#yeah I could go for some time up in the mountains
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Midnight | Chapter 19 | SR
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A/N - a slight jump forward in time here. For the sake of this, Spencer’s mom lives back in Vegas.
Chapter Summary - after finding a new place to settle down, things finally seem like they might be looking up for you and Spencer. Meanwhile Luke refuses to rest while he continues searching for you.
Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader
Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending
Warnings - cleaning up a crime scene, burying bodies, fingering, handjob, swearing, vomit, brief mention of depression, penetrative, unprotected sex, lying.
WC - 5.7k
Chapter 19 - Stitch Me Up
Two Months Later
The desert city of Twentynine Palms, California was located in the Mojave Desert and sat on the northern side of the Joshua Tree National Park and promoted the motto “a beautiful desert oasis”.
It wasn’t small but it was huge either, with a population of around twenty five thousand, making it a great place for two people to hide in plain sight. And given its desert location, the temperature this time of year was over one hundred and five, a stark contrast from tiny little Colorado mountain towns.
Samuel and Violet Truman of Arizona had moved out west and rented themselves a little fully furnished three bed, single storey home on Chia Avenue in a quiet suburb of Twentynine Palms. They arrived two weeks ago after spending some six weeks travelling the states with their travel companions Jack and Lily Waters.
From the outside their home left a lot to be desired, with its rickety metal fence and lone palm tree in the sandy front yard. But the inside was so modern and sheek that the couple had signed a lease on the spot.
From the outside looking in, you and Spencer were the idyllic all American couple. And admittedly, from the inside you were also pretty damn happy.
Since fleeing Crested Butte in the middle of the night two months ago, things had changed dramatically. That night you’d waited until Luke had stopped patrolling your cabin before getting Mary’s body into the trunk of the Nissan. You’d scrubbed every single inch of the house until it was cleaner than when you’d arrived, tweezed the bullet out of the wall and filled in the hole left behind, before gathering all of your belongings and getting the hell out of dodge.
On the way out of town you had begged Spencer to make one last stop. He wanted to refuse, you could tell, but he was trying so hard to make you happy, to make up for the way he’d been treating you that he agreed and pulled the Nissan to a stop on the street outside of McGills.
It had been late and all the lights were off so you’d ducked down the side alley towards the door that led up to his apartment. You’d had no idea if he’d be there but you’d prayed with every fibre of your being that he would. And by some stroke of luck, he answered the door after you’d knocked twice.
“Rose,” he folded his arms across his chest and leant against the door jamb. “Or should I say, Y/N.”
“I heard Luke spoke to you.” You gnawed on your lip as Jesse regarded you like the stranger you were.
“He did. I have to say, I did not expect you to be FBI.”
“Yeah.” You nodded. “It’s a long story. I just wanted to come by and apologise for everything. I probably really shouldn’t have let myself follow you out of the Nickel that night.”
“I’m glad you did.” He nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “Even though it didn’t work out between us, it at the very least got me out of my slump. Maybe now I can actually put myself out there again, you know? Now I’ve gotten over that first hurdle.”
“You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.” You smiled, subconsciously taking a step closer.
“It’s a shame it couldn’t have been you.” He shrugged wistfully.
You swallowed thickly, glancing down the alley and noting that you couldn’t see the Nissan from this position, or more importantly, its occupant couldn’t see you. You stepped even closer to Jesse and cupped his cheek.
“In another life maybe.” You whispered. “I’m leaving town.”
“I figured as much.” He nodded as your hand wandered down from his face to bicep. “You could stay, you know? With me. You don’t have to go just because he wants you to.”
“You have no idea how tempting that is. But I can’t.”
“I know.” He sighed, suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “I’m going to miss you.”
Suddenly he’d slammed his lips against yours in a kiss so passionate your legs had buckled. If Spencer knew how you’d said goodbye to Jesse, he most likely would have gone back and killed him. If he’d known you’d let Jesse finger you in his doorway while you jerked him off in return, Spencer would have certainly murdered him and probably enjoyed it.
But clearly you had a better poker face than you realised as Spencer simply drove off as soon as you were back in the car. And on the drive the only thing you’d thought of were Jess’s last words to you.
“I wish I’d gotten a chance to love you, Y/N.”
But at some point you had to let that go.
Mary’s final resting place had been a hole in the ground in the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest in Montana, almost eight hundred miles north of her hometown of Crested Butte. The Nissan met the same fate as Spencer’s Volvo a further five hundred and fifty miles east just outside of Medora, North Dakota.
Spencer purchased three pairs of bus tickets: one down to Texas, one out to Minnesota and one to Iowa, the latter being the ones you actually used. It took the better part of an entire day on a sweaty, smelly bus before you arrived in Cedar Rapids.
You checked into a cheap and dirty motel under the names of Jack and Lily Waters and spent almost the entire night having sex. Thoroughly exhausted in the morning, Spencer found a used car lot and using his Arizona licence in the name Samuel Truman, paid cash for a black Chevy Impala.
For the six weeks that followed you travelled up and down the country in much of a zigzag, alternating between your two pseudonyms, back and forth so the BAU would never find you. You spent six weeks in multiple different cheap motels, fucking like rabbits every step of the way.
You’d never felt so intrinsically linked to someone the way you did to Spencer in those six weeks. And it seemed he’d finally found his bliss as he didn’t kill once.
Eventually when enough time passed you’d choose to settle down in California. But unfortunately the mundane realities of life would ultimately be your downfall.
You stood up from the bathroom floor with a groan, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth and padding over to the sink. You stuck your mouth directly under the faucet and drank from it to wash away the taste of bile on your tongue.
You’d been throwing up on and off for some weeks now but you simply put it down to the residual stress of being on the run. You exhaled heavily before shuffling back out into the bedroom where Spencer still lay naked on top of the sheets.
“I’m mildly offended.” He offered you a wistful smile.
“I’m sorry.” You grumbled, flopping back to the bed next to him.
“It’s ok. Just never had anyone need to throw up whilst sucking my dick before.” He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
“It’ll teach me not to eat hotdogs from a gas-and-go.” You sighed. “I can try again if you’re still in the mood?”
“After I just listened to you puke your guts up? I’m suddenly not very horny.” He pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest. “But seriously, are you ok? You’ve been getting sick a lot lately.”
“Yeah I guess it’s stress or something. I’ll be fine.” You nuzzled against him, placing your hand flush against his chest over his heart.
You smiled as the ring caught the light and found yourself moving impossibly closer to Spencer. His grandmother's old ring had been upgraded, as had the one he wore, for newer silver matching bands inscribed on the inside with partners in crime.
One of your stops on your travels before you’d made your way to Twentynine Palms had been in Atlantic City at a seedy motel just off the main strip. After a few drinks one night as you walked by a little drive-in chapel, Spencer had a proposition for.
“What would you say I said we should get married?” He pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk.
“Married?” You glared at him.
“Right now. Partners in crime forever.” He grinned at you.
“You’re joking, right?” Your brows furrowed.
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Before we get swallowed up entirely in the lives of Samuel and Violet, I think Spencer and Y/N need to do this one last thing.”
And really there had only been one answer to that. You and Spencer had been bound for life the moment you’d left DC with him, you were as good as married, so why not make it official?
If your old team were to ever find one last trace of Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N it would be the signing of marriage licences in a little Atlantic City chapel.
Spencer purchased you the new rings as a surprise and that along with your rose gold heart necklace, were your most treasured possessions.
“You don’t need to be stressed, sweetheart. It’s over, we’re safe now. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” He cooed, kissing your head.
It really was amazing the difference a few months could make. Of course things weren’t ideal, you’d always be on the run, never able to return home but things with Spencer were as close to perfect as they could possibly be.
Since fleeing Butte he’d been wonderful, the Spencer you’d known was still in there somewhere. You may be on the run but as long as this was the Spencer you woke up to every morning, you didn’t mind at all.
But Spencer was wrong, things were far from over. At least you’d always have these moments to look back when everything came crumbling down. But for now, despite the stress within you, you knew Spencer was all you needed to feel whole. You and Spencer were two broken halves but maybe together you could patch each other up and finally feel complete.
***
Two days after Luke Alvez arrived back from Crested Butte he received a phone call from the diner owner's son.
Jesse McGill had informed him of the mysterious disappearance of the girl Mary, whom Luke had met at the diner, which was followed in quick succession by you and Spencer’s sudden departure from the town.
It really didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. But unfortunately for Luke it did take a genius to pull it off and Spencer was sure to leave behind no trail, no scrap of evidence. And two months later and Mary still hadn’t been found and the BAU had no leads on you and Spencer’s whereabouts. You’d well and truly outsmarted them.
In his spare time, which was very few and far between these days, he poured over the Duncan Green case file as well as images of the sparkling clean cabin you’d left behind in Butte in the hopes that maybe he’d missed something. He stayed late in the office every single night and looked for any reports of sightings of you and Spencer as Emily had officially registered you as missing persons. He scrolled through police databases for any other occurrences that might point to where the hell you were.
He’d discovered two bodies buried in woodlands across the country which were similar in MO to Green but with no pertinent links between them, the BAU couldn’t investigate.
