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liaromancewriter · 3 months

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Daddy’s Girl

Premise: A poignant moment between father and daughter after the poison attack.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Robert Valentine (OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff. Words: 1,510

A/N: Submission for @choicesjanuary2024 day 16 prompt "relationships". I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 69, prompt 3

Robert Valentine had a plan. He’d graduate from college, sail around the world and then settle down to live out the Valentine legacy of working in the family business. His father also had a plan, and it featured only two of the three items on his list.

Unable to say no to the strict man who’d raised him, Robert gave up his dream of feeling the wind in his hair on the open seas. A chance encounter in Greenwich during summer break from Wharton further altered his plans.

A year later, he was married to a woman who not only shared his love of adventure but actively encouraged his carefree side. Becoming parents hadn’t been part of the plan, at least not so soon after getting married. But fate had other ideas.

As they stared down at the two tiny humans behind the glass of the nursery at Newport Hospital, he gently hooked one arm around Olivia’s waist. The boy was restless while the girl was asleep, their hands lightly touching.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Olivia murmured, still tired, her head resting on his shoulder.

Even though they’d known Olivia was carrying multiples, seeing them was a different reality. On top of that, the twins had arrived a month early. They still hadn’t landed on names or completed the nursery in the townhouse they’d bought near his work.

“We should come up with appropriate names,” he said quietly after a while. “Can’t keep calling them Thing One and Thing Two.”

“Imagine the shock on our parents’ faces if we put that on their birth certificates,” Olivia teased, her eyes swimming with laughter.

Robert chuckled, folding his wife in his arms. Being a father would change him; it was inevitable. But he didn’t have to give up his dreams, just adjust them for two more.

Now, all these years later, Robert watched his daughter’s even breathing as she lay sleeping on the hospital bed and wished he could turn back time to when she was a baby, tucked safe and sound in his arms.

The last two days had been harrowing and emotional. The panicked call from his son in the middle of the night, the long flight to Boston from Paris, the uncertainty about Cassie’s condition, and the anger when he and Olivia were denied entrance into the hospital.

But that was all over now, he sighed in relief. His daughter was no longer on death’s door. It would take time, but he’d been assured she would recover. If he thought Cassie wouldn’t be pissed at him for doubting her precious Dr. Ramsey, Robert would’ve whisked her off to the best specialists in the world for a second opinion.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Cassie’s eyelids fluttering as she slowly awoke. But he heard her whimpers and the sound of sheets rustling. He was out of the chair and by her bedside seconds before her eyes drifted open.

“Hey, kiddo,” Robert smiled softly, taking her hand.

“Daddy?” Cassie said in a confused tone, her voice reed thin and somewhat raspy.

She struggled to sit up, and he placed a steadying hand on her back while pressing a control button on the guardrail to raise the bed’s head. He adjusted the pillow to support her neck and poured a glass of water when she started coughing.

“Better?”

When she nodded, Robert set the glass down on the table. He turned away to drag the visitor’s chair closer to the bed and sat down, covering her hand with his palm. They smiled at each other, matching green eyes.

“You haven’t called me kiddo since I was ten,” she commented, smiling despite the sudden discomfort under her sternum.

The machines she was hooked up to briefly beeped before settling down as the pain subsided. Robert stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Old habits,” he said, taking his eyes off the flashing numbers on the monitor. “You haven’t called me Daddy since you and Max decided that word was for babies.”

“Well, I feel weak as a baby right now, so that could be the reason,” she joked, and then tears filled her eyes, dripping down her cheeks. “I was so scared I’d never see you or Mom again. ”

Robert leaned in and wiped the tears away with his fingers, shushing her the way he used to when she was five and had a nightmare.

“When I was in that room, all I could think of was the last time you took us sailing,” she continued in a watery voice. “It was just before I moved to Boston. The fresh ocean breeze tossing my hair, the taste of salt on our lips as water crashed around us. Max cursing as the unruly waves rocked the boat and almost tipped us over. Your laughter booming in the wind. That feeling of truly being alive.”

Leaving the chair, he sat on the side of the bed and folded her into his arms, mindful of the drip lines and wires.

“You are alive, Cassie honey,” he whispered over and over as sobs wracked her body, and she burrowed her face into his chest. “You’re here, safe in my arms.”

Eventually, the storm passed, and he returned to his seat. The comforting silence stretched, broken only by the beeps and hums of the machines.

“Where’s Mom?”

“At the hotel, hopefully getting some rest,” Robert explained. “She barely slept these last couple of days. Max, too. Your brother pretends to be invincible, but he was running on fumes by the time we got here.”

“Maybe if he drank coffee every now and then,” Cassie said with a wry twist of her lips.

Robert shook his head in amusement and chuckled, well familiar with his children’s opposing views on this matter and their needling of each other as a result.

“Have you seen Ethan?”

“Yes, he dropped by an hour ago to check on you,” Robert replied, hiding his disquiet at how Cassie’s eyes locked on the closed door, waiting for the other man to walk in.

He steepled his index fingers under his chin as he sprawled on the chair, stretching his legs out under the bed. “I take it you’re both still hiding your relationship?”

Robert was glad Cassie at least had the good sense to look abashed. He wasn’t happy with the turn of events, but his wife was convinced it was the real deal and they should give the couple space to work it out. Olivia’s instincts were flawless, which was the only reason he exercised restraint.

“What do you think of him?” she asked, her eyes beseeching him to understand. “You didn’t say anything during or after the weekend in Newport. I really want you to like him, Daddy.”

“He’s certainly different from Jackson or anyone else you’ve dated before,” he said neutrally. “Older, reserved, and perhaps a little austere for my carefree daughter.”

“That’s just the side he shows everyone else,” Cassie said, her voice full of conviction. “He’s different when it’s just the two of us. Granted, our relationship is still evolving, but he cares for me, deeply.”

“I know, Cassie,” Robert said, remembering the tender look in the other man’s eyes earlier. “This isn’t up for debate. But as your father, I’m allowed to be concerned. Gossip from a workplace romance is rarely kind to the woman, especially when there’s a power imbalance.”

He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “You still have two years left in your training here. All I ask is that you be careful and protect your reputation if not your heart.”

Before Cassie could respond, there was a perfunctory knock on the door, and then it swung open. Ethan Ramsey crossed the threshold and suddenly stopped, causing the nurse accompanying him to crash into his back, the tray in her hand rattling before she steadied it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ethan said, his brows furrowing as if sensing he’d stepped into a quagmire. “We need to draw Dr. Valentine’s blood, check her vitals and run a few tests.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, pushing the chair back and standing up. “I’ll let you get on with it while I grab a coffee and check in on Olivia.”

Robert turned to smile down at Cassie. “Why don’t I get you something to eat?”

“Well, I am feeling a bit peckish,” Cassie mused, a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “Hospital food sucks.”

“I’ll ask the chef at the hotel to whip up your favorites.” Robert leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Be good, and no more heroics.”

He nodded at Ethan, who came to stand across from him on the other side of the bed. He noted the softness in Cassie’s eyes, the concern in Ethan’s and felt like a third wheel.

As Robert left the room, he glanced at the nurse, oblivious to their situation, and hoped Cassie heeded his advice. Ethan seemed decent enough, but if he hurt Cassie…. Well, when it came to his children, all bets were off.

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All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @lucy-268 @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate @zealouscanonindeer

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart choices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

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Friendly Sex - Chapter 5 - The Cafeteria

I have flashed my creative licence in this chapter and borrowed some dialogue from The Duffers Brothers, because let's face it we all fell in love with Eddie in the cafeteria and the woods scene, but I have slightly re-jigged the context. We also have a flashback. Here be smut and feelings.

Chapter warnings: (MDI) 18+ only, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, p in v sex, dirty talk, swearing, consensual use of the word slut again, mentions of drugs, spit as lube, slight pain during sex? I am terrible at warnings

"It's a promise "

Eddie's words were ringing in your ears as you selected your outfit for the day. Not that you were picking an outfit to catch Eddie's attention, just like you hadn't intentionally put on a lacy baby pink underwear set. It just so happened to compliment your outfit, an off the shoulder baby pink sweater, paired with a simple black skater skirt and your converse, cute and practical that’s all.

"Sprout, hurry up and get your butt in the car or you're going to be late!" Your Dad calls up as you finish applying your lipstick, it was a little beat up from Eddie's antics but still usable.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you grab your purse, jumping into the idling car on the drive.

"Little overdressed for school aren't you kiddo?" Your dad asks after a couple of minutes

"Uh - they're taking some random pictures of the seniors for the year book today." You reply absentmindedly, flicking down the vanity mirror rooting through your bag for your compact blush.

"Sprout, I may be old but I'm not dumb, are you dating?"

You pause in your search, you hated lying to your dad, but if you were being technical about it you weren't dating. Having casual sex with the local outcast, sure, but definitely not dating.

"No Dad," you laugh uncomfortably, "I'm not dating, there's no one I want to date, well apart from Steve." You add, checking over your appearance in the mirror one last time as he pulls into the school parking lot.

"Ok kiddo, I believe you." His tone said otherwise. "Am I picking you up after school?" He asks as you climb out.

You go to respond but the air is suddenly filled with the sound of heavy metal and the screech of tires, Eddie, you stare as he spins the van recklessly into a parking spot earning the glare of some jocks nearby.

'I do whatever I want to, to ya

I'll nail your ass to the sheets

A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya

I fuck like a beast!'

"Sprout, you ever bring a boy like that home, I'll send you to live with your mother permanently." Your dad says watching Eddie in clear disapproval.

"Uh huh." You mutter weakly, holding onto the car door tightly as Eddie kills the engine.

"So am I picking you up?" He asks again.

"No- uh, I'm going to watch Rob's practice." You reply distractedly.

Eddie spots you from the other side of the car park, a shit eating grin spreading across his face sending a shock of arousal through your body. "Bye Dad." You say quickly, shutting the door and heading off in the opposite direction.

"Hey dingus!" Robin hails you from Steve's car which has just pulled up behind you, Dustin and Mike squeezing out from the back; Hellfire Club t-shirts emblazoning their chests like Eddie's little minions. How they all managed to guilt trip Steve into giving them a lift everyday you'd never know.

He raises his hand in greeting, a smile on his handsome face, you wave back your heart doing its usual sputter.

‘It’s going to be a long day.’ You think to yourself.

The cafeteria was a hive of activity and noise, Robin talking at the speed of a freight train as you grabbed your food trays, barely allowing you time to add in sympathetic noises.

“I mean, am I really that invisible?” She asks you desperately.

“Of course you’re not Rob, maybe she was just focusing on the class.” You offer supportively, heading to your usual lunch table.

“Focusing on the back of Dan’s head more like.” She grumbles, taking a vicious bite out of her slice of pizza.

“Didn’t you say she laughed at your David Bowie joke last week?” You ask, remembering how excited she had been.

“She was just being polite.” Robin mutters miserably you can tell it’s going to be an all-lunchtime funk, so you busy yourself with picking the orange segments out of your fruit cocktail.

“ …sodomy, suicide and even murder!” You glance up quickly hearing Eddie’s voice ring out from a couple of benches over, the usual gang laughing at his antics as he climbs up onto the table, talking loudly so it carries across the cafeteria.

“-but - as long as you’re into band, or science, or paaarties -” He sneers surveying the various cliques, before rounding on the jocks, “-or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!” He yells, making the whole cafeteria fall silent.

You see Jason Carver stand up, looking pissed. “You want something freak?!”

Eddie sticks his tongue out, making devil horns with his fingers, and you can’t hold back the laugh that escapes you, it draws his attention and he winks quickly; shaking your head with a smile as he jumps back down carrying on with his rant the words drowned out by the return of the usual noise.

“Since when did you find Eddie Munson so funny?” Robin asks you suddenly, you realise with a jolt that she’s been watching the entire exchange, you shrug nonchalantly.

“I don’t, it’s just, he's got a point.” You mutter, shoving some fruit into your mouth.

“Mm, fair,” she agrees with a nod “,but not about band though.” she adds quickly, which launches her into another frenetic monologue about band practice tonight and whether she can get Vicki to laugh properly this time.

You zone out completely, eyes on Eddie, who is staring intensely at you as he chews on a pretzel, you raise an eyebrow at him in a silent challenge, watching a grin creep across his face. Biting your lip coyly, you pick up a piece of syrupy fruit with your fingers, tongue laving at the sticky juice running down your hand; it’s a dangerous move so close to Robin, but it’s worth it to see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, you smirk in satisfaction popping the grape into your mouth.

“I’m gonna get rid of this.” You say to Robin, picking up your tray.

“Yeah, I should get going, I've got “Mrs. Clickity Clackity next period, why didn’t I drop history when Tammy left?” She asks with a groan, handing you her own tray, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Because you’re a glutton for punishment. I’ll see you at 5.” You call as she walks away.

The tray station is just behind Eddie, you can feel his eyes tracking you as you move across the floor, swinging your hips a little, making sure to pick a low shelf knowing that it would give him a flash of your panties as you bent over. Feeling accomplished with all your teasing, you turn to leave only to walk straight into his chest.

“Oh! I’m sorry sweetheart, please excuse me, I didn’t see you there!” He chimes innocently, placing a hand on your hip to steady you.

“Whatever, Munson.” You say coldly, playing up to your supposed indifference towards him, you feel him quickly slip something into the waistband of your skirt with a pointed look, and then the exchange is over. You push past him, adding “Just watch where you’re going next time, jerkoff.” for good measure, as he bows out of your way.

You wait until you’re back at your locker to read the tiny scrap of paper.

‘16:15, the picnic bench. E.’

