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ohdeerfully · 3 months

Note

K hear me out, a wife! Reader x Alastor and Charlie finds out they had a kid when they were alive. (I don’t mind what the kids name is but make them young and passed due to Spanish flu, dark I know)

omg this has been sitting in my drafts so long, i love requests like this </3 im sorry if it seems rushed, i really wanted to finish it!

Mourning Dove

Alastor x Reader (angst, slight comfort at end) TW: CHILD DEATH, child sickness, reader referred to as a woman but doesnt effect story too much join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You sat yourself unceremoniously at the bar in the hotel lobby, shoulders slouched and cheek squished against the cold countertop. You weren’t one for alcohol, but you didn’t mind the company of Husk. He didn’t say much unless prompted, but that didn’t bother you. It was nice, honestly, after a day of dealing with the others.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Okay. Nevermind about him not saying much.

“Hmm?” You responded, barely peeking up from your finger that dragged patterns in the surface you laid against. “I’m good.”

“You don��t look it,” Husk observed, and you knew he was referring to the discoloration of your eyes and the residual dampness of your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess, too. Yeah, you looked like shit. “Tough day?”

“I guess, yeah,” You sighed, pushing yourself up and leaning back in a stretch while your fingers gripped the countertop to steady yourself. “Just thinking about… Y’know.”

He didn’t pry, and you were thankful for that. Husk did know a little, actually, and knew better than to push for more details. After being stuck with Alastor for so long, with the guy owning his soul and all, he inevitably learned some deep shit about him and, by extension, you. He just grunted in response and went back to spot cleaning his bottles of booze.

“(Y/N)!” A chipper voice called your name, and you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. You thought you were done with all of this for the day, and you were so ready to just go to sleep. “I wanted everybody to join me for dinner today! We have a few new residents, so I want everybody to meet each other.”

You squeezed your lips to prevent a harsh word from responding to Charlie’s invitation. You were so tired. You feigned a weak smile and looked at her. You wanted to say no, to say you needed to sleep, but those huge, pleading eyes of hers caught the rejection in your throat. You tried to reason with yourself that Charlie doesn’t host stuff like this very often. It would just be one night. You’ll survive.

“Okay.”

She clasped her hands together and jumped on the balls of her feet, thanked you, and took off to find the next resident to invite. You held your head against your hand and you sighed dramatically. Husk looked at you from the corner of his eye, but opted to remain silent. You stood up after a few more minutes of quiet sulking, deciding you should fix yourself up for dinner.

In your room, you gently fixed your hair and threw on a casual outfit. Nothing super nice, just in case food started flying–knowing the antics of some of the hotel residents, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

You slowly made your way to the banquet room, which Charlie had installed for events like today. You could already hear the low murmur of small talk, and you were surprised to see a few new faces. Not a whole lot, just about five, alongside the familiar faces of your friends. Charlie’s hotel was, slowly but surely, becoming more successful.

You spotted Alastor quickly–he was hard to miss due to his height. You settled yourself in a chair next to him at a long table that Charlie had dragged into the room for everybody to sit at. You felt your skin prickle with the familiar sensation of static, which increased slightly as his attention turned towards you. He gave you a grin before focusing his eyes on the racket that was already picking up. You watched his smile curl, a bit sinister, as the sound of shouting caught your attention.

“-my fuckin’ business!” You picked up the tail end of Angel Dust fuming at Vaggie, one pair of arms crossed under his chest. He had a third hand on his hip, with his fourth hand jabbing an accusatory point at the woman in front of him.

“Guys, please!” Charlie pleaded, pressing her shoulder against Vaggie’s in an attempt to move her away from Angel. “I don’t want to scare my new guests away!”

“Tell this bitch to keep her nose outta my shit! I can’t have my fuckin’ life on the line because she doesn’t like my job!” Angel spat. There was a dangerous, maybe even frantic, look in his eyes. Before Charlie could say anything, Angel had spun around and stormed to the table. He ripped the chair out and slammed his body down. All four of his arms were crossed now as he glowered at the wooden tabletop.

You sighed, and felt a headache already forming.

Angel’s spirits quickly changed when Husk sulked into the room. He had his paws stuffed in his pockets, and glared at the air in front of him. He sat down at the other end of the table, but Angel was quick to stand up and saunter his way over to sit next to the cat. You couldn’t quite catch the flirtatious remarks that made Husk roll his eyes.

You observed them for a while, watching as Husk slowly grew more comfortable in the small talk he and Angel shared. He would never admit it, but you knew Husk didn’t hate Angel’s company. Husk seemingly said something about you to Angel that made him whip his head up to look at you. You quickly averted your gaze.

Charlie had been standing by her own chair, and a cough from her throat made the chatter die down. You didn’t really listen to the overly sappy speech she had started to give, your mind drifting away in absent thought. You picked your nails into the edge of the table, fidgeting with the light cloth.

Alastor caught your attention by lightly nudging his leg against yours. You trailed your eyes up to his, meeting his red gaze. There was a hint of worry in his eyes, and his grin twitched at the edges as he looked at your exhausted face. He tilted his head in a silent question.

You merely shook your head in response, and mouthed a quick “it’s nothing” and hoped that he wouldn’t press. He didn’t, but you knew he’d ask again in a private room.

Charlie sat down again, and Vaggie rubbed her shoulder, murmuring a silent praise. You dragged your eyes across the table, making note of the handful of new faces. None of them seemed to take Charlie very seriously, but that didn’t come as a surprise. They probably just liked free food.

The food in question seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and you chalked it up to her “princess of hell” type powers that she didn’t use very often. You smiled gratefully and, though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you started slowly picking at the plate in front of you.

The room once again began to rumble with small talk, but at some point the multiple conversations began to melt together until the whole table was talking to each other in one. Charlie was doing most of the heavy lifting with keeping the conversation going.

“-the deal with the Radio Demon and that gal next to him?” You perked your ears when you heard this reference to yourself. One of the new guests, some sort of lizard demon, had a finger pointed at the two of you. He had a slight country drawl in his voice. You saw Alastor’s smile widen when the attention of the table turned towards himself.

“My darling wife,” Alastor stated simply, briefly placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were closed as he smiled proudly. You silently nodded with a light, polite smiling. “We knew each other in life. It’s only natural for us to remain together. It would have been a shame for death to do us part.”

“Didn’t think you was the type…” The lizard said slowly, eyeing the two of you carefully. You didn’t blame him; what kind of nut job would marry the Radio Demon? Though, as Alastor said, you were married before Hell, and he wasn’t so… infamous back then. He was actually rather sweet, besides the whole serial killer thing–which, in your defense, you weren’t even aware of till he was shot to death.

“Didn’t think ya were the type to have a kid, either,” Angel piped up absently, one arm thrown lazily over the back of his chair. You watched as Husk tried desperately to shut him up as he continued to speak, but you barely heard the words over the sound of your heart picking up pace, and the increased radio frequency of Alastor’s. His body had stiffened and his eyes had shot open, quickly narrowing as his smile strained and curled dangerously, his gums visible in a snarl. His eyes were not on Angel, but on Husk, whose ears were flattened against his head and a nervous look in his wide eyes.

You weren’t really paying attention though, but you felt the intense tension and rapid prickling on your skin. Your breathing became more labored and you pointed your face to the table to try to hide the building tears in your eyes. You had tried so hard, all day, to push back the memories that kept threatening to resurface. What are the chances that on the same day, the topic was brought up, destroying the wall you had built to contain the anxiety, regret, grief…

You were kneeling by the wrinkled, messy sheets of the twin bed your son had been in for the past couple days. Your heart was tight, and you could barely breathe as you looked at him. He gazed blearily at the ceiling, following the path of the rocking fan. Every breath he took scratched at his throat, as if there were pebbles blocking the path. He barely had the strength to cough. His lips were dry and cracked, and his graying skin still had a flush of fever. You used a damp rag to clean the dried snot under his nose.

You had tried everything. Every recommended antibiotic, every treatment, therapy, exercise; nothing had worked. Nobody knew how to treat the illness. You had even tried to work with witch doctors that Alastor knew. You had spent so much of what little money you had trying to save your little boy.

Alastor was often gone during this time, being the one to go out and find something new to try. You never left the room, even when your husband tried to push you to go outside to stretch your legs or take a shower. He promised to watch over your son. But you just couldn’t, not with David laying on these dirty sheets, looking so frail, weak, and small. You had often called him little dove, and it made you sick to think that your nickname was now like a cruel adjective to describe his current state. A sick, frail baby bird. He had barely eaten in the past eight days, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that any scratchy breath he took could be that last one.

You stiffened when his head rolled over towards you, and his eyes struggled to focus on you. His cracked lips grimaced for a moment, followed by a sharp, grating cough that made your heart drop and your eyes sting. You reached a shaky hand forward to smooth down his knotted hair.

“Am I going to be okay,” David said weakly. His voice caught on the tightness in his throat multiple times. “I feel really bad.”

“I know baby, but you’re okay,” You said tenderly, continuing to stroke his hair. “Your dad is getting you some new medicine. You’ll be okay.”

You were lying to him, and to yourself. But you couldn’t help but cling on to a morsel of hope–it was all you could do, really. David just looked towards you, his eyes flicking around slightly, unable to truly focus on anything.

“I’m tired.” He said. His breathing was labored.

“I know.”

Your emotions threatened to spill from your eyes as you watched him turn his head back towards the ceiling, eyes shutting. You didn’t want to cry; you couldn’t, not in front of him. You needed to stay strong for him.

You pressed the back of your hand to his burning forehead, and then trailed your hand to his chest, lightly pressing against him to feel his heartbeat. It was slow, and slowing. Your own heart picked up in response.

You heard the door in another room open, shut, and footsteps quickly pace towards the room. The door cracked lightly, and the tall, thin frame of your husband peeked in. He held a brown back tightly in his fist. With one look into your eyes, he knew something was wrong. Or, well, more wrong than usual.

You clenched your jaw to prevent any sob from escaping your lips as he sat the bag down on an end table and kneeled next to you, gripping your waist tightly as he looked at David. The boy’s breath had gotten dangerously quiet.

You watched as his eyes opened again.

“I’m tired.” He repeated, weaker this time.

Both you and Alastor leaned towards the bed, his hand on David’s leg as you gingerly lifted the boy’s head into your arms, pulling his light body towards yourself. You shifted yourself up into the bed with him, trying to wrap as much of yourself around your son as possible. You could feel his heartbeat getting slower with every weak breath he took.

“Sleep, then,” your voice trembled. You felt Alastor grip your shoulder, his other hand softly rubbing David’s arm. You couldn’t describe the expression on his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, little dove.” You lied.

“In heaven?” He responded. Your breath hitched at his words. He knew, somehow, that he was dying. How sick it was, for such a young boy to be aware of his impending death. How cruel God was.

“Yeah, I promise,” Was all you could muster. You worried that any more would destroy the dam that held back your tears.

It broke, though, when you felt David’s heart finally stop. You choked on a sob once, twice, before finally you started wailing. Screaming. You held a vice-like grip on the boy, both your arms and legs secured around him. Alastor was still quiet, but he had sat across from you on the bed and pulled you towards him, securing you and David’s still-warm body in an equally tight grip. You could feel his strained breathing and tight jaw against your head. He said something, but you didn’t hear him.

Your mind rushed back to the present when you felt a hand on your back. Your head whipped towards Alastor, who was looking at you. The table was dead silent, and there was still a look of rage in his eyes, but his smile held a softness that was only ever given to you. Your heart still beat strongly, and you struggled to breathe, but you were at least glad that your mind was still back in the present.

Evidently, barely any time had passed. Angel had a nervous look in his expression, which he tried and failed to mask as Husk cursed at him. Charlie was looking at you in worry.

“(Y/N),” She said softly. “...How come you never-”

“Truly, there is no point in speaking of life before death,” Alastor interrupted her, the usual cheer in his voice lilted by a masked emotion. You knew he felt the same grief as you, but he was a million times better at acting naturally. “What a waste of time and emotion.”

Alastor stood quickly, his hand trailing against your shoulders as he walked past you and towards Angel and Husk. Husk’s ears flattened to his skull again as Alastor loomed over them, hands behind his back as a smile twisted his features.

“Husker, my friend,” He said, the cat demon visibly flinching at the mention of his name. “Let’s take a walk.”

Husk didn’t move, and the room grew heavy with tension with every second as the sound of radio frequency got louder and somehow sharper. Alastor bent at the waist, his snarling smile inches away from the panicked expression on Husk’s face.

“Is the tomcat getting too old to hear?” You barely picked up Alastor’s words, but you definitely heard the threatening tone in his voice.

The cat swallowed hard before standing up. He shot one last infuriated look at Angel, before whipping his head back to attention when Alastor tapped his cane against the ground impatiently. The two of them left the room, and the tension in the air immediately lifted when the door shut.

Charlie startled you when she placed a delicate hand on your upper arm, and she guided you to your feet and out another set of doors. A weak smile touched her expression.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as you both went up the stairs towards your hotel room. You shook your head silently at her offer. She only nodded back, and said nothing more. She opened the door to your room for you, and waited till you settled down in your bed before saying a string of comforting words that you didn’t really pay attention to. The door clicked softly, and you once again began to sob.

Only a few minutes passed before you felt your skin prickle with a static-like feeling. You had grown to find comfort in the odd sensation, and felt incredibly relieved when you knew Alastor was sitting next to you. You didn’t even hear him enter the room.

He pulled you wordlessly against his chest, lying the two of you down. You twisted yourself in his grip till your ear rested against him, listening to the odd drum of what you assumed was a heart.

“Has David been troubling you all day?” He asked you when your sobs slowed and you caught your breath. You nodded. Alastor rubbed a soothing hand on your shoulder blade. You recognized the tone of grief in his voice as he spoke. “What a pesky boy, even all these years later.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around Alastor’s neck as tears began flowing again.

Though you would never tell him, you often hoped Charlie’s idea of redemption would work. Your husband himself would likely never follow that path; you knew he saw no point and enjoyed the power he held in Hell. But, you wished every day to see your son again. To see your little dove.

You had promised him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #angst #TW: child death #child death #ohdeerfully

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jyoongim · 3 months

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Hey I love your work so much! Could you please write about alastor with a wife who’s just like Jessica rabbit and ended up in heaven because she didn’t know about him killing but came down to visit him after meeting Charlie when she went up there. I just think I’d be wild for someone like Al to have a wife like that

AAAAOOOOGGGGAAAAA!!!! I could have written this in soooo many ways but i think its a bit like one i already wrote but I hope you enjoy nevertheless!!! @alientee

I highly recommend you listen to The Night We Met, Copacabana, and Why don’t You Do Right!!!! That’s what I envisioned for this one request!!!!

The meeting between the Princess of Hell and the Angelic council was a mess.

The Princess had a look of defeat, so you took it upon yourself to let her show you her hotel.

You prompted that you will be the one to go down and see if it were possible that demons could be redeemed.

I mean everyone deserves a second chance right?

You were talk even the worst sinner still possessed some sort of decency.

So you followed the Princess to her hotel to show you around.

Charlie was elated that you didn’t think her dream was just some fluck.

She asked you all sorts of questions. How you ended up in heaven and how was your life before you died.

”Believe it or not I was a singer at a gentlemen’s lounge. Oh darlin you should have seen me in my prime! Jazz, booze, and oh I had the sweetest husband.”

Charlie was shocked. I mean, yes you were breathtaking, but you really didn’t seem like the type to be tied down to some guy.

You giggled at her expression. It was often the look men gave you when you refused their advances, happily boasting you were a taken woman and not some hussy that could warm their beds.

”Oh you’ll really find that the hotel has character. Our hotel manager might be a little…hmmm creepy but don’t pay him any mind” she said opening the door to the hotel to lead you through the lobby.

And character it did.

The interior was old-fashion but it had charm. A bit masculine for a young woman to run it, but if the manager was a man, you could see why it looked the way it did.

You took a seat on a couch and waited as Charlie went to gather the residents so you would meet them.

You were slightly nervous. You were in Hell and hadn’t the slightest clue what demons even looked like.

You fiddled with your ring, how you wished to see your husband.

”Everyone we have a special guest so pleeeeaasssee be on your best behavior” you heard Charlie say.

You caught sight of a gnarly bar and the bartender, you smiled

”shot of whiskey on the rock love” Husker turned around and his eyes widened, yours did too “Why i never thought…Husker?!” You squealed happily, lunging across the bar to hug the demon. He smiled and patted your back, pulling away “Husker what ya doing down here?” He gave you a deadpan look, making you laugh. You then thought about it..

