have the perfect view of your tits and ass, the photo. Also you took his shirt, you didn’t just take it, you put it on your fucking pillow and humped it. He hopes you did it more than once. He picks up the shirt again and he really looks at it this time, there’s little white streaks all over it, from you. He brings it to his nose and it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. Both of your scents mixed together, topped off with the sweet smell of your pussy.

His initial thought was to rip his pants off and stroke his cock until it was raw but he realized he could do better than that. He could have the real thing. He needed to see you. Now.

He didn’t even think twice about shoving everything back in the box and walking back out the door to his van. Speeding off in the direction towards your house.

•

You were laying in your bed trying not to let your anxiety consume you when you heard banging on your door. Your heart pounded and your mouth went dry, you knew who it was, there was no way it could be anyone but him.

You opened the door and there he was, looking absolutely feral if you might add. His eyes were wide, pupils blown out, he was breathing like he ran a mile, and his hair was all over the place. You wanted to eat him alive.

“You knew?” He held up the box you had given him earlier the night, his hands shaking.

“Yeah…” You bit your lip as you nodded. “I knew the whole time… from when you took that first pair of panties, I knew.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” He looked at you, his eyes filled with lust and confusion.

You shake your head, a smirk forming across your lips.

“Why not?” He was still panting, hands grasped tightly on the box.

“It was fun, I thought for a while there that you knew I was doing it on purpose, and then when I realized you didn’t it was almost hotter to me for some reason… I’m sorry if that’s weird.” You suddenly felt super self conscious, was he mad you didn’t say anything?

“I stole your panties, multiple pairs might I add, and you’re asking me if it’s weird that you left them out for me?” He laughed, bringing his hand up to your cheek and rubbing his thumb across it.

“I could never think you were weird angel, do you know how sexy that is? And these photos…” He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Did you really…”

“Fuck my pillow with your shirt on it? Yeah.” You nodded, your face nuzzling into his palm.

“Jesus fucking christ… that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life, shit.”

He used the hand cradling your face to pull you closer, clashing your lips together in a hungry kiss. You immediately buried your fingers in his hair, like you did in all your fantasies. You wanted him closer but the box was still in between you so you broke the kiss long enough to pull him inside and discard it on your kitchen counter.

You pulled his mouth back down to yours by the collar of his shirt, running your tongue along his bottom lip and he immediately granted you access. Your hands made their way back into his hair and he gripped your hips pulling you tightly against him.

“God Eddie, I want you so fucking bad.” You moaned against his lips.

“Angel, I’ll give you anything you want after all these sweet gifts you’ve been leaving me without me even knowing… you really thought I knew?” He took your face in both your hands, running his hands down your neck and rubbing his thumbs along your jaw.

“For a while there, yeah… That’s why I left you that first picture, but then when I came back in my room and you were acting all nervous I realized you definitely didn’t know. I thought for a second I might’ve made you uncomfortable but I took the chance with the photos anyway… looks like it paid off.” You looked him up and down, biting your lip.

“Fuck yeah it did.” He pulled you into another bruising kiss that you happily returned. You stood there in your kitchen making out for what could’ve been minutes or hours, tongues exploring every inch of each other's mouths and your hands mapping out each other's bodies.

You finally pulled away, breathless. You smirked at him, placing a kiss on his throat before turning around and walking towards your room. Eddie wanted to scream at the sight of your ass in your tiny little pink spandex shorts. He bit down on his fist instead, admiring you for a moment before practically running after you.

You were standing in the middle of the room with a smirk on your face that he’s never seen, one you must have been hiding from him this whole time. You looked like you wanted to eat him alive and he was going to let you.

“Tell me about your fantasies Eddie… tell me what you did with my panties, I wanna know so bad.” Your smirk turned into a little pout, giving him that fucking look. The one he knows now is all an act, but something about that just makes his dick even harder for you.

“Fuck, you really want to know? The first time I sucked on them while I jerked off and right when I was about to cum I wrapped them around my dick and came all over them.”

“Mmm… that’s what I hoped you’d do, tell me more…” You walk up to him and run your hands down his chest, hook your fingers in his front pockets and give him the look.

“I can’t believe this is happening, I - uh - I was so scared if you ever found out you’d hate me. But fuck, I never imagined you would be into it.” He put his hands on your hips and squeezed, almost like he was making sure this was real.

“Well, you better believe it honey, because I am so so into it.. please tell me more.” You lean up and press wet kisses along his neck.

“God damn.” He throws his head to the side more, granting you further access to his throat. “When I had a second pair I sucked on the newer ones and used that same pair to jerk off. Then when I got your perfume I sprayed it on my pillow so that I could smell you and taste you.”

“Mmm Eddie, that’s so hot.” You bite into his throat causing him to let out the cutest little yelp, sucking the skin into your mouth, wanting to mark him as your own.

“Then once I had the bikini photo I was able to see you too, so it was like I was surrounded by you in every way possible.”

His hands snake down your hips to grab onto your ass, the material of your shorts and the feeling of your soft skin contrasting with the calluses on his fingers.

“That day when I found that picture of your tits… and then you somehow found a way to make putting socks on one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen and you topped it off by bending over in those little shorts with your ass practically in my face? I barely made it out of your building before I pulled over and jerked off in my van like a depraved psycho.”

You moaned at that, pulling back from his neck to look him in the eyes.

“If you’re depraved… so am I.” You pull your tank top over your head and throw it on the ground behind you somewhere, followed by your shorts. Eddie seriously thinks he’s in love with you at this point because you’re not wearing a bra or panties but you are of course wearing white thigh highs. You’re standing there like every fantasy he’s ever had about you come true, but better.

“Angel, those pictures have nothing on the real thing” He grabbed onto your tits, twisting your nipples between his fingers. Using his nose to brush your hair away so he can whisper in your ear. “I need to taste you so bad, like, so bad. I need to know what the real thing tastes like.”

“Mmm fuck, yes, want that so bad.”

You lay back on your bed and spread your legs, showing him how wet you are for him. Eddie doesn’t think twice before dropping to his knees in front of your bed and throwing your legs over his shoulders. He wishes he had it in him to kiss every inch of you before tasting you but it was like someone offered him the nectar of the gods and he needed it now.

He parted your lips with his fingers before running his tongue along your slit, licking up and down with a flat tongue before shoving it as far as it could go inside you.

“Ho- holy shit! Eddie!! Fuck, your mouth is so good.” Your fingers found his hair again, tugging and the groan he lets out sends vibrations through your pussy.

“I thought your panties tasted sweet but nothing will ever taste sweeter than the real thing, oh my god baby.”

His tongue comes up to circle your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking. You feel his fingers circle your entrance before he’s inserting his pointer and middle finger deep inside you. He curls his fingers in just the right way, he’s still sucking your clit while he runs circles around it with his tongue and you feel yourself getting close.

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna - fuckinnng cum - I’m gonna cum.” You pull his hair again and start rocking your hips against his face. You watch his eyes roll back and feel him moan into you again, knowing he’s enjoying this as much as you is what sends you over the edge. Your hips rising off the bed and your hands falling from his hair to grasp the sheets. Eddie brings his free hand down on your abdomen to hold you down as he fucks you through your high.

You try to push him off once it becomes too much but you hear, or more so feel him let out an “Uh-Uh” into your pussy. His hand that’s pinning you down doesn’t move and his fingers stay buried inside you. He’s licking and sucking on your clit like a man starved and you immediately feel another orgasm crash over you. Your entire body shakes and you let out noises you didn’t even know you can make.

When he feels you push at his head this time he lets you, looking up at you with a grin on his face, his chin and mouth covered in your juices.