The sky was overcast by the end of 8th period, a slight chill in the air making you regret wearing a skirt as you picked your way through the overgrown path to the picnic bench. Funnily enough it was at the bench where you and Eddie had your first proper encounter nearly 3 years ago, you were a clueless frightened sophomore looking for some weed to ease your panic attacks, making covert enquiries the same name had come up each time; Eddie Munson.

You had approached him tentatively in the corridor unsure how to go about it, tapping him gingerly on the shoulder as he shoved pristine looking textbooks into his locker, he jumped, turning quickly like he was about to punch you.

“Jeeeesus, where the hell did you sneak up from sweetheart?” He gasped, unclenching his fists.

“I-i’m sorry!” You squeaked, taking a step backwards.

“Hey, you’re fine, it was my fault.” He said soothingly.

This was a bad idea, you probably didn’t have enough money, or he’d just laugh at you, or worst of all you’d get caught by your dad.

“You ok?” He asked, reaching a hand out, but dropping it as you flinched slightly “You need something?” He pressed, emphasis on the word ‘something’.

You nodded sheepishly, eyes darting at the passing people in the hall.

“You know where the old picnic bench is in the woods behind the gymnasium?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head, biting your lip, cheeks burning. He sighed pulling a sheet of paper from his locker sketching a crude map for you to follow. “Meet me here after last period, we’ll get you sorted out.”

Eddie was sitting at the bench when you arrived, a battered tin box open on the table.

“Take a seat.” He offered, you perched lightly, legs jiggling with nervous energy. “There’s nothing to worry about, okay? No one ever comes out here. We’re safe, I promise” He said with a reassuring smile.

“Okay.” You replied quietly, watching with interest as he pulled out various baggies.

“So I'll do you a half ounce for, uh… 20. What do you say? It’s plenty of bang for your buck, should last a while.”

“A half?” You asked, feeling stupid, thinking you’d just be buying some pre-rolled joints.

“Wow, you really are green around the gills huh sweetheart?” He said with a small laugh, but it wasn’t unkind. “Look you can tell me to mind my own business, but, what do you need this stuff for anyways? I mean it’s not meth but a sweet little thing like you, you sure you wanna do drugs? He asked seriously.

“I - i, uh get these panic attacks, thought it might help.” You mumbled pulling on your sleeves nervously.

He nodded in understanding, expression softening.

“Ok well, seeing as it’s your first time and you’ve opted to score from me, an excellent choice by the way,” He said with a grin. “I'll do you a deal; twenty-five percent discount for the half, that’s fifteen bucks.”

“Yes, thank you.” You muttered with a small smile back. “If I give you $25, would you teach me how to make them - please?”

You had spent the next hour with Eddie, watching intently as he rolled joint after joint, telling you about the different kinds of weed, the best papers. Giving you a standing ovation when successfully made your own, even if it was overly fat and wonky, staying with you as you took your first hit with trembling fingers, rubbing your back when you choked on the unfamiliar smoke. You had left the clearing that day promising him to go slow on the supply, and to come back to him when you needed a restock, he would only take $15.

Unlike your first meeting, Eddie wasn’t already there waiting for you. You sit on the tabletop, legs swinging idly, leaning back on your elbows to stare up at the birds flitting to and fro.

You hear the snap of a branch and suddenly Eddie’s face is hovering above your own,standing between your legs, making you squeak in fright.

“Eddie, you fucking psycho!” You shout, trying to punch him but he grabs both your arms hauling you up against him.

“Ah, ah, play nicely sweetheart.” He coos, nipping at your left ear lobe.

“That was a real dick move, you know that?” You grumble still trying to tug your arms out of his grasp.

“You should pay more attention to your surroundings princess, there could be anyone out here. “ He smirks devilishly, so you simply glower at him.

“Aw, now don’t look at me like that baby, especially after that stunt you pulled in the cafeteria.” He warns, mouth descending on your neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You breathe out shakily, trying to stop yourself from pressing forward to chase him, as he pulls away with a disbelieving look on his face.

“Really? That little show and tell you did with the fruit cocktail and the tray, you’re lucky I didn't fuck you there and then.”

You gasp sharply, hips bucking unconsciously at the thought.

“Such a little slut.” He laughs in awe, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, finally releasing your arms, you immediately tangle your hands in his hair, while he moves to grope at your ass.

“Jesus, I've been thinking about this all day.” He groans, dragging you closer to the edge of the table to grind his pelvis against yours, hissing as you leave a trail of bites along the straining column of his throat. He picks you up suddenly, your legs automatically wrapping around his middle.

“Ed’s I swear to God if you drop me.” You say threateningly, clinging tightly to his shoulders, but he simply sits on one side of the bench, back to the table with you straddling his lap.

“Oh shut up you little brat.” He taunts, pulling on your hair slightly in order to slam your mouth back to his, free hand kneading the flesh of your ass under your skirt; rings sure to leave bruises.

You can’t help but rock your hips, tongues clashing, hands pinching, nails scratching. He breaks apart from you to pull your sweater over your head, eyes sparkling in delight at your lace covered breasts.

“This is a very pretty bra, baby.” He murmurs, placing a few open mouthed kisses to the pushed up mounds, “I think it matches your panties?” He asks with a smile, you nod wordlessly, feeling his hand go back under your skirt, exploring fingers trailing over the delicate fabric. “Did you put this on for me princess?”

“Yes.” You whine quietly, as he slips the fabric to one side, the chill air making your pussy clench.

“Such a good girl.” He praises, swiping a thick finger through your wetness before slipping into you with ease, making you shift up against him, head buried in his neck. He’s almost cradling you as he works his finger into your soaked cunt, placing kisses anywhere he can reach, murmuring encouragement until you shiver in his arms.

“You cold?” He mumbles, forehead pressed to yours, you nod gently which turns into a whine of protest as his finger slips from your tight heat. Shifting about awkwardly, he slides his jacket off, before helping you into it using the collar to bring you back to his warm lips. “Gotta look after my girl.”

Your heart skips a beat, my girl, keening softly against his mouth, you unbuckle his belt finding he’s gone commando today, his cock hard in your fist as you pump him slowly but firmly, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He lets out breathy little moans at your touch, before pulling your hand away, hurriedly extracting a condom from his jeans pocket, you play with your clit as he rolls the condom on; both of you staring at the other pupils blown wide.

“C’mere sweetheart.” He pleads softly, holding his cock up so you can sink down, you let out a pained hiss, the stretch at this angle stings, your pussy not used to the intrusion so soon after the last time.

“Ed’s, i-it’s, ah!” You whimper, nails digging into his back, tears springing in your eyes.

“Slow down baby, it’s ok, I've got you, you’re safe.” He lifts you back up slightly, spitting into his palm spreading some over his cock, the rest he rubs into your cunt, thumb circling your clit as he lets you lower yourself back down at your own pace.

“Oh!” You hiccup, there’s still a stretch but his ministrations on your clit cause pleasurable little sparks that shoot up your spine.

“That’s it sweetheart, nice and slow.” He encourages, his free hand stroking up and down your back, you move with a bit more purpose pulling him in for a needy kiss, as you take his cock fully.

“Oh good girl, shit.” He pants, feeling you seated completely, his spread legs trembling underneath you as he tries to hold back from thrusting straight away.

“‘M’ok now.” You say quietly, starting to ease yourself up and down, the spit and your own arousal from Eddie’s movements on your swollen clit helping you to glide.

“You sure baby?” He asks.

“Yes, Eddie, please move.” You whisper, and his restraint snaps, hips moving up to meet yours, using his strength to lift you by the ass bringing you back down on heavy thrusts, your arms braced behind you on his thighs. It’s intense, your lips staying connected by a thin trail of saliva, foreheads pressed together, swallowing each other's moans.

“Sweetheart, i’m - fuck - i’m not gonna last.” He chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut tight, teeth clenched in concentration.

“It’s ok Ed’s.” You say, sucking on his neck with a dreamy sigh. “You can cum.”

"FUCK!" He slams his fist into the wood of the bench, and it's one of the hottest things you've ever seen, his hips pulsing upwards drawing out his orgasm. You move to get off of him but he holds you steady, cock still seated inside you, circling your clit with intent.

"Come on baby, I wanna get you there too." He growls, biting your bottom lip, your body wound too tightly, hanging off the proverbial cliff, hands braced on his chest. "Give into it princess, my sweet little thing." Your eyes snap to his in recognition, harking back to your first meeting, and it takes you by surprise, tipping you over the edge, back arching into his touch as you cum.

You allow yourself to be held, Eddie’s arms smoothing over your thighs and lower back, you press your head into his collarbone and feel his heart racing.

“That was something else.” He sighs, moving a strand of hair behind your ear.

You smile breathlessly, checking your watch. “Shit, I gotta go, Robin’s got practice and I said I’d watch.” You say regretfully.

He nods in understanding, holding your gaze, fingers still tracing over your thighs, before you can stop yourself you kiss him, it’s slow, delicate and filled with a significance you weren’t ready to discuss. You catch yourself, feeling like you’ve just stepped over some invisible line, you practically jump off of him, stripping his jacket off in haste and throwing it to him.

“I’ll call you later.” You shout, jogging out of the clearing, pulling your jumper back on as you go, leaving Eddie half dressed and utterly bemused.

Taglist: @avalon-wolf @eddiemunsonsgf2

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson 18+#strangers things eddie munson #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #friendly sex fic

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kitsune-oji · 2 months

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hiii it's the luci and Satan anon again!! sorry for not being too specific (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) as for ideas, maybe nicknames they'd give the reader, how they'd care for them (if they're strict or not and the like!), activities they'd enjoy with them?

and thank u for telling me about the term btw!! I had no idea (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) I'll be more careful in da future!

Carer! Lucifer & Satan

Yeah sure, I hope this is what you meant! And no problem, I think there's no shame in not knowing something before. We all learn smth new every day and it's better not to assume something has been done out of maliciousness if it could be lack of knowledge. So I'm glad that I could help out in that way :) /gen

Gn! Reader

Relationships: Lucifer & Mc, Satan & Mc

Warnings/Tags: Age Regression, Regressor Reader, Fictional Carers, punishment mention, rules mention, headpats, bugs mention

Lucifer

Nicknames for tiny: little one, prince/ss/x, my child, puppy (depending on what you're ok with or like of course)

As a carer, Lucifer tends to be on the stricter side

This means he has clear rules and consequences for if you break them. However, they're mostly rules like not eating too much candy, brushing your teeth on time, managing screen time and making sure to drink enough water (not just juice!)

Consequences depend on the rule you broke, so for example if you ate candy in secret and lied, Lucifer would not hand out anymore candy for a certain amount of time or if you don't brush your teeth, he will come to you every night and brush them together with you to make sure you keep up with it now

"punishments" just turn out to do more harm than good usually and at least with you, he tries to restrain himself and show that he cares for you and your wellbeing, instead of making you fear and avoid him

Lucifer is also a big fan of work sheets and if you're old enough to work on them, likes to set you up in his office so you two can do "work" side by side

He even grades papers if possible, gives you little gold stickers and other rewards like candy and praises you for a job well done

Let's you sleep in his lap while he works too - he won't even complain when his legs fall asleep and just summon a cushion to make it easier on his legs while letting you sleep

Pats your head a lot - when he praises you, when he walks past you as you play, when you hug or cuddle and so on

Satan

Nicknames for tiny: kitty, pumpkin, kiddo, little one, bud (depending on what you're ok with or like of course)

As a carer, Satan is not necessarily strict per se but definitely goes more in that direction

He sets up a whole plan with you, makes little to do lists with illustrations so you remember to do things like brush your teeth, wash your face etc before bed for example

Having read into parenting books and tips to make sure he's not doing anything wrong, Satan understands quite a bit more about what things can help you, why you may react in some ways and how to work on problems in a way that isn't forced but a collaborative effort between you two

He's very enamored with you and even plays with you with stuffies if you like that. There are a bunch of cat stuffies that found their way on his bed and towers of books over time - so there's always one on hand when he wants to talk to you 'through' them

"Mr Claw wants to ask if you want to read a book together? How about..."

Favorite activity together is definitely reading out loud for you. Especially when it's an interactive book, like the ones that have little images instead of words so the kid can read out loud together with the adult

Also loves going outside though and playing in the park. If you like bugs, you can catch them and figure out what it's called together with an encyclopedia or if you don't, there are enough plants and the like outside you can identify!

Likes to give you little tasks/activities like finding something for every color of the rainbow and doing fun quizzes on stuff you learnt that day

Ruffles your hair if it's fine with you, otherwise just pats you on the head - when you're joking around, when you've gotten something right/done a good job and so on

#obey me shall we date #mine #om! swd #obey me nightbringer #race neutral mc #gender neutral reader #gn mc #fluff #age regressor reader #fandom agere #obey me agere #age regression #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #Headcanons #Hcs

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triscribeaucollection · 11 months

Text

Can’t Breathe In

(SO. What if, way back during Infinity War, the group on Titan fighting Thanos managed to get the gauntlet away from him? Say, for example, Peter yoinks just a tad harder at the right moment, pulling it and the four already-retrieved Stones off. There’s still the problem of keeping them away from the purple bastard, so Strange opens up a portal back to Earth, tosses the kid, the gauntlet, and the Eye of Agamotto through for good measure, before he and Tony and the Guardians do their level best to put Thanos down for good.

One thing leads to another, all roads converge in Wakanda, and there ends up being a knock-down drag-out free-for-all fight between the present Avengers and the remaining Children of Thanos for six Infinity Stones in one room (Shuri having just enough time to cut Vision free of the Mind Stone before shit hits the fan).