If Husker was down here then that…

”Charlie you should have said such beauty in our circle i would have cleaned up a lot better” a voice purred, making your head turn.

A tall spider smiled at you, giving you a flirtatious wink, which you sent back with a wave.

A little cyclone, a snake, and a seemingly human woman entered the room.

Charlie smiled “This lovely angel has decided to have a look around to prove Heaven wrong”

You introduced yourself.

”Now i know you’re not here long so Ill give you a quick-”

Charlie was interrupted by a radio-like voice.

”Don’t tell me you’re going to give a tour without me Charlie? You know we work as a team-” his words trailed off as he caught sight of you.

You stood, a happy smile on your face “Alastor baby!” You practically ran into his arms.

”Ain’t no way…”

”Noooo”

”oh welll that do make ssssennssseee”

”Pretty lady!”

everyone watched in shock as Alastor twirled you around, peppering your face in kisses.

”oooohhh my dear what a surprise this is!” He said hugging you. You heard a throat clear and broke your hold on him, turning to see everyone confused.

You gave a sheepish smile. Alastor beamed and hooked a arm around your waist

”Everyone this doll here is my wife! The prettiest thing that ever graced the earth!” You playfully slapped his chest.

Everyone's mouths dropped.

”WHAT!?”

You sat in Alastor’s lap as you told how you knew the red demon. Rambling on about how you two met and how your lives were like.

They just couldn’t process it.

YOU were married to Alastor.

Married to the most feared Overlord in Hell.

Wife to the Radio Demon.

How the fuck?

You were an angel? Literally and figuratively!

”How the hell did Mr. Creepy face fancy talk here get a broad like you?” Angel asked.

Alastor’s chest puffed with pride. His smile almost broke his face “with charm and wit my deluded friend” He said as he leaned his chin on your shoulder.

You giggled, it was always entertaining to see people's reactions to who your husband was.

You turned to Alastor, lips pouty with a feigned upset look

”Now i been dead forever and not once have I seen you. Why? Why weren’t you in Heaven?”

Alastor stiffened, how was he to tell you that during your time alive he had killed many people just for the fun of it?

“Weeelll my dear I might have killed a few people”

You blinked and then thought about it.

It kind of made sense, he used to be out ‘hunting’ at weird times of day, be gone at night saying he was working.

You had a hard time getting stains out of his clothing.

That do explains some things.

”So do you regret anything?” He let out a laugh

nope. Not a single thing.

You shook your head “well since I’m heeeerrrrreee…why don’t we swing by juke joint, if you’re here, I’m sure Mimzy is here. I could use a good time. Its stuffy up there in Heaven. No fun at all”

Charlie perked “Ahh yes you must see how the sinners here are really like and what better than enagaging with them?”

Angel smirked “I know a place waaaayy better than some old booze lounge”

A club. You were at a club.

Your eyes honed in on a mic on the stage and it just happened to be open night.

You batted your eyes and just like that you were on stage.

The lights dimmed and you flipped through some songs to pick.

You might have been a bit old-fashioned but you were caught up on some of the modern singers that came through heaven.

The band nodded at your choice and you took hold of the mic.

With a twirl of your hand, you dawned on a 1920s theme look.

The gang mouths were jaw dropped as you started to sing, the audience was captivated. Catcalls and whistles filled the air.

Alastor felt static run through him as he sighed lovingly as you came down the stage and sat on his lap, mock fixing his bow tie as you sang. You teasingly nipped at his lips, causing his ears to twitch as you smiled going back to waltzing around the stage.

You smiled as bowed as the crowd exploded with cheers and applause as the lights came back on.

Ain’t no way Alastor had a bad broad like you, but the way you happily giggled as he whispered in your ear, pulling you into his chest…

There wasn’t denying it.

You held the Radio Demon’s dark heart.

His sweet, alluring wife

who would have thought?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor x angel reader #alastor x singer reader

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flamingpudding · 8 months

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Fictober23 Prompt: 3 - "Okay, show me."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

"So… first time getting kidnapped?"

Tim blinked at the teen that was tied to a wall right across from him. He marveled for a a moment at how similar the two looked and even thought that he could see how the other teen could have gotten mistakenly kidnapped in his place. Though if they had already kidnapped him then why did they end up kidnapping him again?

"No, getting kidnapped kinda comes with the name and status." Tim finally answered and the other kid nodded sagely as if he understood. "Usually they are a little more incompetent."

He moved his wrists a little causing the strange silver bracelets they had slapped on his wired before chaining him to the wall so that they would cause a rattling noise, making the other teen look at them with a raised eyebrow.

"So first time getting kidnapped by the GIW then."

"GIW?"

"Guys in White, or well Ghost Investigation Ward, a government organization." The other teen explained with a shrug. "Usually they are incompetent. Aside from a couple of burns from getting shot, this is the first time they actually managed to chain me in a while. Normally they would have messed up by now but it's interesting that they even manage to nap you too."

Now Tim raised an eyebrow. That was news to him. To think there was a governmental organization that was actively abducting civilians for who knows what. Damn, he could see how B would not be happy once he told them about that.

"Sorry btw." Tim blinked up at the other teen in confusion, who chuckled in return. "They probably kidnapped you thinking you were my double or something. We look similar enough for them to think that."

"Wait…" Tim's eyes widened in realization. "They kidnapped me because I look like you? Not the other way around?"

"Uh yeah, why would I be kidnapped because of you?"

"Tim Drake-Wayne. Does that ring a bell?" Tim huffed only to watch how the other teen furrowed his eyebrows as if deep in thoughts before shrugging.

"In fact no it doesn't. But I don't keep up with high society, it helps pissing of the fruitloop whenever he drags me to 'meet important people' and I actively call them false names no matter how often he introduces them."

Tim's eye twitched. While that is fun, this was also the first time he met someone who hadn't heard of his name before in some way or form. In the end just let out a sigh.

"So what now? We wait to get rescued or will they release us after some time?" Well he had already tipped off his family, so it was probably only a matter of time until one of his siblings burst in to play knight in shining armor. He just hoped it wasn't Jason again, or he wouldn't shut up about having saved him for another month.

"Oh we can wait, but they won't release us. It's probably better if we get out on our own."

"Really? And how do you plan for us to get out of the handcuffs?" Well Tim did have a lock pin hidden in his jacket and some small sized tools stuffed into the sole of his shoes but with his hands chained above his head it was a little difficult to get them. But his feet were not chained so with just a bit of body twisting he could-

"Oh the handcuffs are no problem. They can be easily removed by overloading them."

"Overloading?" Tim arched an eyebrow, now the cuffs did not look like your normal brand he can admit that but how was the other going to do that unless he had some secret electric tool stored on him.

"Yea, overloading. It's pretty simple. These look like the same Brant they tried to cuff me with a year ago. It's funny how they look like they haven't learned a single thing in all these years."

"Really now?" Tim stared at the other teen unimpressed. "Okay, show me. How are you going to overload them with no tools around?"

"Easy." The other teen smirked at him and Tim's eyes widen as he saw the others hands emitting a green light before the cuffs on his wrist sparked and then fell off. Okay, noted the other teen was a Meta.

"My name is Danny by the way." Danny grinned as he rubbed his wrists before getting up and walking over to Tim to do the same to his cuffs. Tim rubbed his his own wirsts, carefully examining them for any time of injury only to look up just in time to watch Danny reach into his own chest. With wide eyes he watched Danny sticking out his tongue while one of his hands was going through his body as if he was looking for something.

"Aha! I knew I stuck them in my body somewhere for a situation like this!" Okay there was so much to unpack from this sentence alone but before Tim could even ask a single question Danny pulled out a lockpick set from his chest and proceeded to pick at their cell door.

"I have so many questions." Tim muttered, still watching the other teen.

"Well I can probably answer some of them once we are out of here. It's the least I can do after you get kidnapped because of me." Danny grinned as the lock he was working on clicked and he swung the door open. "Wanna talk over some coffee? You look like you need some."

"This is definitely not what I expected when I said 'show me'." Tim muttered once more walking passed Danny out of their cell, eager to leave this place.

"Yea well that the more civilian friendly things I can do." Danny followed with a grin. "Though I do have some other tricks I could have used too."

"You talk like a hero." Tim thought aloud, eyeing the teen and how they were holding themselves. Nothing about this teen screamed innocent civilian anymore, well aside from the obvious Meta abilities. He also marbled about the fact that they basically just walked out of the warehouse they had been holding. Huh looked like these GIW guys were really as incompetent as Danny had mentioned earlier.

"Yea, well I am a retired Hero." Great now Tim got more to look into in regards to Danny. Oh that reminded him, he probably should tell his family that he was no longer kidnapped… but that could probably wait until after he got his coffee with Danny. What was the worst that could happen? Red Hood storming an empty building. Oh well, it would be a good exercise for his brother then.

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uranometrias · 9 days

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nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

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eddiernunson · 11 months

Text

Really Drives Me Mad | Bfs Dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Master List | Next Part

My best friend tells me that he's a keeper

I really like Dylan a lot But Dylan's dad He really drives me mad With his faded tats Sings in a cover band Yeah he's super hot with his ripped dad bod Oh my, oh my god I like Dylan a lot But oh god I love Dylan's dad

I know y'all weren't expecting this... Well neither was I. It like invaded my mind and begged me to write it. (this is the dirtiest thing ive ever written.)

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: You've been dating Dylan Munson for a little bit, and it's going well, or at least you feel like it is. Despite everything right with Dylan you can't help but feel uneasy...then you meet Eddie Munson, his dad... and find yourself wet at the sight of him. (reader is in her 20s, Eddie probably in his 40s or so)

Warnings: masturbation (both), voyeurism (both), lot of perv!Eddie, reader ends up cheating, just some dirty stuff. MINORS DNI.

As you sit cross legged on your best friend’s garage couch mindlessly watching some Netflix while she took another hit, your phone dings, a text message you’ve been waiting on.

“Ooh, speak of the devil.” She teases you, putting the bong aside to peek at what Dylan texted you. You roll your eyes at her, answering him to pick you up in the morning. “What did he say?”

Her eyebrows were wagging over-exaggeratingly, and you narrow your eyes. “Just asked when I wanted to get picked up for our trip to the beach tomorrow.”

“Are you excited?” She asks, her voice suggestive and you can hear more excitement in her voice alone than you felt about the trip.

“Yes.” You lie to her, because if you told the truth, you knew you’d hear about it.

Dylan was a good guy. You met him through a singles mixer you went to for shits and giggles and ended up meeting him. He had no business being there, his league was not the type of girl to go to a Fajita style mixer even for laughs. He was so overwhelmingly better looking than every other guy in that mixer that scooping him up before anyone dug their claws in was the logical thing to do.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find him hot.

Dylan ended up being almost everything you said you were looking for. Stable. Ready for commitment. Willing to go the extra mile.

He was stable in every way it takes most men into their 30s to figure out.

You knew he was a rare find as someone dating in your 20s. Yet, there was just something missing.

It wasn’t anything you could describe, and each time you had expressed the feeling people seem to dismiss it, claiming it stemmed from every failed relationship you’ve had. Logically, you should be head over heels over this man who is so sweet and willing to do the most.

But the feeling just nagged at your skull.

For the sake of not feeling guilty and seeing that same bug-eyed expression on your best friend you lie. It felt weird to have to lie to her just to seem grateful for what life has provided to you on a silver platter. So, until an actual reason for this hesitancy presents itself, the dates and the heavy make out sessions and whatnot will continue.

The ego boost he provides when he sends you drooling emojis when you send a bikini selfie for what you’re wearing the next day certainly doesn’t help your case.

“I’m so glad you found him, he’s so sweet.” She mentions off-hand.

You nod, gritting your teeth.

Dylan is on time, as always, prompt and proper to pick you up from your apartment. He texts to let you know he was outside, and you grab your beach bag of snacks and your towel and do a final assessment in the mirror.

Cute pink bikini that hung by a string sitting high on your hips, barely hidden by the long cut out dress you wore. Your bag matched the bikini, and you wore some tiny sunnies to put the whole look together. If you’re gonna date someone as good looking might as well look the part.

As you approached his chevy truck he was animatedly bug eyed while looking at you, his brown eyes popping out of their socket while he drummed his steering wheel. His zest and energy for life was always so contagious. You smiled at him, your cheeks burning as you climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hi baby.” He greets you, kissing you softly. You find yourself grinning into it.

He pulls out onto the main road for the forty-five-minute trip to the lake most people go for a weekend getaway. About five minutes down the road, Dylan pats his cargo shorts down real quick and grunts in disappointment.

“What?”

“Forgot the parking pass for the beach lot. I literally got that for fifteen dollars so I wouldn’t have to pay twenty at the till.” He explains, making a sudden left turn.

You’ve been to his house before, and he usually takes you there when his dad is either at work or just not home. You weren’t sure why, his dad seemed like a decent dude.

(From what you’ve heard anyway)

Maybe, like you, he wasn’t ready for meeting the parents yet.

“Oh, I think my dad will be home around now. Hope that’s okay.” He says, as if you had just spoken aloud. “I think it was time for you to meet him, anyways.”

Shit. Nope. He was ready. You were no where ready for him to meet your mom, who already loved him just from your best friend’s descriptions.

“Oh. Sure.” You glance down to your outfit, something worn not knowing you were about to meet parents. “Are you sure I’m dressed for that though?”

“My dad has met girlfriends in worse positions.” Dylan laughs. “Trust me. This is a better meeting.”

This helps you very little.

Five minutes down the road he pulls into the starter home he and his dad have been living in his whole life, a sweet little bungalow with three rooms and two bathrooms. It was by no means anything to cough at, certainly impressive for a mechanic, but Dylan seemed to behave incredibly sheepishly every time.

Dylan pulls in, and your heart races as you see his dad’s truck in the driveway. As Dylan gets out to open your door, he can feel your nervousness. “Can I just stay here?” You ask him, unsure why he needed you to go in for a pass in the first place.

“Oh I promise he doesn’t bite.” He jokes.

You give him a weak smile, holding his hand as you walked to the front door. The door doesn’t need a key, swinging open and the bright sunlight giving you both a shadow against the hardwood flooring. Dylan walks in, calling for his dad’s name. You squeeze his hand tighter out of nervousness. Eventually the sounds of his creaky steps are heard from the kitchen where Dylan is scanning for his pass, signalling his father coming down the steps.

You were facing towards the stove across the island counter, watching Dylan go through the drawers for it.

“Woah, thought you’d be halfway to the beach by now, you were so damn excited.” You hear his dad’s voice, and there’s something about it, his tone leaning towards a tease that enticed you to turn your head towards him.

Your jaw dropped. Or it didn’t. Certainly felt like a moment for your mouth to open in amazement. In a split second you knew where Dylan got his good looks, and it was only a fraction of how mouth watering his dad was.

He wonders in with sweatpants low on his hips wearing a band t-shirt and his long curly hair was wet from a shower. As he shuffled by to the fridge, the scent of aftershave invaded your nose and somehow it just went straight to your core. He was certainly fit even for a dad, slight dad bod but nothing to poke at, you could tell he worked with his hands.

“Forgot my pass.” He mutters, looking through another drawer.

“I saw it this morning, so I put it in your bag as you were heading out.” His dad mentions off hand, getting the ingredients for a bowl of cereal out. As he lifted his hands over his head revealing a tattoo on his tummy and the treasure trail saliva entered your mouth like water bursting through a man-made dam.

“Seriously?” Dylan dead pans. He turns to you, and you switch your glance to seem innocent like you haven’t been eye-fucking his dad. “I’m gonna go double check it’s in there. Just stay here be right back.” He kisses you on the forehead and leaves without giving you a chance to protest.

“Nice, to meet you, by the way.” He says in a gruff voice as he pours the sugary cereal into the bowl.

“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Munson.” Your voice sounded strained; you were hoping you were just imagining it.

He lets out a noise in disgust, his face scrunching up comically. “Oh god. Don’t call me that. Call me Eddie. Never Mr. Munson. Gross.”

You smile closed mouthed at his genuine disgust for it, and Eddie presents a smile as if your laughter was the long-term goal. “Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“Much better.” He praises you, and it might be the closest thing you’ll ever get to the kind of praise you wanted from him, the kind where you find yourself on your knees in the kitchen, but you happily accepted it. Any crumbs you would happily take.

He could spit on you, and you would thank him.

Oh. That’s…new.