“Sorry… you just tasted so good and when you came it was so hot I didn’t want to stop.” He looked awfully bashful for someone who was just eating you out like it was his fucking job.

“You’re sorry? Holy shit Eddie, I’ve never cum that hard in my entire life.”

He smiled triumphantly, you’d think just told him he won the lottery. He came up and covered his body with yours, kissing you without wiping his face. The taste of you on his tongue was intoxicating so you pulled away from the kiss and licked his lips, then his chin, and down his neck.

“Fuck, we taste so good together.” You moan.

“Holy fucking shit, you’re my dream girl.”

“Let me return the favor, I wanna taste you too, also you are wearing way too many clothes right now.” You pull at the hem of his shirt and he puts his arm behind his head to pull it off.

You’ve never seen him shirtless before and you needed a better view. You push on his shoulders until he lifts himself off of you and lays back on the bed. You throw your leg over him to straddle him, looking down at him in awe.

“Wow Eddie… you’re beautiful.”

You smile at him with that devilish little smile he’s becoming addicted to as you run your soft hands along his chest before raking your nails down his torso, all the way to the waistband of his jeans. His back arches off the bed as he lets out this sound that you want to hear him make over and over again.

You grind your hips down on his, fiddling with his belt loop and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

“Please.” Now he’s the one giving you the look and you understand why he loves it much. Those big brown eyes are wide and glassy, there’s a slight pout on his lips and even though he just ate you out so good it makes you want to sit on his face.

But there’s something you want more, something you’ve been dreaming about. So you undo his belt and jeans with deft fingers, pulling on the waistband of both his pants and boxers. He lifts his hips so you can pull them down and when his cock pops out and hits his stomach your jaw actually drops.

You always figured Eddie was big. You caught small glimpses through his jeans when he thought he was hiding his boners better than he really was, so you had an idea. But it’s bigger than you imagined, and so so pretty. The tip red and leaking precum, each vein prominent because of how hard he was. You lick your lips and spit on your hand, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping it a few times. He makes that sound again and you know you’re addicted to it now.

“Your cock is huge baby, I can’t wait to feel it stretching me out.” You spit on the head of his cock, circling your thumb around it before you lean down and take it in your mouth.

“Holy - fuckING - sh - shit!” Eddie instinctually jerks forward, his cock hits the back of your throat and you gag.

He’s about to apologize but you don’t pull off, just push his cock further down your throat until your nose is snug against the hair at the base. There’s tears coming out of the sides of your eyes and drool dripping down your chin but you’re moaning and so he can tell you’re enjoying it. You circle your tongue around his shaft a few times before pulling off.

Not for long though, you take him as far as you can without gagging and start bobbing your head up and down, your hand moving in time with whatever your mouth can't reach. Eddie is a moaning mess, he’s babbling your name in between curse words, switching between grabbing onto your hair, the sheets, and his own hair.

When you pull off his dick and bring your mouth to his balls, swirling your tongue all around his sack before sucking one into your mouth he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. But he’s also positive that he wants to fuck you so he grabs you by your hair and pulls you off.

“Hey, I wasn’t done!” You look at him with a pout and you whine. Every time Eddie thinks he can’t possibly be anymore obsessed with you, you prove him wrong.

“Yeah but I was about to come and I want to fuck you so badly.” He’s the one whining now.

“Can I ride you?” You ask him like that’s even a question.

“Fuck yeah you can.”

You eagerly climb back up to straddle him, wasting no time lining him up with your entrance and sliding down on his cock. It’s still a stretch but you’re so wet it hardly hurts. You rock back and forth a few times once your hips are flush against yours and you moan in unison at the feeling.

“Oh sh- shit, your pussy is so fucking t- tight. Feels better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Yeah? Your cock is so fucking big, filling me up so good Eds.”

You start riding him hard and fast, your ass bouncing against his thighs, your tits on full display and you’re moaning his name over and over again like a prayer. He has one hand on your ass, grabbing it so hard you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise there tomorrow, and you honestly hope you do. He brings the thumb of his free hand up to your bottom lip and runs it across it.

“Suck.”

You do, happily, swirling your tongue around the digit and moaning at the feeling of having something in your mouth while your pussy is being filled too. He pulls it out and you’re about to mourn the loss but then he’s rubbing circles on your clit and fucking up into you to meet your thrusts.

He starts fucking you so fast that you can’t keep up, you put your hands on his chest, your nails digging into his flesh and just let him take you. He’s fucking you hard and fast, his cock hitting just the right spot while he continues to circle your clit.

“Eddie I’m c - close I-I’m close.” Your babbling and drooling, fucked out and on the brink of what you know is going to be a mind altering orgasm.

“Me too Angel, I need you to cum for me. Cum all over my cock just like you dreamed about when you were humping your little pillow.” His feet are flat on the mattress and he’s somehow fucking you harder than he was before. When you cum your vision goes white, pleasure jolts through your entire system and you aren’t even sure you’re on this planet anymore.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum, where do you?”

Eddie talking brings you back to earth just enough to respond, to tell him what you want.

“Inside! Eddie please inside! I want you to cum inside me so bad!” You start to meet his thrusts, he’s still rubbing your clit and you’re so sensitive you already feel another orgasm coming on.

“Oh fuck!!!” Eddie cries out as his thrusts slow down to pumps and his cum spills inside you. The feeling sends you over the edge, cumming right along with him. Your walls squeeze him for all he’s worth.

When you come down you let yourself fall onto his chest, both of you panting, your hearts pounding. You lay like that for a while, catching your breath and enjoying the feeling of each other. Eventually your knees start to cramp and you slide off of him, settling at his side with your head on his chest.

“I’m gonna fuckin marry you someday.”

You laugh, even though he doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

“Yeah? I think I’d like that. Then my underwear will stop going missing because we will live in the same house.”

You both started cracking up at that.

“I’m serious though, can I have some of them back? You really did steal all my best ones…” You looked up at him and pouted, giving him the look.

“That’s not gonna work the same now that I know you’re just using it against me…”

“You sure about that?” You stick your bottom lip out further and make your eyes even wider.

“Ugh, no. You’re still not getting them back though, I’ll buy you new ones.” He brings his hand up to push your hair out of your face and places a kiss on your temple.

“Why? So you can just take those ones too?” You tease.

“Nah, I have the real thing now. I’d rather take them off you.”

Tagging the bbs: @the-unforgivenn @lokis-army-77 @gravedigginbbydoll @bettyfrommars @eddiemunson95 @melodymunson @bangaveragewhitewine

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie munson x reader smut #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie munson x perv!reader #Eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine

[cinnamon-galaxies]

Hi! I saw that your request box was open. Could I request a Alastor x fem!reader who is a mornigstar, charlie's older sister and she is engaged with Alastor. In episode 5, Dad beat Dad, I thought their relationship is kept secret and was revealed later on shocking lucifer and their friends

Dad beat Fiancé beat Dad

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Reader / Alastor x Morningstar!Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, (a little bit of) fluff, secret relationship/engagement, Alastor vs Lucifer, Morningstar!Reader, Fem!Reader

Warnings: language/swearing, kiss, argument/bickering, reader is Charlie’s older sister, English is not my first language!

Summary: You are Charlie's older sister and secretly engaged to Alastor. When your sister invites your father to the hotel to ask for his help with her rehabilitation program, you look forward to his arrival. However, things take a turn when tensions escalate between your father and your fiancé, leading to heated bickering. Overcome with frustration, you finally lash out and accidentally reveal your engagement to the King of Hell and the hotel's residents.