Lyle Smith was found in a shallow grave with his throat cut in the Hoosier National Forest just north of Jasper, Indiana. The body of Brett Carlisle from Wichita, Kansas was found in the Rita Blanca National Grasslands in Texas. Both bodies had been subject to the elements but deemed to have been dead since before that little Nissan was picked up on Elk Avenue for the first time. So maybe Spencer had been on some kind spree since he’d left DC.
And that brought him onto the discovery of the burnt out Nissan, near identical to how they’d found Spencer’s Volvo. They’d spent three days searching the area surrounding where the vehicle was found for Mary’s body only to come up short. Of course, Spencer wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t dispose of a body anywhere near the car.
The only lead Luke had really had in the last two months was the filing of a marriage licence in the state of New Jersey. It was like a big middle finger in his face, clearly you’d both wanted him to find it. He’d driven to Atlantic City on one of his rare days off and canvassed the area near the wedding chapels, showing your photographs to anyone who would look. But he knew you’d be long gone.
If he could just find a way to connect any of these crimes to Spencer, or to find Mary’s body then maybe he could convince you to come home. He was sure you had nothing to do with any of this and if had solid proof that Spencer had murdered one of these people maybe it could be his way to form a wedge between the two of you. No matter what happened, Luke would never stop trying to protect you.
But god if it wasn’t taking its toll on him.
Luke Alvez was, in no uncertain terms, coming apart at the seams. The stitching holding him together had been removed thread by thread and at this point there was barely anything holding him together. Emily had expressed her concerns for his mental health, suggesting he seek medical help for what she had dubbed a depressive spiral.
His response had been simply, “you’d be depressed too if your best friend had married a murderer” which had pretty much shut down the conversation.
He knew he was devolving, he’d seen it hundred of times before. His apartment was a mess of case files, innocuous accounts of possible sightings and potential victims of Spencer. He barely slept, running mostly on coffee and energy bars. He was almost certain he was getting an ulcer.
But he wouldn’t let this go. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t safe and he couldn’t rest until he knew you were. Maybe this obsession would eventually kill him, but it would be worth it to be able to free you from the clutches of Spencer Reid.
***
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You scurried back to the car with your best apologetic smile as you slid into the passenger’s seat and Spencer pulled a face.
“Did you puke again?” He frowned at you.
“No.” You shook your head.
“You were peeing again? You went when we got here.” He started the engine.
You weren’t exactly sure where you were headed, Spencer had simply told you that you were going out for the day and with nothing better to do you’d followed along. You were somewhere along the I-15 heading north about two hours away from Twentynine Palms, at a gas station. You’d only stopped long enough for Spencer to fill up the Chevy and have a coffee and you’d used the bathroom twice, which was very unlike you.
“I know, I think I drank too much coffee this morning.” You mused, putting on your seatbelt.
“You always drink too much coffee, but that’s an entirely different conversation.” He chuckled, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the space.
As he merged back onto the interstate you twirled your wedding band around your finger, watching the way his caught the sunlight through the windscreen and you smiled to yourself.
“Where are we going, Spence? Not that I don’t like a spontaneous road trip but I thought we’d settled now? Driving long distances usually only equals bad things where we’re concerned.” You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth.
Spencer removed one hand from the wheel and brought it to rest on your knee while he smiled at you softly.
“We’re going to see my mom.” He spoke happily.
“Oh.” You nodded with a soft laugh. “Ok, good. You had me worried for a second.”
“I told you sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about anything. Not anymore.” He gave your leg a squeeze, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins.
His bloodlust had been sated for the past two months but now it had come back with avengence. He needed to kill and he had a particular target in mind who he was sure would satisfy his urges more so than any that had come before.
But it was better to keep you in the dark. You were so happy lately and Spencer loved it when you were happy. He’d use visiting his mom as a distraction and he’d sneak off and extract his plan solo. You’d never need to know and your blissful little bubble didn’t need to be popped.
It was a win-win.
He ran over his plan in his head as he drove, making sure he had all the little details secure in his mind. There was no margin for error here, this had to be the perfect kill.
The two of you mostly stayed silent until he’d made it about another half hour up the interstate and you huffed out a loud breath.
“Goddamnit,” you grumbled. “I need to pee again.”
***
Visiting Spencer’s mom had been pretty safe for the two of you given that if anyone ever asked her if you’d been here, she most likely wouldn’t remember. You spent a few hours with her upon your arrival in Vegas before Spencer took you for a three course meal at the very expensive Capital Grille on Las Vegas strip.
After he walked you down to Caesars Palace in which you expected to be having drinks and were extremely surprised when Spencer strolled up to the reception desk stating he had a room reserved under his other alias Jack Waters.
A bellboy led you up to one of the top floors and showed you to the Palace Premium Suite. You stood in the middle of the grand living room while Spencer tipped the young man and once the door was closed and the two of you were alone, he sidled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.
“You like it?” He spoke as he kissed the side of your face.
“Wh-what is happening?” You laughed, still in awe. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“Consider it a belated, one night honeymoon.” His lips trailed down your neck. “And I guess just a small token of my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. I know I have a hard time saying how I feel but I love you so fucking much and I am the luckiest man in the world to call you my wife.”
“Spencer,” you sighed happily in your arms. “I love you too. And I’m the lucky one.”
“Ok, now we’ve got that out of the way, tell me Mrs Reid, where would you like me to fuck you first?”
You moaned at his words, turning yourself around in his arms and attaching your lips together.
“What are my options?” You spoke against his lips, feeling his dick growing hard as he pressed into you.
“Well there are multiple couches, a four poster king sized bed, a pretty decadent bathtub, or there’s my personal favourite option…” his hands wandered under the hem of your shirt and over your back.
“Which is?” You took hold of his lapels, tearing your lips away from his so you could look at him.
His pupils were already blown out with his lust, his lip quirked up into a sinful smirk.
“We’re way up high, with some of the best views of Vegas.” He tugged your shirt up, quickly getting it over your head and tossing it aside. He took hold of your biceps and turned you back around to face the huge floor to ceiling windows overlooking the strip, his lips moving back to your ear. “My choice would be to fuck you up against the window. But that’s just me.”
He was already leading you towards the windows, lips sucking the flesh of your neck, his free reaching between your bodies and unhooking your bra. He quickly got it off your arms and dropped it on the floor, and you made no protest when he pushed your front up against the window. You hissed slightly at the cool glass as it touched your nipples and Spencer smiled to himself.
It was all a part of his plan. He would render you dumb with sex then run you an indulgent bubble bath with a large glass of wine to soothe your post-coital muscles. Then he’d tell you he’d left something at his mother's facility which was purposefully on the other side of town to buy him some time.
He’d tell you he hopefully wouldn’t be gone long, but traffic on the strip at night could be a nightmare and he’d be back as soon as possible. He’d inform you of the bar and the spa downstairs if you wanted to use either while he was gone.
And while you were preoccupied having a drink or getting a massage or whatever, he would seek out his target, slice his throat and be back before you knew it, with any luck rejuvenated enough for round two.
He continued kissing your neck while he started unbuttoning your pants and you helped him wiggle them down your legs and kick them off. You could see Spencer in the reflection in the window start to work on the buttons of his shirt. You caught his eye and he smiled at you.
He shucked his shirt off and pressed his bare chest against your back, caging you against the window with his hips, his hard cock pressing into your back. His lips moved back to your neck and worked on sucking deep bruises into your flesh whilst one hand wandered over your stomach and quickly dipped inside your panties.
You closed your eyes as two fingers were soon pressing inside of you, his thumb massaging your clit. You rolled your ass backwards, grinding against his erection but you wobbled a little on your legs at the feeling of his fingers inside you.
With your eyes closed your mind wandered of its own accord. There were times when you and Spencer were together that you found yourself thinking of Jesse, most specifically the last time you’d seen him when he’d fingered you in his doorway.
It was entirely involuntary, you certainly didn’t mean to think about him and his strong tattooed arms and the large vein in his forearm that pulsed when his fingers were inside of you. You didn’t mean to imagine his wiry beard scratching your face as he kissed you. And you most definitely didn’t mean to picture him fucking you whilst Spencer was. Sometimes it just happened.
Spencer was by no means an idiot and he knew you still thought about GI Mountain Man. He knew exactly what you looked like post orgasm and he’d known what the two of you had been doing when you’d said goodbye to him, even if you’d tried hard to hide it. There had been three, maybe four times when you’d said his name under your breath when he was fucking you but you’d never seemed to notice.
Of course it bothered him, a part of him wanted to drive back to Butte and kill Jesse just to make himself feel better. But he was trying to be better for you and so he ignored the occasional slip of the tongue.
Your hand snaked around his wrist, holding him firmly in place in your panties. He knew you were thinking about Jesse now, call it intuition, or gut instinct, but whatever it was Spencer knew.
He used his free hand to relieve himself from his pants and move them down his thighs enough so they were out of his way. He was almost positive that Jesse wasn’t as big as him, couldn’t fill you up the way he could.
In one swift move, he removed his fingers from inside of you and hurriedly plunged his cock between your legs, causing you to gasp and fall flat against the window. Your eyes sprung open at the sudden intrusion and you made eye contact with him in the reflection.