That wasn’t something you felt with Dylan at all. If Dylan had decided to spit on your face during sex, you would call the police. It would turn you off so fast you would kick him off you.

“Going to Lake Maureen?” He asks you, supposedly making small talk.

“Nope.” You tell him. “Museum.”

Eddie tilted his head, and from his shoulder’s shaking and the slow smile you could tell he was laughing.

“Yes.” You affirm.

“Where did you meet again?” Eddie asks as he puts away the milk, his voice seeming to extend from a thought he doesn’t share.

“Oh, a mixer.”

“Not the church mixer.” Eddie tilts his head, seeming genuinely fearful it was the truth.

You confirm that yes, it was the church mixer.

Eddie grabs a mug to pour the coffee you hadn’t noticed had he put on. As his hands cup a graphic mug you couldn’t see the comic for, you see the silver rings on his fingers and if your core wasn’t heated up before, it certainly was now. He leans forward, taking a sip of straight black coffee for a minute. “Sweetheart. You’re far too pretty to be going to a goddamn mixer. No wonder he was so fucking enthralled when he got home that day.”

You feel your face heat up at the nickname followed by him calling you pretty. Your thighs squeeze together as you attempt to force your heart back into your chest where it belonged. Somehow your extremities were freezing, and all the heat was centered in your pussy, just soaked from his presence alone.

He could tell you weren’t taking the compliment seriously. “Seriously. If he fucks it up and you end up single again no more fucking mixers for you.”

“Not like I had any more choices.” You defend yourself, not knowing why his insistence turned you on so much.

Eddie rolls his eyes as if he didn’t believe you. His mouth opens to tell you something, and the sound of Dylan bursting through the front door seems to cut him off. “Oh, you should’ve told me, we could’ve been almost there by now. Come on, baby! See you dad!”

The door slams, and you guessed you were supposed to follow him. “Um, you were gonna say something?” and the mystery is just too much for you.

“Oh. Was I? Totally forgot.” Eddie shrugs, putting his coffee mug down, having chugged that entire cup within the conversation. “Have fun.”

He scoops another spoonful of sugary cereal in his mouth, the dimples on his face prominent but the smile devious.

That smile would haunt you for the next twelve hours.

The trip with Dylan was alright, he swore up and down it was the best trip and it just brought you both closer as a couple. You probably would’ve agreed. A trip to the beach with Dylan Munson sounded enticing and sexy and adventurous for the most part until you met his dad.

Now thoughts of his flexed forearms has he gripped the counter while talking to you, wet hair smelling beautifully of the musk shampoo he used invaded your mind. Dylan fingering you on the beach under your skirt was yes, smoking hot, but as you imagined a certain someone else doing the same it brought you to your orgasm much quicker and much harder. Dylan figured he must be doing something right.

Guilt evaded you as you knew what the hell you were doing was wrong. You now had an excuse to get rid of him, you were far more into his dad than you ever were into him, and it should’ve been a sign.

But if you broke up with him now, you wouldn’t be able to see his dad. Yet as you took a walk down the shoreline into a cave and your eyes close picturing certain ringed fingers gripping your hips as Dylan did it made the sneaking off and the public sex that much hotter.

Seems you were sluttier than your initial sex life led you to believe. Turns out, you just haven’t met a man you wanted to be slutty for. Public sex seemed fun in theory, always so nerve wrecking in practice.

Public sex with Eddie felt like you wanted to get caught with him, fully enjoying his cock and letting people see. Voyeurism mixed with public embarrassment was suddenly hot and you got so into it that Dylan expressed how excited he was to fuck you on the next hike you took together, something he has expressed much interest in, but you denied bashfully every time.

Because with Dylan sex wasn’t all encaptivating. Sure he could make you cum, but you were never ready to rip off his clothes in a heartbeat. The moment you saw Eddie your fingers started to itch for that damn low sitting sweatpants for them to droop just a little…bit…more.

Dylan drops you off with a romantic wet kiss, and you walk into the door of your apartment in a daze. Before you can even think about it, you find yourself on your bed, your skirt around your ankles and two of your fingers down your bikini bottoms.

You start to take them off but there’s a voice you picture saying, “No, no. Keep them on like the whore you are.” It was not Dylan’s.

You listened to it, pretending to rub your clit in front of him watching. You could see a wild eye on his face, picturing him not being able to touch you driving him mad. The heat that expands into your pussy from that thought alone drives your hips for more friction. “Oh so fucking needy, yeah?” You imagine him saying to you, and fuck, you couldn’t not think of him being good at dirty talk. “Need this cock, don’t ya?”

The image of him slowly working the elastic waist-band of his sweatpants made you moan aloud, needily grinding on your own fingers.

“Too damn bad. You’re just gonna have to make yourself cum, like the slut you are.”

The slight foreplay you were accidentally given all day through your own imagination mixed with how fucking wet you were brought you to a quick orgasm, fluttering in your extremities as you continued imagining the wild eyes on Eddie’s face or the firm voice as he didn’t give you a choice on your dating pool.

This was the first truly earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life. One that you truly had to recover from…and it was from just picturing this man.

Something in you wanted the real thing, and you were terrified of how willing you were to go through with it, and equally as terrified of going through life wondering what it could’ve been like

If sex with Eddie Munson was as good as the orgasm you gave yourself, you might have to be Dylan’s stepmom, because you just found what was missing.

“Hey baby.” Dylan says, welcoming you as he opens the door.

You hold your pillow and a duffle bag sits on your shoulder for a sleepover, and the shorter shorts with a tank top you wear signalling you were ready for a night in. As you pass by him, Dylan gives out a low whistle to how well your ass is shown off in the pair of shorts you wore. They were so well fitting he could see you were either wearing a thong or nothing, but you could tell it turned him on. While this gave you a confidence boost, he wasn’t the target audience.

When you requested the sleepover Dylan warned you his dad would be there. Good. You assured him that would be fine. That was the goal.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Eddie calls down to you, and the smile invades your face before you could stop it.

“Hi, Mr. Munson!” You call out, and the sound of gagging is heard. “I meant Eddie!”

“Oh, I forgot he gets everyone to call him by his first name, like a lame youth pastor.” Dylan rolls his eyes, tugging on your hand to bring you to the couch in the living room. “Movie?”

You nod jerkily. Dylan works around you, getting a blanket, popcorn, and the movie all set up. He turns down the lights, winking at you suggestively as he does so.

Less than five minutes into the movie, the beginning credits still lingering on to the actors he leans in with an open mouth, his hand making its way to your hip. With the smell of him still fresh, being able to smell him on the couch you were on, it was easy to get eagerly into the kissing. This encouraged Dylan, of course confusing your eagerness for him. He reaches down, placing two of his fingers over your clothed pussy.

You moan lightly, and he shushes you softly. Mentally you roll your eyes, because he was telling you to be quiet because his dad was home.

You were hooking up with him on his couch because his dad was home. You listen to him anyway, and he starts to rub in small circles, you moan even higher, imagining he could hear you and getting off to it. “Shh, baby.” Dylan whispers. “Oh, you’re wet. Fuck.”

He slips his hands into your shorts, leaning you down to rub your pussy and attack your neck at the same time. “Pussy feels…mazing.” Dylan mutters between the slobbery neck kisses he gives you. It was enough for you to picture him, but suddenly Eddie coming downstairs right now without knowing what you were doing got you off even more.

“Eat me out?” You ask him, and ever the gentleman he smiles devilishly at you as he crawls down. He goes to place the blanket over his head, and you stop him. “Wanna see your face.”

Okay, you wanted to see Eddie see your pussy as his son went down on you, but it made Dylan eager enough to dig in in a way you haven’t seen from him yet.

You whine from the hot pleasure it gave you, you grind on his face, the heat focused on your pussy in a way that has never happened before. The idea of Eddie accidentally walking in on you but watching instead of saying anything gets you off so easily Dylan is feeling your juices wet his chin and your ass like it never has before.

“Greedy baby.” He mumbles, placing two fingers into you and giving kisses to your thighs as he pumps them.

“Gonna cum soon, Dyl.” You warn him.

Luckily, Dylan knows it means to keep doing what he’s doing. You were close, but the sound of footsteps upstairs followed by a door closing pushed you over the edge, knowing he could very well be going to his room from elsewhere, but hoping he was at the top of the stairs.

Just the possibility of him being at the top pushed you over. “Holy shit.” Dylan mutters, crawling up to you. “Must’ve been riled up, huh.”

“Yeah.” You tell him, suddenly feeling Dylan’s boner poking the inside of your knee. “Mere, I wanna help you.”

“No, I wanna fuck you, let’s go to my room.”

His room…down the hall…where there’s a better chance he could hear you. “Sure!”

Eddie Munson was sure there was something out to get him. The moment your pretty fucking face greeted him in his kitchen when he wondered down fresh from a shower he was sure there was something laughing at this pure misery.

The smile on your face, the smell of your sweet perfume, the way your skirt hugged your hips all melted him into one pot. When you told him you met Dylan at a fucking mixer, he wanted to shoot the person who made you feel like you were worthy of being ogled at by a bunch of singles at an awkward church mixer.

A church mixer.

He hated that Dylan liked them, always said only weirdos go there and was sure Dylan as exaggerating when he expressed how gorgeous and out of his league you were.

His heart freezing at the sight of you sit perched on one of his stools, shyly watching your boyfriend, even only from the back made him wonder if angels were real. Fuck, he didn’t ask for any proof of your beauty when offered to show your Instagram, but he wouldn’t have believed it.

He spent that entire first conversation doing everything he could to be a fucking father figure and remind himself you were dating his son. He was not hitting on you at a bar, he was your boyfriend’s dad.

Somehow that just made the forbidden part about it that much hotter.

He felt like a pervert as the scent of your shampoo jumped out at him when he passed by you for the milk, and he had wanted to stop in place and take a big inhale. Felt like an even bigger pervert as he saw the string of your bikini bottom sitting high on your hip peaking out of your skirt and he just wanted to get a shot of that underskirt.

Every thought he had about you as your wit came through the conversation, he wondered what the hell you were doing with Dylan. He loved his kid, but you deserved better than what he knew his kid would provide.

He knew about Dylan that he’d be a great husband one day. Someone reliable and trustworthy enough to build a life with.

He didn’t want that for you. He wanted you to have something mind-blowing and earth shattering, something intoxicating. Something that made you feel the way he felt just by smelling your goddamn shampoo. Your teeny tiny bikini with your hair up in a messy bun with cute little sunglasses all somehow went to his cock, and he was glad you were called over before he said something even more stupid.

Eddie rolled his eyes at your claim there wasn’t a bigger dating pool, opening his mouth to retort--“Oh, you should’ve told me, we could’ve been almost there by now. Come on, baby! See you dad!”

The door slams, and that concluded the end of that conversation. “Um, you were gonna say something?” you ask him, and he wondered if the intrigue on your face was something he just imagined.

“Oh. Was I? Totally forgot.” Eddie lies. I was gonna say I am proof there is a bigger dating pool than you would believe, sweetheart… but he knew it would’ve said something he couldn’t unsay.

Dylan told him you were coming over for a sleepover, and he and Dylan’s room were only separated by the bathroom. Eddie might use the basement for the night because he didn’t trust his perverted mind not to seek you out and look at what little pjs you have chosen to wear. He gave you space out of respect when you arrived, wondering if it was flirting when you called him Mr. Munson.

Suddenly a noise that Eddie could only describe as the doorbell to heaven (or hell with what his mind was thinking) reached the door he had kept open for this very reason.

He kept his tv playing and sneaked off to the top of the stairs, hoping to catch his kid getting you off while you moaned under the covers. The treat he was given was far better, the hand over your tight ass shorts feeling you up as you leaned back and whined all high pitched. Eddie’s cock was so hard at the moment not touching it would be like self-neglect.

He backed up against the wall by the stairs, listening to your moans as he got you off, desperately wishing it was his fingers in your wet heat. He imagined your scrunched up face as you made those stunning noises, starting to stroke himself. A pause occurs, your blissed out voice asking him to eat you out. He bites back a moan at wanting to taste you, wanting to get all up in those juices and to show him how much you turned him on. He leans over the wall into the stair entry, expecting the blanket to be covering you but instead being met with your pussy on full display.

A low guttural moan escapes his throat, fucking into his fist and pretending it was you bent over for him instead, whining the same exact way. He knew you would have a pretty pussy, but this was just un-fucking fair.

You warn Dylan you were about to cum, and that pushes him over his own edge, and he suddenly has a mess he needs to clean up all over his fist. God he wanted you to clean it, to suck it all up. He was making himself hard again and he had to flee to his fucking bedroom to wash up.

Suddenly the creak of the stairs erupts as he is cleaning himself up, and Dylan’s door closes. Oh. They’re…continuing.

Your moans are suddenly loud, and Eddie finds himself hard again as he realizes he’s hearing you being fucked. Oh, he knew you were a fucking dirty slut.

Just fucking knew it. Something that hasn’t happened since he was in his 20s, but he’s ready to jerk himself off within minutes of just cumming. “Yeah, my whore being fucked open, letting everyone hear how good she feels, oh shit.” Eddie mutters to himself, right next to his door.

He ends up finishing at the same time you did, which didn’t take either one of you very long.

The next morning you wake next to Dylan sleeping with a big smile on his face. To him, that was the best sex you’ve ever had together. Mixed with your adventure at the beach last week, you guys were doing better than ever.

To you, it was only amazing because you kept thinking of Eddie fucking you and it did everything for your core. You get up in the tiny pair of pajamas you had packed, something that barely covered your ass and headed downstairs for some breakfast.

As you were leant down to assess the cereals, you heard the stride of someone come in behind you.

Eddie walks in behind you, holding back a swear as he sees your pussy peaking out of your pajama bottoms. A gentleman, and not knowing you fully reciprocated every horny thought, he ignores it and hopes you sit up.

You don’t, leaning even more forward and making a show of wondering what to eat. Eddie inhales, allowing himself to watch you. You turn around to him jerking his head away, and you felt some pride in getting his attention. “Morning.” You greet him, offering a bowl for him.

He rejects it. “Not hungry.”

“Oh.” You pour cereal, and Eddie focuses on not staring at your beaded nipples peaking through the tiny silk top you wore.

“Fuck.” He whispered, the boner growing.

“Something wrong?” You ask him innocently, and knowing this was working to your benefit made you nervous but eager.

“Lots to do today.” Like jerk off another three times.

“Like what?” You asked, taking a spoonful of cereal even though you had no appetite from the butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh not much.” Eddie wonders to you, and by reaching over you to grab the cereal he wonder if he could sneak a smell from your shampoo.

You sit up as he leans away, and you are so close you can see just how gorgeous he is. God, those brown eyes. “Do you have any…one to do?” You ask, glancing back and forth between his pretty lips and his even prettier eyes. You didn’t even know which ones to focus on.

Eddie leans in a bit to you, just ghosting over your lips. “Are you sure…that you want this?”

You nod, your eyes glazing over in want as the arousal in your gut suddenly exploded into a need.

“Cause…cause if we do this there is no going back. If your pussy…” he inhales sharply, taking a breath of your hair. “is as good as I imagine, there’s no way I’m giving you back.”

This sentence turns you into gelatin, and you lean forward to finally kiss him, his lips rough as he seemingly forgets how to act for a moment.

His brain finally catches up and he grabs onto you, inhaling and messy kisses, and grabby hands all at once as he tries to do everything he’s wanted to. Your hands make their way into his hair, and it was as soft as you pictured it. His lips messily kiss down your jaw onto your neck and you let out a whine. He smiles widely at that. “Good. One I made. Needed that.”

“You heard me…yesterday?” You asked, wetter from the idea of it.

“Heard you? Fucking came to it.” He swears, as he continues an assault on your neck. You moan in response, your hips involuntarily grinding up. “Come on, upstairs.”

You almost wanted to get caught by Dylan, but to keep it going longer you follow Eddie giddily upstairs as he trips over himself and you felt like a goddamn teenager. You follow him into his room, and the curtains were blackout curtains, the lights turned off giving the illusion of everything being dark. “Can we turn on the lights?” You ask, delicately. “I wanna see you.”

Eddie turns on his dimmer switch light so it was low, and the look in his eye as he approaches you sat on his bed had a level of lust in them that drove you wild. He leans in to give you a kiss after sitting right by you, and it wasn’t enough touching for you. You crawl forward as you eagerly kissed him back, straddling his lap. “Fuck, sweetheart, you are fucking gorgeous.” He mutters, the silk pajamas you wore bunching up in his hands as he grabbed at it. “The little strap that peaked out of your skirt tied together was just tempting me to unwrap you like a present.” He huffs, still kissing your neck. You find yourself impatient, wanting his lips back on yours.