Stuff is exploding, containers are breaking, half a dozen all-powerful artifacts tied to the foundations of Existence are flying through the air, and a certain Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Doofus manages to grab two at once.

Things get... interesting, after that.)

---

Peter is so screwed.

Even if he survives, even if he manages to change enough things to save the day for everybody else, he is so screwed, because he did the one thing Doctor Strange explicitly said not to and at this point it’s definitely going to kill him.

Just. Slowly. Because that’s Parker Luck for you.

Panting through the pain, Peter manages to finish scrawling out the last of his future-notes, doubled up at the very bottom of the page. Then he promptly drops the pencil and grasps at his head, whining faintly.

Some of it’s definitely a residual after-effect of accidentally grabbing two Infinity Stones at once and super accidentally activating them. The rest is a miserable combination of adjusting to no longer having his powers, adjusting to once again having asthma, and of course the bout of bronchitis his thirteen year old body happened to be dealing with when Peter’s sixteen year old mind got dropped into it.

Zero out of five stars, do not recommend.

A hand knocks on his bedroom door, and Peter barely bites back an instinctive whimper. “Y-yeah?”

“You okay in there, kiddo?”

And there’s the other thing. Ben is still alive.

Ben is alive, May isn’t a widow, and Peter really needs to make sure they both stay that way.

But he also needs to warn Mister Stark about everything that’s coming.

“I- I guess,” Peter says miserably, and it’s enough to make his uncle open the door and step inside. The kid’s heart stutters just at the sight of him: familiar concerned expression, rumpled well-worn clothes, brown hair that’s only just started to turn gray around the ears.

“Well, you must be feeling a little better, at least,” Ben mutters, glancing between Peter at his desk and the abandoned bed. “I’m ducking out to run a couple errands, kiddo, shouldn’t be gone too long. Want anything?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage at the moment. “Actually- yeah. Could you drop off a letter for me?”

Ben raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking up a little at one corner. “A letter?”

“Mmhm.” Peter reorganizes his papers real quick, then folds the four sheets in half before taping them closed. On top goes a post-it note, and one final scribble: for FRIDAY or Happy Hogan, please.

...after a moment’s consideration, ‘please’ gets underlined an extra time.

Ben’s second eyebrow has risen as well by the time Peter turns back, holding out the makeshift envelope. “Where am I taking this, kiddo?”

“Manhattan. Stark Tower.” He can see the startled blink, and hurries to go on, “It’s really important, Ben, please. If I could take it my- myself-” His lungs choose that moment to induce a coughing fit, and Peter practically doubles over as his whole body shakes.

One of Ben’s large hands settles between his shoulder blades, rubbing up and down until Peter can breathe again. “Okay, buddy,” his uncle murmurs, gently tugging the papers free of his grasping fingers. “Okay. Stark Tower. I can do that. Might take me an extra hour, though- are you going to be okay by yourself?”

Rather than speak and irritate his poor throat, Peter raises a thumb’s up.

Ben grins, just slightly, and ruffles his hair. “Go on back to bed, then. I’ll top off your water cup and head out.” A+ plan. Truly phenomenal. Peter drags himself out of the wobbly desk chair and shuffles over, dragging the same blanket he’d brought along with him in the first place. Toppling over onto his old mattress is easy; so is making an unintelligible noise of gratitude when Ben sets down a refilled plastic cup. And from there, Peter slowly... drifts... off.......

...only to lurch back upright in a panic, mere minutes later, because he addressed the notes to Friday.

FRIDAY, the AI who doesn’t exist yet. Instead of JARVIS, the one who does.

Several curse words drop from his mouth, as Peter scrambles to try and find his- his phone. Which he does not have yet. Because it was a Congrats On Starting High School present after he turned fourteen. Because of course.

Nothing for it, then. As miserable as he feels, Peter needs to get dressed, go after Ben, and swap out the incorrect post-it for a properly addressed one.

When asked, he will very much blame his current fever and illness to explain why he didn’t go out into the living room, and use the landline they still possess at this point in time to call his uncle and fix the error. But that’s later, and this is now, and Peter fumbles for his jeans and a mostly clean t-shirt.

---

Ben Parker would like to claim he isn’t a terribly gullible person. Nor a distrusting one, either. But this feels like a delicate balance between the two, as he takes the subway to cross from Queens over to Manhattan, and then walks a couple blocks to a particular nigh-infamous building. ‘Stark Tower’, ‘Avengers Tower’, either way, the gleaming structure easily attracts attention, even when you aren’t a rubber-necking tourist.

The sheaf of papers crinkles in his back pocket.

If Peter weren’t so sick, Ben probably wouldn’t be humoring him like this. Then again, if Peter weren’t sick, he’d more than likely have found a way to sneak off to Stark Tower himself to deliver the mysterious letter. Taking a deep breath, Ben steps through glass doors, and does his best not to hunch his shoulders or otherwise look nervous around so many people in business attire.

Even so, his thrift store outfit and old leather boots draw at least a few stares.

The young woman at the desk he goes up to at least smiles welcomingly, and Ben does his best to return the expression. “Hi there. This is going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance, but my kid’s sick and begged me to drop off a letter for him.”

“A letter for whom, sir?”

“Ah-” Ben pulls the folded papers from his pocket, miraculously managing to avoid losing the post-it note on top. “-Friday or Happy Hogan? He wrote down both their names, but I’m afraid I don’t know who either is.”

The woman’s face does something complicated when she sees the taped letter, but thankfully doesn’t laugh or scoff. “Well... Mister Hogan is Mister Stark’s head of security, but I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anyone named Friday who works here.” Something chimes on her computer screen, and she glances away to tap a quick reply.

Ben can’t help but blink. “Security? Huh. I would’ve figured a scientist or something...” Well, to be completely honest, he figured a feverish Peter would write directly to Tony Stark, considering how many Iron Man posters occupy the kid’s bedroom walls. But a security man just makes no sense at all.

“Pardon me, but what was your name, sir?”

“Parker. Ben Parker. Uh, like I said, I’m really just humoring my kid while he isn’t feeling well - I understand if you can’t actually get this to Mister Hogan-”

“On the contrary, sir,” a British voice says out of nowhere, making Ben jump. “I have already taken the liberty of summoning the appropriate individual to meet with you.”

He stares at the young woman, who looks startled but not nearly as confused. “That was Jarvis,” she quickly explains, “Mister Stark’s AI. Jarvis runs most of the building’s automatic functions, but- he doesn’t usually speak to guests without prompting.”

An uneasy feeling creeps up the back of Ben’s neck.

‘Jarvis’ doesn’t talk again, and the young woman directs him to wait by the end of the welcome desk for whoever’s coming down to meet him. It’s awkward, to be sure, especially as more people idly glance in his direction.

But then an elevator dings, and Ben turns, and shock overwrites literally everything else.

“Mister Parker?” Tony Stark asks, walking briskly towards him. Behind his glasses, the man’s eyes dart to either side of where Ben is standing, and they flicker slightly with something he would almost call disappointment. “Hi, welcome, sorry to startle you, but we’d better have this conversation in private. Jarvis said you’ve got a letter?” Wordlessly, Ben holds it up. Stark huffs, quickly plucking it from his fingers, but doesn’t bother to do anything besides tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Then he claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and steers him straight into the waiting elevator. “How’s Peter?”

The shock is still going strong. That’s the only explanation for why he blurts out the single word response, “Sick.”

Stark’s head snaps around. “Sick? With what? How bad is it?”

“Bronchitis,” Ben barely manages to say, most of his brain power currently occupied trying to reconcile the fact that Tony-Iron-Man-Stark apparently knows his nephew. “Not- not too bad, this time. How do you-?”

“J, you downloaded the kid’s medical files, right?” Stark asks the open air.

“Yes, Sir,” the same disembodied voice as early rings out. “This would be Peter Parker’s fourth bout with bronchitis in the past three years. Records indicate he is taking appropriately prescribed medication and has been home from school for the past two days.”

“Good, that’s good.” Still, Stark’s expression is twisted unpleasantly, and Ben can only stare in a sort of detached fascination. “Double check that our pharmaceuticals division doesn’t have anything better for him, J.”

“Of course, Sir. I also need to inform you that we have received confirmation from Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, and reassurance that his family is taking the necessary precautions.”

“About time Pink Panther got back to us. Anything from Fury and our super-duper wonder spies?”

“They have yet to emerge from the secondary conference room. Mister Barton’s only communication at this point has been to request another round of takeout and coffee, as it looks to be, and I quote, ‘a long-ass day on top of a long-ass night’, Sir.”

Stark snorts. “Got it. Approve whatever he and Nat want. Anyone in the lounge?”

“Negative.”

“Right, take us there, then.” Sighing, the celebrity finally turns to actually face Ben. For a long moment, he only stares. “It’s different, seeing you in person. Good different. Peter actually say anything about the letter?”

“...no,” Ben manages to answer. “No, and I don’t- no offense intended, Mister Stark, but what the hell is going on?”

“Tony, please.” A flash of genuine pain crosses Stark’s face, before he returns to the bland observing expression. “And none taken. I’ve had a lot of people ask me that question since two this morning.”

The unease returns, this time in Ben’s stomach. At 2am, he and May were woken up by Peter shouting in his room - a fever dream turned nightmare, or so they assumed.

He doesn’t particularly care for the coincidence.

“So tell me, Ben Parker: do you believe in time travel?”

---

Peter is so, so screwed.

He left the apartment without his key. Without his shoes. And the longer he attempts to keep shuffling down the city sidewalk only in his socks, overwhelmed by noises and smells and the bright sun overhead, the more it becomes abundantly clear:

He messed up.

Majorly messed up. On top of his other major screw-up, and the more he tries to squint at street signs without the glasses he also forgot at the apartment, the more his head pounds and his nose runs and his chest hurts.

Eventually it’s just- too much. Peter coughs weakly into his elbow, and scoots into the first alley he can find.

---

Once, not so long ago, Ben didn’t think aliens or superheroes existed outside of books and movies. Time travel isn’t that far a leap in comparison.

But the more Stark keeps talking, the less Ben takes in, overwhelmed by a couple of things the celebrity breezed over, which stand out all the more for his lack of emphasis. First and foremost: Tony Stark cares about Peter. Knows him. Likes him. Invites him on weekend visits to work on personal projects. Illegally hacks medical databases to double check that the boy is getting appropriate medication for his current illness. Ben might actually laugh if it weren’t for the second thing:

He’s going to die.

Stark doesn’t outright say that, of course, but he tip-toes around the fact that he knows Peter well enough to care about him, and he knows May well enough to be wary of lying to her, but today is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on a living, breathing Ben.

Peter is going to be a superhero. May is going to be a widow. Peter caused some kind of magical accident that sent the Avengers back in time three years. May is going to be a widow. Peter apparently wrote out four pages of notes about incoming disasters for nothing, because Stark and his teammates have been scrambling for the past ten hours to prevent all of it and more.

May is going to be a widow.

Eventually, Stark must realize Ben’s only absorbing every fourth sentence or so, because he abruptly finds himself pushed down into a sleek leather chair, glass tumbler in hand. He doesn’t bother to check exactly what kind of alcohol he’s been given; it burns going down, and that’s good enough to restore some clarity to his overwhelmed mind.

First thing’s first. “Peter has superpowers?”

“He will. Probably. We know when and how he gets them, at this point it’s just a matter of making sure he’s in the right place at the right time. If he still wants- I mean, I’ll be honest, I’d probably sleep a little better knowing the kid isn’t swinging around Queens stopping muggers in the middle of the night, but I also know there’s only a point oh two chance he’ll willingly avoid becoming Spider-man again.”

Ben nods, swallowing down his initial reaction to that word-vomit. “Okay. Okay- next question.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I die?”

Stark promptly winces. “...alright, poor choice of words on my part. Look, Ben- can I call you Ben?” He nods. “Thanks- look. I don’t know all the details, but Peter definitely will, and between the two of us I can guarantee you won’t this time. Hell, I’ll get you a nano-tech bulletproof vest if I have to, but we’re going to make damn sure you live to a ripe old age no matter how many burned casseroles May tries to fix for dinner. Alright?”

Something in the back of Ben’s mind whispers that it can’t possibly be that simple, but he’s willing to take the other man’s words at face value for the moment. “Alright.”

“Sir? Captains Wilson and Rogers have returned, with two guests.”

“Hot damn. Okay, Ben- just hang tight for a minute, I need to say hi to Ruby Tuesday and her delinquent brother, and then we’ll see about getting Peter up here, yeah?” Ben doesn’t have a chance to respond before Stark is up and moving, heading for the elevator just as it slides open.

Captain Rogers is apparently that Captain Rogers, and Ben’s eyes widen so much he half-wonders if they might actually fall out of his face.

Steve-Captain-America-Rogers steps out of the elevator, face tired but triumphant, dressed in civilian clothes rather than his iconic uniform. That’s definitely The Shield slung across his back, though.

Behind him comes another man, dark-skinned with short hair, rolling his eyes as he finishes saying something to the people behind him. Both young, on the thin side - the girl’s hair is long and dark, the boy’s shifting from a similar color to silvery-white in a way that doesn’t look like a dye job. He’s nervous; she’s relaxed. Stark approaches them with stiff shoulders and a careful smile.

“Tony,” the girl says warmly, and half the tension drops away from Stark’s frame.

“Wanda,” he replies, stopping short of arm’s reach. “You’re okay?”

“I will be. I have Pietro again.” She reaches out, and catches the boy’s hand where he meets her halfway. “Ultron?”

“Shut down for good. Never even got the chance to wake up and cause trouble.”