“Jesus Christ, Spence.” You panted as he bottomed out. “A little warning next to him.”
He chose to ignore you, placing his hands flush on the glass either side of your head as he started thrusting into you. He kept eye contact through the glass, not letting you close your eyes for fear you would start thinking of Jesse again.
It’s not fair. I’ve done everything for her, I fucking married her and it’s still not enough. What makes him better than me? Why is he still on her mind?
He tried not to let his anger cloud his judgement and had to rein himself back from fucking you too hard. He forced himself to slow down, thrusting you languidly against the window. You moaned in sync with one another while the Strip below illuminated you both in its chaotic glow.
You kept your eyes on his in the reflection while he fucked you and all thoughts of Jesse left your head. When you were clenching around him, legs shaking from your impending orgasm, he took hold of your left hand and ran his fingers over your wedding band.
“You’re mine.” He mumbled, his face contorting as his own orgasm snuck up on him. “Mine. My partner in crime, my wife, my…fuck.”
He groaned the last word, head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly came inside of you. You whimpered as he filled you up, pushing you over the edge and your legs almost gave up with the force of your orgasm.
You fell back against Spencer’s chest, his arms holding you up right even though his own legs were shaking. As you fought to catch your breath he peeled you away from the window as he slid out of you and helped you over to the couch.
You collapsed onto it, panting heavily and pulling Spencer down with you. He laid his head on your chest and listened to the sound of your erratic heartbeat.
You laid like this for a while until you were both breathing at a normal rhythm and Spencer untangled himself from your arms and got to his feet. He tucked himself away and tugged his pants back up before buttoning them.
“I’m gonna run you a bubble bath.” He smiled softly down at you.
“You gonna join me in it?” You smiled back sleepily.
“Sadly not, I realised I left my wallet at Bennington.” He went to head towards the bathroom but he didn’t get far.
“You had your wallet at dinner.” You sat up, frowning at the back of his head.
Spencer froze in his tracks. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
“Uh,” he turned back to face you, quickly trying to think on his feet, which would be a lot easier if his head wasn’t still hazy from his orgasm. “Not my wallet, I meant the burner phone. I should go and get it.”
You scrutinised him for a moment but thankfully for him your own head was also bleary and wouldn’t allow you to think too much into it.
“Ok.” You shrugged, flopping back to the couch.
Spencer exhaled heavily, continuing on his way to the bathroom. He started the water, pouring in an ample amount of bubble bath and leaving the tub to fill.
“There’s a bar downstairs and a spa, even a casino. If you get bored with the bath and I’m not back, go nuts.” He spoke as headed back into the room, locating the bottle of red wine he’d had sent to the room before you arrived.
He made quick work of the cork and poured you a large glass before coming back over to the couch and dropping down next to you. He handed you the glass and you sat yourself up against the cushions again.
“Hmm I like honeymoons.” You smiled, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a small sip.
Moments later your face fell and you gagged, thrusting the glass back at Spencer before leaping from the couch and running as fast as your legs could carry you to the bathroom.
Spencer heard the toilet seat slam back against the cistern and then the distinctive sound of vomiting echoed around the room.
Realistically he was smart enough to figure out what was going on, as were you, but both of your heads were clouded by other thoughts and so you both missed the obvious.
Spencer padded back to the bathroom and found you on your knees, wiping your hand over your mouth. You looked up at him with large, sad eyes.
“The wine turned against me.” You whined. “Goddamn gas-and-go hotdogs.”
Spencer smiled sadly at you and slid to the floor next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the bath continued to fill behind him.
“Are you going to be ok if I pop out?” Please god say yes, I need this, it has to be tonight.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s passed again now, I guess I just won’t be drinking any wine tonight.” You sighed. “You go, do your thing.”
“As long as you’re sure.” Spencer pushed himself back to his feet and then held his hands out to help you up.
“Of course. Do you think you’ll be gone for long?”
“No idea, traffic at this time of night will probably be a pain, but I promise I’ll hurry.” He stroked your hair back from your face.
“Ok.” You nodded, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the tub. “Go, I’m fine. I can run a bath.”
“I won’t be long.” He went to kiss you but then thought better of it as your breath smelt like vomit. Instead he kissed his first and middle finger and then placed them on your lips making you chuckle.
Soon he was heading out of the room in search of his bag so he could change into jeans and t-shirt. The weapons were in the Chevvy’s glovebox, ready for their next assignment.
He dressed quickly and got his shoes on, throwing on a hoodie before grabbing the car keys and heading to the door.
“Be safe, sweetheart.” He called as he reached for the handle.
“Love you.” You replied and it made his heart swell every time he heard you say that.
As he opened the door, his wedding ring caught his eye and he rolled his lip between his teeth. He forced open the door, ignoring the way his heart practically exploded when he looked at his ring. He had a job to focus on.
But the truth was, you were the only thing keeping him together. He was lost and you’d found him, taken him in and patched him up. His scars both mental and physical didn’t phase you, if anything you’d loved him harder because of them. You’d fixed him up in ways you’d never understand and he hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake in what he was about to do.
He was fairly certain you’d never walk away from him, that nothing he could do could be worse than the things he’d already put you through. Because he was sure one day all that thread keeping him together would come unravelled and if he had no one there to stitch him back up again he would be torn so deeply there would be no repairing him. And god only knows how quickly a broken man would devolve.
No, it's no wonder I feel broken,
Are you the one to fix me up, patching up the work they done?
Try and sew me,
So thread the needle, tie it off, teach me how to trust someone.
Really hoping that you stay,
That you never walk away,
Every word I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say it.
Do you feel the stress in me,
Steady bursting at the seams?
You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.
Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,
I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.
Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,
Pardon all my precious scars.
No, it's no wonder you've been feeling,
Like a doll in lost and found, so mistreated, thrown around.
Who you kidding? (You kidding),
Every flaw and every fray, that's what makes you sexy to me.
Really hoping that I stay,
I could never walk away,
Every word we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say it.
Do you feel the stress in me,
Steady bursting at the seams?
You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.
Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,
I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.
Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,
Pardon all my precious scars.
Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,
I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.
Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,
I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.
Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,
I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.
Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,
I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.
Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,
I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.
Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,
Pardon all my precious scars.
Really hoping that you stay,
Pray you never walk away,
Pardon all my precious scars.
Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart,
Oh, pardon all my precious scars.
@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem! reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction
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okay so maybe it was just me being ahead of the curve or whatever but like. did anyone else have their ultimate misery / severe depression era during middle school instead of high school?
#mine#mental illness#it is FOUR AM i should NOT BE thinking about this but oh my god#i read something and i just realized that it wasnt just depression i had a full-fucking-blown psychological BREAK when i was 11#and i need to be up in four hours but now im too pissed to sleep like oh my god i had a FULL PSYCHOLOGICAL BREAK and#STILL none of the adults in my life even noticed i was SAD?? FUCKING HELLO??????#anyway rant in the tags but also im genuinely asking did this hit anyone else in middle school/ages 11-13 instead of high school#bc all the stuff i see is about how miserable and mentally ill kids in high school are and im absolutely not discounting that#but like. high school was SO MUCH BETTER for me it was fucking PARADISE compared to how deeply fucking hurting i was#throughout all of middle school. like i would relive all my high school years ten times over before i even ONCE had to feel how i felt#from the ages of 11 - 13. high school was FUN for me and i was still very mentally ill going into 9th grade!!#like. okay you know the adhd principle of executive dysfunction where the idea is that DOING the task is easier than STARTING the task#and the analogy that goes like. imagine you had to struggle for hours climbing up the gravel mountain to get to the construction site#so when you finally get there youre like oh thank fuck time to lay some bricks i could do this all DAY#and the guy who drove up the mountain to the work site is all angry and is like man stop bragging about how EASY laying bricks is for you#man its hard work!!!!! and youre like. not as hard as climbing up the damn gravel mountain dude#and whenever i hear people talking about how high school is the worst. i think of that.#yeah man high school is hard. not as hard as suffering through the crushing misery of being 11 though.
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johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.
he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.
and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.
the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.
a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)
"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."
excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."
"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."
you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—
"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.
"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."
-
damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.
he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.
you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.
lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.
double damn.
"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—
"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."
when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.
-
the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.
simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—
his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.
the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.
"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."
somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.
"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"
the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.
he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.
the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.
as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.
"hush."
you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"
you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.
wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.
the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.
"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.
"gonna beg?"
the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.
you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."
the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.
"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.
he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.
and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.
"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.
"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—
the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.
"ya with me?"
you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.
"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.
simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—
"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?
"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.
"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."
he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.
his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.
he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."
that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.
his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.
your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.
"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."
your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—
and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.
"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."
there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.
simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"
he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.
simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.
"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.
it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.
simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—
"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."
there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.
"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."
a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.
you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.
your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.
your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.
(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)
his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.
and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."
"pet."
"please stop looking at me like that."
he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.
"make me."
-
as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.
your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.
when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.
good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.
sent 5:30 am
about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.
sent 5:49 am
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon ghost riley smut#cod smut#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader
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Crackfic Idea:
30-year-old Zuko gets randomly flung back in time to his 16-year-old self. For a couple of hours at a time. At the most random times imaginable. Imagine the potential.