“Fuck, been thinkin’ about you on my cock ever…” he inhales your perfume with a deep grunting sigh of content. “ever since.”

You mewl to his confessions, and he’s a much better talker than you could’ve imagined. Your hips start to grind on their own accord and with the little fabric they have between your silk shorts and his thin pajama pants you felt his hard cock fairly easily. You let out a high moan of contentment, and Eddie watches as you grind on his cock and get yourself off so easily. “Oh shit, she’s a dirty slut, hey.” Eddie comments leaning back and watching you grind yourself. “Doesn’t even need a cock inside her, will just take anything I give her with a smile on her face.”

“I would—” you gasp, the material scratching your clit in the best way, “I would take any crumbs, fuck.”

You start to moan higher and grind faster, and Eddie wanted to make you cum by his hands or his mouth the first time but you making yourself cum against his pants meant he was now using this as a fucking cum rag to smell you when you weren’t near. “Take off those shorts, doll. Wanna see your pussy.”

“Ok.” They are yanked off without a second thought.

“Oh, good listener. What a good girl.” He comments petting your hair gently as you continued to grind again with your heat now directly against his pj pants, he could feel it against his cock. “Oh, fuck, you are soaked. My fucking horny slut.”

“Horny for you.” You whimper the edge just right there.

“Whoring herself out for the Munsons.” He comments, sort of bitter he had to hear you fuck his son before he could claim you.

“Pictured it was you.” You admit, your voice in a whisper as you confessed but the high you wanted almost there.

“Fuck, did you?” He asks, the idea you only enjoying it so much because you pictured him.

“Mmhmm. Pictured you watching me, too.”

“Fucking little voyeur.” He whispers, and you nodded. He rewarded you by grabbing your hips and rutting against you and hitting your clit even harder and your orgasm snuck up on you, and the extra attention Eddie pays you as he watches it wash through you only helps the high take longer to recover from.

“Oh my god.” You whisper, a last of the intense orgasm still running through you.

“Not done.” Eddie whispers, a big smirk on his face. He lightly pushes you down and grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulder. You watch him carefully, his face looking at your pussy at a way that would usually resolve in embarrassment. Instead, it only turned you on more because it meant he wanted you just as much.

He dives into your pussy with a level of expertise that only came from years of pleasuring women. You don’t know why but you knew he got off to pleasuring others from the moment you saw him and every moan you let out he absorbed it, getting better and better as your verbal ques direct him. The heat in your pussy intensifies as he continues, fucking two of his fingers into you.

You place your hands in his hair, grinding up when the feeling of wanting to be fucked takes over you. “No, patience baby. I need to see what you look like when you squirt.”

“I-I can’t—”

“Every woman can, sweetheart. Just means you’ve had no one show you yet. Feel that?” He asks you, the heat in your pussy expanding as he continued to attack your clit and finger fuck you.

You nod, the feeling in your gut like a tidal wave of pleasure.

“Focus on it.” You do, and as you do you look up at his eyes, already staring into yours as he assesses your reactions. The heat intensifies by a thousand, and the feeling of wanting to…pee…takes over.

“Fuck—” you start to protest.

“Let it happen. Let go. It’ll feel so fucking good…baby let go. Gonna feel so fucking good.” You trust him so you let go and a gush invades your ear as a red-hot pleasure makes home in your pussy. “One more?” Eddie asks you, his thumb now messaging your clit.

You twitch under him, your bud being so sensitive. “Oh fuck, Ed. Too much.”

“No, I think you can cum again. Wanna see that beautiful face all scrunched up. Wanna take a photo.” He holds out his phone casually, and your face heats up. “Not feeling all the sudden shy, are ya? You whored your little pussy for me how is this different?”

“Its…” you manage out, already close again. “Its hot.”

“She gonna cum again, all over my fingers?”

“All over your fingers.”

“You gonna lick em clean?”

“Can we share?”

Eddie groans audibly, titling his head back. “Of course, doll. Of fucking course, now cum all over them, please.”

The third orgasm takes over your body, and it’s so goddamn good you stop responding for a minute which causes Eddie to panic. “Oh shit, you okay?”

Giggles burst out of you, the kind of post orgasm giggles you’ve only read about in spicy novels. You thought they were fake. “Can I suck you off now?”

Eddie’s eyes bulge, and he realizes his hand is still on your pussy. He taps it lightly, causing you to whine. He lifts the finger first, inserting it into your mouth. “Suck this first.” You wrap your tongue around it, keeping eye contact as you taste yourself, and this is the only time it’s ever been truly hot to be able to taste yourself. Other times it was just perplexing.

Eddie takes the other finger when you let go and starts sucking on it, he closes his eye, enjoying the taste of your pussy on his tongue. Eddie crawls onto his bed and you basically pounce him, yanking his pj pants down as fast as they go, wanting to see his cock. His eyes watch you, blown and enwrapped in lust as he watches your eagerness.

As his cock pops out of his pants, an involuntary smile spreads across your face. The head to his cock was so pink, he must’ve been horny. “Oh, pretty cock.” You mutter, and he wasn’t even sure if you were saying to him or just saying it out loud. “Oh my god, look how pink your head is. Mmm..sure seem like you need some attention.”

You take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it alone but getting used to his girth. Holy he was gonna hurt even with how wet you were. You start sucking on it, taking bit by bit more into your mouth each time, eagerly making sloppy spit sounds as you did so. It wasn’t hard to generate the spit you needed, the sight of his dick made your mouth water.

Your head bobbed up and down on it, illicit sounds being drawn out of him, only encouraging you more as the feeling of his rings harsh against your scalp making you wet. You pop off him, spit connected from your mouth to his dick. You lean forward to his treasure trail, licking the hair and biting at it, something you’ve wanted to do since you saw him. You find your way back down and passed his cock and he’s about to ask when take one of his balls into your mouth, sucking loudly.

“Oh fuck, do you know how to use that pretty little mouth. Holy shit.” You roam over it with your tongue, sucking it in and out repeatedly. Then you move on to the next one, giving it its own show as well. Your mouth moves back to suck on his cock but he tugs on your hair to bring him up to you.

“Want you to face fuck me.” You say to him, still not done sucking on his cock.

“Nother time. Lemme fuck you.” He mutters, tugging on the shirt you still wore. You crawl back up to straddle him, nothing between his cock and your pussy now, but he places his cock on it so the shaft slides in-between your folds, teasing you, and causing you to whine. “Oh shit.” He works on the buttons holding your silky pink shirt, the skilled hands working fast through each one. As each one reveals another inch of skin, he feels more intoxicated by you, especially how you’re begging him to put his cock in. Your tits fall out of the shirt, and he rips the back off you, and you let it fall to the floor. You grab onto his band shirt, attempting to move it off him. You barely do it, the feeling of his cock so close inside you causing your focus to fall apart in seconds. He laughs, nearly cruel, yanking the shirt off, revealing more tattoos you’ve never seen. Your hands flutter to his chest, moving to each tattoo and touching every inch you can.

Your mission to focus and analyze each tattoo is interrupted by him maneuvering you onto your back. You lay there, open and ready for him. “Holy shit, fucking smoking hot.” He mutters, like he couldn’t believe you were here with him.

It was you who was the lucky one, he was crazy.

“You’re hotter.” You mutter, as he starts to align his cock with your entrance. “Thought of you last night, made myself cum so hard.”

“Oh fuck. What was I doing?” He asks, still teasing you with it.

“Just watching me finger myself. Talking me through it. Calling me a whore.” He groans, tapping his cock on it. “Please, Ed need your cock.”

“Beg for it, you fucking slut.” He whispers, something taking over him.

“Please, daddy. Want your cock. Want you to fuck me like a ragdoll. Please, pretty please fuck me until I’m a puddle. I just want your cock in me, so fucking bad.”

“Gonna be a good slut for me?”

“Yes..I will I promise.”

He chuckles darkly and finally…finally moves into you. Your eyes cross and a moan so erotic leaves your body and you had barely a single ounce of control over that left your mouth at that point.

Eddie puts his head into your neck, feeling your head tighten around him in pleasure as you got used to his girth and length.

“Move…please?”

“Thought you were gonna take the crumbs I gave you, slut.” He mutters.

“Fuck. Sorry.”

He smiles and your fingers fidgeting at your sides were a dead giveaway you were just needy for him to move. It made him feel fucking powerful just his cock could make you feel like this. He starts rocking, slowly and you whine from this resolve alone. “Oh what a fucking whore, just needed a good fucking.” He mutters into your ear, his hand finding its way to your neck. “Putting her pussy on display for me, showing she just needed someone to know how to fuck her.”

You say nothing in response, and his hips are starting to rock against yours harder. Your eyes reach the back of your head as you lose air, but you revel in the feeling of nearly passing out as he takes his hand off. “Holy shit, you really are just a whore.”

You nod, eyes half lidded as you looked up at his pussy drunk eyes. “Little…cockdrunk…slut…” he inhales sharply and a wad of spit hits your face and you find yourself opening your mouth for more. “Fuck—” his hips stutter at the sight of your smile when his saliva hits your mouth. He spits right into it as you open for more and you act like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, cause it was.

Your tongue pokes out, gasping in more need. His hips are against yours so harshly you would’ve been afraid of bruising if it didn’t fucking turn you on so bad.

“Fucking slut, you want me to cum in you? Wanna be filled with my fucking cum?” You nod, too cocked out to speak, you’ve never felt this good from penetration alone before. “Cum with me, doll.” He mutters using his two fingers against your clit as he leans in to kiss you. Within moments you flutter around him, moaning into his mouth and he lets go of your kiss, stuttering his hips and letting out a loud moan as you feel him fill you up.

His body weight collapses ontop of you, and his hands are suddenly gentle as they sweep at your bangs sticking to your sweaty forehead. “Fuck.” He mutters, giving you a dazed-out look of pure adoration. “That was much better than anything I came up with.”

You nod in agreement, words still not coming to your mouth.

“You were such a good girl, yeah?” You smile, a heat coming up to your cheeks. “You listened to me so well. C’mere.” He wraps your lips in a kiss, his cock still in you, still hard and keeping all his cum in you.

“C-can we stay like this?” You ask timidly, not wanting his cock to leave yet.

“Ooh, baby wants to cock-warm? Sure. Wanna turn on a movie until 9, when Dylan usually wakes?” Eddie asks, already leaning towards the channel changer on his beside table.

Having to tell Dylan it was pretty much over the moment Eddie kissed you hadn’t even crossed your mind, and it would eventually twenty minutes into the movie when you got back to earth. Eddie knew the realization would kick in eventually so he let you watch a movie of your choice, sitting up on his bed with you straddled on his lap after a bit of maneuvering so you could both see the movie on his screen adjacent to his bed.

Eventually, Dylan was gonna wake.

Eventually, a storm would hit.

But for now, Eddie stayed inside you to pretend like it wasn’t over yet.

As always i Love reading comments, replies, reblogs <3 remember reblogging is the best way to support on Tumblr

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #older eddie munson #older eddie munson x you

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free.

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour.

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the?

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving.

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?”

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.”

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome.

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing?

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?”

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment.

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.”

No, he won’t.

He knows it. You know it.

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.”

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch.

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.”

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication.

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?”

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag.

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts.

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down.

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit.

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut.

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.”

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon.

“I can see that.”

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over.

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?”

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.”

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought.

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better.

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?”

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless.

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound.

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still.

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer.

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was.

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best.

That was until he did show up.

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be.

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you.

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him.

“What do you need?”

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing.

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.”

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?”

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with.

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care.

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.”

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him.

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.”

“I won’t.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily. You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating.

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?” With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls.

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein.

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .”

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head.

“And take. . .”

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want.

“And take. . .”

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake.

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust.

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy.

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him.

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?”

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over.

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.”

Miguel is a man of his word.

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time.

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name.

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming in heavy pants.

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him.

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down.

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.”

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin.

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains.

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”

You can’t answer.

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out.

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty.

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes.

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs.

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for.

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #across the spiderverse fic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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motherlvr · 1 year

Note

can you write something grumpy!42miles x sunshine!reader? where he’s always kinda mean but cares about her but they end up together

this prompt is so cute tysm for the req!!

Word count: About 1,600

Pairing: Grumpy Earth-42! Miles Morales x Sunshine! f! reader

Summary: The line between just classmates and something more is thin. Miles and You seemed to be walking that line.

Warnings: (begrudgingly) friends to lovers, he's a bit mean, fluff, minimal cursing, classmates to lovers, pure fluff, cannot contain the fluff, reader is a little slow, this is short and cute, spanish grammar is not my strong suit

A/N: if i haven't gotten to your request yet, its still a wip but will be posted soon!

_________

You were boisterously laughing. Obnoxiously, even. The guy’s joke wasn’t even that funny.

Miles called your name out with an aggravated tone,

"Would it kill you to shut up for a second?"

You promptly responded, "Would it kill you to lighten up for once?"

He regrets not skipping this class.

That was partially a lie. In reality, he didn’t care for this class at all. He only came to see you. You were one of the few people who put up with him.

Miles and you always sat together during class. "Unassigned assigned seats", you'd call it. But that’s all you were. Seat partners. That was the way it was, and the way it would stay. And he was fine with that, at least he tried to convince himself.

The next day, the seat next to Miles was empty. It hasn’t been empty since the first day you met.

If you asked Miles how you both met, he’d say you forced your way into his life. However, you’d say that you saw through his “cold guy” facade and he opened up his heart to you. He was a good guy if you had the patience. That was only one of the many things he admired about you. Your optimism.

He saw you across the room. You were sitting with someone else. A guy. What was his name again? Miles couldn't recall. That was how irrelevant he was to Miles.

"Is this seat taken?" Miles looked up to the voice that had spoken, hoping it was somehow you. However, as he glanced up, an unfamiliar face was staring at him.

"Nah." He muttered, not sparing her another look.

She introduced herself and told Miles her name, but he wasn't listening. He was listening to your laugh. How could he not? Your laugh was practically drowning out every other voice in the room. At least, that’s how he perceived it.

You were giggling at whatever the guy next to you said. But this time, he wished it was him making you laugh. That guy didn't deserve to hear you laugh, or see you smile.

He couldn't stand your laugh unless he was the cause of it. Miles didn’t pay attention to the lesson that day. He was occupied staring daggers into your back. Yet you never noticed.

You sat next to Miles the day after, as usual. It was an unspoken agreement, and you had broken it the day prior.

Immediately as you sat down, Miles started interrogating you.

"You left me with some random girl to go flirt with that moron? He's a dick." He scoffed at you, nodding his head towards the guy that you left him for yesterday.

Right, like you're not. You thought. "He's really not, he's a good guy!" You defended him and continued, "Plus, your partner was super smart. She was probably more help than I could’ve been.”

"Ella no es tú. What else can I say, ma?" Miles casually said.

You tried to hide your grin but failed as a smile spread across your face. The corner of his lip curled in a small smirk. If you blinked, you would have missed it.

"I’m sorry for 'leaving you', Miles. But don’t worry, I prefer you over him anyway." You smiled brightly at him. And for a second, his stoic heart gleamed.

"I wasn't worried." He grumbled.

"You sure? I mean, whatever you say.” You grinned amusedly at him.

The rest of the class period followed as usual. But this time, before the bell rang, Miles bottled up his dignity to ask you, "Ay ma, wanna hang out after school?"

You raised a skeptical brow at his unusual behavior, "What, you starting to like me now? I thought you couldn't tolerate me." You probed.

Oblivious to you, he does more than just tolerate you. He was growing fond of your presence. He was starting to miss the sound of your giggle echoing within the room when he wasn’t around you.

But he couldn't find the courage to tell you just yet. Instead, he murmured, "I can tolerate you. Out of most of these people in here, anyway."

"I'm kidding. Yeah, I'm down, Miles." You teased him and agreed.

What you didn't know is that your initial question wasn't very far from the truth.

The school day couldn’t have passed any slower. If you were being honest, you were eagerly anticipating spending more time with Miles out of school.

The final bell of the day rang, and Miles held up to his side of the agreement. He met up with you after school.

Walking side-by-side, you asked, "What've you got planned for us today, Miles? You gonna wine and dine me?" you winked at him.