Wordcount: 5.4k

A/N: This one turned out so long! I really hope you like it and that the story meets your expectations! English is not my first language so I want to apologize for possible grammar and spelling mistakes. I really tried my best to make as few mistakes as possible!

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“Well, I’m actually running a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. Maybe you saw our commercial,” you heard your younger sister speak into the telephone, releasing a nervous chuckle here and there. Then a sigh escaped her lips. “Listen, dad, I’ve got kind of a big ask…”   You stood a few feet away and stared at her, unsure what to think of this whole idea. Was it really that smart to ask your father to organize another meeting with heaven? The last one already didn’t end well. But what other choice was left for you? Still, it released a weird feeling inside your guts, now that you watched Charlie calling your dad, since your and your sister’s relationships with him were kind of… special. Your father tended to distance himself from the both of you for the most time, bathing in his own emotional dilemma and not even trying to do anything about it. Thus neglecting the both of you. Well, at least he called your sister five months ago regarding that meeting with Adam in heaven’s local embassy. But when it comes to you it’s been even longer since you’ve talked. Maybe a year? Or even longer. You didn’t actually know and also some part within you didn’t even want to. But what you knew is that you missed him. Although, in contradiction, you weren’t really fond of him at the moment. It’s not that you didn’t love him. He was your father, regardless, and you both shared a lot of wholesome and fun memories. But since your mother had left him seven years ago, things had turned out strange and you didn’t really approve of his weird-ass behavior towards you and your sister. Still, you hoped your father would agree to help you out. Maybe, just maybe, there was a probability that you saw him again. You had so much to tell him. Your life has changed a lot since you started supporting your sister in the hotel. And even before, when you met Alastor…

Lost in your thoughts you missed parts of the phone call and as your consciousness returned to reality, you saw your sister taking the phone down and ending the call. Curious about the outcome you cocked your head. “What did he say?”

   “Well,” Charlie stared at an empty space for a brief moment, “it seems that dad will be coming over.”

   Your mouth fell agape and your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, really?” you asked her and a huge smile grew on your face. “That’s awesome! When?”

   Charlie proudly straightened her back and stemmed her hands into her hips. “We have an hour until he gets here.”

   You turned around to face the other residents who sat on the couch and raised your voice, “Okay people. Dad’s on his way, so we’re getting this place presentable and we are all going to make an amazing impression. Let’s go!”

   That’s when Vaggie spoke up, “That’s a great idea! Husker, Angel and I will go get some decorations for the lobby,” her eyes wandered down to Niffty, “Niffty, you and Sir Pentious will bake some cookies so we have something to eat when it’s time for coffee.”

   Nifty nodded exaggeratedly, almost vibrating from that force she put into her motion. She instantly grabbed Sir Pentious’s hand and dragged him down the hallway towards the kitchen. When Husker, Angel and Vaggie went to get the decorations from the storage room you and Charlie were left alone. 

   “Are you as excited as I am?” You asked her with a moving voice and examined your sister expectantly. It was no secret that Charlie took that whole situation with your father a bit differently from you. While you almost imploded waiting to get a chance to meet him again, your sister was more reserved and kept herself a bit more distant from him. Even though she was the one your father seemed to favor when it came to dealing with the conflict with heaven. It didn’t matter that you were the older daughter… 

   “Ahm… I don’t know,” Charlie responded nervously stroking her neck, “I mean, yes, I am. But at the same time…” She hesitated and you put your hand on her shoulder.

   “Don’t worry, sis. I can understand,” you reassured her with a calm voice and smiled at her with genuine eyes. You could feel her shoulders relax under your supporting gesture.

   “Thank you,” she responded and returned your smile. “It’s just… You know, since he and mom split, I often don’t feel like his daughter anymore. Yet he sounded very excited to come over.”

   You took a deep breath and removed your hand from her shoulder. “We’ll see how things are going when he arrives.”

   Charlie chuckled. “Well, I think you should go and inform Alastor about our special guest,” she requested, raising her eyebrows in concern. Charlie was the only person at the hotel who knew about your secret relationship with him. When you decided to knock on the door to propose your support to your sister, you and Alastor were already dating. In fact, you were the one who dragged him here because – regardless of his fearful and sketchy reputation – you knew he’d make a great hotelier and protector for the residents during future exterminations. But you both didn’t introduce yourselves as a couple right away. Instead, you found common ground in letting your sister know but keeping it hidden from the other residents. There were several reasons you both had decided against making your relationship public: Alastor’s reputation as the Radio Demon, yours as Lucifer’s oldest daughter, the gossip, the media… These and many more were all things you didn’t want to deal with. Especially since Alastor was a very private person who despised showing affection outside his private space and you, as a person who had no desire to brag about your partner, were totally fine with it. What happened in private chambers stayed in private chambers. That was your agreement, and if you let your friends know about your relationship, there would be too much risk that it would eventually become public. The only other person next to Charlie, and outside the hotel, who knew about your and Alastor’s connection, was his decades-long friend Rosie.

Repeating your sister's request in your head you nodded in agreement. It was the best to prepare Alastor. Even though an hour alone wouldn’t be long enough for him to digest the fact that he was about to meet your father. “Oh, I think he’ll be excited about the news,” you responded with a sarcastic tone and couldn’t help but release a malicious laugh. Oh, how much he will hate this...

You heard Charlie laughing along and shaking her head in amusement. But as quickly as the amusement appeared, it disappeared as you continued to think about the fact that Alastor was actually going to meet your father. With a deep breath you dropped your smile and lowered your voice. “Do you think it would be a good idea to tell dad about Alastor and me?”

   “Ahm…” Charlie seemed to think about it more carefully before commenting, “I actually don’t know… I wish I could tell you but that’s something you and Alastor have to decide. First of all, I’d wait until after they had their first impressions of each other. Then… maybe… introduce him to the truth? I mean, if you and Alastor plan to stay together, what I hope – I mean… It’s obvious, why else would you date if it isn’t for staying together?” She chuckled at how much she was lost in her words and cleaned her throat. “I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that it would be beneficial for your shared future if you let dad know. At least at some point in the future.”

   You nodded in understanding and gifted her a slight smile. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll talk to him about this later. First of all, I need to prepare him for meeting his soon-to-be father in law.” You laughed and excused yourself before you left the lobby and went upstairs.

   When you arrived at Alastor’s radio station you knocked on the door.

   “You may come in!” you heard Alastor’s dulled voice through the door and opened it. When you entered the radio station you immediately saw him sitting at his desk, leaning over some papers and holding a pen in his hand. When you closed the door, he placed the pen to the side and turned to look at you.

   “Why hello, darling,” he greeted you, his signature smile on his face but his red eyes revealing a neutral expression. “What brings you here?”

   “Well...” You took a deep breath and strolled towards him with your hands folded behind your back and your lips pressed to your teeth. “I’ve got some news for you that you’ll probably hate.”

   “Oh?” he responded curiously and tilted his head to the side. His red hair swayed with the movement.

   You arrived at his desk and leaned against the tabletop, your front mostly faced towards him. You tilted your head in the same direction as he did and couldn’t manage to suppress an amused smile. “My dad will be here in less than an hour,” you said with a cocky voice and watched Alastors expression shift as his lips curled up around his smile and his eyes immediately twitched. An awkward silence fell over the room before he broke it with a snippy tone, “You’re right. I hate that news.” His neck returned to a straight and more natural position and you chuckled.

   “Vaggie’s the one to blame. She came up with the idea that Charlie should call him to ask for help because she could no longer bear seeing my sister ripping her hair out in despair over her missing rehabilitation success,” you explained and a growl escaped Alastor’s throat. He already didn't like Vaggie and now he probably liked her even less.