The girl lets out a low, shaky sigh, squeezing her eyes shut as she nods. “Good. That is- very good. Vision?”

“We’ve got him. Sort of- no body for him to land in like the rest of us, obviously, but Cho’s putting one together, and there’s a copy of his consciousness tucked in with Jarvis right now.”

“One moment please, Miss Maximoff,” the AI says. A moment later, what sounds like the exact same voice speaks again, but with a great deal more emotion. “Hello, Wanda.”

“Viz,” she replies, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “You are alright?”

“I am much better, now that you’re here.”

Well didn’t that sound adorably sappy. Some small sound must escape Ben’s mouth, because a moment later the girl, Wanda, is looking right at him with a frown. “Who is this?”

“Ben Parker,” Stark promptly answers, shifting in place to make a sweeping gesture. “Better known as Spider-man’s uncle. He came to drop off some notes from the kid, who apparently didn’t realize we all got swept back in time thanks to his stunt with the Mind and Time Stones. Speaking of whom- Jarvis, have we got eyes on Underoos yet?”

“Yes, Sir. But I am afraid Peter Parker is not in his Queens apartment.”

Like a storm blowing out a candle, Stark’s face turns immediately grim. “Beg pardon?”

“Facial recognition picked him up eight blocks from his home building, moving slowly. Approximately nine minutes and thirty-four seconds ago, he entered an alleyway without any available security cameras. To my knowledge he has not yet emerged.”

Ben couldn’t say when exactly he got to his feet, but he suddenly finds himself standing next to Stark, hands clenched to keep from shaking. The other man meets his panicked gaze, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. “Show us, J.”

A holographic screen pops up. Footage plays. Ben barely pays any attention to Captain America stepping closer, too focused on the little figure helpfully highlighted by Jarvis.

(Peter isn’t even wearing shoes.)

“What, did he feel the need for a Delmar sandwich?” Stark grumbles, before the image zooms in. It becomes abruptly clear that Peter isn’t feeling suddenly better - his face is tight with desperation, mouth open to breathe, and every few steps he pauses to lean against a wall, eyes screwed shut. Ben feels a vice grip squeeze his heart, especially when his nephew staggers between two buildings, disappearing with his head down, arms tucked in close.

“Yeah, he’s not doing so hot,” the other man beside Captain America states.

“Understatement of the year, Wilson. Alright, everything else is on pause, I need to go get him-”

“I am faster.”

They all turn to stare at the boy still standing halfway behind Wanda. Even she looks surprised. “Pietro?”

He shrugs, a small nonchalant twitch, belied by the concern in his eyes. “I am faster. Show me a map from here to there, and I can pick him up without attracting attention.”

Ben glances at Stark. The celebrity offers back a flat smile, face carefully blank. “I mean, he’s not wrong. Speedy Gonzales here could probably run to the other end of Long Island and back in a couple of minutes.” There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then- “Your call, Mister Parker. He’s- your kid. First and foremost.”

...after a long, painful moment, Ben turns back towards Pietro. “Please.”

---

It feels like his life is just one big mistake after another.

Arguing with his uncle, distracting him at exactly the wrong moment, and paying for it with a funeral. Ignoring Mister Stark’s orders, almost causing all those people on the ferry to die. Not pushing harder to get a message through to Happy, almost allowing the plane to be stolen.

Grabbing the first two Infinity Stones to go flying past his face, in a room full of aliens trying to steal them and Avengers trying to protect them. Peter can still feel the burning in his hands, like catching a pair of electrified cables except dialed up to eleven, and every time he tries to take a deep breath it just gets worse. Not even the spider bite had caused him to hurt this much.

Wind whistles, short and sharp. A train going by- or maybe just a single car? No, wait, that didn’t make any sense-

“You are Peter, yes?”

Slowly, agonizingly, he manages to peel one eye partly open, and squints at the guy crouching in front of him. Familiar, but- not in the way that meant Peter had seen him somewhere before. “Y-yeah?”

“I am Pietro Maximoff,” the guy says. “Tony Stark and your uncle are upset you left home.”

Ah.

Well. On the one hand, Ben clearly made it to the Tower. On the other, Peter’s probably going to be in a lot of trouble for this. On the third- on a metaphorical third hand, Peter hurts. He can’t even bring himself to say so to this guy, Pietro- Maximoff, does that mean he’s related to Wanda- and instead whines, hands pressing tighter against his head.

“I am going to take you to them,” Pietro goes on. Peter lets his eye squeeze shut again, and jerks his head in a short, shallow nod. Hands carefully drag him out from his hiding place between two dumpsters, and then he’s being picked up, cradled close like a much younger kid. Normally he’d protest, insist that he’s sixteen- or thirteen- but honestly, Peter can’t bring himself to care.

There’s a distinct lurch, and a thousand sounds bombard his ears, horns and voices and wheels turning and doors opening and it’s way WAY too much too many too soon-

-and he checks out.

---

Ben doesn’t quite stare at his watch the entire time Pietro’s gone, but it’s a near thing. Steve Rogers takes a moment to introduce himself, along with Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff, but thankfully none of the Avengers try to force any strained small talk. Stark barely makes a sound at all - he keeps on staring at the blue-tinted holographic screens, eyes glued to the replaying clip of Peter stumbling into that alleyway.

It’s a relief when Pietro blurs back into existence in front of them, Ben’s actual physical nephew held securely in his arms.

But only for a split second.

Because Peter looks awful.

In the time since Ben left their family’s apartment, his kid has somehow managed to slide from pale to almost ghostly white, tremors wracking his entire body. He doesn’t react to Ben or Stark calling his name, eyes screwed shut and fists pressed hard against both ears, breathes coming short and shallow.

“Jarvis, vitals,” Stark orders, gesturing for Pietro to set his burden down on the nearest sofa. Peter whines when the young man lets go, but Ben slides right in, one hand carding through his nephew’s hair while the other presses flat against his scrawny chest. He doesn’t pay attention to whatever the AI relates to Stark; there’s just Peter, and his ragged breathing, and his pounding heart.

“Okay, kiddo,” Ben murmurs, soft but hopefully loud enough for the kid to hear. “We can make it through this, and you’re going to get better, if only so I can ground you until you’re eighteen.”

Peter’s next breath comes out more like a huff than a gasp, and one corner of his mouth turns up, just slightly.

“Only eighteen?” Stark leans a little over Ben’s shoulder, not quite intruding though it’s pretty clear he’d like to. “I’d make it twenty-five, at least.”

“M- Mis’er S’ark-”

“Hey, kid. Fancy seeing you here, when you should be tucked up at home in a nice warm bed. What’s the idea, huh, giving me and your poor uncle a matching pair of heart attacks?”

Peter coughs weakly, eyes still closed. “Wrote- wrong. Fuh-friday, not- Jarvis.”

Ben sees Stark stiffen in the corner of his eye, and holds back a sigh. “Friday’s the name of another AI?”

“Back-up for Jarvis,” Stark mutters. “I would’ve switched to her in a few days, if we were still following the original timeline.”

That manages to make Peter’s face scrunch up with confusion. “-what?”

“We all came back in time, kid. Whatever the hell you did with those Stones, they picked up every Avenger plus a few bonus people and tossed our minds back to the good old days before we’d even heard of Thanos. Possibly those Guardian idiots too, but we haven’t been able to make contact with them yet.”

“Oh,” Peter croaks, finally cracking his eyes open. “Good?”

Rather than answer, Stark sucks in a startled breath, and Ben feels his stomach swoop unpleasantly. From the abrupt silence behind them, where the others had been murmuring amongst themselves, he figures everybody’s equally stunned.

Peter’s eyes are glowing.

The kid just stares upward for a moment, obviously aware something’s wrong. “...Mister Stark? I don’t- feel so good.”

To Be Continued...

#marvel #avengers infinity war #fix-it fic #peter parker #ben parker #tony stark #irondad's gonna have a hard time in this one #I haven't figured out the happy ending yet hence my cliffhanger there #but I'm sure Peter will be fiiine. Eventually.#wip

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oftenderweapons · 1 year

Text

Interrogated | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 6.0k

Genre: smut, a hint of fluff and angst, but lowkey. Basically pwp

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Namjoon sends a mysteriously threatening text to Vixen. Convinced of her innocence, Vixen confronts him. Little does she know what her lover has planned…

Warning: Swearing, power dynamics, Dom!Namjoon, Sub!Reader, roleplay (professor x student), masturbation (m/f receiving), unprotected oral sex (f receiving), cock worship (mild), dirty talking (description of sexual fantasies, description of blowjob, cumplay), spanking (ass, pussy), marking (hickeys, bites), unprotected sex (stay smart, kiddos), mild assumptions regarding cheating, grabbing (face, hair), mild edging. The power dynamics are extremely delicate because there is some safewording (yellow - slow down), and consent is actively negotiated in a couple moments where Vixen is feeling very delicate. Remember that as a reader, you can always quit reading when a scene gets too much: check in on yourself and feel free to safeword and not finish a piece if you’re no longer aligned with what you’re reading.

I love you, please stay safe 💜✨

Here is my masterlist! Enjoy 😘💜

My office. Now.

Namjoon’s message was cryptic to say the least. Also intimidating.

You wondered whether he’d found out just how expensive that beautiful Le Creuset blue casserole was, or maybe you had messed up the watering of one of his tiny trees… It could really be anything.

You don’t usually mess up. You are diligent. Namjoon is a neat man, he knows how he wants stuff done and he gives clear instructions about it. So you keep a page on your Notion account just for his plants, so you always know how or when they need to be watered. You keep lists on lists about small things that make him happy.

His favourite detergent. His favourite fabric softener. His favourite set of sheets. His favourite brand of shampoo.

Being diligent about his preferences fulfils you. It’s like playing a complicated game of Nintendogs. Some quirky, hyper realistic version of Animal Crossing.

With your heart in your throat you open the door to his home studio.

Your fight or flight mechanism is going berserk in your guts, telling you to stand very still and not speak until he speaks first.

Do not give him anything he can use against you.

“Namjoon,” you say, just to make sure he has acknowledged your presence.

He does this dramatic thing where he turns around with his chair.

And your breathing stops.

Wow.

God.

Wow.

“Is this what you wanted, babylove?”

He’s in a charcoal three piece suit. And he’s wearing glasses.

He’s so sexy.

“Yes, sir.” The words come out shy, unsteady.

He snickers. “So I’m ‘sir’ tonight… Interesting.”

He places his elbows on his knees and props his head up, his dragon eyes luring you in.

He’s intimidating and it makes watery want roll in your belly like the surface of a lake being titillated by the breeze.

This is how you play it, how he plays you, his desire like a snake, moving sinuously, insinuating your mind. A siege. A constant siege.

The chemistry between you and him is like an abyss, calm around the edges, and fierce in the depths, with currents so strong and unsuspected that venturing under the surface is dangerous and exciting at the same time.

“Come here, pet.” His voice is as deep as the ocean of your desire, and you walk to him, standing in front of him, eyes to the floor.

“Kneel,” he orders.

You bring your gaze to his face, brow furrowed in disagreement. “But what did I do?” You ask, too confused about what’s coming for you.

“You don’t know?” His expression conveys surprise and disappointment.

“No I don’t?!” You are truly perplexed. It’s not like you did something to provoke such behaviour. Usually you would deliberately tease him if you crave some rough treatment, but this?! Not part of the plan. Dammit, there wasn’t even any plan to start with!

“What did I do?” You ask, wide eyed and sweet mouthed. He can’t resist that, usually.

“It’s yours to tell, sweet cheeks.” He cackles cruelly and you feel torment start to boil in your chest, like ugly, nasty tar.

“I don’t know.” You feel helpless and it’s not a thing you like. It reminds you of feeling cornered, and when you’re cornered you start biting back.

“Then you’re gonna kneel, little thing.”

You frown some more. “No?” you object.

Namjoon arches an eyebrow in disapproval, then leans back against his chair and runs his hands through his hair. His beautiful, dark chocolate hair, your favourite. “Come again, fox?”

“I said no.” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“Excellent. I gave you a chance to behave and go easy, but as usual you need to make my life impossible.”

“I’m not kneeling for something I don’t even know I did,” you spit back, vitriolic.

“But you’re a smart girl. You have an excellent memory, my love.” He waits some more. “Can’t be that you have forgotten.”

“Is this about my new casserole? Because I love it and you love what I cook with it, so fuck it, I’m not saving money for my god blessed pans and pots. Fuck it!” You turn around, ready to leave, but he’s as fast as a viper, he snaps up and grabs your wrist, pulling you to him, your back pressed to his chest.

It cuts your breath short. You feel even more acidic at the slick, treacherous want pooling between your thighs.

“It’s not for the pan, love,” he whispers at your ear. “Still, thank you for your confession. We’ll deal with that later.” His voice is as dark as the witching hours, obscure and lush and dangerous like a Venus flytrap. And what a silly fly you are.

“What did I do?” You speak, voice tender and thin.

“At this point, I assume you remember, but you don’t think it was that deep, huh?” He bites your earlobe and you whimper, a short, miserable sound that makes him feel wicked and beastly. “Maybe I’ll let you play little detective with it, yes?” He clamps his lips around the curve of your neck, as if you were a ripe peach and he was trying with all his might to hold you with his mouth without even bruising you. It was not a bite, not a kiss, not even anything really. Just the inside of his lips touching your skin. “I know you like your witty games, but I won’t make it easy on you, Vixen.”

You bite your lips, your sex clenching around nothing.

Your breath coming short, your blood rushing wild — he is high on them both, on the crazed thumping of your heart. It feels forbidden.

“Yes,” you say, and you frown at your own word.