"Maybe another day, mami." He cracked a slight grin as he responded, fond of your antics.

"I'll hold you to that. I've got a better idea, anyway." You said as you heard a familiar song ringing through the atmosphere.

You yanked Miles by his arm and pulled him, "Look, an ice cream truck! I haven't seen one of those in forever. Let's go!"

A rare smile adorned Miles' face. Not that you saw it. You were too busy chasing after the ice cream truck and dragging him along.

You approached the ice cream truck. The ice cream man greeted you, "Hey guys! What can I get for you today?"

Without missing a beat, you said "Hello! Can I get the Spongebob popsicle please?" with a bright smile.

Miles ordered his right after you. "Coming right up!" The ice cream man said. He shortly returned with both your orders in hand.

As you tried to give the owner cash, Miles lowered your hand gently and said, "Let me pay for you." It was more of a demand as he handed cash to the man.

You couldn't contain the surprise that formed on your face. "Really? Thank you, Miles! You didn't have to do that, y’know." You reached up to him and peppered a kiss on his cheek as a token of gratitude. "Nah, I wanted to." He dismisses it with a shrug.

The man gave you both your ice creams and said, "Have a good day!"

"Young love. A beautiful thing to see." The owner of the truck said as you both walked away.

You both sat on a bench surrounded by a garden of blooming flowers. It was quite scenic for Brooklyn. "Miles, look. He only has one eye!" You chuckled as you showed him your popsicle.

Unbeknownst to you, you had ice cream smeared on your face. He leaned in to wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb, his gaze lingering on your lips. An almost too-intimate action for people who were just "classmates." But you brushed it off as him being friendly for a change.

"You're a mess, mami." He chuckled, shaking his head at you. You ignored how he made your stomach do flips.

Miles had led you to a rooftop that he frequents. It had an incredible view of the sun, despite all the tall buildings encased around you two.

Miles and you spent the rest of the evening together, basking in the presence of one another. You conversed for hours, only realizing the time when the sun started to set. Comfortable moments of silence were exchanged as you watched the sun disappear from the sky, the moon soon replacing it.

“It’s a full moon, isn’t it just beautiful?” You admired the moon as it shone down on the sullen streets of Brooklyn.

"Yeah, It is." He replied, but he wasn't looking at the moon. If you had just turned your head, you'd realize the true meaning of his words. He hadn't even noticed the moon. His eyes were fixated on you instead. He believed that the moon couldn't even hold a candle to you.

"Why haven't we done this before, Miles? I enjoyed hanging out with you today." You felt harmonious with him for once, laying your head against his shoulder as you studied his face.

"I did too, princesa. Maybe I will just wine and dine you someday." Miles said with a smirk, gazing down into your eyes with a borderline smitten expression.

A lightbulb suddenly enlightened your brain. You mentally banged your head against a wall. How could you be so naive to not realize it sooner?

You broke the tension in the air and raised your head to look into his eyes. "Is this a date? You know, people that are 'just' classmates don't go on dates." You told him cheekily.

Could he not have made it more obvious? He paused for a moment and said, “I don’t want to be just classmates.”

“So you want to be best friends? Great! Me too." You grinned, feigning naivety.

His face immediately dropped as he facepalmed himself. "Dios mío, no. That's not what I meant. Never mind, olvídalo." He said, shaking his head.

You beamed at him and laced your fingers with his. “I’m just messing with you, Miles. I like you too. In case you haven't noticed."

He sighed of relief as he lifted your entwined hands to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. You stayed in each other's embrace for the rest of the night.

From that day forward, you never broke the unspoken agreement ever again. And Miles never had to worry about you associating with another douche again. Excluding himself.

You walked into class hand-in-hand the next day. The following days, as well. That's the way it was, and that's the way it would stay. And both of you were content with that.

_________

ella no es tú - she's not you

dios mío - my god

olvídalo - forget it

princesa - princess

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #jealousy #miles morales spider man #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #prowler miles #spider man #earth 42 #prowler miles morales #prowler!miles x reader #miles morales prowler #prowler!miles #miles morales #friends to lovers

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tripleyeeet · 10 months

Text

THE ROGUE TAX (2)

SUMMARY: Fed up with paying Astarion to pick all the locks, you force yourself to learn the hard way.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 2,635

WARNINGS: Short nightmare sequence, too much sexual tension, slight mentions of a handkink, inappropriate lock pick teaching.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm posting these super early but day two of the Haunted Hoedown! This time the prompt is "finders keepers!" I honestly had so much fun with this one, so hopefully all the new Astarion fans that've followed me in the last day enjoy? Love you guys. :))))

Also I was originally going to make all of these challenge fics separate but I've since decided to make it more of a connected fic so... that's a thing now? I'll link the last chapter below!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

“I wasn’t aware you were so proficient at lock picking.”

You smirk at Astarion’s false praise, busying your hands against the lock’s mechanism. You’ve only been at it for five or six, maybe seven tops but you can already tell it’ll be a while. The lock itself is tough; covered in a layer of thick rust. Plus, being that it’s a chest and not a door, it’s a bit more advanced than you’re used to.

“Yes, well, not all of us are vampires that can woo their way through a padlock.”

In response, Astarion laughs, throwing his head back so dramatically that from the corner of your eye, it looks as if he’s lost his head for a moment. “You do realize who you’re talking to, correct?”

You hum out a response and push the short hook further in, feeling the pressure of a loose pin hit the end. When that happens, you grin to yourself and slide closer to the chest, biting your bottom lip in excitement.

Over the last few weeks, you and the rest of the group had come upon some interesting findings. A cave inside a well, a few hidden cellars around the surrounding the goblin camp, a hidden chest or two. At first, it was exciting, getting to experience the joys of a good treasure hunt but quickly such feelings fell once you discovered how difficult it was to break into said things without the help of Astarion and his seemingly magic hands.

“I know you’re excited to prove yourself, darling, but why don’t you let me finish things off, hm? It’ll go a lot quicker.”

You shake your head and continue your ministrations, carefully pushing the hook further in, feeling that alleviated pressure of another pin. “I’m tired of relying on you and your bloody rogue tax.”

After agreeing that Astarion would just pick every lock your party found for a price, it was evident he was more than willing to take more than he was owed. Saying things like I did all the work or you wouldn’t be here if not for me, it was obvious he was exploiting you. Using his roguish charms to earn himself a bigger cut despite doing next to nothing else.

It was frustrating, to say the least. Another minor annoyance to add to his long list of negative personality traits, and lately you were determined to combat it. To learn the trade for yourself so that every piece of treasure found could remain solely yours.

“I’m sure everyone is but that’s the price you pay for a professional.”

You roll your eyes and continue to fiddle, feeling his gaze glued to the positioning of your hands —how your fingers tighten and twist around the metal instrument.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit nervous —having his eyes on you. Across your palms, you can feel the slick of sweat collecting with each new movement, while behind you, you can practically feel Astarion’s judgement throughout, silently picking apart all of your mistakes.

“You’re doing—“

You shush him angrily before he can continue, knowing he’s trying to break your concentration. Knowing that he thinks that if he can prove to be enough of a distraction you’ll end up slipping up and giving in.

“I was just going to tell you about the wonderful job you’re doing.” His tone is laced with sarcasm. Drenched in a thick layer of impatience that has you groaning under your breath.

“Isn’t there someone else you can bother?”

“No.”

You know there is. In the other room of the abandoned building you currently find yourselves in, at least four other people are rooting through the rubble. Most likely they’re stationed in their usual areas. Gale’s probably next to the stack of bookshelves with Karlach, telling her all about his collection back at the camp while Wyll and Shadowheart are searching through the cellar in hopes of more wine.

“You sure?”

For a moment you debate telling him to go keep watch with Lae’zel just so that he’ll shut up but the thought dissipates once you feel him flop onto the floor beside you with a groan.

“Everyone else is so dull,” he complains. His line of slight flickers between your face and hands, watching the way they remain almost too still as he speaks. “They’re all do this do that, and for what?”

You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, unsure of what he means.

“They’re all living for other people, darling. Other causes. Everything they do serves a higher purpose and for that reason alone, they’re boring.”

Despite your previous determination your hands release themselves from the padlock before you find yourself readjusting —moving to plop down next to him. “You think everyone’s boring because they’re selfless?”

“Predictable,” he corrects, pointing a loose finger in your direction. “All of them talk too much about a future that may not even come considering we’re infected and have little idea on how to remedy the situation.”

You’re not sure where this rant is coming from but you welcome it considering it’s been weeks since you’ve had a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around mapping or looting or combat. Weeks since you’ve taken a moment to learn about the people you find yourself in constant contact with.

“Some people just don’t like looking back.”

There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes when you respond as if he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Or really, maybe an answer at all. All at once his face seems to rise in thought, taking a moment to absorb the words before he hums in response, pursing his lips. “Yes, well, I suppose some people don’t have a past worth running from.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

The tadpole behind your eye wriggles for his attention before you can even think to suppress it. Working to pull him in as you stare at one another, narrowing your eyes at the sudden cerebral contact. At first, he’s reluctant. You can feel the pushing sensation suggesting that you stop. That you should stick to the confines of your own mind rather than pestering him, but quicker than you can move away to agree, it’s as if you’re sucked back in again. Pulled by the very thread of your own brain matter to see flashes of a life you assume to be his.

The first thing you see is candlelight. A flickering of warm hues that dance across wooden interiors. It’s almost dizzying the way the light shifts across your vision, forcing you to close your eyes. Next to you, you can hear Astarion breathing heavily. Deep inhales followed by even deeper exhales that you swiftly use as a metronome to carry your focus. To aid your tadpole’s connection.

Swallowing hard, you listen to the beats of his breath, feeling them take over your chest as the vision in front of you grows to reveal bits of cobblestone. In the background, you can hear the faint sounds of scuttling feet. The dripping of water. A hungry growl followed by an even hungrier gnaw of flesh that squelches on your tongue.

You can taste the iron —feel the fur and bones of an unknown animal brush against your lips and gums. All of it swirls around your mouth like a tornado of overstimulating sensations, forcing the vision to pass as you reach for your throat, coughing up nothing but your own spit despite how real it feels.

It’s apparent then what Astarion means. That some people aren’t always blessed with the privilege of running away. That people like him don’t have the means of calling upon allies to aid them through the awful shit that is reality.

Even with such little context, you can sense through his tadpole that he’s alone in this life. Alone before the Illithid —alone now. And more than likely, he’ll be alone after it’s all over, in death or otherwise.

Rubbing your throat —trying your best to get rid of the tainted feeling of skin and bone from your mouth, you feel empathy rather than sympathy. An understanding of his words as you look toward him, noticing the far-off look in his eye before he blinks and travels back.

“I only showed you that to save the explanation,” he says, and whether or not it’s true you merely just nod, welcoming the silence. The tranquil hush of two people attempting to navigate the other.

It doesn’t last long. In between, there are a few moments of background noise. The sound of echoing footsteps and muffled voices. You know it’s the others looting just as you should be, but neither of you moves to join until Astarion eventually clears his throat, signalling change.

“Anyway, they’re all in their own worlds, coasting on the wings of optimism.” He flicks his hand around the air while rolling his eyes. “It’s disgusting and partly why I choose your company above theirs.”

Letting yourself fall back into your usual, somewhat antagonistic rhythm, you give him a curious look. “Partly, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips, the edge of his lip twitching into that usual grin of his. “The other part is the potential of your blood, darling.”

“Ah yes. And here I was assuming you were just following me around so that you could steal my treasure.”

Both of your eyes move back to the unbroken padlock. It’s the only thing in this room that seems to be worth either of your time and Astarion knows it. It’s why he’s been so keen on your failure.

“You know, I could help you if you like. Show you a thing or two so that the next time this happens you don’t have to rely on me.”

It’s tempting, even if you know that you’ll be taxed to all hell. Whatever spoils you find will ultimately be cut in half and, more than likely, he’ll sweeten the deal for himself by claiming first pick.

“What’s the price?”

He shoots you a look of offence, clutching his chest. “My dear, I’d never dare put a price on the education of thievery.”

You hold back a grin, pressing your lips together, watching the way he quickly springs into action, motioning for you to hand him your tools. When you do he begins to explain the process, showcasing all the tips and tricks against the air with careful precision. Which would be helpful if you weren’t so focused on his hands rather than his words. On the way they curl around the handles of your tools, tightening with every gesture performed.

Astarion’s got nicer hands than most. Long and thin and surprisingly well-manicured for someone who spends most of his time in the forest or drinking the blood of unsuspecting animals. And guiltily enough staring at them so intently just reminds you of that night he drained your neck.

You can still feel the pressure of his fingers against your head. The way they roughly cupped you like a goblet of wine. Despite the fear in that moment, you’re now able to look back at that memory almost fondly. A moment of potential weakness for you somehow became a moment of trust for him and as a result, here you were now, acting almost friendly amid a terrible situation.

It makes you grin, prompting Astarion to stop his explanation and narrow his eyes.

“Are you even listening?”

“Hm?”

There’s a knowing glance that befalls his face then. A transition of clarity that has his mouth opening and closing before he hands you your tools. “Might be best if we take a more hands on approach.”

You look at him confused, letting the hooks in your hand lazily rest in your palm as you watch him hop to his knees and begin to guide you.

“I want you to do exactly what you were doing before, alright? Use the hook to push the pins.”

Despite your continued confusion, you follow his position by kneeling in front of the chest and popping the hook into the hole, digging around the darkened space until you feel the shift of that first pin.

“Got it?” You spare him a glance and a nod, watching him crawl towards you, positioning his chest firmly against your back before reaching out to hold your wrists. “Now, take that other hook of yours and situate it at the base of the barrel.”

Doing exactly that, you feel his fingers slowly slip over yours, navigating you through the trials of getting that second pin to shift as the barrel turns in your grasp. At first, it’s difficult. Mostly because all you can focus on is the breath that hits the side of your face. The heat of the air that travels down your spine in nervous waves you’re almost certain he can feel. But then you’re reminded that you’ve been here before; stuck within his heated grasp.

“That’s it. Just like that.”

You’re practically holding your breath as you find that third pin, feeling Astarion’s hand shift you in the right direction before you lose it at the last second. Ever so gently, his chest shifts upwards against your back so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better look. A newfound weight that makes you close your eyes and release a bit of air from your nose, realizing how intimate this is.

Somehow it feels even more personal than letting him feed off of you. Perhaps because the bloodsucking was for his own benefit, knowing Astarion, moments like that where he’s able to take rather than give mean next to nothing to him. They’re just moments of manipulation. A series of tactical steps he takes to get whatever he wants whereas this is different. This is for you.

You’re not sure how to describe it other than an offering of trust. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation for letting him consume. Maybe it’s nothing more than a game to make you squirm beneath his grasp. Either or, it’s an experience you know you’ll be thinking of for days to come, attempting to decipher its intent.

“Once you feel that final pin I want you to ease it in gently, alright? Be delicate.”

You offer him no response as you listen to his words. If you did, you’re certain he’d make some offhand comment that would only further the lewdness of it all, grinning like the mischievous prick he is.

“After that, you should feel a little shift and —voilà!”

The chest clicks open. Your breath releases in a long, much-needed stream but Astarion makes no effort to move from your frame. Instead, he continues to cling to your hands, angling his chin so that when you eventually look at him you’re practically touching noses.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s that easy?”

Slowly but surely he slips from your frame with a nod, his hands sliding across the expanse of your sleeves, coating your skin in a wave of goosebumps as he moves to stand. “Yes, but keep it hush, hush. Wouldn’t want the others to find out, would we?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping across your lips as you then turn towards your reward, gripping both edges of the lid before pushing it up. Inside there are only a few items. A few spell scrolls and some fabric but it’s enough to get you excited regardless, realizing that it’s yours.

“Not bad for your first go.” Peeking over your shoulder, Astarion watches as you sift through everything carefully, unrolling each scroll to read the details before looking back up and raising a brow.

“You sure there’s no tax?” you ask, but all he does is laugh and shake his head.

“Finders keepers, darling. As I promised.”