   “Splendid,” he said without enthusiasm and stood up from his chair, grabbing his microphone cane and leaning on it. Now taller than you, you had to tilt your head back to be able to look him in the eyes. “How about I excuse myself and disappear for another set of seven years?”

   “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” you responded, raised your index finger and waved it in front of him. “You will stand your ground and behave. It’s just my dad.”

   “He’s the king of hell, darling.”

   “And that's why you'll be going down there and prove to him that you're a worthy partner for his princess daughter.”

   He gritted his teeth and your smile widened as you nonchalantly brushed the wrinkles out of his coat.

   “Are you questioning my abilities, darling?” He asked, placing one of his hands on top of yours, thus stopping your movements and squeezing it.

   You felt your cheeks blush at his affectionate action and stepped closer to him, your body now close enough that it almost touched his. You could feel the warmth radiating off him and tilted your head slightly, your eyes still locked with his. “No, I’m not. And that’s exactly why I want you to do as I said.”

   “Oh, is her dear royal highness misusing her mightiness to give me an order?” he asked with a low and unusually soft voice and a shiver ran down your spine. Oh, how you loved it when he became flirty. His charm was able to captivate you instantly, weakening your legs and waking those tingling butterflies in your stomach. He removed your hands from his coat and pulled you closer to him. Your body now touching his, you felt the urge to rest your head into the crook of his neck but resisted.

   “She indeed is. And you better behave, peasant,” you teased him back and Alastor narrowed his eyes at you degrading him like this.

   He let go of one of your hands and instead cupped your cheek before using his fingers to lift your chin up. “You seem to forget that I’m your finacé”, he purred, leaning in closer until only a few inches separated your noses from touching. His hot breath stroked your face and you could’ve sworn that his eyes had turned to a darker hue.

   Without further hesitation he pulled you into a tender kiss. His lips brushed over yours and you leaned in closer, succumbing yourself completely to him. Your free hand roamed up and slid through his hair, pressing his face closer to yours. After a few moments of togetherness both of you let go of each other.

   “We should return to the foyer. My dad can arrive any minute,” you said and stroked his cheek before heading towards the door. You could hear Alastor sigh behind you.

   “Just as a reminder: I can’t promise you things will go well.”

   You rolled your eyes as you left the radio station together. “At least try.”

   After you entered the foyer most preparations were already done and it didn’t take long until your father arrived. Your body was shaking from excitement as you and Charlie went up to the door and your sister opened it.

   "Charlie!,” your father shouted with joy. A huge grin sat on his face and his yellow eyes sparkled as his gaze fell on your sister who stood much closer to him. He held out his arms and approached her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

   “It’s good to see you too, dad,” Charlie pressed through the tight hug of her father, overwhelm and a little bit of uncomfort in her expression.

   When Lucifer let go of her his eyes fell on you. "Y/N! You’re here too?” his pupils dilated in surprise and you immediately found yourself wrapped in his arms as well.

   “Dad!” you greeted him as you placed your hands around his torso and squeezed, the soft fragrance of his cologne entering your nose. He smelled the same he always did, the scent taking you back to the past when your family was still together and healthy. It was wonderful to be this close to him after such a long time and you wished this moment could last longer. You looked to the side and saw Alastor standing near your sister. But what you didn’t see was one of his eyes twitching at your father’s gesture.

   You let go of each other and Charlie held out her hand, spinning and pointing at the lobby. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

   The other residents greeted him with waving hands from afar and your father smiled back at them, walking through the lobby and letting his gaze wander around. “Wow, this place looks, uh…” he twisted his mouth in an unpleasant manner and frowned, searching for the right words. He chuckled nervously and you and Charlie exchanged glances as he stammered around, turning to the side and surveying the establishment as if he was a property inspector. You could tell that nervousness spread across Charlie’s face as she probably hoped his words wouldn’t be too dismissive. You shrugged your shoulders at her to dismiss your father’s unsettling behavior and followed him.

   “What do you think, dad?” you dared to ask him in hopes he’d come up with a response a little faster if you pushed on him a little.

   “It’s got a lot of character,” he eventually said and winched with a squeak when he turned around and laid eyes on the bar. “What in the unholy hell is that?” he asked repulsively and pointed to the swampy-looking counter decorated with skulls and two full snake skeletons wrapped around the poles. The green wood paneling disrupted the noble red wallpaper of the looby, making it appear like an eyesore amidst the otherwise mostly luxurious decor.

   A dark shadow crawled around the floor and took the form of Alastor who appeared right next to him. “Just some of the renovations we had done! ” he explained, pointing his cane at the bar, his signature smile wide and confident before he turned towards Lucifer and leaned on his cane. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?”

   “And you are?” Lucifer asked with raised eyebrows, a skeptical tone in his voice.

   You, again, exchanged glances with Charlie and held your breath. The moment has come in which your father and your financé had their first contact and somehow you got the feeling that this won’t end well. Your sister seemed to be fearing the same and she stepped closer to you. Her presence calmed your tension at least a little. 

   “Alastor,” your finacé introduced himself, “Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure!” He shook your fathers hand and you could see the disapproval in both their eyes, before they let go. Your father grimaced while Alastor wiped his hands over his coat.

   This most definitely won’t end well. But before you and Charlie could say something, Alastor continued, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.”

   You breathed in sharply. Your father didn’t seem to take his comment well as his expression immediately turned to annoyance. You and Charlie both approached them, your sister standing next to your father while you kept closer to Alastor. You really hoped that he’d notice your disapproval over how things were going and slow down a bit. But you knew him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t notice the tension in the room and also wouldn't care if he did.

   “Who is this?” your father asked, his eyes fixated on the demon before him. “Who’s this now? Are you the bellhop?”

   Alastor laughed in response. “No! I’m the host of the hotel. You might’ve heard of me from my radio broadcast,” he explained.

   Your father pretended to ponder his words for a very short moment but then denied with a derogatory snort. “Nope! I guess that’s why Charlie called it the ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” He laughed at his pun, this time more maliciously. The tension grew stronger and you didn’t even realize that you held your breath and pressed your fists so tightly together that your nails painfully stung your palms. Your sister, on the other hand, nervously rubbed her hands.

   Hiding his offense, Alastor piled into your father’s laughter, “It was actually my idea.”

   “Well, it’s not very clever!” your father responded, increasing his laugh.

   Alastor did the same and leaned in closer, “Fuck you.”

   “Alastor!” you yelled at him in shock and disbelief over his rude words and took him by his arm, dragging him to the side while your sister shoved your father into the other direction.

   “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you scolded him with a lowered voice to keep your conversation as private as possible. He’d never been someone who cussed so why did he have to do this now of all times?

   “He started it,” Alastor explained, keeping his face turned in the other direction to avoid eye contact.

   You breathed in sharply, anger boiling within you as you hissed, “I don’t care about who did what. You were supposed to make a good impression!”

   “Excuse me, dear, but it seems that your father and I don’t get along. And this seems to be based on mutuality. I don’t know if you noticed this but he already looked at me disapprovingly before we even exchanged words.”

   Oh, you did notice this. But you didn’t care because in this moment it was important for both of them to at least pretend to tolerate each other. You couldn’t afford your father and your finacé to already disembowel each other during their first encounter. Important aspects of your shared future relied on their correlation. And… Was Alastor even listening to you?!

   You snatched his cane out of his hands and spinned it around.

   Alastor finally turned to look at you, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows pushed together. His gaze became softer as he eyed your expression but he still seemed tense.

   “You’ll put this right, Alastor. Or otherwise…” You don’t finish your sentence and instead poke the pointy end of his cane between his ribs.

   “Fine,” he growled and took his cane back.