Zuko assumes that it's a dream or a vision, but definitely not real. He tries not to freak everybody out too badly, but he's also fully enjoying himself and seeing all of his friends as their young selves.
ZUKO, as he and Aang circle each other at the South Pole: I've spent years preparing for this encounter. Training, meditating. You're just a [Spirit Shwoop Sound] ... baby Aang!
AANG, confused: Well, more like preteen Aang. How do you know my name?
ZUKO, looking around: Wait, where are we?
AANG: Um... this is the-
SOKKA: Don't answer him! He's trying to get information out of you. You can't give away our location!
KATARA: Sokka, he's standing in the middle of our village. I think he knows.
ZUKO: We're here? This is so weird. I was just here for the Annual Penguin Race.
AANG: THERE'S AN ANNUAL PENGUIN RACE?!
ZUKO: Well, yeah, it was your idea... you gave a whole speech about cross-cultural cooperation and friendship, but I know you just wanted to go penguin sledding with a bunch of people...
AANG: Well, I-
SOKKA: Stop giving him more information! He already knows about the penguins!
Everybody else is confused, bewildered and even befuddled except for Iroh, who assumes that it's Spirit Shenanigans™️ and just fully accepts that his nephew likes tea and hugs and Pai Sho sometimes while being his usual shouty surly traumaball self at others.
ZUKO, stepping into the cabin: Hi, Uncle. I brought you some ginseng. How about a game of Pai Sho?
IROH, tearing up a little: I would love that, my nephew.
ZUKO: I wish we could do this more often, but you live so far away...
IROH, mentally calculating that he lives exactly three doors away from Zuko, and nodding sagely: The rat-viper may never climb the mountain that a hog-monkey can, but the monkey does not know what lies underneath it.
ZUKO, sighing sadly: I know, Uncle. I do appreciate my position in life, even if it has disadvantages.
IROH: Hmm. Your move, nephew.
The crew of Zuko's ship is terrified by the fact that whenever it happens, Zuko is somehow even more hyper-competent, seems to be weirdly calm about everything, and most unnervingly of all, he's polite.
SOLDIER: Here is a report on the best teahouses within three days travel of our current location, Sir. And, uh, Commander Zhao sent a messenger hawk.
ZUKO: Excellent. Thank you very much, Sergeant. I think we can ignore whatever Zhao has to say. In reply, I want you to send him a list of the most famous officers in Fire Nation history, and point out that none of them had sideburns. I want to see if he shaves them.
SOLDIER, sweating nervously: O-of course, Sir.
As a matter of fact, the whole fic could just be Zuko trolling Zhao. It would be glorious.
#atla#atla spoilers#atla fic#avatar the last airbender#crack fic#time travel#atla zuko#atla iroh#avatar aang#sokka#katara#zuko#atla zhao#iroh
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Summary: Your lab partner, Eddie Munson, might be the most irritating person in your life. But when he unexpectedly comes to your rescue at a party, his chivalry is too hard to resist.
A collaboration with the absurdly talented @corroded-hellfire 🥰
WC: 3.8k
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fem!Reader, enemies-to-lovers, drinking, Billy Hargrove being a douche, fighting, blood, praise, fingering, accidental voyeurism if you squint, unprotected p in v, fluff because Red & I are some corny motherfuckers
Thank you @blueywrites for your idea that upped the spice 🌶️🌶️
Divider credit to @saradika
“Okay, so we need to mix the magnesium with hydrochloric acid,” you start, carefully measuring each substance and pouring them into a test tube, “and then we light the splint and see if it creates a squeaking noise.”
“Right,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “And, uh, why are we doing this, exactly?”
You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. Eddie getting under your skin is bad enough, but if he knew how much he annoyed you, he’d likely double down.
“We’re testing for the presence of oxygen,” you say with as much patience as you can muster. “And you need to wear safety goggles.”
He rolls his eyes and mimics you in a high-pitched and highly unflattering tone. “You need to wear safety goggles.”
He reaches for the matches, but you pull them away before he can grab them.
“I’m serious.”
Eddie scoffs. “Please. We’re not even blowing shit up. Besides, I have a gig tonight, and I’m not getting on stage with goggle marks on my face.”
Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the difference between your shitty band getting a record deal or not.”
“Whatever.” But he begrudgingly snaps on the protective gear, and you hand over the matchbox and the splint.
“So just li—seriously?” You watch, dumbfounded, as Eddie strikes a match and uses it to light the cigarette perched between his lips. Where had he kept it this whole time?
“What?” He asks with a smirk. “There’s, like, a million of these left. I’ll use the next one for the experiment thingy.”
He doesn’t get that far; Ms. O’Donnell marches over and yanks out the cigarette, snuffs it in the tray, and orders him to the principal’s office.
Leaving you to complete your work alone. Again.
Last week, it was because he’d kicked his feet up on the table and took a swig of Mountain Dew from a beaker. The week before, he’d blown up a rubber glove like a balloon and popped it right in Jason Carver’s ear, causing him to shatter a test tube on the ground.
You often felt more like a babysitter than a lab partner.
What you needed was a night out, so the party Steve Harrington was throwing tonight could not come any sooner. It wasn’t your usual scene, but all of your friends were going, and it certainly beat raiding your parents’ liquor cabinet alone.
Music blasts from an overpriced stereo system as you pull up to Steve’s house. Barely audible over the reverberating bass is the sound of drunken cheering as someone does a kegstand. You sigh, plaster a smile on your face, and make a beeline for the punch bowl.
Heather Holloway ladles jungle juice into an already pink-stained cup; you’re grateful for at least one kind face in a sea of Hawkins High students and recent graduates.
“Heather, hi!” You smile at her, plucking a new cup from the stack and filling it nearly to the brim. “How’s college?”
Heather takes a sip, wrinkling her nose at the vodka’s pungency. “Way better than high school,” she says with a laugh. “I’m taking an intro to biochem, and my lab partner actually shows up.”
You raise your glass in a mock toast. “Maybe you could take mine. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
She laughs. “Can’t be worse than when I was stuck with The Freak last year. He never showed up to class.”
“Really?”
“Mhm. And Ginny Anderson was his lab partner during his first senior year, and he pulled the same shit.”
Lucky them, you think wryly. Guess he decided to be a star student for his third go-around.
Frat boy-style cheering echoes from behind you and when you spin around you see Billy Hargrove strutting through the crowd, towards the kitchen. He throws a wink to a few girls and slaps five to one of the guys on the basketball team. If he’s coming into the kitchen, it’s the last place you want to be.
The living room is smoky and loud, but it beats getting stuck next to the booze with a jackass like Hargrove. Every thump of the bass has the little sips of alcohol you’ve taken sloshing around in your stomach. It’s hard to tell where you’re going or even what direction you’re going with so many people, so you just keep wading through groups until finally you come upon some space to breathe.
Unfortunately, this space brings you right back to where you began: in front of the kitchen. Just in time for Billy to sidle up next to you, the scent of whiskey and tangy cologne wafting off of him in waves.
“Where have you been all my life?” he asks, as if it’s supposed to be charming instead of nausea-inducing.
“Was better a second ago,” you mumble, not caring if he hears you or not. But when you move to step away from the blonde, the smarmy look slips from his too-pretty face and is replaced with a mask of set determination.
Strong fingers curl around your wrist, just tight enough to cause the barest amount of pain. The audacity and possessiveness are what piss you off the most, though.
A gentle tug of your arm does nothing to free it from his grip, so you try a little harder. Still nothing.
“Let go,” you seethe. The words are biting, but you’re a chihuahua up against a doberman.
Somehow, above your pulse pounding in your ears and the music thumping throughout the large house, you hear the distinct clang of a metal lunchbox snap shut and heavy boots on polished wood floors headed in your direction.
You sense Eddie over your shoulder before he appears in your peripheral vision. A moment hangs in the air where he and Billy stare at one another, and you watch them both, unsure of what is about to happen.
Eddie steels his jaw, unmoving. “Let her go,” he says, a slight rasp in his tone.
The jock remains unfazed, unthreatened. “Shouldn’t you be worshiping Satan’s asshole, Freak?”
“Shouldn’t you be worshiping Tommy’s? Or does he only worship yours?”
A cacophony of laughter stirs up an anger inside of Billy. He grabs Eddie by the jacket collar and slams him against the counter. “If you don’t fuck off in the next three seconds, I’ll kick you ass so hard that your uncle won’t even be able to identify your body.”
Eddie smirks. “One…two—”
Billy’s fist crashes into Eddie’s cheek with a sickening crack. Eddie returns with a punch to Billy’s abdomen, but not before his face sustains a few more hits.
Shock loosens its grasp on you and you call out for help, knowing it’s no use getting in the middle of their brawl. Someone—Tommy H, maybe—is chanting “fight!” and it takes all of your willpower not to clock him yourself.
Billy finally lets up when Eddie falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony. “Maybe next time, you’ll mind your fucking business,” he spits through his split lip—one of the few punches Eddie managed to land.