#the rogue tax #baldur's gate 3 fan fic #bg3 fan fic #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #haunted hoedown #haunted hoedown writing challenge #summer writes

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wintfleur · 3 months

Note

🪷 hugging them tight without saying any words when they're having a hard time, with luke Hughes! his older sister and he just needs his sisters comfort especially after how the devils have played and how tired luke has looked

౨ৎ Ice cream and much-needed hugs

﹕─┈ pairings ( Luke Hughes x older sister! reader )

°. — summary ( Luke’s been having a tough time, and his big sister just wants to cheer him up ! )

°. — details ( g; little bit of angst, some fluff. w; none that I know of wc; 2.2k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ hugging them right without saying any words when they’re having a hard time

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( LUKEY AHHH MY LOVE ! I love Luke sm if you guys didn’t know !!! I love writing sibling dynamics so muchhhh so thank you for sending the wonderful request !!! I absolutely loved writing it, I really tried to make it angsty but i think I’m terrible at writing angst, I’m sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, I was struggling sooo bad with the dialogue . . . also I of course had to add the love of my Like Brock boeser in it because like DUHHH I am so down for writing more for a older Hughes sister, I’m thinking she’s like 25??? I really hope you guys love it !!! Let me know if you want me to write more for older sister Hughes! Please don’t be a silent reader lovely’s !!! )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

There were a lot of upsides that came with being the oldest sibling, there were of course a lot of downsides too . . . but you chose to ignore those and focus on the upsides. Like being able to stay up later while your brothers had to go to sleep, having a good sense of leadership and responsibility, being able to read your brothers like a picture book.

So, you knew right away that something was wrong with your youngest brother as you watched him play in the last period. You could see it clearly in his demeanor and the way he was skating, he was starting to overthink things, he had gotten into his own head. You of course had seen the way the public and media was shitting on your brother because he's made a few bad plays, and it broke your heart to see how defeated he looked sitting on that bench.

Jack had voiced his worries about Luke to you over the phone a few days ago when you were out with Quinn and your boyfriend brock. Even with hundreds of miles between you and Luke you could tell something was bothering him, that's why your planned trip to visit your younger brothers this weekend was even more meaningful.

You were leaning against the wall as you waited for your brothers to leave the locker room, your focus was down on your phone as you texted your boyfriend. A smile on your lips, you missed him dearly even though you have only been gone for almost two days. “Sis!” you heard the familiar sound of jack's voice call your name. You look up from your phone and smile as Jack rushes over to you and pulls you into a tight hug.

“You played so well jack” You mumbled into his neck, cursing at the curse of being the oldest but the shortest. Jack smiles and gives you one more squeeze before letting go and taking a step back, even though they lost he wasn't going to let that bring him down from the fact that you watched him play in person for the first time in a few months.

“Thank you, luke should be out soon, he's just being a little hard on himself” Jack sighed as he glanced back at the locker room entrance, there was only so much he could say to let luke know that he's doing okay. You let out a sigh and nodded, already getting an image of a pouty luke. Your eyes lit up with an idea, as a memory from years ago popped up in your mind. You smile at Jack as you ask “Do you think you can get a ride home? And can I have the keys to your truck?”

“Uh yeah why?” Jack questioned with a raised brow as he pulled out his keys from his front pocket and handed them to you. You smiled gratefully and grabbed the keys and slid them into your front pocket with your lip gloss. “I have an idea on how to cheer luke up.”

“Well good luck, cause I can't handle a grumpy luke anymore '' Jack jokes as he pats you on the shoulder, happy that you were now here to save him from the grumpy luke. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest as you look at jack “I remember saying the same thing about you.”

“Have fun! I'm gonna go catch up with nico "Jack grins as he chooses to ignore your words, placing a quick kiss to your forehead before rushing off down the hallway, turning to look at you quickly and shouting out an ‘i love you’ before turning the corner and leaving your sight. You look forward just in time to see Luke walk out of the locker room, well more like trudge. His steps were heavy, and you can see the exhaustion on his face. His shoulders were sagged as he carried his backpack, he was changed out of his suit and into some sweats and a hoodie. He looked like a sad cat. When Luke noticed you, his heavy steps turned into long strides as he moved towards you.

Before you could open your mouth to greet your brother, he was throwing his arms over shoulders and nestling his head in the crook of your head, for a much-needed hug. Your eyes widened at how tight Luke was holding you, but you close your eyes and wrap your arms around your little brother, softly rubbing his back with one of your hands. Luke closed his eyes and tried to shut off his mind as he felt himself melt into the comfort and safety of your arms.

You rested your chin on his shoulder as you whispered, “You, okay?” you felt him nod yes but the both of you knew he was lying. Luke let out a deep breath and reluctantly pulled away from the hug when his back was starting to hurt from leaning down for so long. You smiled up at him, brushing some of his curls out of his face as he asked, “Where's jack?”

“Oh, he's getting a ride home with nico, so come on lukey I'm taking you out tonight!” You excitedly pull-out Jack's keys and wave them while your other hand is grabbing Luke's arm and dragging him along you as you make your way down the hallway. Luke gave you an unimpressed look even though on the inside he was excited to spend more time with you “I’m not old enough to go bar hopping.”

“Is that really all you think I do in Vancouver?” You gasped dramatically as you pretended to be hurt from his words. You have one embarrassing experience when you go bar hopping, and now that's all anyone remembers, you think with a roll of your eyes. Luke felt the corner of his lips lift into a smile at your dramatics, Jack definitely got that from you.

“Besides I'm a good big sister, I wouldn't provide my underage brother with alcohol, at least in public” you joked as you wrapped your arm around Luke's, holding on tight. Luke chuckles and slips his hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, comforting silence coming across them as they make their way to Jack's truck.

“Need help? '' Luke asked sarcastically as he put on his seatbelt, his eyes on you as you struggled slightly to get into the truck. You gave him a quick glare before closing the door and putting on your seatbelt, quickly starting the truck, wanting to leave the arena before the traffic got even worse. You turned up the volume on the radio, an unfamiliar country song filling up the silent car. Luke let out a heavy sigh and relaxed into the seat, looking out the window and all the passing lights.

The car ride to your choice of destination was filled with mostly silence between you and Luke, just enjoying the music and the faint sound of the world around them. You could see that Luke had a lot on his mind and you didn't want to pressure him into talking about it, so you stayed quiet, knowing that he would tell you when he's ready. Luke couldn't help but replay every single one of his mistakes he's made in the past few games, remembering every tweet he saw from disappointed ‘fans’.

Luke could feel himself become more upset and discouraged the more he thought about it, so Luke quickly glanced at you before looking back out the window. Luke was slightly confused on how well you knew your way around the town, he was curious on where you were taking him. But he gave up on asking after the third time you told him it was a surprise.

Luke’s eyes widen with excitement when he sees where you're pulling into, it was an old ice cream shop that he had driven by many times, but never had the chance to try it. You smiled and turned off the car and grabbed your wallet from your purse and gave Luke a big smile “Come on, I'll even let you get 3 scoops!”

You laugh as you watch Luke quickly leave the truck and rush around the front of the truck to open your door. You giggle and take Luke's hand that he held out for you, doing your best to do a posh British accent “Thank you kind sir” Luke smiles and closes the door for you, following you across the parking lot, his spirit was lifted already.

“This is so good; how did you find this place?” Luke asked you before he took another lick of his chocolate ice cream, of course having a waffle cone. And despite you saying he could get 3 scoops, he only got 2. You look away from your bowl of your favorite ice cream and to your brothers whose focus was up at the stars. The two of you were sitting on the tailgate of the truck, neither of you realizing that your legs were swinging in unison.

“Oh, I found it the last time I came to visit, and you and Jack were at practice, I've been craving it since” you answered him as you looked back on the day. Luke nods and continues to eat his ice cream. Silence came across the two of you again, Luke didn't know what to say and you could see the way his shoulders became tense that he was thinking of something. You had a pretty good idea what he was thinking about, hockey.

“You played really good tonight luke” you broke the silence, and you watched as his shoulders sagged and a frown came across his lips as he looked down at his lap. You hated seeing how discouraged he looked, this wasn't like luke. He never let it get to him like this before, but it's different . . . it's the NHL, it's his dream. He whispered bitterly “We lost.”

“You still played really good, i'm really proud of you luke” you vowed as you gently nudged his knee with yours, your tone proving how genuine you were. You were a good big sister you liked to think, so you would never have a favorite brother . . . but your little brother Luke will always have a special place in your heart. The little brother who would listen to you rant all about your school drama while the other two were doing God knows what, the little brother who fully trusted you to drive him to get ice cream when you first got your license while Quinn and jack swore you would kill them. Your sweet little brother Luke who was far too good for this world.

Luke let out a heavy breath and his eyes started to water as he listened to you, he heard others say they were proud of him, but it was different, more meaningful coming from you. Unlike you he made it very clear that you're his favorite sibling, that you always have been. The big sister that he always knew would have his back no matter what, the big sister that always was on his side. He looked up from his lap and turned his head to look at you to see you were already smiling at him. “Thank you sissy.”

“Not just for the compliment” Luke quickly spoke before you could, fully turning his body to face you, thankfully he had eaten most of his ice cream, so he didn't have to worry about it dripping. Luke never really liked talking about his emotions or just having deep conversations in general, but he didn't have to worry about any of that with his big sister who always made it clear that he could talk to you no matter what. Luke continues speaking “But for taking me here and for being here for me, for always being here for me.”

“I'll always be here lukey” You promised as you set your ice cream bowl next to you before leaning over and pulling Luke into a much-needed hug. Luke smiles and closes his eyes, hugging you with one arm while the other holds his cone away from you, not wanting to get any ice cream on you. Luke lets himself melt into the hug; he really didn't want you to leave. You couldn't help tearing up as you think of Luke and everything he's been through and how strong he is, you really are so proud of your little . . . well not so little brother. You sniffled and whispered, “God why did you have to grow up so fast.”

“Trying to catch up with you, you old lady” Luke jokes, wanting to lift the mood, he really hated seeing you cry, and he knew you so well that he was sure you were going to. A loud laugh leaves his lips as you pull away from the hug and dramatically move away from him. Despite his words you smiled as you listened to luke laugh, it was the type of laugh that made you want to join in. You pulled the keys out of your pocket and slap them into luke's hand before jumping off the tailgate of the truck and snatching your ice cream “That's it your driving home.”

Luke continued to laugh and watch as you stomp over to the passenger seat, the famous Hughes pout on your lips. Luke quickly gets off the bed of the truck and puts up the tailgate shouting a cheeky remark that only made him laugh harder at the quick glare you sent him.

“Thank God! Brock drives you around so much I'm pretty sure you forgot how to drive”

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

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tweetracer · 10 months

Note

Hi! I saw you wanted some barbie prompts so I had a idea.

What if Ken meets someone in the real world and he instantly found them attractive, they end up complimenting him which makes him want them even more to where he forgets the whole patriarchy ordeal and just wants them to love him because they didn’t just ignore him.

💖 Meeting RG!Ken in the Real World 💖

(RG!Ken x Human!Reader)

💖 SO YOU DEFINITELY MEET THIS GUY WHILE HE’S IN DAVY CROCKETT MIDDLE SCHOOL’S LIBRARY. You’ve been working there a few months as a librarian and while it wasn’t exactly your passion it was something that filled your schedule and kept half-decent food on the kitchen table so you wouldn’t complain.

💖 “Hi! Would you point me in the direction of the Horses and Patriarchy section?” The cheerful voice made you look up from where you were hunched over at the painfully old computer- double checking that all of the due books had been checked in.

💖 “Excuse me?” You said, completely flabbergasted by both the words and looks of the man who stood opposite your desk. He was tall; with golden blonde hair and sun-kissed skin he would be strikingly handsome were it not for the ridiculous cowboy outfit he was donned in. (Who were you kidding? He was still ridiculously attractive even with the costume).

💖 “Would you point me in the direction of the Horses and Patriarchy section of this library” he repeated with another charming smile, leaning forwards to rest his chin in his hands.

💖 “That’s…” you started slowly, brows furrowed in a way that made his chest feel weird and tingly. “We don’t have a section for Horses and the Patriarchy.” You explained as gently as you could, eyeing around in hopes of finding the poor excuse for a security officer that usually took his lunch in here despite the obvious ‘no eating in the library’ signs posted around.

💖 The man’s handsome face wilted a bit and for a moment you felt a little guilty for not being able to indulge his ridiculous request. “Oh! Silly me- could you point me in the direction of the Horse Section first? I’ll go to the Patriarchy section after” He said, chipper once again.

💖 “We… don’t have a just Horses section either..” you said again, watching as the man seemed to actually wither, crumbling forwards till his head was against the cold wood of your work desk.

💖 “Do you have a Patriarchy section?” He whimpered, looking up at you from where he’d half collapsed dramatically against your desk- blue eyes glassy and filled with so so much emotion considering the circumstances.

💖 When you shook your head he nearly wailed, sinking further till he was almost entirely on the floor- fringe out of place and hat askew. You stood up to peer over your desk, looking down at the handsome man near-crying on your library floor.

💖 You glanced around, thankfully it was lunchtime for the kids so almost everyone was outside enjoying the sunny Los Angeles afternoon, leaving your room mostly empty. You gnawed on your lips nervously for a few moments before making a decision.

💖 “I can help you find some books on horses though.. and the patriarchy?” You offered, not entirely sure what you were getting yourself into as he jumped up, smiling eagerly and leaning forwards till his face was a few inches away from yours.

💖 “You’d do that for me?” He said with so much awe and amazement you’d think you offered to hang the stars for him.

💖 “…Yeah?” It was your job after all, even if this man was definitely not a student or staff member as far as you knew. Maybe he was a substitute teacher (yeah… right)

💖 But the way his whole face lit up joyfully at something as small as helping him find books made your heart give a little skip in your chest.

💖 You guide him around, pointing out a few books that were somewhat relevant (though he really only seemed interested in grabbing the ones with lots of pictures). Standing next to him you noticed he… really didn’t have a sense of personal space- the man would lean close everytime you spoke up to offer your help in locating relevant books, big baby-blue eyes staring into yours as he hung on to every word you said, nodding enthusiastically.

💖 You felt your cheeks and ears warm go warm at all the attention, occasionally stumbling on a word or two and chewing on your lip nervously between sentences- eyes darting around to anything but the absolute ray of sunshine in front of you.

💖 “Why are you doing that?” He asked innocently, leaning forwards into your space again with only the flimsy spine of Horses, by Ryan Bessin to protect you.

💖 “Doing what?” You said, trying to sound collected and professional though your gaze was still elsewhere, skimming over the names and authors. You jumped a little when you felt him reach out to gently prod at your lip, freeing it from the grasp of your teeth.

💖 “You’re chewing on your lip” he started, unconsciously mirroring the action on his own face. His blue eyes were focused so intensely on your lips and he felt that weird flutter in his chest again. What was that? A side effect of the real world?

💖 “Oh sorry I do that when I’m” you waved your hand vaguely for a moments, waiting till he finally looked away from your mouth to meet your gaze. “Nervous.”

💖 His head tilted in confusion and you were unable to look at him and not see an absolutely adorable, floppy-eared golden retriever puppy. “You’re nervous? Why?” He sounded so genuine and you swear to god he needed to stop looking at you with so much kindness and interest or you may just explode.

💖 “You’re just” you grip tight to the book, “-you’re very… handsome” (and intense) you started again, cheeks warming even more when his face seemed to light up like the Fourth of July- a huge grin splitting his face. “I think there’s another book that might interest you over here!” Frantically you change the subject, thrusting the book forwards and trying (and failing) not to notice just how solid his abs were.

💖 He followed you eagerly, still smiling at you with those weirdly perfect teeth and that shamelessly attentive expression. “Thank you so much, Barbie!”

💖 You looked over your shoulder at him, bewildered. “That’s? Not my name?” You said with a confused but genuine smile. Was it supposed to be some type of weird compliment?

💖 The man blinked, baffled for a few moments before he seemed to remember something. “Oh! Sorry! Force of habit” he laughed, looking bashful as he fingered the pages of the book he held.

💖 (And you definitely didn’t let your gaze slip to those deft, elegant looking hands. Broad and masculine but spared any callous or freckle- his tanned skin nearly perfect)

💖 “So… why exactly are you looking for books on the Patriarchy and Horses?”

💖 He blinked a few times at your question, looking down at the books in his arms as though he’d forgotten they were there for a moment. His smile brightened marginally, and he picked up one of the books at random- The Origins of Patriarchy, waving it loosely in front of your face. “Oh! So I’m learning about this super awesome thing called The Patriarchy”

💖 He almost immediately noticed the slight downward tilt of your lips- and the resulting twist in his chest was not like the fluttering sensations from earlier. No this was… icky- this feeling was unpleasant (something he didn’t actually have a lot of context for) and all he could think of was getting that look off of your face as fast as possible.