   You both turned around and saw Charlie pushing your father in your direction, her arm resting on his shoulder while she talked to him insistently with a calm but worried voice, “Without Alastor, we wouldn’t have been able to pretty it up this much!”

   Alastor took a step closer, tapping his fingertips on his cane. “Charlie has a very unique vision,” he started and stood next to her, forcing himself to sound as honest and courteous as possible, “I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests.”

   “Thank you, Alastor”, your sister responded, ignoring your frowning father who looked anything but amused.

   Alastor continued, “Quite an impressive young lady. We’re all very proud of her.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Charlie gave him a genuine smile before he let go and turned towards you. “And her sister, Y/N, well…” He laid his red eyes on you with a genuine and almost loving smile and rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in an almost unnoticeable but reassuring manner. “She’s an extraordinary being. Introduced me to this very special place so we can give her sister all the support and assistance she needs.”

   You smiled at him, grateful that he followed your request to at least try to make things right.

   Your father growled and narrowed his eyes as he noticed the way Alastor looked at you, the demon’s hand on your shoulder triggering his already strained nerves. He snatched his head in the other direction to face your sister. “Charlie… Why don’t you introduce me to your other friends?”

   “Oh, yes, of course!” she called out and walked up to the other residents. “This is Vaggie. She’s my girlfriend!” She pulled Vaggie with her who shyly raised her hand in a reserved greeting gesture.

   Your father laughed and his mood immediately switched from annoyance to excitement. “Oh my golly! You like girls? So do I! We have so much in common!” He pulled Vaggie in a rushed embrace, letting her go as fast as he got close to her. “She’s beautiful!”

   You felt your heart sink in your chest at your father’s opposite reaction to your sister’s partner and a strike of anxiety hit you at the thought of telling him the truth about you and Alastor. It wasn’t only the fact you both were a couple that made you this insecure but the fact that you were even engaged to him.

   Alastor seemed to sense your inner tension and squeezed your shoulder again, now with more pressure and you were grateful for him that he hadn’t removed his hand yet. His closeness was exactly what you needed at this moment. You moved a bit closer to him, hoping that you both didn't appear too close in the other eyes, and breathed in his scent while your thoughts raced in your head. You reviewed the events again and realized that Alastor was right. You had little reason to be so angry (only) at him because your father didn’t really behave either from the first second. Hopefully you could somehow dismiss this conflict as a matter of miscommunication between them.

   You watched your sister introduce your father to the other residents which he seemed to get along with very well – contrary to your finacé who seemed to be the only one he immediately despised.

   You sighed and that’s when your father turned around to face the lobby. With a determined expression he raised his voice so everybody could hear him, “Well, it looks like I could give you some help. With a little bit of alakazam,” he wiggled his fingers, indicating a magic spell, “we could turn this place into something much more appealing! I mean, who needs a busboy now that you got the chef?” He faced Alastor with narrowed eyes and poked his elbow teasingly into Charlie’s side.

   You could feel Alastor’s grip on your shoulder tightening. His smile turned into a strained grin as he obviously thought about saying something. You begged that he kept his mouth shut to not reinforce their conflict… 

   “Well, Charlie…” your father continued before Alastor could even say something, “I’m not almighty but I could give you a lot. Almost anything, if you ask for it. You know, normally, I’d charge a lot for my help but since you’re my daughter and I love you with all my heart, it’s a matter of course I do it for free. Unlike that sketchy prick who probably has some devious intentions in his mind.” He raised his cane and pointed at Alastor.

   Charlie blinked a few times and pressed a nervous and drawled ‘Thank you…’ through her uncomfortable smile. It was obvious that she didn’t approve of your father’s comment but she also didn’t want to increase the drama by intervening.

   Alastor took his hand off your shoulder and leaned on his cane. “At least I’ve been here from the start,” he commented and eyed his claws with a hint of arrogance.

   You breathed in sharply but tried your best to keep your patience up as Alastor continued his monologue. “Let's not forget that I’ve always been faithful to you, Charlie. I support you, care for you and this hotel, and execute whatever you demand”, he exclaimed with such confidence that it was almost awkward listening to him.

   “That’s true,” your sister responded carefully with a grateful smile on her face and your father rolled his eyes. “You know, dad, Alastor does a lot for the hotel and its residents.”

   “No matter his capabilities, because sometimes, Charlie, there’s no substitute for pure angelic power, which – not to forget – also happens to be your blood!”

   “Dad…” Charlie sighed and you growled, the anger cooking inside of you.

   “Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud,” Alastor interfered again, his grin still as prominent as always but his eyes narrowed, darting invisible arrows at Lucifer. He straightens his back to appear even taller in comparison to your father, the arrogance undeniable in his expression. “Seems like the family you chose is better.”

   “You’re such a loser!” your dad spat out.

   “And yet here you are proving me right with every word you speak,” Alastor snatched back.

   “You know nothing, you prick!”

   “Well, unlike you, I don’t abandon my responsibilities!”

   “How do you dare question my commitment?”

   “At least I care for your daughters.”

   “Oh you tacky little piece of–!”

You jumped between them. “Shut the fuck up! Both of you!”

 you yelled as your anger burst through the walls you’ve tried to maintain hold of. Your voice cracked with the strain of suppressed fury and your appearance began to morph into a much more demonic form as pointy horns grew out of your head and your eyes turned a gleaming bloody red. “I’m sick of you bickering like children, you fucking attention whores! Is this how you get your kicks, by not being able to keep your mouths shut over such trivial nonsense? Do you even realize how goddamn irritating it is for the rest of us to be subjected to your constant squabbling? You know each other for ten minutes and already start pushing each other to the limits!”

   “Y/N–,” Alastor tried to interrupt you but you stretched out your arm, pushing him away from you.

   “No, Alastor, back the fuck off!” you scream, looking up in his red eyes and poking his chest angrily with your index finger. “Everytime I tell you to keep your shit together and make a good impression, you make things worse!”

   Your head snatches around and you now stare at your father with the same fury in your eyes. “And you, dad, stop your irresponsible nonsense and don’t taunt him as if he were a punching bag for your own insecurities!” Now you poke at your father’s chest, towering over him with floating hair and fire in your eyes. “Because Alastor’s right! Where have you been all the time? Instead of helping us and supporting Charlie in her project, you didn't even contact us! Especially not me! The last time I heard from you was over a year ago! And now you come here, finally ready to help your daughters, and the moment you arrive you start lashing out at my fiancé to deflect from your own mistakes because you can't stand the fact that he was there for us while you preferred to wallow yourself in your depression!”

   Silence fell over the room when you finished your rant, all eyes locked on you in shock and disbelief over your courage to attack the Radio Demon and the King of Hell himself in such a manner. Your heart raced, pumped your blood through your veins with such a pressure that you felt your whole body pulsating under your tension as relief washed over you.

   “Y–,” your dad tried to say, stuttering and completely overwhelmed by your confrontation and what you just revealed to him. “You–, Your… fiancé?” He ripped his eyes open, his mouth agape in disbelief.

   You breathed in heavily and closed your eyes for a brief moment, realizing what you just revealed, before you opened them again and responded to his question with a much calmer but also weak and tired voice, “Yes, dad. Alastor is my fiancé.”

   “What the fuck?” you could hear Angel exclaim in the background but ignored him.

   “Well…” your father hesitated. He struggled hard to find the right words and put his hand over his mouth, rubbing his skin like a stress ball. “Well, I’m… Wow…”

   Alastor approached you, his steps echoing from the high walls in the silent room and he put his hand on your shoulder. Feeling his touch through your blouse, caused a jolt of electricity to rush through your body. It erased the rest of your anger and your appearance returned to your normal form. Alastor’s presence calmed you down to an almost relaxed state. You felt the need to lean on him but resisted because everything that just happened was already enough – for you, for your father, your fiancé and all the other residents who were forced to witness this nerve-wrecking spectacle.