His smarminess is enough to provoke a reflexive response in you. As he gloats, you deliver a swift kick square to his crotch. A choked whine slips from Billy’s parted lips as he doubles over. You snort a laugh to yourself thinking about how the dumbbell is probably going to spin this story so he doesn’t seem like any less than the King of Hawkins High in front of his fellow party-goers. He’ll never be able to take away your satisfaction at using a pair of your nicest shoes to crush Billy’s balls though.
Eddie is still on the ground, wiping blood that’s trickled out of his right nostril onto the back of his sleeve. Turning your back to Billy, you bend down and offer your hand to Eddie. He accepts it with a weak smile and you help him to his feet.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eddie says with a shrug and a sad smile that knots your stomach. He’s been hurt worse than this?
Unable to follow that train of thought, you reach out and slip your hand into Eddie’s. You give a small tug and he readily follows you down the hall of the Harrington home, the thumping beat of the bass becoming softer the further you walk.
In the back corner of the house you manage to find a bathroom that’s not occupied by someone puking the mixture of alcohol they’ve consumed or a couple hooking up, going at it like wild animals. This one looks like it’s been hardly touched all night and you click the lock into place once you and Eddie are inside.
Eddie takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, his calloused fingers coming up to gently touch the gash right across his chin. He winces at the tenderness of the wound while you crouch down and look in the cabinets underneath the sink for a first aid kit.
“Ah, here we are,” you announce as you pull out the small white box with the red cross on it. On your knees, you shuffle over towards Eddie and slide the kit along with you. “It’s not so bad,” you tell Eddie as you dab some rubbing alcohol on a small swath of gauze. “The face just bleeds more because—”
“Because the blood vessels in the face are so close to the skin,” Eddie finishes for you.
“Wow,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “I’m impressed.”
“We are in the same science class, you know,” Eddie teases with a playful smirk. It quickly turns to a grimace though as you begin to dab at his wounds.
“I thought I recognized you from the seat next to mine,” you joke back. There’s silence for a few moments while you clean off all the excess blood and bandage up the open cuts. “Why are you suddenly interested in science this year? I mean, I was talking to Heather before and she said you never showed up when you were her lab partner. So, what? Renewed attempt to graduate?”
“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. He avoids your eyes and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Something like that.”
“Got the hots for O’Donnell?”
He belly laughs at that thought, grimacing at the pain it causes. ��Fuck, no!” He shakes his head. “She looks like a walrus and a naked mole rat had some sort of freaky baby.”
You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”
“You were the one who suggested I’m into her,” Eddie rebutted, and fairly so.
“I didn’t make you compare her to a—”
A loud crash stops you mid-sentence, followed by someone drunkenly lamenting, “not the punch!”
“We’re probably safer hiding out in here for a bit,” Eddie says softly, “unless you want to volunteer to clean up whatever mess they made.”
“I think cleaning up your mess is more than enough for tonight.” To punctuate your point, you swipe a clean piece of gauze over a small cut you’d previously missed. “Besides, I wanna know what’s suddenly got you showing up to class.”
Eddie’s eyes roam your body far more conspicuously than he’d like, but the attention fills you with a newfound warmth. “You.” He snorts out a little laugh, startling you slightly. “Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought.”
“W-Wait.” You fight off the embarrassment that accompanies your stuttered words. “I’m the reason …?”
He noticed your reaction, mistaking disbelief for discomfort. “Does that make things…does that make you feel weird?” Nerves marr whatever joking tone he was trying to convey.
All you can do is shake your head. “No. It makes things…good.” Good insufficiently describes your reaction, though part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s a prank, his way of getting back at you for—
A hooked finger in the belt loop of your jeans snags your attention, Eddie gently tugging you closer to him. “And now?”
“Still good. Better, actually.” Resting one hand on his sore chest, you lean in and add, “will it hurt if I kiss you?”
“Don’t care.”
Despite him not caring, you certainly care if you’re going to hurt him or not. Your mouth moves slowly towards his, lips just barely brushing against each other as your breaths co-mingle. It’s not enough for Eddie though, and he presses his lips against yours with more force, stealing the air from your lungs as your body melts against his. The back bathroom at the Harrington household is not something you would’ve considered romantic before, but right now it’s the only place you want to be. Tucked away in the corner with Eddie, trading explorative kisses as your hands roam each other's bodies.
Your body buzzes when Eddie’s tongue sweeps against yours, heat immediately pooling between your legs.
Instinctively, gingerly, you press your torso to his, one trembling finger hooking into his belt loop. A moan escapes you, soft but saturated with need. Eddie clocks it immediately.
“Mhm.” His smile threatens to break the kiss. “That’s it.”
You feel the button of your jeans unfasten, the sound of unzipping music to your ears. His hand slips between the denim and the newly exposed lace of your panties, grin widening when it reaches the damp patch.
Eddie’s hardness strains against the confines of his own pants, and you rush to relieve that ache. His exhale when you touch him—over his boxers, but not as gently as he touches you—makes you even wetter.
“Gotta have you.” He toys with your waistband but doesn’t explore further until he hears your ‘yes,’ pathetic and whimpering but consent nonetheless. “Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver coursing through you.
The pads of his fingertips find your clit without struggle, rubbing precise circles over it that have you groaning his name. “Every time you say my name from now on,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna think about this.”
“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” It’s part taunt and part truth; only his name is on your mind. Your back arches against the sink, porcelain digging into your skin, but you barely notice.
One strong hand reaches for the strap of your tank top, pulling it down so harshly that the fabric tears. He mutters a soft swear, tugs the rest of the shirt down until your bra is completely visible.
“Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie kisses your chest, groaning when the sensation of his lips causes you to squeeze his throbbing cock. “Careful, or I’ll—”
He’s interrupted by the door swinging wide open, Billy and Heather wrapped around each other in drunken lust. Billy’s eyes widen, their blueness dulled from the liquor, when he sees that the bathroom is currently occupied—and by whom.
The intrusion startles you as well, but you’re much quicker at recovering than the inebriated asshole gaping at you from the doorway.
“Get the fuck out!” you hiss.
Heather turns her head to look in your direction, as if she hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the bathroom until you’d spoken up. It’s clear she’s had quite a few more drinks since you’d seen her in the kitchen.
Whether it’s the alcohol, the shock, or his own stupidity, Billy doesn’t make a move towards leaving, let alone tug Heather along with him. The blonde shakes a few curls out of his eyes, causing Heather to reach up and twirl one around her finger.
“Jesus Christ, is this douche even capable of hearing a woman if she isn’t moaning his name?” Eddie mutters to you before rounding on the drunken pair and raising his voice. “The lady said out. Now.”
Something finally snaps Billy out of his dazed state and he curls his lip, giving the two of you a half-hearted sneer. He pulls Heather out of the doorway so quickly that it looks like she gets whiplash as he slams the door closed behind them.
Eddie leans over and locks the door, giving the knob a twist for good measure. “Do me a favor, honey?” His voice is a ribbon of silk down your spine. “Turn around so you’re facing the mirror.”
You do as he says, hands planted on the sink ledge. Your shirt is torn, make-up smudged, and you’re out of breath from the impromptu make out session. Ducking your head, you’re determined to avoid your reflection until tobacco-scented words tickle your ear from behind.
“Be a good girl and look at yourself while I fuck you.” Eddie moves your thong over, exposing your pussy, and exhales with a tremble. His middle finger glides over your folds before pushing into you slowly. “You got wetter when I called you a good girl, didn’t you?”
“Mhm,” you manage, stifling a moan as his ring finger joins his middle.
A teasing pout graces Eddie’s lips. “Such a good girl. And only for me.”
“Only for you,” you echo.
He taps the head of his cock on your bare ass, leaving drops of pre-cum in his wake. “Gotta be inside you,” he growls. “Gotta fuckin’ feel what a good girl you are.”
The sensation of his cock dragging down along your folds mixed with him knowing just what to say to get you squirming has you dropping your head forward with a soft whimper. A strong, calloused hand quickly finds its way up to your throat though, and presses with just enough pressure to remind you that you’re supposed to be looking at yourself in the mirror.
When you lift your head, you’re greeted by the sight of a smirking Eddie behind you in the mirror.
“Atta girl,” he praises.
At a torturously slow pace, Eddie begins to push inside of you. A guttural groan slips past your gritted teeth as he stretches your walls, the pleasure causing you to curl your toes inside your shoes.
“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out before pulling his hips back. “Pussy’s even tighter than I imagined.”
The mental image of Eddie laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of you is enough to make your knees weak. They can’t buckle too much; Eddie has one hand gripping you tight and the other trailing down to your clit. Each deliberate circle is punctuated by a thrust, pleasure from every angle.
He kisses your shoulder blade, groaning when you tighten around him. “Look at yourself,” he growls his reminder. “Look how beautiful you are, all fucked out like this.”
You catch another glimpse; this time, you see Eddie’s lust-filled expression along with your own. He’s even further gone than you are, so focused on burying himself within you to care about the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead or the way his teeth dig into his lower lip.
“Say it.” His voice is half-commanding, half-pleading.
“S-Say what?” Each word is a struggle, your orgasm building to a peak you’d never before reached.