“Only if you want it, fox.” Namjoon’s hold gets more gentle. “Remember your safeword, babylove.”

That is the last straw. You turn around for him and look in his eyes. “Yes. Green. Very green,” you tell him. This is your man. This is your safest place on the entire earth. Nothing can go wrong when you’re his.

He pecks your lips with a kiss and you almost forget how dangerous he is to you. “Will you kneel for me now, pretty thing?” He asks, saccharine, and the way his voice bends and breaks into silence makes it one hundred percent certain that he is the one begging, he is the one wanting the most, he is the one who will break of lust.

Your hands touch his waist, using it to prop yourself as you lower.

He caresses your hair fondly as you do so. “Such a good girl. An adorable, obedient, smart girl.” You look up, and he’s so in love, his stomach in knots at how perfect you are. Beautiful, terrifying thing.

He takes a few steps back, sits on his chair and looks at you, still dressed, not a single ounce of indecency on you if not for those sinful eyes, and those wretched and divine lips. “I thought the outfit would be a good enough hint,” he says, standing up again, wanting his full height on you, but also wondering whether he should find a way to prop himself upright.

You blink at him, shake your head innocently and plop your ass on your heels.

He stands again and moves towards you, his steps slow and well-thought. He circles around you, studying your position. He is rather pleased with your hands clasped together behind your back.

Once he is in front of you, he crouches down, looking you in the eye and grabbing your face with one large hand, squishing your cheeks together just a little, your mouth even more improper this way, tender and red, skin flush with excitement. Your pupils are blown wide, so black. “You’re such a doll.” His other hand caresses your head, stopping at your nape. “And I bet you’re soaked, mh?”

You look at the floor, just a tiny bit embarrassed.

He chuckles, and it feels like a purr, like a set of claws tickling down your spine. “Pleased to know it’s true.” He tilts your chin up, and new arousal sends a shiver across your belly. “Are you wearing makeup, love?”

You keep your eyes on his as you shake your head.

He nods to himself, then stands up, interrupting all contact with you. You feel your body sag imperceptibly, but he seems to notice. He loves you being his sunflower, the way you move for him, follow him whenever.

A strong, independent, beautiful woman, polished head to toe, well-mannered, well-educated, elegant, intelligent, unreadable and mysterious, and so classy… You shouldn’t be allowed to new money kids like him. And yet, in those rooms full of strangers, full of men who could perfectly match you, you still chose him, always, over and over. And he reads you, like no one does. He still is the only one who can tell your focus is only somehow shifted his way whenever he’s in the room.

He circles around you again, and again, edging you, letting you sizzle with nerves. And once he pounces, he makes sure not to miss. His hand goes to your hair, tugs at it a little as he forces you up on your knees, your face reaching his hip.

“Isn’t the material of this suit lovely?” He asks, cupping the back of your head and dragging your face across his crotch, the friction delicate as he is afraid of hurting you with the metal of the zipper. He holds back a moan as your cheek connects with his sex through the fabric. “Isn’t it, Vixen?” He asks again, though this time he’s a bit more feral, and speaks through gritted teeth.

“It is, very,” you concede.

His grip gentles. “Colour?”

You shake your head. “Green.” You look up at him, looking for reassurance as you nuzzle your face, your nose, your cheeks and mouth against him, rubbing all over his crotch. Your eyes are piercing through his as you trace him with your nose, with your chin, as if you were learning him with the touch of your face alone.

“Do you want a hint or do you want me to undo my belt?” He asks you, fondling your hair without an ounce of malice.

You try to smart-ass your way out of it and add some sprinkles of sweet talking, just to better your chances. “Can’t I have both?”

God, he loves you. You’re so smart and he loves you. “Not this one time, sweetheart.”

You pout and he loves you even more. “Okay,” you squeak.

He watches you quickly calculate the better route. And then he wants to mess your mouth, because your lips part and he sees your pearly teeth and he watches them wrap around the bit of leather that goes inside the buckle, tugging at it.

You’re wicked and holy and he will die for you.

He would love to watch your struggle. “What are you doing, Vixen.”

You try to act coquettish and innocent as you reply, “If I can remove your belt, then I can ask for the hint and have both.”

His eyes turn into fiery slits. “Cunning fox. Always trying to play by her own rules.”

He stays quiet for a little bit, thinking. “As a reward for your miserable attempt at a coup, you’re getting neither.”

You watch him retreat, no longer touched, no longer fondled or admired. He flops onto his chair and turns around. “Stay there. If you can obey that, then maybe I’ll play with you later.”

You’re staring at the back of the chair. You’re wishing for everything and nothing suddenly. You could stand up and leave. You could crawl your way to him and be a good pet and quit battling around.

But maybe he wants you to be a brat. Maybe he wants you to keep butting heads with him, making him fierce with authority and power.

Maybe he doesn’t want a servant, maybe he wants an opponent. A rival.

The clinking of metal awakens you, then the sound of a zipper. The chair creaks a little and then you recognise the heavy exhale.

Really? And you can’t see? Can’t watch?

Your face turns sour. You’re on the verge of complaining when you hear a moan.

Oh, he’s doing… That.

“Maybe I’ll teach you to listen, this way,” he says, and you feel wetness ooze out of you, it coats your core, seeps into your underwear. “If I damn notice you touched yourself, I will punish you Vixen. And not the way you like, mind you.”

The memory of him edging you last time you went too far has you almost tearing up. “Yes, sir.”

“Fantastic.” He’s a voice without a body right now, denied to your sight. “Would you like to hear what I’m thinking about, fox?”

You hesitate, then nod imperceptibly. He can’t see you, you remind yourself. “Yes,” you mewl.

He clicks his tongue, then you hear a deep mumble, a humming that feels like an earthquake on your body. It presses play to a super cut of him on top of you, below you, behind you, up against you, and endless desire, him drawing pleasure out of you like a puppeteer.

“I’m imagining you under my desk. Mouth full, eyes glossy. You’re licking me up like I’m a popsicle, and the pink of your tongue compliments the red of my dick.” He stops, and you know he’s gathering his thoughts, venturing deeper into the specifics of his fantasy, hyperfocusing on the details until they feel almost real. “You’re there, like a devilish nymph, dressed in a soft, see-through robe with lots of feathers. They tickle you a little, and sometimes you squirm because of it, and it edges me a little, but I love it. You’re lovely and wicked and dirty.” His breathing is a little more laboured now, and you follow it, your hips syncing up without you even realising, and when you do realise, you feel only partly surprised by how deeply you and him connect.

You adore hearing his fantasies. You enjoy playing them out even more.

“Don’t you want me under your table, right now?” You suggest.

“It’s how I wanted you from the start, isn’t it?” He chuckles and slows down his movements. “But you were a brat and you had to mess it all up.”

You want to slap yourself for a quick second, then try to remember that you can still play it as it lays.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

Namjoon hears the little limp in your voice, he knows you’re truly sorry, but he doesn’t acknowledge it out loud.

“Oh fox… If only you could play fair once. Just for one time.” His words choke a little and you hear him stop moving. He breathes deeply, once, twice. He’s on the edge and he’s holding back, you can tell just from the sound of him, by the depth of his voice, by how ragged it is, how rough and dark. “You could be with your back on my table, screaming by now. I could be inches deep inside you right now. Instead, you make me chase you, like a ghost. Like a dream.”

“I can make you feel good, Namjoon, you know I can.” You try to persuade him, “I can be so good to you. I want nothing but having you in my mouth. Please.”

He quivers at the thought, almost caving him, vibrating with want — no, with need. “No,” he still replies.

You decide to sit silent, in penance, chastising yourself.

You don’t listen to him, you don’t do anything but sit deep in your thoughts, pondering over your knack for insubordination. Not even Namjoon’s deep, growling moans manage to get you out, not even his sweet exhale as he finally meets his pleasure.

He cleans himself up quickly, and when he does turn around and finds you there, staring at the void, he’s almost disappointed that you did exactly as he told you. Your clothes are still on, and you’re precisely where he left you.

He tests you, picks up your hands, turns them around and presses his lips to them, but he can tell you didn’t touch yourself. They have no wetness, no taste, no smell but that of your clean skin.

He questions the look on your face . “What did you do, Vixen?”

You keep your eyes low, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I listened, like you told me to.”

Namjoon stares at you, confused, almost worried. You feel your hair being pushed back.

“Vixen?”

You lazily open your eyes to meet his. He seems worried. “What?” Your tone is dry, laconic.

He kneels in front of you and pulls you to him. “You’re such a smart little fox,” he whispers into your hair, his chin propped on the crown of your head. You feel like crying, just a little, because you’re so confused by everything that is happening.

Too chaotic, too incoherent, you can’t make sense of it. Why is the pace so inconsistent?

“I love you, Vixen. I love you a lot, baby.” He kisses your head, again and again. “But I like you much, much better when you toy with me.” He cups your face as he looks into your eyes intently. “When you make my life a little impossible and perfect at the same time.”

“Does this mean I’m allowed to disobey?” You ask, hopeful.

“Just every now and then. Maybe we should get a safeword for when we need to quit the games and just go straight at it.”

You agree with several nods. “Did you want me to disobey you right now?”

He looks at you and yeah… He for sure wanted some mischief. But you’re still in time for that, right…? “I want you to be my stubborn, cunning, clever little Vixen.” His hands feel so big against your cheeks and you abandon yourself in them. “Anything you do makes me so happy. Even when you disobey me.”

You crawl a little closer to him, and he notices it, moves his palms to your waist and gives a gentle squeeze that makes your laugh glitter with joy. “I was scared. I don’t know where this is coming from. I thought I’d better not make my position worse.”

Namjoon’s face softens with a feeling so deep, his body cradling you protectively. “I’m sorry I scared you, Vixen. I love you so bad, babylove.” He kisses you like you hung the entire universe for him and for a second you believe in being extraordinary. He caresses your face and you can tell he has no bad intentions when he says, “but you still owe me an apology,” with the sweetest, least threatening look on his face.

Your brow wavers with genuine unawareness. “I really don’t know what I did.”

The innocence in your eyes is not counterfeited, and he is convinced. But he’s not done with the game.

He kisses the tip of your nose, and you know he now is the gentle lover who’s overly eager to please. “Then since you behaved I’m giving you two bonuses. First, you get a hint. And then I want to see you come, love.”

You lick your lips and he stares at the movement with a slow nod, chasing the pink of your tongue with his hungry eyes. “I wanted to see you come,” you counter, mimicking his tone, with a hint of patronising.

“Let’s consider that a lesson,” comes his composed reply.

You stare at the ceiling, thinking. “What if I don’t want you to watch me come, since you denied me?”

Namjoon’s face is blank for two seconds before he lights up. “Then I guess I can fuck you with my tongue and see how long you resist not coming.”

A shiver runs down your spine. “I guess you can.”

Namjoon’s smirk is cruel and almost manic as he asks, “Colour?”

You shake your head with disbelief and excitement, and you know your smile is the mirror of his as you reply, “Green. Get me on that desk.”

He’s so fast it almost makes your head spin. You’re bent over, and your leggings are so tight and he loves watching the curve of your ass in them. He loves that he can trace your folds with his nose and he can feel the moisture. He bites the curve of your ass and he feels the muscle squeeze as you hiccup at the sudden aggression.

“Shut up, you love it,” he scolds you, with mild mocking. And then both your leggings and your panties are on the floor and dammit, his tongue is inside you.

“You still owe me a hint,” you manage to utter, cheek flush against the desk, wrists pinned to your back by one of his hands.

“Call me teacher, Vixen.” He purrs, and you almost miss it. He sometimes launches the two of you in impromptu roleplay. But…

The suit.

How could you not get it? How did you not?

He’d seen you fawning over him the other day as you rewatched the Dionysus performance. One hundred percent certain.

Maybe he thought you were fantasising about one of his mates? Is he jealous?

Is that even the point? You’re getting tonguefucked, you’re in heaven, he’s got a point to prove, which makes him driven, and a driven Namjoon fucks like a god, like he has a purpose, like a man on a mission. So why apologise about something you just realised you might have potentially messed up — and you’re not even sure about the details — when you can enjoy a very determined Namjoon?

No, you won’t deprive yourself of that. There’s already too much a girl has to say no to.

It’s decided, you’ll play naive and get fucked till you can’t even form sentences anymore, and once he’s spent, you can say sorry about whatever it is and give him some peace of mind.

“Please, teacher, I did nothing wrong! I’ve been your best student!” You whine, pressing your folds against his mouth, grinding against his face, and the middle finger landing on your clit has your vision going blurry. It feels like your entire body is spinning so fast, and the angle bares your clitoris, no longer protected by the hood that usually numbs the stimulation a little.

Your knees buckle and he stops. It’s like he entirely detached himself from you. You can’t feel him and it makes you panic a little. You turn to look at him, but he growls minaciously, “Don’t you dare move.”

So you stay still, especially since this first taste of edging is already too bitter on your tongue.

“I’m admiring how sloppy you are.” His tone is full of himself. “You’re dripping. You’re oozing precum. It’s liquid and glossy and thick.” He stands and slaps your ass, which makes you gasp. The burn is delicious. “Lovely. I adore seeing your pussy clench when I surprise you with a spank.” He widens your stance, exposing you even further, and taps some slight slaps to your folds. “So, any clue what you did wrong, Vixen? Want to apologise to your professor?”

You’re now sure about your decision not to confess. “Not for anything that I know of.” You almost want to grin in victory.

He hums in acknowledgement. And then a spank comes across your bottom. “Such a naughty student. So smart, and yet I think you deliberately act dumb so you get some extra time with me.” He bites your ass again, and this time he stays there, sucking a bruise onto your skin. “Do you do this with other teachers too?” This time his hand moves against your soaked, slippery, warm folds. And then he enters you — only with his digit, sadly.