   You watched your father’s gaze roam over Alastor’s presence, from his head to his toes and from his toes back to his head.

   “I–, I don’t know what to say… Uh… I–... I’m speechless,” he stuttered, unable to look away from the man that stood next to you and encouraged you with a little but meaningful gesture and with who you wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. “I–, excuse me. I need some time to think.”

   Your father indicated to turn around and leave as your sister grabbed him by his arm, holding him back. “Would you like me to give you a tour around the hotel?” she asked him reassuringly in hope he would agree, what he then did.

   “Yes. Please.”

   Your sister gave you an encouraging look before she turned around and guided your father towards the stairs, Vaggie following right after to accompany them.

   Now, you and Alastor were alone with Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk and Niffty. All of them stared at you, speechless. Especially Husk appeared a bit traumatized by your accidental announcement.

   “So… Mister fancy-talk-creepy-voice managed to slide into the royal family?” Angel asked you with interest but you raised your hand, interrupting him.

   “Stop it, Angel.”

   The spider demon pressed his lips together in a thin line and hummed.

   You turned towards Alastor. “Are you mad?” you asked him, afraid that you damaged his trust by revealing your biggest secret you had sworn to keep.

   Alastor leaned his head down sideways to look you in the eyes. His grin was replaced by a genuine smile as his red eyes surveyed your expression. “It’s alright, my dear.”

   He looked over to the other residents, walking a few steps closer to them and cocked his head in an unnatural and unnerving way. His antlers grew in size with pointy ends while his eyes changed to a black color with red, moving radio dials as irises. “If you dare say a single word about mine and Y/N’s relationship outside of the hotel, I will tear you apart and hang your guts as flags on the hotel roof so everybody will be able to see what happens if you dare gossip about the radio demon and his lady.”

*****

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #reader fic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor fluff #alastor comfort #alastor has beef with lucifer #x reader #female reader #alastor vs lucifer #alastor oneshot #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel x y/n #lucifer hazbin hotel #morningstar reader

[rootbeerworshiper]

hands on learning

virgin!matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summery: finding out new information about your best friend has made you realize he has lots left to learn, and you’re more than willing to offer a helping hand.

warnings: smut!! fem!recieving, riding, overstimulation, slight orgasam denial, fingering, unprotected sex, slight corruption kink

a/n: i feel like i disappeared from writing on my page for a while because i’ve been helping with so many other accounts butttt i hope this makes up for my absence

dedicated to my love @luv4kozume

4.5k words

love, sienna <3

“there’s no way” you gawk, sitting up in bed next to your best friend who’s beneath you with a sure expression plastered on his face. “there has to have been a girl from highschool or something”

his cheeks flush a light shade of pink, his body making it clear just how embarrassed he really is. “i’m serious” he says, shrugging as he sits up to be eye level with you.

you think for a second, silence filling the air surrounding you. “what about Alexis? you had a thing with her for a while didn’t you?”

he rolls his eyes, leaning back into the headboard as his legs shift slightly to get more comfortable. “you’re never gonna let this go are you?”

you scoff, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you look to him. “you’re telling me, Matt Sturniolo, my best friend, is a virgin?”

he nods, causally as if this is the most normal information you could possibly gather—it’s far from that. “but you’re like…. hot” you say.

he chuckles slightly, shaking his head as it dips below his neckline, once again flustered. “i don’t think being ‘hot’ has anything to do with it” he mumbles under his breath.

your eyebrows furrow together, the pieces in your brain attempting to form a complete puzzle. “is that not exactly what it has to do with? like you could pull easy”

“what makes you say that?” he asks, a new sense of seriousness backing his tone as his eyes glimmer in your direction, causing a slight pit in your stomach.

you and Matt have always had a complicated friendship. the two of you technically dated back in freshman year of highschool but neither of you count it, instead staying steady in your friendship. but you can’t deny the tension that’s remained since, no matter how badly you wanted it to go away it was inevitable.

hearing the information of him being a virgin though? completely mind boggling to you.

you’ve thought about him in that position more times than you can’t count, part of you always wishing to see him that way, all flustered and sensitive under your touch. so new to any pleasure that you can provide to him.

but you had assumed a long time ago you lost your chance to witness that, to watch the innocence leave his body.

sex had never been a huge topic of discussion in your friendship, but usually with the two of you nothing was off limits, so you find it hard to believe he’s lying about this innocence instilled in him.

“don’t play dumb, even you know you’re attractive” you breath out, slightly annoyed at his need for you to spell it all out for him, it’s making you feel more desperate than you’d like. “you know how to talk too, i’ve seen the way you joke around with me, there’s no way you don’t have girls falling on their knees to get with you”

he seems to speak before his mind can even comprehend the words escaping his lips. “i’m only like that with you” his mouth cuts himself off, lips shutting before more words leave.

“only like what? you only flirt with me?” you ask, taunting him slightly as you use this new found sense of power to boost your self esteem.

his nails make their way to the back of his neck, trying desperately to scratch away the humiliation lingering. “well… i guess? i just feel comfortable around you or whatever, this doesn’t have to become a thing”

a new idea sets it self comfortably in your head, your salivary glands leaking to create a pool in your mouth as your imagination takes off. “have you thought about having sex with me?” he coughs, caught off guard at your sudden boldness. “you know, you’re so comfortable around me, what have you pictured me doing?”

the boy reverts his attention to avoid you, the topic causing a new restlessness in his small actions, only further intriguing you. “i think you’ve lost your mind” he lets out a breathy laugh as if to ease the tension you’ve created, but you want the tension to remain more than anything.

“i’ve thought about you” you say simply, earning a quick turn of the head followed by a shocked expression on his face.

he swallows, his eyes flickering around you as he tries to search for a hint of some form of a joke, a cruel lie maybe. but he can’t find anything. “now you’re being ridiculous”

you avoid the slight tang of hurt that attempts to infiltrate your chest, because part of you wants this more than you’re sure he does. “i’m dead serious. i’ll help you”

his eyebrows feather together, but he can’t kind the hope that fills his light blue irises, the desire for you is simply inescapable. “help me have sex?”

your lips spread to a smile. “sure. as your best friend i can’t let you be bad at sex with some girl you really like, so i’ll make sure you’re good”

the plan was simple, transactional even. you teach him how to give and receive pleasure and in return he won’t have an awkward actual first time with some innocent unsuspecting girl.

silence clouds the air in his bedroom for a moment, it’s as if you can see every thought in his brain as he mentally weighs his options.

as much as you maybe shouldn’t, your eye-line focuses on hands that twiddle together aimlessly, the mere size of them being enough to interest you—let alone the veins that coat the back of them.

it’s impossible to not let your mind wander a bit. he’s your best friend, maybe it’s not normal to be imagining him in such revealing positions but it seems as if it’s a thought your subconscious is more than okay with crafting.

“and we stay friends after this?” he asks the question that you’ve been asking yourself, the question that’s been torturing you.

you’re already in love with Matt’s personality, with his goofiness and sarcastic humour. you love him to death as it is—but it’s hard to imagine what being intimate with him will do to your psyche. “we stay friends, no strings attached”

the brunette thinks for a moment longer, ultimately coming to a conclusion. “okay, deal. but what’s in it for you?” he asks, a shot of anxiousness shooting through your stomach.

what’s in it for you? besides having sex with your best friend? not a lot.