“That you’re beautiful.” He tugs you even closer to him, and there’s no mistaking his dominance for anything else. “So—goddamn—beautiful.”
You follow his order without a second thought. “I’m b-beautiful, all fucked out like th-this.”
Eddie’s hips snap against the plush of your ass at a frenetic pace. “That’s it; that’s my good girl.” Not a good girl, you note. His good girl.
One hand atop his, desperate for as much contact as possible, you moan: “your good girl.”
“Oh, fuck.” Everything is you—you and him together, and it drives him to the edge. “You…you gotta…’m so close,” he rambles.
“Me, too.” Panting breaths mingle with his groans, your walls tightening around him as you come. It’s so much, so intense, and tears cloud your vision resulting from the overwhelming bliss. “Eddie, oh, Eddie.”
He spills into you with a cry of your name. “H-ohmygod, holy fuckin’ shit.” His thrusts don’t stop until every last drop of his cum is inside you.
Eddie’s chest presses against your back, but he’s careful not to put all his weight on you. The feeling of him so solid and warm behind lulls you from pure ecstasy to warm contentment, not wanting to move out from beneath him.
A few silent moments pass before Eddie pulls out of you, both of you disappointed by the loss of contact. But Eddie’s hands refuse to let you go entirely, gently running over your hips and up your sides. The touch is featherlight and sends a comforting tingle throughout your limbs.
“You with me?” Eddie’s worn-out voice asks you.
“Mhmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. “Don’t wanna move.”
Eddie gives a husky chuckle in reply before he stands up, reluctantly taking a step away from you. Your own muscles whine in protest as you stand straight, the tell-tale signs of a good fucking already settling in.
The two of you begin to clean up, each slipping back into articles of clothing along the way. One question prickles the back of your mind in the quiet room and you know your brain won’t be able to rest until it has an answer.
“Uh, Eddie?” you ask once you’ve cleaned up your smeared lipstick.
“Yeah?”
“Are you still going to come to class? Or, you know, now that you’ve had me you won’t have a reason to anymore?” You try to hide the insecurity in your tone but there was no mistaking the slight edge your words had.
Eddie pauses mid-buckling his belt and gives you a frown.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie says and the nickname alone already has your engine revving for a round two. “I wouldn’t sit through O’Donnell’s class for someone I only wanted to fuck. If I’m gonna listen to that hag drone on and on then there’s a damn good reason I’m sitting my ass in that classroom.” With a sigh, Eddie steps closer to you and after a moment’s hesitation, cups your face in his hands. “Can I take you out? Do things, ya know, the right way?”
A little trill of a giggle bursts out of you, which makes Eddie frown. But you’re quick to let him in on what you found amusing.
“You mean having sex in a bathroom at Steve Harrington’s house isn’t the typical way romances start?”
A grin slowly slides across Eddie’s mouth and you swear it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. All you want to do is keep that smile on his handsome face as much as you possibly can.
“A romance, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “If I’d known that’s what this was, I would’ve at least fucked you in a guest room.”
You let your fingers brush over the fly of his jeans, feeling a gentle twitch from behind the zipper. “How about for round two?”
Eddie holds your face in his hands as he kisses you deeply, only breaking it to smile and murmur:
“You read my mind, Beautiful.”
--
#eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#fanfic#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things#smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 8: The Thing About Ghost
Summary: You should have expected something bad would happen. You just didn't expect this. Perhaps something good could come of it after all.
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, slight Gaz x Soap
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, PTSD, nightmares, violence, medical stuff
A/N: I started this chapter this morning. It just came spilling forth and thus you're getting a bonus update this week. I'm honestly so glad to have this one done. Now I can finally say something more than "you'll see" when you ask about Ghost.
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You reach a hand out from under the mountain of blankets, fumbling blindly across your nightstand until you reach your vibrating phone. You pull it under the blankets, blinking blearily at the name on the screen.
Kyle.
“Hello?” You mumble sleepily, your eyes already drooping again.
“Oh, so you can hear your phone vibrating but not me knocking at your door for fifteen minutes?”
You let out a quiet groan, burrowing back under the covers. “Comfy.”
“I’m sure you are, but it’s breakfast time, love.”
You let out a quiet groan, still not moving. “Not hungry.”
“You need to eat, love. You’ll be grumpy all morning if you don’t.”
He’s right. If you skip breakfast, you’ll get snippy and hangry. Yet, the comfort of your bed is calling, threatening to lull you back to sleep again.
“Don’t go falling asleep on me again.”
You startle back awake, groaning. “I wasn’t.”
“Come on, love. I don’t want to have to get Soap to kick in your door.”
You let out a loud, dramatic groan before grumbling acquiescence. You slide out from under your covers until you’re sitting on the floor, rubbing your eyes. You don’t bother hanging up as you set your phone on the nightstand before crawling over to the door, just close enough that you can reach up and unlock it.
You sit back on the floor, hair mussed and still in your pajamas. The door slowly swings open, Gaz leaning against the doorframe. He smiles softly down at you as you yawn, blinking up at him sleepily.
“That’s cute, but if we don’t get to breakfast, Price might send the cavalry searching.” He says.
You grumble, pushing yourself up to stand before you grab a sweatshirt and shoes, running your fingers through your hair to make it at least semi-presentable.
You lean against Gaz as you walk to the mess, resting your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. It’s quieter in the mess than normal, Gaz leading you through the line to get food, making your tray for you before you shuffle over to the table where the others are. You sit down next to Price, letting out a yawn as you stare sleepily down at your tray.
“Was starting tae get worried about ye.” Soap grins at you.
“Yeah, heard her phone vibrating but not me knocking for fifteen minutes.” Gaz says, taking the seat next to you.
“I was comfy.” You shrug, picking up your fork.
“Guess I don’t have to bother asking how you slept.” Price says, grinning fondly down at you.
“Like a rock.” You say, before taking a bite of sausage.
“Good.” He says, almost beaming with pride that your little shopping spree yesterday worked, and that the added comfort in your room helped.
Your face warms under his gaze, practically able to feel him preening with pride. It makes something twist in your stomach, knowing that you made him feel that way.
The moment is broken as Ghost sighs, standing from the table to dump his tray and leave the mess.
Soap shakes his head as you watch him go, a frown pulling at your brows. “Don’ mind him. He could do with some soft blankets and more pillows of his own.”
The image of Ghost curled up with fluffy blankets and a stuffed strawberry of his own has you laughing loudly, not even bothered by the looks you get from the tables around you.
You lounge against Gaz’s chest, his arm wrapped around your chest. Your back vibrates every so often as he chuckles at something that happens on the TV. You’re focused on your book, content with a lazy Sunday afternoon.
“Don’ you two look cozy,” Soap says entering the rec room. “Don’ mind me.” He kneels on the couch next to your feet before flattening himself out between your legs until his head lands in your lap.
Your cheeks warm as he sighs out a breath, making himself comfortable. You set your book aside, electing to run your fingers through his mohawk. You wonder if you can put him to sleep that way like you almost achieved with Gaz. He lets out a content hum as your nails scratch at his scalp, running your fingers over the short cropped sides of his head.
You let yourself relax further against Gaz, absentmindedly massaging Soap’s scalp. Your gaze is on the TV but you’re not really watching, too caught up in the bliss of the moment to really care.
The moment is ruined as Soap’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He lets out a groan, shuffling around to fish it out, lifting his head to stare at the screen.
“Have to take this.” He murmurs, pushing himself up off of your lap.
He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips before leaning over your shoulder, kissing Gaz. Your eyes widen as he leaves the room, your heart starting to race. Of course they kiss each other. It’s probably the most natural thing in the world to them. You’ve just never seen it.
Much less be stuck in the middle of it.
The images begin to flood your mind, your face getting warmer and warmer. The mental imagine of being sandwiched between them while they kiss over your shoulder, hands everywhere, skin against skin.
“Enjoyed that, did you?” Gaz’s voice is husky in your ear, his lips brushing the delicate skin.
Of course he can smell the hike of sweetness in your scent. His hand drops from where it had been wrapped across your chest, his hand trailing down until it rests against your stomach. His lips press against the sensitive skin beneath your ear, tongue darting out to taste.
“Soon.” He murmurs, before leaning back, resting against the couch once more.
Your face is burning hot, heart thumping in your chest. A shiver runs down your spine at the idea, your body relaxing further back against Gaz’s, your stomach fluttering as the warmth of his hand seeps through your shirt.
You’re ready when he knocks, standing in front of your door again. You open it before he’s finished knocking, his hand falling back to his side. He stares at you for a breath before he turns on his heel, making his way from the barracks.
You scramble after him as usual, following him into the gym and into the private room. You follow his lead of removing your shoes and jacket, falling into what’s become a routine for the two of you.
“We’ll work on combos again.” He says, wrapping your hands for you, before his own.
You go back through what you had done last time, all the combos you’d learned. Well, he told you. You’ve forgotten most of them after the exhaustion and a couple days off. You can tell he’s agitated already as he walks you through the combos, correcting your punches and stance.
“Move your feet when you punch.” He says, kicking your back leg out from under you, dropping you onto your knee. “Otherwise you’ll hurt yourself.”
“You’re going to hurt me doing shit like that.” You murmur, fixing your stance again.