It causes a strangled moan to leave your throat.

“One would think you’re doing it for your grades, but I’ve seen your tests. They’re perfect without any need for… Incentives.” He adds another finger and you push back, trying to get him knuckle-deep inside you. “Do other teachers get to come in this warm, perfect cunt?” He bends over, and his voice is suddenly so intimate, so close to your ear. “Or do I get special treatment?”

“Just you,” you squeak, your lungs incapable of emitting enough air for proper words.

“Just me, you say…” He wants inside. More than anything. He’s ready to go again and damn him, he just wants to watch his cum slide down all the way to your ankle. Keep you bent over and still until the liquid is tickling you and you’re squirming. “Then you won’t mind me marking you up, so I’m sure that other people will know you’re already owned, mh?”

“Mess me up, please,” you beg, a tad pathetic and so, so needy.

He lowers himself again, using his thumb on your clit, torturing your entrance with his tongue, which is so slick and fleeting and wet, and there’s so little friction, and you need it so much. You try to find purchase on the desk, but you claw at nothing as you get closer and closer to the edge.

And then he stops. And sucks another mark at the curve of your ass.

“Oh, goodness, fuck!” You scream with frustration.

“I’m messing you up, Vixen. Unless you apologise for what you did, then I’ll fuck you proper.” He keeps insisting and maybe he knows you have some idea of what you did and keeps going still. Maybe he wants to break you?

“I can apologise, professor, but you would need to accept me not knowing what I’m asking forgiveness for.”

“Or maybe you’re just a starved little slut who’s so needy that she’s happy with whatever reason to get manhandled.”

That made you frown a little too much. “Colour’s yellow.”

Namjoon takes a couple heartbeats to realise what he did, and then he’s pulling you up, turning you around. He cups your face and you can read the fear in his eyes. “I’m sorry, babylove. I didn’t mean that.” He holds you to his body, tucking your head beneath his chin.

“I’m alright,” you reassure him, hugging him, knowing just how terrified he must be. You do use your yellows every now and then, but it’s rather rare, so it wouldn’t surprise you for him to get scared. You tip your chin against his sternum and stare up at him. “Can you fuck me good enough to get the apology out of me?”

His jaw flexes, and you can see him swallow. “Be honest with me, fox, you do know what you did wrong, didn’t you?”

“I guess I know now… The hint was pretty obvious. I didn’t know it at first. And I’m still not sure about the specifics, but I do know what this is about, circa,” you admit, vague and honest at the same time.

He chuckles. “Well, then…”

You reach to your tiptoes, trying to get a kiss, trying to bask in the taste of you forever marking his lips, his tongue. Mine, mine, mine, the beastly, possessive part of you seems to chant.

He gives you a peck and you let your disappointment show as he pulls away. The hands on your waist help your sweater up, exposing your undershirt and some skin of your torso. Meanwhile you kick off your panties and leggings, which were still scrunched around your calves and ankles.

“You cold, babylove?” He asks apprehensively.

You shake your head and shiver at the same time. “I’m just excited.”

“About me messing you up?” He asks, and he’s excited too, eager and impatient more than the first time. He’s never had sex that got better and better with time, and this, with you? A revelation. He can’t help growing more and more in love with you.

“About you fucking me like a man possessed. You get determined and strong and so, so sexy. Your ambition is like an aphrodisiac,” you admit with a fond smile that feels just a bit silly and humiliating. You never thought you would come to admit that such a small thing has such a high power over your libido.

He grins and leans back, “You wanted that?”

You nod, suddenly very serious.

“You’re so incredibly easy to please, babylove.” He licks his lips and you follow the movements for the millionth time, drawn to him as if each part of your body and his had created a magnetic field by rubbing against each other over and over again. You sit on the desk and he’s undoing his belt and the sight of his hands… Have mercy.

He doesn’t waste time, just slides his slacks and boxers down, not even to his knees, but to his mid-thigh, and he’s grabbing himself, tugging a little, and he has that evil smile, and those dragon eyes, and he’s the god of lust and you want to kneel and worship, but you also want to sit still and enjoy the ride you’re about to be blessed with.

“Lay back. Hand to yourself, naughty thing.” The order is barked out and it makes you want to offer yourself even more selflessly.

Once he enters you, there’s only him, his heat, his girth and the sight of him above you.

“Anything you want to tell me?” He growls.

You tut, shaking your head coquettishly. “I want to apologise…” you let him hope for a second, and then continue, “for being so inexperienced about sex, professor.”

You lower your lashes innocently, stealing a glance at the dark, short hair at his pelvis, at his flesh melting in yours. “I might be a hungry slut indeed. After all, after our first time, I’ve been thinking about this all the time. I don’t want it from anybody else.” You let your expression play the harmless, dependent girl who truly can’t live without her man making love to her — and a part of you really empathises with that. Maybe a part of you has truly become dependent on Namjoon’s way of loving you down. Maybe you really need him taking care of you to stay focused, to function as an adult human being. “I feel complete only when you’re inside me,” and though you know you’re perfectly complete by yourself, that you would survive without him, you love to indulge him with being exceptionally needy.

Namjoon gives a luscious thrust, slow and rolling and it makes you feel so full.

“Girls my age say boys are lazy, and clumsy, yet they fuck all the time even if it’s lame. Some say they like it—” The words choke in your throat as he touches a deliciously sensitive nook of your inner walls. “But I know they’ve never known the pleasure you give me.”

Namjoon leans down, and you look at your hands, at his neck. You think about wrapping your arms behind his shoulders, to get closer.

He leans further down, and it feels like a permission.

You know he’s struggling, so you ease the squeezing of your insides and he seems to find an easy breath.

“If anyone had pleasure like this, I don’t think they would want to do anything but this. I don’t ever want to do anything but this. But your mouth on my cunt, your fingers teasing me…” And this sentence is indeed true. You don’t want sex with anybody else, and sometimes you do wonder if you could just shrug off your responsibilities and turn into his pretty toy. You spend half a second wondering how many weeks it would take for you to get bored of doing nothing but fucking him and being taken care of in return.

“Touch yourself,” he grunts, sliding a hand beneath you, where your back arches in pleasure as he hits the perfect spot with the new angle.

He watches your finger reach down, watches where he moves inside you, and he feels your insides flutter at his focused gaze.

“Come on, Vixen, Come,” he urges you.

You hold your breath, control your kegels for three, maybe five seconds, and then, with your fingers filling your mouth, you explode.

You’re not coherent for almost a minute, and he keeps going, he keeps pushing you.

You place your hand around his throat, a possessive hold with no grip, to avoid hurting him. You’re just claiming him, claiming the power to hurt him but not doing that. His eyes are glossy and dark and his glasses are in the way, but that allows him to focus his eyes on you, and that’s enough.

He’d dishevelled, uncivilised, and you’re not even sure he can comprehend his mother tongue. And yet, you speak, “Sorry, for thirsting over you in that Dionysus video I was watching the other day. Sorry for hiding away as I… relieved myself.”

He nods and kisses you, but the hand around his throat doesn’t allow him anything more than a peck.

“Now you’re getting off me, you’re going to lay on the carpet and I’m gonna ride you until we both come,” you say, assertive and in command.

Namjoon goes still inside you, feeling blessed that he survived your high — and that’s probably thanks to his earlier solo session.

“You think you’re in command?” He asks, eyebrows raised, a mocking expression on his face.

You give a quick, harmless squeeze to his jugular. “I know I’m in command. The point is, do you know it?”

He exits you, removes his jacket, then his vest.

You watch him like a hawk as he undoes the buttons of his shirt, leaving it on and open. The soft curve of his tummy turns you on all over again and you reach with your fingers between your thighs.

He’s so attractive, solid, masculine… He’s powerful the way a gladiator had to be. He removes his slacks next. “Don’t want you dripping all over those,” he says, eyebrow arched in cockiness. You have to swallow as he steps closer, sexy and powerful and confident. You watch him wrap his hand around his sex, red and swollen and pulsing. You watch his lashes as his eyes lower, as he stares at the tip of his dick trace the shape of your folds. He manoeuvres himself slowly, his tongue wetting his lower lip before his jaw unlocks and his mouth hangs open, head tipping back as he enters you with a groan, your mouth still agape at the erotic vision of him. You nod and stare at his pulse echoing at his jugular.

“Lift it up, love,” he purrs, his hands grabbing your ass as he leans over, your arms clasped behind his shoulders.

He’s effortless as he lowers himself and you to the floor, kneeling first, then with your back to the lovely, plush carpet you chose together.

And then he yields his power, rolling so that his back is on the floor.

He moves his hands to your ass, caressing the curve of it, then climbing up your hips, to your waist, tracing you the way he would test the shape of a rounded vase, and the narrow neck of it. You help yourself to the luxuriant fullness of having him inside you, to the lush feel of his girth moving inside you.

He smiles lazily at the wondrous first grind, then moves his hands to your hips, his palms so wide as he grips your hip bones and starts leading your movement. “Fuck yourself on me, love,” he whispers, his chest so alive and full and plush and you can’t wait but to collapse on it, to feel his heart still beating wild as he’s just come inside you, as you lay spent on top of him. “Ride me, babyfox.”

From the grin you give him, he knows you must be related to the devil itself.

“Let me show you what a clever little fox can do,” you speak with a cunning, lustful expression.

His eyes spark up. “God bless Kinky Professor Roleplay,” he speaks in awe.

“Long live,” you agree. And then you get to work.

Hello reader, thank you for reading my fic! Please consider commenting and reblogging to keep a poor little writer motivated! Love you 💜✨

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x vixen #namjoon smut #kim namjoon scenario #kim namjoon fanfiction #namjoon imagine #namjoon x yn #houseofddaeng #btswritersclub #52hertz #bangtansorciere

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agerefandom · 4 months

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Twilight Agere Headcanons (#4: Esme Cullen)

being a caregiver is very near and dear to Esme's heart, and a primary way that she interacts with her family

she loves Carlisle’s caregiver tendencies so much: the care he takes with others is one of the first things that threw her head over heels for him

she is the first to connect to every new Cullen child except Edward, and the hard-won nature of their relationship makes it all the more precious

Esme loves to sit and watch the action happen around her: a calm place for the children to retreat to when their siblings are being too loud

spends time on treats for the regressors in advance: refurbishing cribs, setting up crafts, always thoughtful with her gifts

loves all the physical ways to care for and help her youngest regressors: diapers and pacis and cardboard books make her feel so happy and relied-upon

Esme is a very quiet caregiver: vocal with praise but happy to let the children lead their activities

always needs at least one kiddo in her arms, someone to cuddle and keep safe

would absolutely thrive on a human regressor as well: someone to cook for, someone to put to bed, all of those little pieces that vampires don’t need

does little practice sheets with the children: teaching them colours, teaching them to read, it’s something she finds calming

#twilight agere #my headcanons #my moodboards #agere headcanons #fandom agere #agere writing #my writing #twilight

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1littlevampire1 · 10 months

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Cg!Spencer reid hcs! (+ a little drabble)

(this is with masc/male little reader btw! our whole blog is ment for male littles btw)

-Spencer's Favorite activities to do with you when you are little are cuddling, drawing/coloring, and playing make believe

-he always give into any type of begging. "dada can i get this", "five more minutes, pleaseeee", ect. He always gives in

-he is a caring and soft caregivers, he can be strict but he isnt super strict

-loves reading to you, even if you dont understand all of the big words he is reading.

-loves to spoil you

-it doesn't matter what size you are, he will always carry you. On his back, on his hips it doesnt matter and nor does he care.

-always the best at comforting you when you have nightmares or night terrors

-always listens to you talk, he always remembers all of your storys and stuffies names

-he loves, like loves to tell you fun facts about anything

-he loves to watch you when ever you are coloring, he always ask question. "what'cha drawing there buddy?"

-always ask you if you are comfortable, he would hate to ever make you uncomfortable

-there are times when Spencer is looking at his files that he has brought home with you on his lap cuddling him

-he would let you play with his hair, he loves when you play with his hair and put it in all sorts of hairstyle, he is so proud of it he sometimes let you do his before work

-loves to print you out activity sheets for you to do

-if you ever get hurt while he is near, he always has a mini first aid kit in him at all times.

-he loves to listen to you babble or make random baby noises. "oh, yeah??" "oh really dear?" or he'll just mimic you as a way to show he loves you

-FOREHEAD KISSES!! He always gives you forehead kisses

-calls you al sorts of nicknames and petnames but the most common are "little one", "baby", "dear", "kiddo", and "prince"

-he loves cuddles, especially sleepy cuddles where you both are just in bed cuddling under a blanket, you have a paci in your mouth and a stuffie while Spencer is just looking at you with a loving stare while petting your head

-he will always carry you in the morning and make you your morning drink (juice, milk, bottle, whatever you prefer), while he also makes himself his morning coffee

-he onced asked you if you wanted a sip (jokingly) of his coffee, you said yes and then once the bitter taste of his plain black coffee hit your mouth you had your face scrunched up. He had laughed at the face you made softly

Drabble time!!

It was early in the morning, you had just woken up. Spencer had been awake for a little bit by the time you woke up.