💖 “But- uh that’s beside the point!” As flippantly as possible he tosses the book over his shoulder with a bashful laugh. You winced, knowing you’d have to put that up later, but the man didn’t seem to notice; too busy looking at you with those big blue eyes and leaning against the bookshelf.

💖 “O-Okay?” You said, blinking rapidly at him as you chewed nervously on your lip again, trying not to squirm under the pure fascination in his gaze, completely unaware of the rapidly shifting priorities of the man in front of you.

💖 “Oh my name is Ken! Hey- what size rollerblades do you wear by the way?”

#tweed peeps #reader insert #anonymous #the lost boys #barbie movie fic #barbie #RG!Ken/Reader #barbie Imagines #Ken/Reader #ken x reader #RG!Ken x Reader #headkennons

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 10 months

Text

You came — you called. | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

credits for the header - ghost's pic by the very talented @ave661 ✦ Word count: 2.2k ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: After being abused by your current date, in need of comfort, you call your ex-boyfriend and recurring fling, Simon, to talk. ✦ TW and general warnings: SFW, some kisses here and there but no smut, angst, you guys are in a complicated situationship, fluff, sensitive content (domestic violence) ✦ AO3 | Masterlist edit: I wrote a part 2 in case you're interested <3

A/N: I really need to finish my already started requests, really do but inspiration ONLY gets to me when I'm randomly existing and then a random prompt comes in mind and arghhh gotta write 😭 but I promise - if anyone reading this sent me a request, know I've started it already and I WILL finish. also, thinking really a lot about making a part 2 for this piece and making it smutty. pls let me know if anyone's interested! anyways, not proof read, hope y'all enjoy, x

━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━

It’s the same place as the last time you saw him. Ironic, maybe. You still smoke the same cigarettes he offered to you once in a promise it would help you calm down from your anxiety; it did. It did a little too much. You still wear that same necklace you refused to get rid off even after you dumped him, after you promised you’d never see him again, never talk to him again. God, hope he doesn’t get mad at that.

Truth is you’ve been failing at that for quite some time. You’ve been seeing him way more than it’s necessary, but contrary to how things used to be before, now every moment with him is a single time that ceases to exist once you get home. He texts; you ignore. He doesn’t text anymore till the next time he misses you. You ignore it till the next time you miss him. This time isn’t much different, only you have a bit more of a reason to be here, unsure if he’ll show up, smoking this damned red Marlboro and feeling like shit. Like absolute shit.

You exhale the smoke, your hair tied back in a ponytail through the cap gap. Hiding yourself.

His big broad figure fills the door in, and he comes inside. To your big surprise, he decided lastly to come; Simon looks at you with a bitter look on his face, his dirty blonde hair trimmed, his beard done, wearing one of his thousand black tight t-shirts and a pair of jeans. He looks the same as ever.

“You came.” You say, surprised as he pulls the chair back and takes the seat in front of yours.

“You called.” He replies simply, his body relaxing spaciously in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, I did.” You let out some more smoke before discarding your cigarette on the ashtray. “But I thought you were still mad at me.”

He looks at you in silence for a couple seconds, and scoffs.

“And that never stopped you from calling, did it?” He snorts impatiently. “Did something actually happen or are you just lonely and needing someone to help you fall asleep?” You feel derision in his attitude and his voice is dripping with venom and bitterness.

You close your eyes. Can’t blame him, can you? You had your own good reasons to break up with him, although stupidly, without thinking twice - without thinking that you’d end up missing him. Trying to find him in all the wrong places, wrong guys.

“Well go on, Simon, what else do you still have to tell me?” You mimic him, crossing your arms and your face a little twisted in irritation facing him. “I was single, I still am. I had the right to be with someone else.”

“I never blamed you for that. I never fucking blamed you.” Simon wipes his mouth with his hand, his ever icy expression breaking into frustration the second you open your mouth again.

“You are blaming me. You-”

“I fucking am not. I’m angry at the poor fucking choice you did. Getting rid of me for that fucker? You’re making a joke out of yourself, even for someone like me that’s fucking downgrading.” He snaps, regretting it the second later and squeezing his eyes for a moment.

You remain silent. He’s right. He’s absolutely right.

You stare into the distance of the window by your side, silent - embarrassed, regretful. Your hands together over your lap and your silence put together make him raise his head at you once again, in a sigh.

“I shouldn’t be here. Our conversations won’t ever end in anything good but me taking you to bed, if that’s what you want then I’ll gladly do it without all the trouble.” He states. You tremulously raise your eyebrows and your lips curl in a small hurt smile.

Ouch.

You know he said it to hurt you. You know he’s angry, he’s hitting all the right buttons to get under your skin, he can’t help it. He can’t help but to be a bastard sometimes, he never learnt different.

Your eye stare down your own hands, you feel your lips tremble and the lump in your throat gets bigger each second. It's hard to hold back the tears, but for your dignity, you try. There's no less brutal way to admit something like that, so you vomit the words all at once.

“He hit me, Simon.”

His eyes open, the pupils slowly dilate like those of a shark that has just tasted blood for the first time.

Simon has blood on his hands. From too many people, more than you could count. And even if that's his job, never in all those hard years with him - you swore - had you ever seen him so pissed off.

The veins in his temples stood out and he swallowed bitterly, his mind empty; If he wasn't an extremely restrained man, then he would have gotten up and taken action right now. A thoughtless attitude that he might later regret - maybe.

“Tell me his address.” He snaps, his blood boiling enough for you to almost feel the heat increasing in his flesh.

“Simon, no.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head, almost crying at this point. "That's not what I called you for, I don't want you to hurt anyone. I broke up with him, I don't have anything to do with that son of a bitch anymore, I just-"

He interrupts you with a gesture and claps his hands to his face. He brushes his own skin roughly, as a self-reminder that if he gives in to his own anger, he'll let you down.

When he makes room for his eyes through his hands again and sees your reddened

face, tears streaming down your cheeks - he dies inside.

He promised he’d always be there for you. He promised he’d never let you down, he’d always protect you, he’d kill for you. He said it plenty of times and you were completely aware that it was true.

He couldn’t possibly let you down.

“No, please, I can’t- I just can’t when you cry.” He mutters, getting up from his seat and offering his hand. “You come with me. Please?”

━ ⟡ ━

The hot steaming water falls over your head, sweeping your tears as you hug your legs. Simon's fingertips brush calmly your back, he contours the bruises on your lower half like he's grieving. The silence fills in the bathroom if not for the sound of water dripping on your head. He pours some water on your back to soothe your pain - even if you're not feeling any at this point.

"Why did you not call me before?" He asks, with painful confusion in his raspy voice. His hands are shaking and you know it's pure anger and his own incapability of holding himself back when it comes to feeling anger. You sigh, tired.

"I don't know. I felt like I'd be unfair to you." You try to explain, your hands caressing your shins while the water runs through your skin. "And because I didn't want to get you in this state."

His eyes narrow as he stares at you, and you shrug in response. It's clear to him why you don't like to get him stressed - he could never hurt you, but he was a danger to others.

He waves his hands to shake off the water and stands up, grabbing and opening a clean towel for you.

You stand up, your eyes don't dare leaving his. He silently admires you, although his mind can't think much more than how guilty he feels for letting this happen to you - even though there was nothing he could do about it. You dry your feets on the mat and turn your back so he can wrap you in the towel, and he does so.

Simon calmly brushes the towel against your shoulders, drying a bit of the water that drips from your whole body and once he’s done wrapping you in the towel, he places his hands on your back and leads you to his room.

His smell is everywhere around and what used to be intoxicating and lustful for you, is now soothing and quiet. You sit on the edge of his bed, silence seeming to be now a whole conversation between the two of you.

Your hand reaches for his and places it on your cheek. You look up at him with kitty eyes, your thumb circles the skin on the back of his hand till it finds the scar you were looking for – one of his oldest ones, according to himself. You close your eyes and snuggle into his hand, giving it a light, calming kiss.

He caresses your cheek and moves your hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He says in a whisper. You nod, and he comes back moments later with a clean shirt of his. You tug it in your neck and quickly put it on letting the fabric run free on your body, loose.

He starts removing rubbish from his bedside table – an ashtray, an empty can of energy drink, a gun. As you notice he seems to be trying to empty the room for you, you speak out.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'll be in the living room if you need me for anything." He says simply. Before he can leave the room, you stop him by wrapping your hand on his arm. The sudden motion makes him turn around to face you, his dark eyes gazing at yours and seeming already aware of what comes next – a protest.

"Simon." You use a warning tone, and he closes his eyes.

"You don't want to have me around now, kitten. I'm far from calm…" He argues, calmly looking down at you now. The proximity burns you, he's too close.

"I'm not scared." You mewl, your hands on his tough chest, he doesn't move a muscle. Your hands start trailing up to his neck, and you get on your tiptoes to wrap your arms better around him; Simon closes his eyes, drunk by the overwhelming feeling of having you so close to him. He misses you.

One of his hands holds your wrist before you manage to curl up on his neck, and the other one gently holds on your waist. He bends down enough so he can reach your tiny self. He gives you what you want - his lips slowly catch yours in a slow, calm kiss; the warmth of his lips against yours is medicine to you – soothes all of your pain, eases all of your anxiety. He squeezes on your waist and pulls back once he starts feeling heaty and his breath starts to become uncontrolled, needy. He breaths against your lips, his eyes barely closed and his breath catching on his throat like panting.

You stare at his lips before going back to his eyes.

"Stop." He snarls, raising his head a bit, avoiding your face and the closeness you impose on him now. It feels wrong. You need space.

You close your eyes, you understand. It feels wrong.

After all of this time of failed attempts to let go, to sound nonchalant and be away from each other – after all the fails and the sex, devoid of feeling type of sex, rough, delicious but raw sex, he wants to fuck you straight. He doesn't want to be angry, he wants to take you and make love to you.

You understand. Feels wrong.

"Will you be fine here? You need to rest and I need to take a walk, clear my head." He mutters, avoiding your eyes for the sake of restraining himself. You nod.

"I'll be alright. You'll come back, right?" You ask, looking at him - looking for his eyes. He stands back from you and nods.

"Of course." He assures you, before caressing your hair slowly and giving you a calm kiss on the forehead. "Rest. Do not stay awake waiting for me, hear me?" He snarls, grabbing his keys and a hoodie of his, tucking it in and giving you space.

You sit in his bed and nods, watching him leave by the room door and close it behind himself. Now alone, you close your eyes exhausted by the lack of sleep you've been having for these past few days; it doesn't take you long to fall asleep, surrounded by comfortable pillows that smell like his perfume – woody and whiskey.

Walking in the streets, with his hands digging in his hoodie's pocket and tough stomps, Simon's face lit up by the light emanating from the street lamps. His body swings slightly to the weight of his steps, and he breathes heavily.

After several minutes – more than he probably told you he'd take, he stops in front of a very familiar residence. You should know it wouldn't be any trouble for him to find your abuser's house.

He took a familiar piece of cloth out of his pocket, it had been time since he last wore it. Now seemed like a good moment. A balaclava, full face mask – handmade, with a skull painted on. Simon hugs you and kisses your scars; Ghost wants revenge.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod fic #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley imagine #ghost fluff #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley #cod mw2

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luvrxbunny · 7 months

Text

fifteen minutes

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Prompt: Free Use (?)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, kinda rough sex, piv, unprotected sex, minimal talking and kissing, no aftercare (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.3k

A/N: the end feels kinda sad cus no aftercare but-

You’re waiting for Eddie in his changing room. It’s a little bigger than an office, but not big enough to be a bedroom. There’s a couch in it and a little vanity desk for his makeup and hair. You’re on the couch, trying to ignore the springs in it as you read a magazine you swiped from the receptionist's desk. You have headphones in, listening to Eddie’s newest EP, the same one he’s here to perform. You’ve tried to listen to his set live but being backstage means it’s a bit louder than you can handle so you play his music as loud as you can handle in your ears.

You’re reading the newest edition of Vogue, your eyes popping out of your head at how fancy some of these outfits look. You’re snacking on some grapes Eddie packed for you as you bob your head to his guitar solo in your ears. You turn the page again and smile at a lady in a pink dress, and a man in an all-black suit standing next to her, his hand on her hip lightly. It reminds you of Eddie. You imagine him in that suit, his hair resting on his shoulder- or even better, in a man-bun atop his head.

The metal in your ears dies down slowly with a fading guitar riff and adrenaline shoots through you. If the EP has ended that means that Eddie should have around 15 minutes between sets before performing one of his older albums. He always spends that time with you, even if half of it is him panting harshly from all his stage antics and chugging water to soothe his over-used vocal cords. You don’t mind though, a smile is already on your face at the thought of seeing him- and someone is grabbing you.

Your skirt is flipped up and thick hands grip your naked ass, groping your cheeks roughly. Your hands rip your headphones from your ears and you’re about to scream when they rest their body on you, pushing the air from your lungs. “It’s me, baby. It’s me. I need you.”

Eddie’s voice is hot against your ear, fanning over your cheek and you can feel the heat radiating off of his skin. He’s still wearing his jeans but he’s pulled you apart so he’s grinding his clothed crotch over your naked pussy. You don’t usually wear panties to his concerts because afterward, during the afterparty, Eddie tends to whisk you away to a remote location to have his way with you, sometimes he just does whatever he wants in the middle of whatever room you guys are in. You just wanted to make it easier for him.

This is new though, you guys had discussed it after Eddie saw it on some rock blog he reads from time to time. You were open, you told him that your heart belongs to him so you don’t see any reason why your body shouldn’t as well. He spent the rest of the night fucking you about it but after that, he didn’t bring it up again. You’d almost forgotten about it, but now you can see it’s been on his mind. He’s moaning into your ear, humping his jean-clad cock into your sensitive hole, abusing it with the rough texture. “Eddie.” He moans at the way you say his name and pulls back.

“Yeah, baby, s’me. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you through the whole set.” You can hear him unzipping his pants behind you and his telltale moan when he finally wraps his hand around his throbbing dick. He jerks himself off to the view of you, spread out on his couch, your little white skirt framing your perfect ass. He can see your lips glistening for him, your pussy crying for his cock, making a mess all over herself. He groans at the sight and digs in, not bothering to prep you one bit.

You almost scream his name out but he presses his hand to your mouth, his rings digging into your lips painfully but your mind can only focus on the pleasure and the heat of the stretch his cock is causing inside you. Your hands reach behind your head blindly as Eddie rests his body against yours. You’re moaning against his hand raggedly, they rip from the base of your throat and vibrate against Eddie’s other hand that found its home wrapped gently around your neck. Your hands finally find his head and you pull him forward, forcing his head into the crook of your neck and turning your head to his, your eyes pleading and darting to his lips when he looks at you.

You’re whining behind his hand, wanting desperately to connect your lips to his. He already looks wrecked as he holds your eye contact, he’s groaning and whimpering at you, his eyebrows drawn in and his eyes unfocused as they wander your face. He has no thoughts in his head as he ruts into you, he can’t even take the time to decipher what you’re begging him for. He can feel his orgasm growing in his stomach, brewing like a storm and you’re just feeding it more. You’re whimpering his name behind his hand and his eyes are crossing, doubling his view of you.

The sight has you moaning loudly into his hand, vibrating his palm as feels the coil in your stomach pull tighter. You moan more desperately, needing to kiss him before cumming and he finally pulls his hand away to force your head into his lips. You’re barely kissing him back, mostly moaning his name and licking into his mouth, trying to swallow everything he can give you, anything that tastes like him.

He pulls away to moan into your mouth, your jaw slack with the assault of pleasure, with the orgasm that’s burning like a warning in your gut, promising to ruin you once it’s released. Eddie feels the same way, he’s trying to last for you but he knows he’s running out of time and you’re pulsing madly around him. His hips stutter into you as his orgasm begins to overflow, his balls are tightening and shooting pleasure through him every time they smack into you. Your pussy is teasing him at this point, clenching rhythmically like you’re trying to milk him, like you want him to cum in you.

So he does. His cock explodes inside you and it’s like nothing he’s felt before. It’s not more or less enjoyable, it’s always incredible when he’s with you- but it’s more aggressive. It slams into him, knocking all the air out of his lungs and he could swear that he blacked out, just floating through an abyss of pleasure. You’re whining into his ear and he can feel you trying to cum around him, you’re clenching purposely now, grinding back into his stuttering hips. He knows, he knows you can’t cum without him touching your clit but he doesn’t have enough brain power to even help you… and he doesn’t have to.