He grabs punch mitts, moving to stand in front of you. He calls out numbers, working through combos and punches. You miss a lot, still trying to memorize which punch belongs to which number and which order to swing your fists in. Part of you wants to drive your fist straight up the middle and into his face.
A sudden hit to your shoulder sends you sprawling to the mat. You lay there for a second before looking up at him in shock.
“What was that?” You say, getting back to your feet.
“Dodge or block, just like I taught you.” He says, swinging at you again with the mitt, forcing you back a step. “Your opponent won’t be standing still. You have to know how to throw punches and avoid the ones coming at you.”
You huff out a breath, trying to stay aware and throw the right punch. You don’t manage to block or dodge every one, your shoulders getting sore as he hits you. He’s not pulling his punches by much, and you can imagine the bruises you’ll sport later. You’re getting tired fast, the combination of the physical effort and the brain power growing to be too much at this intensity so soon.
A solid hit to the center of your chest as you sprawling out on the mat on your back, the air leaving your lungs with a horrible wheezing sound. For a moment you think he might have actually injured you, fear in your eyes as he looms over you.
“Get up.” He says, shoulders squared like he’s the one in a fight.
“Give me a second.” You say, still trying to catch your breath. “I need a break.”
“There are no breaks in a fight.” He says.
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think maybe I should just give up and die if I ever get in a fight.” You snap.
Something flashes through his gaze, the mitts hitting the floor with a thud. He grabs the front of your tank top, lifting you to your feet. He holds you in front of him, leaning down until you’re eye to eye.
“You think it’s that easy to die? When the time comes you can just lay down and let it happen?” He growls, emotions flickering like flames in his eyes.
“If this is what it’s going to take to live, then yeah.” You say, not backing down despite the prickling feeling at the back of your neck.
“You have no idea what it’s like, when death is looming over you. The fear, the regret, the overwhelming push to fight to survive.” He’s close enough that if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you could have felt his breath on your face.
“I don’t know because I’m not like you. I’m not a fighter, I’m not trained like you. When I asked you to teach me to defend myself, this is not what I meant.” You say, shoving against his chest.
It takes him by surprise enough that he stumbles back a step. He catches himself easily, hands closing into fists at his sides. He’s ready to fight, you can see it. You’ve unlocked the alpha, angered the beast within him.
His scent bowls over you, sending you scrambling back out of instinct. The prickling at the back of your neck intensifies and you try to clear your head, preparing you for this fight. You don’t stand a chance, you know that. Going off instinct alone, he could overpower you easily.
Despite everything in your brain telling you to run away, you do the opposite, racing towards him. He catches you before you can hit him, your feet leaving the ground as he slams you into the mat. You kick and claw at him, catching him in the ribs but it doesn’t even seem to phase him.
“What was your plan?” He growls, pressing harder against your chest as he keeps you pinned. “Try to take me off my feet? I’m bigger and stronger than you. That’s never going to work.”
“Then stop being such a dick!” You yell, landing a kick against his hip. “You’re just a bully. A big bully. You’re just like my dad!”
Both of you freeze at your words, your eyes wide as you stare up at him. His hand closes around the neck of your tanktop and for half a moment you’re scared he might sink his hand in and pull your spine right out through your chest. Instead he releases you, pushing himself up with a growl and making for his shoes.
You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he slips them on, grabbing his things before leaving out the door.
You stare at the door wide eyed as it slams closed. You’re still laying there, chest heaving. You stare at it, half expecting it to open back up, for him to come back. He wouldn’t leave you alone, would he? He’s not supposed to. You’re supposed to have one of them with you at all times.
You push yourself up onto shaky legs, slowly approaching the door, half expecting it to fly back open. Maybe he’s just standing right outside, maybe he’s just taking a breath and clearing his head. The handle is cold against your heated skin as you pull it open, sticking your head out.
The hallway is empty.
You quickly duck back inside, closing the door. He wouldn’t leave you. He wouldn’t leave you. Maybe he went to the bathroom. Maybe he just needed a moment to clear his head. Maybe he’s coming back.
You sink onto the bench, trying to control your breathing as it starts to get heavy. You can feel that buzzing sensation in your head, your fingers and toes starting to go numb with panic. The one time you leave your phone behind, it’s the one time you need it. Maybe he’s coming back.
You continue to sit there, waiting, fingers trembling as you put your shoes back on. Someone has to notice your absence eventually. Someone will notice you’re not in your room and you’re not answering your phone. Someone will come looking.
Or is this a test?
You’re panicking now, breaths coming in short gasps. You can’t just walk out of here using the front door. There’s alphas and betas crawling all over the gym and there could be a hundred between you and the barracks now. Someone will stop you. Someone will make a scene.
You can’t reach the windows. Even then, they don’t open and it would be a straight drop to the ground on the other side. You can’t go out the front, but there’s an emergency exit just a few feet down the hallway the other direction. The medical center is the closest building to the gym. Even if Dr. Keller isn’t in her office this early, any of them would be the most likely to help you, to alert Price to your abandoned state.
You have to get out of the gym. Your scent will reach the others in the building eventually, and someone will take notice. Someone will be bold enough to come after the lone omega. You’re panicking, your entire body trembling. Just out the door to the left and through the emergency exit. Then it’s just a few hundred yards to the medical center and then down the hall to Dr. Keller’s office.
You can make it. You spent three months running with the CIA. Speed has always been your strength. Get out the door before anyone notices. You have to get out before someone notices and blocks your exit.
Your mind goes blank as you throw open the door, feet slipping as you race around the corner and down to the emergency door. You don’t even feel the ache in your shoulder as you jam yourself against the door, not caring if it sets off an alarm as you shove your way out to the cool morning air. Your feet move without your brain needing to tell you as you sprint towards the medical building. There’s no one outside, no one milling in the area. No one sees you as you race through the doors, the automatic sliding doors almost catching you as you speed through them and down the hall. Your shoes squeak on the laminate floor, squealing as you slide to a stop in front of Dr. Keller’s office.
You don’t even check if the light is on before you’re frantically knocking. Your breaths are coming in shallow gasps, black dots dancing in your vision as you fight to get air into your lungs. You need to be somewhere safe, you need somewhere safe before you pass out. You can’t pass out in the hallway. It’s not safe.
You nearly fall as the door swings open, stumbling into the office. Dr. Keller says your name but you barely hear it, your legs giving out. She catches you before you fall, easing you into a chair. You sink into the plushness, shaking violently as you stare at her with wide, panicked eyes.
“What is it?” She asks. “What happened?”
“He...he left me!” You sob, your body starting to curl in on itself. “He...he just left me!”
Dr. Keller’s voice sounds far away as she speaks, your vision starting to tunnel. You barely register the blanket being draped around your shoulders, the soft fabric tickling your cheeks.
You don’t hear Dr. Keller on the phone, far too gone in your distress to hear the urgency in her normally calm and composed tone.
Dr. Keller opens the door almost as soon as the knock sounds. Price is slightly out of breath, having reached the office faster than she had expected him to.
“She’s in distress.” Dr. Keller explains as she lets Price into the office, shutting and locking the door behind him. “I need you to be clear headed.” She tells the alpha. “We can worry about why later, right now we need to get her calmed down, understood?”
“Yes, Doctor” He nods, fighting the urge to recoil at the sharp bitter tang of omega distress heavy in the air.
He’s angry, beyond angry but he knows he can’t let that take over right now.
“You’ll need to hold her.” Dr. Keller says, approaching where you’re sitting on the chair. You’re hunched over, arms clutched to your chest as you gasp and wheeze, almost hyperventilating. “It might be easiest on the floor.”
It’s like moving a stone statue as he takes you into his arms, muscles tense and joints locked as your body attempts to protect itself. He sinks to the floor with you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you to support you.
“Slow deep breaths.” Dr. Keller pushes your head against his chest. “Get her to copy you. If her blood pressure gets too high, or she passes out we might risk losing her to her omega, and that will be dangerous for all of us.”
“I know.” Price says as he puts a hand on your head, keeping you against his chest. “I’ve seen it happen.” He presses his cheek against the top of your head, taking slow, even breaths. “Come on, sweetheart. Alpha’s got you. Need you to breathe for me.”
Dr. Keller slips a blood pressure monitor around your arm, fighting the stiffness of your limbs as she sticks a pulse monitor to your chest. Price continues to speak to you, trying to get you to relax.
Slowly as the minutes pass, your breathing begins to slow. Dr. Keller monitors your blood pressure and heart rate, watching it slowly begin to come down as the presence of your alpha soothes your distressing omega.
“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, squeezing your arm gently.
Your breathing slows, but your breaths are still heavy and shaky as you slowly begin to sink into Price’s hold, your muscles slowly relaxing from their tense state. You let out a high-pitched whine as the discomfort begins to set in, tears leaking from your eyes.
“I know.” Dr. Keller says gently. “You’re doing so good.”
You begin to shake uncontrollably again, Price tightening his hold around you. His hand moves to the back of your neck instinctively, gently massaging the tense muscles.