“it’ll help me sleep at night knowing you’re not making girls fake their orgasams” you smile smugly, selling that faux answer as the truth. “we don’t have to you know, no pressure”

he almost jumps out of his position on the comforter, terrified that he’ll lose the opportunity to do what’s consumed his head for years. “no i want to, i do”

you almost let out a laugh at his newfound willingness but you fight the urge, instead shifting your body on top of his, straddling his lap before he has a chance to get another word in.

he looks up at you, his beady, unexplored eyes only making the tension between your legs grow impossibly more needy.

your arms find solitude on his shoulders, the back of your wrists resting gently as his own hands remain stagnant on his sides.

“what have you done?” you ask, fingers gently grazing the skin on the sides of his neck. “just so i know what we need to work on” also because you’re incredibly curious to know every detail.

he sniffles, eyes looking everywhere but your own as you stare down at him. “um just with Alexis i used my uh hands or whatever” his eyes look at you now and it takes everything in you to not become a puddle on his lap.

“so you fingered her?” your voice is different now, quieter but more focused on the musicality of your words, praying mentally that they flow right to his spine.

they do. “yeah i guess i did” he coughs out, hands still not being put to good use. this is until your hips roll ever so slightly, just enough to cause his hands to shoot up off the blankets.

“you can touch me you know, i don’t bite” you smile, teasing applying a strong pressure on his lap as you feel him grow beneath you at the friction. his hands trail up your sides delicately, testing the waters. “can i kiss you?” you whisper, feeling the need to ask. sex is one thing, but for whatever reason kissing feels like a bigger step.

he doesn’t reply, for once taking charge and bringing your lips down to his in a hungry surge of energy. the kiss sends currents through every nerve that lies in your lips, the plush closeness could leave you dizzy.

he has now put his hands to use, one ringed hand cupping your jaw while the other rests gently on your lower back. the kiss is nice, it’s a simple exchange that only proves to you that you need more of him. so as your lips move in a rhythm, you can’t fight the urge to grind yourself onto him mid kiss, causing his mouth to break the exchange and open slightly at the sensation.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, because realistically, this experience is for him more than it is for your own selfish benefit.

the boy smiles slightly, a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth as if he’s a kid in the candy store who’s allowed to pick any treat he wants. “what do you want from me?” he asks, his fingers moving up and down your back teasingly. “i want you to enjoy this as much as i already know i will”

god you really do love him, it leaves you wondering if you even have anything to teach him. “so…. you fingered that alexis girl.” you pause, trying to find the right words. “did you give her head?” you ask, feeling suddenly exposed for the intrusive question you’re asking.

he shakes his head but doesn’t bother replying with words, instead placing your back onto the bed, allowing him to hover over you. “teach me” his voice is low as he whispers into your ear.

you try your best to speak as he looks down at you “well you should probably start with some foreplay first maybe-“ you start, his lips make contact with your bare neck while his large hands slide up your sides. “maybe that” you gulp.

he seems comfortable with his movements, learning exactly how to make you squirm under him. each kiss he places on your neck has you leaning into him before, somehow you became the desperate one in this dynamic—not that you’re upset by that.

“and then…” his voice is low, quiet as his hands pull up your shirt slightly, looking into your eyes for an agreement.

you give a reassuring nod, eager for his movement to hurry up. but of course, he takes his time, slowly lifting the fabric above your chest while his mouth leaves marks on your neck.

your arms lift up subconsciously, earning a laugh from Matt as he complies, lifting the fabric completely over your head and tossing it gently to the side of his bed. he practically drools at the sight of you under him, licking his lips as he takes in the view—he could definitely get used to this.

after a moment you become impatient, pulling him down by his cheeks to plant another kiss on your lips, which he does willingly, his hands falling on either side of your head as he holds himself up.

it’s short lived when he pulls back. “i’m here to learn how to make you feel good yeah?” he asks, earning a nod in confirmation from you. “well i’d really like to get to that part if you don’t mind” he laughs slightly.

you smile in response. “i just really like kissing you i guess” it’s embarrassing to admit but at this point you’re past that.

“trust me” he leans in to kiss you one more time, his hands now being placed on your chest, fingers running slightly over your clothed nipples. “i do too”

it’s hard to not let things like that get to your head, constantly trying to remind yourself that this is just sex, you’re going to use each other for pleasure and then everything will go back to normal.

you feel hands travelling behind your back, unclasping your bra before you’re even able to sit up and help. that should not have been as hot as it was.

he slips the straps off your arms, fully taking in the new mesmerizing sight in front of him. it would be impossible for him to avoid staring, he’s seen so much of you over the years but this was his favourite yet. “you’re so beautiful” he shakes his head slightly. “you’re always beautiful, you’re just really hot right now”

as much as you really are flattered, you’re also so incredibly desperate. “Matt please touch me” you beg, pulling him down by his shirt.

“yes ma’am” his head dips down to your chest, his soft lips immediately latching onto your perked up nipple while his hands have their fun exploring your body.

it’s like he’s been waiting for this forever, fingers trailing up and down your body as he takes his time on each bud, making a point to leave a few marks on your chest.

he could be at your chest forever, this was something he’s thought about more than he’d like to admit, but he’s also thought about making you feel good, hearing you scream his name over and over. it’s safe to say he’s determined.

as his mouth continues to have fun with your chest, his hand trails up your leg, this time cupping you and placing a pressure on your clothes clit with his palm. you practically jolt forward at the unexpected contact, looking down to see a small smirk on the boy who now placing teasing kisses on your tense stomach.

his fingers start by rubbing slow, small pressurized circles on your throbbing bud, his other hand running its fingers through your hair. he really can’t help but stare, the whole thing still feels like some wet dream.

you feel a small tugging at the waistband of your pants. “can i?” the boy asks, his hair falling over his eyes slightly as he looks to you for permission. you just nod quickly, lifting your hips to allow him the space needed to pull down the fabric, him making it a point to pull down your underwear as well—to say he’s inpatient would be an understatement.

when you feel the fabric get pulled off your ankles you can’t help but keep your thighs together, it suddenly feels very real. Matt notices the sudden hesitation, running his hands from your shins, up your thighs, until both his hands are placed on your waist. “we can stop you know, i can pretend this never happened” he lies, attempting to make you feel better.

“i want this” you start, trying to figure out how to word what you’re about to say. “i just don’t know if i’ll be able to forget this happened. i already wanna do it again and we’ve barely done anything”

what you don’t know is that that sentence of yours is like music to his ears. “good” he dips his head back down to be eye level with your own, his forehead resting on you. “i’ve been wanting to do this forever” his hands come up slightly on your legs, placing a gentle pressure on your knees as he pushes your legs apart.

a shaky breath escapes your lips as his hands trail down to your inner thighs, his focus is much more clear now to say the least. “i can’t believe i get to see you like this” he shifts back down, his lips creating a slight suction on your lower stomach as he continues kissing you.

you try your best to stay still, the teasing nature of his actions making that task near impossible. “are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you spit out, eyes trained on Matt who’s taking his sweet time placing delicate kisses on your inner thighs.

he chuckles softly, clearing having his ego stroked at your praise. “i’m sure” his hands make way to your legs again, lifting them over his shoulders leaving your knees slung over. “tell me what to do”

“um usually you have to get it wet first, using your spit or something” you mutter out, already far gone at the mere thought of what’s to come.