"morning darling, how'd you sleep?" he spoke in a soft and loving tone of voice as he watch you stretch and then plop back down in your normal laying position

"gud" you spoke quietly and in the tone of voice you always used when in little space. you wrapped your arms around Spencer and softly squeeze him, you wanted cuddles and that was how you signaled it "m'little" you softly mumbled out

"oh?" he chuckled softly as he moved you to where you were laying on top of his chest. "is my prince in his little space?" he asked softly with a sleepy rasp in his voice

All you did was nod, you were to tired to fully speak. Spencer yawned and softly moved you off of him so he could get up, you had whined at the loss of contact but soon that whine turned into a softly "mmm" as he picked you up and put you on his hip as he walked out in the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee amd your morning drink

(comms open!)

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mrvlbimbo · 2 years

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if eddie and bimbo reader have triplets i wonder how many times they get interrupted during sexy time because their little ones had a nightmare 😭

Omg ur so right though

<3 she sleeps naked most of the time so he’d have to be the one to get out of bed and take care of them

<3 but then they’re like “no. I want mommy”

<3 and neither of them know how to react so Eddie is like “not now, kiddo. mommy is tired”

<3 that’s not exactly a lie bc they did just get done with some very tiring activities

<3 but then the kid starts like sobbing and so she starts crying too because she’s very sensitive and she can’t bare to see her one of her little angels sad

<3 Eddie is rushing around the room and grabbing clothes for her and then promptly covering the kid’s eyes so she can get changed

<3 then they both bring the kid back to his room, where his brothers are still sound asleep (thank god)

<3 but them being in the room wakes the kids up and now she’s got three fussy kids

<3 Eddie knows it’s not going to be good if she leaves them to try and fall back asleep so he’s like “I’m gonna go change the sheets”

<3 he already knew the kids would refuse to sleep unless they were with their mom so he got extra pillows too

<3 when he gets back she’s lying in one of the double beds with all three kids snuggled up around her

<3 he carries each one of them back to the master bedroom so there’s more room and he can get in bed too (they have a California king bed)

<3 they all sleep the rest of the night contently but he stays up for probably a half hour just gushing at his perfect wife and boys and wondering how he got so lucky

Aweeee they’re so fluffy 🥺🥺🥺 I feel like somewhere lost in all the drabbles someone suggested names for the kids but I simply do not remember sooooo

#eddie x bimbo!reader🎀#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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leggerefiore · 1 year

Note

can you elaborate on how the sawsbuck hybrid bros had little deerling hybrid kiddos with a human? …for science.

horny anon *bonk*

Antlers

cw: 18+ content, afab reader, sawsbuck emmet, implied poly but not really prominent, I know Nothing of deers

------

While it had been a funny sight to observe the two Sawsbuck hybrids in an antler fight with sounds like growls coming from both of them, you had failed to realise what they were fighting over. It was not until Ingo backed off and ran away that you realised it had actually been over something and not a spur of the moment disagreement-fight. Emmet gave you a sweet grin as he walked over to you, arms pulling you into a hug where his autumn scent stung your nostrils.

“Heehee, I win,” he giggled, “I get to be the first one to mate you!” You froze. What had they been fighting over?

You had managed to coerce him to into your home, as he wanted to fuck you right then and there. While you were absolutely one-hundred percent down to have some fun time with the deertaur, it was not going to be in the woods. You pondered him over as how this would actually work crossed your mind. “… We don't exactly have compatible body shapes, huh,” you noted. Emmet huffed at that. “Well, how do you think this could work, then?”

“Mmm, face the wall on your hands and knees,” he suggested. You cocked an eyebrow up at him, but did so on your bed. Emmet walked over to your bed and grabbed your hips. You had all stripped down to your underwear beforehand, so he simply tugged those away. Then he sniffed you. The urge to kick him overcame you, but he quickly pulled away to whine, “I thought you were in heat, but you are not!!”

“Emmet. Humans don't have heats,” you corrected him. An idea crossed your mind this time. “Hmm, why don't you eat me out? If you're worried I'm not horny, that will help,” you offered aloud. He stood there in contemplation for a moment. “Do… You not know how to do that?” you realised. A sudden urge to tease him overcame you, but he prevented that by bravely leaning forward again, pressing his tongue between your folds. Its flat shape felt wonderful as he curiously licked.

Before you could give him an idea of what else he could do, his tongue found your clit. It was swirled around by him as you felt your muscles tense in your position. Had he had sex before? Your hand gripped the sheet as he playfully teased the sensitive area with ease. A whine came from you when he decided to move away from your clit. However, this was to, instead, tease your entrance. He circled around the flesh before burying his tongue into your hole. A hum left his throat, and your walls tensed around his tongue.

You finally fell down when began to tongue-fuck you curiously in between circling your insides. Laying against the blankets, you felt overcome with the pleasure his tongue managed to give you. A heat was slowly coiling in your stomach, but Emmet, ever so cruelly, pulled away from you. Turning your head to glare at him, you saw his eyes a bit dazed and your juices glistened around his mouth. He licked them up before suddenly moving on top of the bed.

His body was over yours in a moment, fur tickling you as he essentially mounted you. “Emmy?” you asked him, feeling something warm pressed against your crotch.

“Mmm… You are ready…” he hummed. It seemed eating you out had activated something in his brain. Or maybe he was just always like this when he was horny. Who was to say? Part of you did want to scold him to ask if you were, but, well, you were a bit more curious about how this was going to go at the moment. Parting your legs a bit more, you felt him readjusting his hips. The head of his cock pressed between your folds for a moment as he missed, but a second attempt had his caught by your entrance. You took a deep breath as you felt his length press inside of you.

He was quite a bit longer and wider than humans. You felt a bit nervous about this all, but he kept pressing inside of you. The stretch went from scary to pleasant as he finally bottomed out. A whine left him as you moaned. For a moment, a period of adjustment happened. Deep breaths could be heard coming from Emmet as you tried to get a good look at him. It was difficult due to your positioning, however. You began to rock your hips a bit in an attempt to get him to move. He clearly needed no further prompting as he immediately began to thrust.

You felt more and more groans leave you as he moved into a rougher technique. Gripping the sheets, all you could do is take him. In and out, in and out. You wanted to cry from the pleasure surging throughout your system. His fur continued to tickle you as he just kept going. His cock head speared you open wonderfully. “You're verrrry warm,” he whimpered. A loud cry left him when you tightened around his cock. It had hit a sensitive spot inside you, and you felt that coil that had been previously denied returning.

Reaching a hand up to grab his hand, you pleaded for more. He eagerly gave you more. Emmet pushed inside of you deeper and harder. You moved yourself in time with his thrusts. It was all so mind-numbingly good. Your face buried itself in the blankets as he targeted that sensitive spot with untrained skill. It was not long until the coil in you snapped, and you came with a loud moan. Your sudden orgasm left Emmet with your walls clamping down on him.

He managed to make it a few more thrusts after, but ultimately buried himself to the hilt inside of you. Your blissed out mind let out a soft whine at the heat flooding inside of you. You both remained still for a moment or two. Eventually, however, he pulled out, and you finally could properly crash against your bed. You rolled over and yawned, as Emmet stepped over you to lay down at your side. Arms came around you, and Emmet buried his face into your neck. “I'm verrrrry glad I won,” he gigged.

“Of course, you are,” you ran a hand through his soft hair, careful to mind the antlers.

“Aaaah, you haven't even seen our ruts yet,” he continued, “Poor Ingo is sad he doesn't get to breed every year. I do not care.”

…

… He got hornier?

#emmet x reader #emmet/reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokehybrid au #smut #nastystuff

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cg-saturn · 1 year

Note

as someone with a hard time voluntarily regressing, do you have advice?

the last time i tried it took me three hours and five coloring pages and a whole season of bluey </3

all the websites i looked at were like "get your paci" a=but i don't have any gear to make me feel small

Hey kiddo!

I know it can be hard to regress sometimes for whatever reason- maybe you've been too stressed, too busy, or just having a little block the same way artists or writers sometimes have. But I promise, you are still a valid little even if you struggle with regression at times.

Regression can come in so many different ways for people that it can be hard to give a definitive answer of how to make regression easier for you specifically, but I do know for some people who don't have the ability to own gear for any reason (living or financial situations) it can be even harder. So Star and I decided to come up with a little list of activities that can help with both! If anyone has any ideas or questions, please reblog and we'll add/answer what we can!

For kiddos who don't have gear because of living situations-

Legos- these are a great toys that can be bought in "adult" type sets, and many people don't question having Legos as a hobby no matter what age you are! Make yourself a little castle, or your own creations!

Magnets- I've always loved playing with magnets! You can get packs of bead magnets for fidgits and sounds, or even just play with the invisible force between two refrigerator magnets!

Playdough/slime - you can buy it or look up some easy at home recipes! Make it your favorite color, and add some glitter or beads to it for a textured play!

Tangles/figdgit toys- I've always loved fidgit toys, but some of them can secretly act as chewies/pacis too depending on textures!

Childhood movies- now that streaming is more avalible, it's pretty easy to access some movies from our childhoods! Personally I love the old animation of Disney movies, but there's also Scooby-Doo and all sorts of other cartoon network shows on hbo and Netflix!

Stuffie party- gather all of your pals and make a big circle on your bed or the floor, and enjoy their company! Ask them about their days, what did they get up to while you were out?

Kids apps- im planning to make a larger post about these in the future, but there are tons of apps that can help the regression process, and it's easier to hide if you're scared of people finding out.

Agere blogs- this one is kind of silly, but I think sometimes it can help a lot to scroll through some blogs that post outfit boards and soft little things! It can help to know you're not alone in your regression too, and maybe you can meet some friends who will help you in the future!

For kiddos who don't have gear because of financials-

Baby Einstein YouTube- if you don't remember Baby Einstein, it used to be a DVD series on learning for kids! They've moved to YouTube, and you can listen to various songs and watch different shapes and colors, it's very relaxing! You can do the same with clips from shows like sesame street.

Tell a story / madlibs- making things up and being creative is a great way to open your little mind. Telling a story about the unicorn who lives in the woods, or making up a silly madlib about the purple horse who jumped the tree. Make up the silliest story you can, don't worry about it making any sense, that's the whole fun of it!

Kids music- you can find playlists on YouTube and spotify for kids music! You can go from instrumental to learning songs like "wheels on the bus"!

Play with textures- at work we have sensory buckets for the kids. Put sand or rice or glitter in a bowl, mix in some beads, bells, cotton balls, or whatever other fun textured things you have around. Just put your hands in it and explore! Take time to touch every texture, try to focus on objects like it was your very first time seeing it!

Blanket fort- take the pillows off the couch, move your kitchen chairs around, take off your sheet if you need to! Make yourself a little oasis, snuggle up, and enjoy the small feelings!

I spy / where's Waldo games- you can play with books, apps, or even just with a friend in real life! I love to play with Star, it puts them in little space almost immediately as they frantically search for "something orange"!

Wear mismatched clothes- I've always believed that matching socks are bad luck in general, but I also think there's something about not having high fashion can help regression tons! Don't worry about the stereotypes of pigtails and overalls, wear those silly leggings and the oversized t-shirt with holes in it! Wear a sock up to your knee and one down to your ankle if that's what feels right! Clothes deserve to be a comfortable reflection of how you feel!

Remember, Littlespace is just like any other mindset. It doesn't matter what you do or don't have, as long as you're enjoying some childlike wonder again. You're just a lil kiddo! That's all it comes down to. Remind yourself that you're valid for healing your inner child and letting yourself enjoy things, you deserve to be a little angel again. Do things just because you want to, just because you're curious, just because it looks good, soft, whatever. Being a kid is learning everything for what feels like the first time no matter how many times you've learned it before. You deserve to experience things for the first time again, to relax, and to heal.

Sending love and always wishing you the best!

Pippi Saturn 💕

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dragoon811 · 2 months

Text

I am so so tired

What is a rest? What is a good night's sleep? My oldest has a cold and is clingy. My youngest has gone from a kiddo with a good sleep routine and a nighttime cuddle to having the biggest tantrums EVER. I spent THREE hours last night getting her to bed.

I don't know how I stayed calm. I don't.

I say tantrum I mean shrieking "NO! YOU STUPID!" and kicking and hitting and running off and sobbing like she's being murdered and hiding under beds, in closets, etc. Like... please understand. She is a very sweet child. Frilly flannel nightgown with minnie mouse on it. Little wispy hair. Just a full-on nightmare.

And then I had to get the older to sleep. Because it has to be mommy. And she took another HOUR to go to sleep! T__T.

Like...I work full time. I do the grocery shopping. The meal-planning. Wrangling daycare and school. I do most of the cooking. I still have 2 loads of laundry to fold. By time I get the kids to bed? It's too late to vacuum so I pick stuff up by hand and put it in the garbage. I wish I had hardwood - at least I could mop at night. You look crazy, sweeping cheese off of carpet.

I come home and the List wasn't done. Put away laundry? I video'd everything - what it was, where it was. Closets and drawers are labeled. And there is still. laundry. not. put. away. OK. I'll just do it. Litterbox? Floor wasn't swept. Grab the broom and dustpan. Not enough litter put into the box. Do that, too.

Dishes? Hah! A paltry amount. A mountain awaiting wash. And the few that did get washed? Not properly clean.

Fill the diaper bag, make sure there's spare clothes. Wash out the lunch box. Brush hair. Eczema lotion. Style hair. Convince toddler to pick an outfit from the options presented. Meal-prep. School lunches- ensure they're allergy-friendly! School - events, check with teachers, return library books. Holidays! Gotta do valentines. Make sure snow pants are clean and dry. And coats. Don't forget to wash them once a week!

Change sheets. Clean couch cushion covers. Bath time! Let me clean your hair, clean your ears. Trim cats' claws. Play games to learn letters/words/taking turns. Color. Draw. Do Lego and playdoh to strengthen hand muscles.