You let out a sob-like whine as Eddie’s hips calm down and he pulls back, already struggling to get his pants back over his legs. “Eddie, I didn’t-” He cuts you off by completely falling off the couch, hitting the floor with a dull thud. He sits back up, level with your face and kisses you with a small smile. “I know.” He stands up, jumping a bit to get his jeans up quicker. “I know, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll help you when I get back I swear.” He blows you a kiss as he rushes out of the room, hearing people calling for him outside the hall. You’re left in silence in his room, panting and desperate as you hear the crowd scream, letting you know he’s already back on stage.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #kinktober #kinktober smut #kinktober 2023

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cosmicck · 11 months

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dude sorry lol💀 I didn’t notice the 1000 event. Although, now that I see it, could I request prompt 29? With Miguel O’hara if possible… bottom reader preferably, don’t care if sub or dom

thanks for reading this and I’m sorry for wasting your time

★miguel o'hara x male reader(nsfw)

★genre: smut

★warning(s): subtop miguel, dombottom reader, drinking miguels booby milk(might be a little gross the way i write things), dick riding(miguel gotta be a good 10 inches), miguel whimpers(real), kind of cringe titty talk, short fic i think, oh shit yeah and size kink, and reader doesn't need a web shooter

★a/n: i always add some extra shit bro also never say sorry for wasting my time(actually dont please) also im listening to tell me by fifty fifty😘

you liked..no loved miguels tits. now it was kind of embarrassing to say it out loud to yourself but god, just look at them they were so big looking and fit him just right in a way you could very clearly explain if someone would just let you.

you were dating sure, but the urge to just squeeze them right where he stood no matter who was around it was just the damn urge to do so.

but no one said you couldn't do that in private now could they? all you were gonna ask for is one gentle squeeze and then you'd be finished. but one gentle squeeze turned into a few rough ones, that turned into you on top of him your ass slamming down onto his dick. his hands tight secure on your waist his nails retracted simply for your saftey.

"god..if only you could see yourself." if only he could, that look on his face was everything you needed in life he was so adorable looking, the way he kept trying to speak but whimpers and loud moans kept replacing them instead.

his face dripping with swear the strands of his hair sticking to his forehead his nipples perked which started to get you to wonder something. just a little curiosity, it wouldn't kill him.

you leaned down sticking out your tongue flicking the bud using your teeth to slightly pull at it before wrapping your mouth around it fully and sucking harshly.

his hands tried to pry you off but that was annoying, your fingers pressed against the edge of your palm, webs shooting out to make both of his hands stick to the head board.

"(m/n)— what the hell are you- fuck.." his hustle ended quick enough as your other hand fiddled with his other pec you fingers twirling his nipple around and pinching it getting such ear melting sounds and reactions out of him.

what a genius you are to think of something like this. having such a big guy under you whimpering with just the few touches of your finger? i mean sure minus the fact your still sitting on his dick rocking your hips occasionally it was such a sight to see him come un-done simply because of you.

looking up you saw his face was getting more twisted with pleasure almost as if something was coming, well you were right and wrong in your own mind. as you continued to suck you felt something fill your mouth there wasn't that much of it but you still felt it and his reaction was priceless.

every bit of it you swallowed, you could describe it tasting like sweet milk even something way different than semen. sitting up and licking your lips taking a deep breath and looking over to his other breast.

he was already out of breath and it seemed like he was trying to use his nail to unbind himself but you weren't done just yet. might as well stop moving your hips for him and just cockwarm him with your mouth all around his other nipple.

"miguel i hope you know we aren't finished." you gave him a small peck on his forehead then whispering something in his ear.

"this one looks a little neglected don't you think?"

i fucking hate the ending bro also update im listening to the vampire😍😍 @gaybitchfx @esthxio @secretivemessenger @vyloy @bloodyfennec @kitsune-yuhhh @reallyromealone i feel like im missin someone

oh well

#male reader #x male reader #male y/n #male reader insert #miguel x male reader #miguel ohara x male reader #top miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #subtop miguel #bottom reader #bottom male reader #dom bottom reader #power bottom male reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x male reader

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nicoline1998enilocin · 11 months

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Could you do an imagine with Steve rogers and yn where he takes her virginity smooth talk to her into it and she comes to shield quarters to drop off some stuff he left over and she over hears him talking to tony,Buck & the avengers a both the bet they made that Steve couldn’t f*ck yn and she gets heartbroken and uses her superpowers to fight against Steve when she barges in. Like throw him into a wall. I hope you get my concept (btw yn has powers also & she’s new to the shield inc as an avenger)

Betrayed

PAIRING | Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.7K

SUMMARY | You're the latest addition to the Avengers, and Steve takes on a bet behind your back that he wouldn't be able to take your virginity. When you find out about the bet a few weeks later, you lose it and your superpowers rise to their full potential.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Steve being an asshole, swearing, smut [ loss of virginity, fingering, protected sex, massage turned to sex, light spanking ]

A/N | Hi nonnie, thank you so much for my very first request, I hope this is what you were looking for when you thought of the prompt! After all the love and many people requesting a part 2, I finally caved and you can find that right here! 🖤

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

It has been a dream of yours ever since being recruited by SHIELD as an agent, to climb the ranks to becoming part of the Avengers. That dream finally became a reality and you were ecstatic when you found out you were accepted into the Avengers program. Right from the start all of the Avengers welcomed you with open arms, and you felt at home immediately, maybe a bit too much if you look back at it. During one of Tony's afterparties, you accidentally let it slip that you're still a virgin and that you wish you weren't anymore. There are some strange looks shared between some of the guys at your confession, but you decided to let it go at that time. Right now, however, you wish you hadn't.

After you went to bed that night, some of the guys got into a heated discussion about the fact that you're a virgin, and they all wanted to help you out. You know you're quite attractive - nothing over the top, but you take good care of yourself and it shows - so the fact that they all wanted to sleep with you wasn't much of a surprise. The fact that it was Steve who offered to do it first, did surprise every single one of the guys. ''No way you're taking her virginity, Cap. You have the sex appeal of a piece of grass,'' Clint remarked, which earned him a glare that wasn't all that nice. ''I think we should make a bet,'' Steve said, a mischievous look in his eyes.

''I want to make a bet if I can do it or not. If I win, I won't have to go on missions for a month. If you guys win, I will take one mission of your hands of your choice, each,'' Steve offered and they immediately agreed to these terms. And that is how Steve tried to talk you into his bed, which took more effort than he had anticipated, you weren't as easy as you made yourself sound that night. It took him a little over 5 months, but eventually, his hard work and patience paid off, for him at least.

~ 5 months later ~

You just went on a gruesome mission with all of the Avengers, and it was already late so instead of flying home now, all of you went to a hotel and spend the night. You had been incredibly frustrated for a while, and this mission was too much at this point. The mission ended up being successful, but Steve was being an asshole towards you the entire time, all to get under your skin for his gain, with the bet still in his mind. All the other Avengers quickly teamed up with the rooms, so your only option was to share a room with Steve, and you weren't happy with that. In the slightest.

''Guys, can any one of you please switch with me? I can't look at his face right now and I want to smack that smug grin of his fucking face,'' you say through gritted teeth, but they aren't helping one bit. ''Sorry doll, we always have the same sleeping arrangements and Steve usually sleeps alone, so you don't have a choice,'' Bucky said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ''You guys are unbelievable,'' you said and you opened the door to your shared bedroom, rushing in to get away from all of them.

''Don't mind them,'' Steve said when he followed you and you let yourself fall on your back on the bed. ''Maybe it's a good thing you and I are sharing a bedroom tonight, I had a plan to get both of our frustrations out of our systems,'' Steve said with an innocent look in his eyes. ''You do...?'' you ask him, unsure where he's going with this. ''Yeah, I find that a massage works well, get someone to rub all my frustrations away. I brought some massage oil that I could use on you if you want,'' he offered, and you were thinking about it. ''I'm gonna take a shower first though, I don't want to be disgusting when you massage me,'' you said.

When you were in the shower, Steve texted the guys' group chat that his plan would work, you agreed to a massage and he would most definitely be able to turn it around so he could fuck your brains out later that night. When you came back from your shower, you put your hair in a claw clip so it would be out of the way, and you noticed Steve already prepared his bed to be used as the massage 'table'. ''Please, lay down without the towel so I can reach your entire back with ease,'' he said with a small grin on his face, but you did it. You needed a way to get this frustration out of your body, and it was worth a shot. ''Lay down for me, baby,'' he said and you didn't even think twice about the nickname he gave you.

You did as he said and made yourself comfortable. ''No towel baby, that was it's easier for me to reach everywhere,'' Steve said and because you're lying on your stomach, you can't see the smug look he has on his face. He took the towel away and softly gasped at the sight of you, you were even more beautiful than he thought you'd be and he was very happy he got to do this. He put a little bit of the massage oil on your back and his hands before he started, rubbing it all over your shoulders and back first, just grazing your cheeks when he's rubbing it over your lower back, teasing you ever so slightly. After it's nice and spread out he starts putting some pressure and you let out a soft moan at the feeling.

''Mmh Steve, feels good,'' you softly moan and he smiles at the way you praise him, happy he can make you feel that good. ''Are you feeling better yet, baby?'' he asked and you nodded, letting out a content sigh. The fact that you're completely naked is long forgotten, you were very comfortable around Steve now with his hands running over your body like that. ''Got some more pressure points in my lower back you could massage,'' you tell him, it's always been a point that's bothering you and now that he was massaging you, it was the perfect timing to get help. ''Like this?'' he said as he put a bit more pressure on your lower back with his palms, moving from your spine outwards and down to your hips. This makes you groan, and in all honesty, a little turned on too.

When he's taken good care of your shoulders and back, he moves on to your calves and thighs. ''Time for these beautiful legs,'' he says as he silently takes off his shirt and pants, they were getting more and more uncomfortable now that he was getting pretty hard from just massaging you. He was standing in his boxer briefs and you didn't notice, completely taken over by pure bliss. He dripped a little oil on both your legs, stopping right beneath your cheeks and he put it to the side, ready for later. He started massaging at your ankles and slowly work his way up to your thighs, giving special attention to the tops, near your ass. His fingers slowly move up and when he's kneading and rubbing your ass, you let out a gasp which turns into a moan.

''S-Steve...'' you say but he quickly cuts you off, ''Shh, it's okay baby, this is normal,'' he says and he starts kneading more roughly, even going as far as landing a slap on both your cheeks at the same time, watching them ripple under his hands. ''Fuck, doing so good for me, baby,'' Steve praised you and you couldn't help but enjoy it, even though you knew in the back of your head it was still wrong. It was at that moment Steve couldn't take it any longer, and his hand wandered down between your thighs, cupping your dripping pussy. ''Hm, you're already dripping wet baby, 'm gonna take good care of you,'' he says as he slowly slides his fingers through your folds, giving special attention to your clit with his middle finger. You moan loudly at the feeling, your ass automatically lifting in the air at the feeling.

''Such a good girl for me right now, letting me take good care of you,'' he praised you and you started clenching around nothing. ''Steve, please,'' you whimpered, you wanted to feel his fingers inside you by now. ''What is it, baby? What do you need from me? Just say it and I'll do it,'' he says, whispering the words in your ear as he pushes your thighs further apart for better access. ''Need you, need your fingers inside me,'' you said shyly and he happily complied, immediately shoving 2 fingers deep inside your dripping entrance without warning. This makes you gasp loudly and grind your hips against his hand. ''How does it feel baby?'' Steve asks with a huge grin on his face while picking up his pace and curling his fingers so he can continue to stimulate your sweet spot.

''G-good, gonna cum,'' you moan as you keep grinding against his fingers. He uses his other hand to play some more with your clit and before you know it, you feel your orgasm wash over you while you moan out his name loudly. ''Yes, let everyone know who's making you feel this good baby,'' he said, knowing full well all the guys could hear what you were doing through the tins walls of the hotel. ''Fuck, feels so good,'' you say as you come down from your high. Steve pulls his fingers softly out of you before turning you over on your back, so he could massage the front of your body. He started with your legs, giving them the same treatment as when he massaged the back of your legs, but avoiding your sensitive pussy this time.

Next up is your stomach, which he drips some oil onto before massaging it deeply, so you let out soft whimpers, especially when his hands' ghost over the underside of your breasts, which were beautifully exposed for his viewing pleasure, your nipples still hard after your first orgasm. ''Those breasts look delicious baby,'' Steve cooed and it made you giggle a little bit before he softly grabbed them and massaged them, giving extra attention to your sensitive nipples. He noticed every single whine, whimper, and moan coming out of you when he played with them, either by rubbing, tugging, or softly flicking them, and he was reveling in the sounds that left your lips.

He finished with your upper chest and neck before leaning down and softly kissing you, which you have been longing for this entire time. He wasn't your first kiss, but he was by far the best you ever had, and you didn't hesitate when he slipped his soft, warm tongue in your mouth to explore every single inch of it. He sat down on the bed and removed his underwear, exposing his painfully hard cock, which was laying on your thigh as he took his place between your legs. ''Steve, condom please,'' you said. You were on birth control and this was your first time, but you weren't sure where he had been and didn't want to risk either getting pregnant or an STD, but Steve didn't mind, he always used one anyways.

He grabbed one from the nightstand - thank god he came prepared - and ripped open the foil before rolling it onto his hard length. ''Are you ready baby?'' he asked and you said yes, giving him a soft smile too. ''Need you inside me,'' you said and without a second to think about it, Steve was pushing himself into your entrance, the burning sensation quickly subsiding and making way for pleasure. He is very big and a lot to get used to, but in no time he was buried inside you completely, letting you get used to the sensation as he bent over, stealing soft kisses from your lips. ''Steve, please move,'' you beg softly and he does, going slow at first but slowly picking up the pace, making you moan louder every single time.

Sure, he may be doing this for a bet, but he was still mindful of the fact that this is your very first time, and he did want to give you the pleasure you deserve, and not go too rough at first. ''Steve, harder'' you beg, and with that, he quickly picks up the pace as you wrap your legs around his waist, so he can hit the deepest spots inside you. ''F-fuck, Steve, gonna cum-'' you practically yelled when your orgasm washed over you again, making your vision go temporarily black with the intensity of it, Steve followed quickly after with the chant of your name, and he buries his face in your neck as he spills his cum inside of the condom. ''Fuck, feels so good around me baby, such a good girl for me,'' he says before pulling out. The rest of the night is spent lazily making out and cuddling, before falling asleep in each other's arms.

~ 3 weeks after the mission ~

You and Steve talked about what happened that night and both agreed nothing more would come of it, it was just a one-time thing to get both your frustrations out and you would remain friends. He talked to the guys about it and they all heard, clapping him on his back and saying he won the bet fair and square, so they would pick up his missions for the next month. ''How was it?'' Tony asked and he told them all about the massage and how it felt to be buried balls deep inside you. They were still talking about the bet when you happened to walk into the room since you accidentally left some files in the living room you needed to prepare.

''Good job Steve, you won the bet fair and square, I didn't think you would fuck her but you earned it'' Bucky said as he got up, and immediately you realize they're talking about you. ''What bet are you guys talking about?'' you ask, and all the guys' heads snap in your direction. ''Y/N, hey...'' Steve said, his face becoming bright red. ''Did you guys seriously bet on if he was able to fuck me? You guys are fucking unbelievable,'' you snarled at each of them, but you're the most mad at Steve. ''You're such a dick, Steve, you know that?'' you yelled at him and you felt your powers come out, usually you tried to keep them hidden since they could cause quite a lot of destruction. ''Using me for a fucking bet?!'' is the last thing you said before you lifted Steve off his chair with your mind, using your telekinesis.

You slam him into the wall on the other side of the living room with your full force, making him go through it like the wall was made of a thin sheet of paper. ''Don't ever fuck with me like that again, or he won't be the only one on the receiving end of my powers,'' you say to the rest of the guys, and they quickly scramble away. To make Steve hurt even more, you walked over to him and made him squirm by giving him a head-splitting headache with your mind, as he grabbed his head to stop it. ''Y/N PLEASE STOP!'' he begged you, but you didn't. You want him to hurt just as much as you were. ''Oh no Rogers, you don't get to beg now, you earned everything I'm going to do with you,” Your power got out of hand and when Wanda walked into the living room, she managed to snap you out of it at the right time, if she didn't you would've killed him.

And just like that, your dream of becoming an Avenger is completely shattered.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers smut #captain america smut

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