Matt obliges to your advice, letting saliva fall from his mouth onto your throbbing sensitivity, taking a moment to watch as it slides down slowly before speaking again. “and then?”

it’s an uncomfortable thing to just…explain, but as his teacher you’re sort of obligated to. “you could start by kissing it a bit uh”

his lips make an immediate contact with your glistening clit, placing a few soft, open-mouthed kisses over the needy bud. the slowness is torture and you put up quite a fight in order to keep still. “like that?” he asks, his voice raspy now as his hands place a soothing pressure on your hips.

you nod, your hair falling over your face slightly. “you can just try and i’ll tell you if it’s bad”

he laughs a little at your need to receive pleasure, but ultimately agrees. “you have to tell me though” he places another small kiss to your inner thigh. “i wouldn’t wanna be giving out any ‘fake’ orgasams”

it’s clear he’s just teasing but you can already tell that nothing about tonight will be faked.

he starts with his tongue, testing the waters as he licks up and down your folds to gather up the wetness he’s caused, and he studies your every movement. he looks up to focus on how your body reacts to every flick of his tongue on your clit, taking mental notes on how to get you to enjoy it the most.

his melodic movements on your core have you bucking your hips forward to increase the pressure of his pink muscle. “just like that, so good” you moan out.

he smiles onto you, continuing his pace while taking turns between sucking and flicking his tongue, both options have you drenched. you try you best to keep your eyes focused on the messy brown hair that covers you but almost every movement of his fast tongue make you want to throw your head back.

the sounds leaving your mouth are exactly what he’s chasing, the whines you’re letting out only work to make him move faster against you. it takes you a moment to remember that this is a lesson, and you haven’t taught the boy much. “you can- fuck” you moan again. “you can add fingers”

he places one more kiss to your clit before coming back up to meet your eyes with his. “can i kiss you again?” he asks innocently.

you smile, wiping his lip slightly before agreeing and placing his mouth onto yours. it’s safe to say you’re both addicted to the newfound intimacy.

this exchange lasts slightly longer than the last few, you’re tongues gliding alongside one another comfortably. Matt now brings his hand back to your soaked core, catching you off guard as you moan into his mouth.

his fingers toy mindlessly with your clit while he kisses you, and you try your best to return the favour but it’s near impossible to keep your mouth closed. before you can even begin to think straight he inserts a finger into you, slowly curling up as you arch your back onto the mattress. “yeah you like that?” he questions, pulling off of your mouth but keeping his gaze focused on your face.

every twitch in your eyebrows and opening of your saliva covered lips has him eager to see more, to see what else he’s capable of making you feel. he picks up the pace slightly, shifting his body back down yet again as he slips in another finger.

you practically jolt up at the sudden fullness of a second length. as amazing as this is, you have little time to savour it before you feel a familiar tongue on your slit of ecstasy, working faster now than before.

it doesn’t take much of this to have you gripping the sheets and trying to shut your legs over the shaggy brown hair, but he doesn’t let up once, using his elbows to forcibly keep you spread for him. “Matt you’re so good”

your hips can’t help but grind onto his tongue as his fingers repeatedly make contact with your sweet spot. “i’m so” you throw your head back but he pulls his tongue away before you can finish your sentence.

“look at me when i make you feel good yeah?” his fingers continuing pumping in and out at a pace that leaves you speechless, so instead you nod, trying your best to follow directions from the person you were meant to be directing.

it doesn’t take much longer for the sensation in your stomach to build up, your legs shutting over his hand while his fingers relentlessly pump into you. you’re speechless for a moment, a rhythm of moans leaving your saturated lips as he works you through your orgasam.

it’s almost impossible to look at him but you try, most because it still doesn’t feel real that he’s the one causing you this pleasure. he pulls his fingers out before you get overstimulated, licking off his fingers before placing one more kiss to your incredibly sensitive clit, causing you to jolt forward slightly.

when he brings his body back up to meet his eyes to your own you can’t help but ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind. “how are you so good at this?”

he breaths out a laugh, bringing his hands to your sides again. “i guess i’ve been wanting to do it for a while”

you kiss him, because you can now. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in further, his body pressed against your own. you can’t help but feel the imprint on his pants place a gentle pressure on your core as he bites gently on your bottom lip. so you pull off. “it’s your turn to feel good yeah?”

he just nods, as if he wasn’t expecting you to return the favour so eagerly. you smile softly, flipping him over and wasting zero time reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

you brush over his messy hair that begins to cover his eyes, legs straddling his lap as you lean into him. “you’re so pretty like this” you whisper in his ear, running one hand down his exposed stomach while you place teasing kisses to his jaw.

it’s now obvious how inexperienced he really is based on his sensitivity to the touch you’re inflicting on his bare skin. you reach down further, his clothed dick filling your hand causing him to let out a small whimper.

you’re already impatient, fingers threatening to pull down the waistband of his pants. “can i?” you ask, mouth still incredibly close to his ear causing chills on his arms.

“please” he whines, a sound you’d really like to get used to.

you pull down the elastic band of his pants, along with his boxers, granting you full access. “tell me if anything i do isn’t okay, yeah? this needs to be as good for you as it was for me”

he nods again, your fingers placing a delicate touch to the veins that outline his length causing his to hiss. “can you use words please?” you ask, a smirk on your face at the control you know you have.

“yes its okay mmh” he moans out, your body shifting down on the bed slightly to place teasing kissing along his sensitivity.

“what do you want baby?” you ask, spit leaving your mouth and tricking down the tip of his dick, he’s a whole lot bigger than you were expecting.

his eyes shut closed, feathery eyebrows furrowing at the sensation of the warm liquid travelling down. “i want- fuck” you’re hand makes contact against, taking it in fully and stroking up and a teasingly slow pace. “i want whatever you’ll give me”

you smile again, lining your face with his as you cross your legs back over him. it would be really easy to sink down on him immediately, but not nearly as fun—instead you grab the base of his length, running the saturated tip through your folds.

you suppress your own moan, focusing on Matt’s pleasure. “you’ve been really good tonight for me” the sensation of his tip on your clit is addictive, you’re impressed he still hasn’t cum. “still wanna be a virgin?”

he shakes his head immediately. “please no”

“please what?” you tease, his tip lined up with your entrance but not daring to go deeper.

his hands make their way to your hips, fingers digging into the plush skin as he forces you down onto him. your hands fall to the bedding beside his head, elbows almost giving out as he thrusts repeatedly into you. “fuck Matt”

he slows for a moment, looking at you with a softness in his eyes. “this is okay right?”

you laugh in reply, rolling your hips onto him slightly, feeling just how well he fills you up. “this is more than okay, keep going please”

he takes that ask seriously, lifting his hips back up into your core as his tips hits your sweet spot.

it takes everything in him not to come right away, the teasing along with the mere feeling of giving you pleasure had already made him close, and now you’re on top of him with your walls closed around him.

he’s close, and you can tell.

“Matt baby you gotta hold it okay? focus on something else” you advise, brushing your thumb across the boys cheek as he bites his lip to suppress his constant moans.

Matt just nods, instead choosing to refocus on you. he reaches his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit again while the pace of his thrusts into you have you weak.

this refocusing on your pleasure has worked in his favour because now you’re close, his fingers toying with your clit while he continues to hit your sweet spot.

god he’s good.

his pace increases more, he’s now unable to hold back anymore, and you let him because you’re in the same position as him. “fuck i love you so much” he moans out.

you’re not sure how to take the sentence, you’re not even together and now he’s spewing out love confessions, but you also don’t disagree with his words, instead choosing to stay silent as your orgasam overtakes any thought you can muster up.

it’s not long before he’s there with you, accidentally releasing before thinking twice about what he’s doing. “fuck fuck sorry i uh-“

you laugh at his immediate fear. “i’m on birth control you’re okay” you reply out of breath, leaning down to kiss him once more for good measure. “i love you too by the way”

a/n: i hate the ending sm but we’re gonna ignore thattttt (please)

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