Playdates/activities. Grocery shopping. Gas in the car. Bills. Clothes for children who seem determined to destroy or outgrow everything. Wear your bra til it falls apart because they're expensive.

Try to reach out to your friends at least once a week so you can TRY to maintain those relationships. It's usually a 5-minute phone call on your drive home because that is the only time you have to yourself.

Be constantly sick. Cry over the price of medicine. Cry over the cost of groceries. Try to find deals. This may mean driving all over town and four different stores.

And all of this dragging two kids and a husband you're taking care of but who would rather play video games for 10 hours and has memory problems. Wonder how much is the illness and how much is incompetence.

Get everything done. Sit...no energy for a book. No energy for a movie or show. No energy to knit or crochet. No energy to write.

Does...does it ever end?

#shut up dragoon811 #i do NOT want advice i just want to vent #could use me a sugar daddy #can't do only fans i have gross retail feet

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 year

Text

Operation Death Wish | Chapter 6

Masterlist

Synopsis: Jake Seresin knew what it was like to lose people he loved, he’d been losing them his whole life. Yet in the midst of chaos as the world as he knew it ended Jake found somebody he never wanted to lose. But what if he’d already lost her. Warnings: swearing, dystopian descriptions, gore, death, violence, alien descriptions, fighting, sexual images, 18+ (minors dni), angst, some fluff at times. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradley Bradshaw had always considered himself to be a good person, he always tried his best in everything he did and he’d do anything for the people he loved. He strove to do his best even after his career was set back by Maverick and yet he worked hard and achieved his dream career as an aviator, following in his father's footsteps. He loved his job and it just so happened that that was how he met you, the love of his life.

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes as his mind ran in circles of endless confusion. Annie was still asleep next to him, her brown hair swept over her back covering her naked form as she stretched out across the ruffled sheets from the previous night’s activities. Bradley felt so guilty, not only did he feel like he had betrayed you but he also betrayed her too, both of whom knew nothing of the other.

Bradley stood, stretching his aching legs before pulling on some loose jogging bottoms and a shirt. He always started his days with a run so why would that change when the world ended? He’d always found it helped him think, to gather his thoughts for the day ahead.

His morning route took him to the edge of the compound where he followed the outer wall around, passing the tower and the hangars and back around to the on-base houses. As his feet pounded the tarmac Bradley’s mind was racing, thoughts of you clouded his judgment as he tried to reason with himself. ‘I thought she was dead so is it technically cheating? Jesus Christ, Bradley it’s only been 5 months and you already jumped into bed with another woman.’

Bradley stopped, his heart pounding out of his chest as he bent over, rubbing his hand over his bristly moustache, cursing softly under his breath.

“Bradley? Are you ok?” Fuck! Just the man he’d been trying to avoid.

“Mav!” Bradley greeted him a little too enthusiastically as the older man jogged over, his dark hair looking slightly unkempt and dark rings circling his eyes, causing the crow's feet to look more prominent than normal.

“How are you holding up?” Pete placed a hand gently against Bradley’s sweaty back, something that he did often but at this point made Bradley’s flesh crawl. How could he explain to the man he considered a father that he had cheated on his daughter? To Maverick you would always be his little girl and if Bradley was to ever hurt you Mav wouldn’t think twice about laying him out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bradley tried to keep the conversation light, starting to jog again in the hope that Pete wouldn’t be able to keep up. But of course he was right alongside him, chatting away and not even breaking a sweat.

“Good. I’m glad. I haven’t been able to sleep much since finding out my baby girl’s alive. I just can’t believe we found her.”

“Me neither,” Bradley tried his best to put on a fake smile but the images of you looking completely heartbroken clouded his enthusiasm. Pete watched him confused. He always had a knack for knowing when something was off and this situation was definitely off.

“Is there something you wanna tell me, kiddo?” Pete asked, watching as Bradley tried using his best poker face but he’d never been a good liar.

“I’m fine,” Bradley gave Pete a quick curt nod, “I’m a little tired so I think I’m just gonna head home.” And with that Bradley turned and jogged away. Pete watched him go, a bewildered look on his face. There was something clearly wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Golden threads of morning light crept through the thin curtains onto your sleeping frames. Your legs were entangled between Jake’s and his strong arm was wrapped around your torso, keeping you close to his muscular body. His breath fanning across your cheek and the grip he had on your waist tightened slightly as he stirred. You moved slightly, pressing yourself into Jake which caused him to release a low moan.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Darlin’,” his morning voice was rough and gravely, a deep timbre that was like music to your ears, calming and exciting you at the same time. You pressed your backside further against his crotch and he hissed, flipping you over roughly so you were pinned beneath his large frame.

“What did I just say, Darlin’,” he began placing tender kisses along your collarbone, teasing the skin between his teeth. You giggled at his antics, running a hand through his tousled blond hair.

Jake propped himself up above you, a sincere smile gracing his slightly swollen lips. You reached up to kiss him gently, this time filled with all the love you felt for him. It was soft and you caressed his cheek. Jake licked his lips slowly looking at you again. You could tell he was a little apprehensive but you gave him a reassuring smile, hoping to ease the anxiety that you knew he was feeling, the knots in his shoulders tense beneath your fingers.

“What’s wrong, Jake?”

His eyes darted from yours to your lips then to above your head like he couldn’t quite look you in the eye. “I was just wondering if… well if you meant it.” He whispered, watching your face carefully for any sign.

“Meant what, Baby?” You ran your fingers down his cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear.

He cleared his throat, trying to come across as more confident. “That you love me.” His voice was strained and you could tell that even though he was trying to act like his normal somewhat cocky self he couldn’t find the strength in him. He genuinely cared what you thought.

“Of course I meant it. I love you, Jake Seresin, with my whole heart.” As soon as the words left your mouth he crashed his lips to yours, wrapping his fingers into your hair and pulling you closer than you thought possible, your naked forms wrapping around each other. Jake’s mouth placed feather-like kisses down your neck and you sighed into his touch, wanting to feel every moment of this as if it was the last time. This thought made you sad, you didn’t want it to be the last time with Jake, but what about Bradley? You couldn’t help the guilty feeling rising in your chest like an uncontrolled fire that just couldn’t be put out. You’d never wanted to hurt Bradley, he was a good guy and you had gotten each other through a lot over the years. He’d always been comfortable from when you’d spent summer evenings sitting together watching the sunset, to when you held him as he cried over his mother's diagnosis. You’d helped him through the loss of his mother and your father pulling his papers and he’d helped you grieve the loss of your father after your relationship fell apart and your substitute mother. You’d both lost so much but you’d always had each other and that was all that had mattered. There was always the thought in the back of your mind that you’d just settled for Bradley because he was safe and he was there. You’d never meant to settle and you did love him but not in the way you should. He should have been at the forefront of your mind as soon as you woke up and before you went to sleep and at one point he had been, but not anymore. Ever since you’d watched Jake Seresin and his cocky charisma strolling across base he’d filled your every waking moment and as much as you tried to deny it you were in love with him. He was your true love, passionate love, the running across town in the middle of the night in the rain kind of love, the going to the airport to stop him leaving kind of love, the love from fairytales and rom-com films. Jake brought so much into your life and you finally felt whole again. Bradley had been that love once but you’d grown as people as well as apart. In the back of your mind you worried about seeing him again, how would you explain it to him?

Jake continued to kiss down your neck, bringing you back to the moment.

“We really should get going,” you watched as his face dropped and he pouted at you.

“Five more minutes,” he pleaded and you laughed at his child-like antics.

“Come on, we've gotta get going before we lose the light.” You pushed his shoulders and he rolled off of you groaning. You stood up reaching for your clothes and Jake let out a low whistle, watching your every movement as you walked around the room naked.

“Like what you see, Seresin?” You asked teasingly, biting your lip between your teeth.

“Yes ma’am,” he purred, crawling across the bed like a cat to look at you.

“Well, if you keep at it, then you might get another reward.” You leant forward seductively, watching as Jake’s face grew closer to your breast before moving away quickly.

“Now get up, Lieutenant.” You laughed as he moaned, calling after you as you left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d made good progress and arrived at the outskirts of Tucson before nightfall. Jake had held your hand for most of the way or had his hand resting on your shoulder or back. It seemed that as long as he was touching you in some way he was comforted knowing you were safe and if he happened to not be touching you for any reason his eyes kept darting towards you, constantly checking on you. It was endearing really, now you finally knew how you felt about each other there was no way Jake was going to let anything happen to you.

You came to an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of the forest, the walls were cracked and the roof had seen better days. From the looks of the outside, you’d have thought it had been abandoned long before the world ended.

“I’m gonna check this place out, stay here,” Jake placed a kiss on the side of your head before disappearing into the house, his gun raised and the torch on his helmet on. You stood there in silence, waiting, watching. There was no noise at all, no wind in the trees, no animals, nothing. It was dead silent. You could occasionally hear Jake’s movements around the house and you had to stop yourself from following him, he was the closest thing you had to being safe right now and you needed him, maybe more than you’d care to admit. You began to toe the ground with your boot impatiently, you needed to distract yourself. You knew Jake would be annoyed if you followed him and although he had your best interests at heart you didn’t like being left out in a cold, dark, unfamiliar place to wait for him. Too deep in thought, you didn’t hear the boots approaching behind you, or the safety being released on their gun, you didn’t know anything until the weapon was pushed up against your back.

“Don’t move!”

You froze, heart racing in your chest, breath caught in your throat as you raised your hands, turning around slowly. The cool metal was pressing against your neck, causing you to shiver.

You raised your head slowly, moving to look at your attacker.

“Nat?”

“(Y/n)?”

Natasha lowered her weapon, flinging her arms around your neck. “Thank god you're ok.” You hurried your head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Natasha had been your friend since day one in Miramar, she was your closest confidant. You opened your eyes slowly to see another figure behind her.

“Mickey?” You moved to hug the other aviator tightly.

“How are you guys even here? What happened?”

“We all got split up. I saw you disappear and then Jake went after you. The others had all scattered.” Nat sighed.

“Have you got the radio? Have you had any contact with any of the bases?” You reeled off questions to the aviators who were still looking a little bewildered.

“I’ve got the radio but I haven’t managed to get through to either of them. I only caught up with Mickey and Reuben yesterday, before…” Nat stopped herself looking at Mickey who was looking at the floor sadly, with several tears running down his cheeks.

“One of those things. It got him and…” Mickey let out a strangled sob and you grabbed hold of him quickly, pulling him into another hug.

“Oh, Mickey I’m so so sorry.” You held him as he cried into your shirt, you could feel Natasha wrapping her arms around your middle, forming a group hug. You sighed, sinking into your friend's embrace, you felt a little lighter knowing that at least two of your friends were ok, although your heart waged heavy for Reuben. You hadn’t known him well but you’d seen the banter and jokes he’d shared with the other aviators.

“What about Javy and Jake? Are they with you?” Natasha asked, pulling away slightly.

“I don’t know about Javy but Jake’s here with me. He’s just checking…” an almighty scream whipped through the silence.

“It’s one of them.” Natasha and Mickey said in unison as you all raised your guns, pointing them in the direction of the farmhouse.

“Jake’s in there. I have to warn him.” Before Natasha could stop you, you perched forward, tripping and stumbling towards the farmhouse. The house was pitch black, even darker than it had been outside, you turned on your helmet torch, glancing around in the gloom. “Jake,” you whispered frantically, searching the rooms one by one for any sign of him. The house had been ransacked, pictures and ornaments littering the carpeted floor, pictures hanging precariously off cracked walls, wallpaper flaking off. The kitchen was the worst, dirty dishes stacked high on all the work surfaces, and mouldy food on plates at the table. Your stomach churned and you had to swallow down the gag that was trying to escape. The kitchen door swung slowly back and forth, drawing you to it. “Jake?” You asked again, creeping forward. A hand grabbed your waist, spinning you around suddenly and placing a hand over your mouth to suppress the scream. Jake’s blue eyes stared back at you, startled. He raised a single finger to his lips telling you to stay quiet before removing his hand, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to rest his forehead against yours. From the corner of your eye you could see the kitchen door open, a clicking sound followed as the creature staggered forward, floundering on its long legs over the tiled floor, its head twitching from side to side as it listened. You held your breath as it moved closer, frightened it would hear your ragged breathing. “It’s ok,” Jake mouthed at you, giving you a small weak smile. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you mouthed back, feeling the tears wetting your cheeks as they fell. The creature moved clumsily around the kitchen table, knocking over the plates and screaming in protest as they smashed against the floor. Your whole body began shaking and Jake pulled you closer, you could feel his own tears dripping onto your neck as he held you. This was it, this was how you were going to die. You guessed there could be worse ways to die than wrapped in the arms of the man who loved you, the images of the bodies at Pompeii filled your mind. At that moment no one was thinking of the people they hated, only the people they loved and you loved Jake. The creature stood behind you, its long tentacles stretching out, feeling around into the darkness. It brushed against the back of your leg causing you to tense. It ran up your thigh to your back, wrapping its way around your hair and then over Jake’s head, before moving on to the cupboards above. It tapped its way along to the door at the other end of the kitchen, feeling over the brass handle and pulling it open slightly, moving lazily forward into the corridor. You could feel Jake relax, pulling away from you. His thumb brushed the stray tears away from your face as he pulled you towards him, pressing his lips firmly against yours. “I love you,” he repeated in a low whisper, stepping back against the side. Neither of you saw the plate blacked behind him. Neither of you saw it fall towards the floor but you both heard it smash, clattering loudly as it connected with the ceramic tiles with an ear-piercing crash, which was soon followed by tapping feet and a feral shriek.

“Run,” Jake said in a low voice. “Run.”

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