“It’s just the adrenaline.” Dr. Keller explains, moving to the closet and pulling out a stuffed bear. She kneels back down, working your arms away from your chest just enough that she can slip the bear into your arms. “Squeeze that for me.” She says, pushing on your arms until you take over, squeezing the bear to your chest.
You’re still crying as the shaking slowly begins to subside, another whine leaving your lips. You continue to squeeze the bear to your chest, brows pulling into a frown.
“Don’ feel good.” You slur, taking a deep breath in.
“I know, honey, I know.” Dr. Keller says, squeezing your leg. “You did really good, coming down from that. Just keep breathing and relaxing for me.”
You continue to follow Price’s breathing, trying to will your muscles to relax in your exhausted state. Price continues stroking the back of your neck, his heart thumping steadily beneath your ear.
“One more squeeze on your arm and then I can take the monitor off.” Dr. Keller says, taking your blood pressure one more time. “It’s normal if she’s a bit achy and sore for a couple days.” She explains to Price. “She might be a bit disoriented later too. The best thing she can do is rest and someone should stay with her at all times just in case.”
Price leans his chin against your head, fighting the anger building within him. Something happened to cause this, and he has an inkling as to what it was. He tightens his hold around you as you sink into him even more, the shaking starting to subside.
“You don’t sedate for distress?” He asks as Dr. Keller removes the heart monitor and the blood pressure cuff from you.
Dr. Keller shakes her head. “Sedation can make distress worse in some cases. It’s jarring and disorienting and in some cases the omega might wake up and continue distressing. It’s only useful in cases of an actual medical emergency, or if there’s no alpha to provide a sense of safety and the omega starts to take over. Then they become a danger to everyone around them and themselves.”
“I know how devastating that can be.” He says, staring down at you. “The worst people in the world like to use omegas as shields and bait. Sometimes there’s no other way...they get caught in the middle of bullets flying and explosions. The scent of blood and fear around them.” He shakes his head. “Even if they survive that, even if you save them, it’s too much and you just lose them to the omega.”
“It makes me sick.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “They’re human beings just like you and me and they get treated like chattel. They’re seen as nothing but property and valued only by what they can be used for. Omegas are incredible beings. In ancient cultures they were revered, worshiped. Some cultures believed they were closest to the gods, and some thought they were gods sent to earth to bless those that deserved it. How far humanity has fallen.”
“You have a lot of respect for omegas.” Price says.
“Respect, love, care. Someone in this world has to. That’s why I became a specialist.” Dr. Keller smiles. “Didn’t think I’d end up here, but if I can help even just one omega, that’s more than enough for me.” She pushes herself up to stand. “Let’s get her back to the barracks. She’ll be more comfortable in a familiar atmosphere.”
Price pushes himself to stand, keeping you close to his chest. Dr. Keller locks her office behind her before following Price as he carries you from the medical center.
“She needs to eat.” Dr. Keller says. “She won’t feel like it, but she needs the calories after that. She might be emotional and resistant for a bit, but once she’s fully awake she’ll be alright. Well...that might be a bad way to describe it. If anything happens, or she starts getting worse. Call me.”
“I will.” Price tightens his grip for a moment, pushing down the anger. He can’t let it take over yet. He still has you to take care of. He still has his omega to look after.
Dr. Keller opens the door to the barracks for him, watching him walk down the hallway for a moment before turning and leaving.
Price opens your door, carrying you into your room. He lays you on your bed, making sure you’re comfortable before he steps back out the door. The scent of distress is heavy on him still, as is his building anger.
“MacTavish! Garrick!” He shouts, both of the beta’s doors opening almost immediately. “Have either of you seen Lieutenant Riley this morning?”
Johnny frowns, both of them approaching the obviously agitated alpha. “Naw, I havenae seen him all mornin’.”
“I thought he was training this morning.” Kyle says, a frown pulling at his brows too. “Did something happen?”
He steps back into your room, the two betas following. Kyle sucks in a breath as he stares at you laying there, seemingly peacefully but the quickly suffocating scent tells him otherwise. He moves to your side, sinking down on the edge of the bed next to you.
“Wha’ happened?” Johnny asks, a subtle tremble to his voice.
“There was an incident this morning.” Price says, digging into the very depths of his training to keep his head on straight. “Sent her into distress.”
“That bastard.” Johnny growls. “When I find him-”
“Easy.” Price says, putting a hand on the beta’s chest to stop him from his rampage. “You and I are going to get some food and then come back here. Garrick, you stay with our girl. If anything starts to go wrong, you call Dr. Keller first, then me. Then, I’ve got ghost hunting to do.”
“Ye sure we’re alright, bein’ in her nest like this?”
“It’s not much of a nest. Besides, our girl needs us.”
“‘S cozy, that’s for sure.”
“Could get used to it.”
You have no control over the whine that’s pulled from your chest as you’re thrust into consciousness. You feel a bit like you’ve been hit by a truck, tossed from an airplane with no parachute, and like you just ran a marathon with no training, all at once.
“Easy, love.”
Hands smooth over your face, calluses rough on your burning skin. You feel hot, yet not warm enough at the same time. Your skin is prickling, needing freedom but to be held tighter than you already are. Someone is in front of you, their hand the one on your face. Someone else is behind you, wrapped around your back, arms keeping you held tightly against them.
“Can ye open yer eyes for me, pretty girl?”
Your eyelids feel like they’re made of lead. You don’t want to. You want to keep your eyes closed and sink back into oblivion where nothing hurts and you’re not confused. You let out another quiet whine before you force your eyes open, staring up at the blurry shape above you.
“That’s it, lovely.” Soap says, his fingers still stroking your face. “That’s a good girl.”
“Soap?” You whine, your voice cracking.
He shushes you, tucking your face against his neck, letting you inhale his scent. “We've got ye, lamb.”
Another hand trails down your arm, gently squeezing. You're sore, even your breaths make your body ache.
“You remember what happened, love?” Gaz says quietly, his hand the one gently stroking your arm.
You inhale sharply, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Ghost...” You breathe, the images coming to your mind but the words are lost. “Left me.”
“Aye.” Soap says, sounding hurt and disappointed. “He was being a right bastard and left ye in the gym alone. Ye ran for the med center. Found the doctor.”
“I...” You take a shaky breath, remembering the panic, the feeling of getting further and further from your body. “I was distressing.”
Gaz hums, wrapping his arms around you. “You distressed, love. Dr. Keller got Price in there in time, worked you through it.”
You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself go limp between them. It makes sense why you feel so awful, why your head is swimming. “What time is it?”
“Just after lunch.” Gaz says.
“Gave us hell tryin’ tae feed ye.” Soap says. “Half fightin’ us, half out of it.”
“Ghost?” You ask, almost afraid to find out the answer.
“Got quite the verbal lashing from Cap'n Price.” Soap says. “Was gone for an hour yellin’ at him.”
It doesn't feel like enough, but you won't admit that out loud. You lean back against Gaz, letting both of their scents wash over you.
“How do you feel, love?” Gaz asks.
“Hurts.” You murmur, wrapping an arm around Soap.
“I know. I'm sorry you had to go through this.” Gaz says pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Just relax, love. We've got you.”
You let your eyes slip closed again, relaxing between the two betas. You don't care that they're in your room, squished together in your bed with you. You need them and their support.
You'd prefer having Price too, but you won’t dare say that out loud.
You fade in and out of sleep, letting them help you up a couple times as they move around, and move you around, helping you stretch to ease the ache in your joints and muscles. You wind up laying on Soap as Gaz goes to get dinner, his arms wrapped around your middle as you rest on his chest.
“I am sorry about Simon.” He says quietly, lips brushing your forehead.
“Don’t apologize for him.” You murmur. “It was partially my fault. I was egging him on.”
“He shouldnae done tha’ though.” Soap says. “Leavin’ ye like that. ‘S dangerous, and not just for you.”
“I did good. I got out without running into anyone.” You say, trying to reassure yourself before you lose it again.
“You did perfectly.” A voice says, making you jump.
Soap gently rubs your back as you blink up at Price. He’s standing in the doorway, holding two trays of food. You hadn’t even heard the door open.
“Go on and eat in the mess, Johnny.” Price says, setting the trays on your desk. “I’ve got her for now.”
Soap gently eases you off of him, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving you alone with Price. He carries over a tray, setting it on your nightstand before kneeling down in front of you. He turns on your lamp, illuminating the room more than it was with your nightlight and the fading light outside.
“How do you feel?” He asks, taking your hand in his.
“Sore.” You say, squeezing his fingers. “But less than I was earlier. Moving around helped.” You sniffle, wiping the tear that escapes. “A bit weepy too.”
Price smiles softly at you. “That’s expected. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.” He cups your face. “You did the right thing, taking the back exit and going for Dr. Keller’s office.”
“Was closer.” You murmur. “Less risk of running into someone.”
Price nods. “I doubt anyone would have stopped you, but that is still a risk.” He grabs the tray from the nightstand. “Eat up. I know you don’t feel like it, but you need it.”
It’s almost like he read your mind. He moves to your desk, sitting in the chair. The food looks less appetizing than usual, but you know he’s right. Omegas expend a lot of energy while in distress. You’ll feel better if you eat. From the sounds of it, Gaz and Soap had attempted to feed you while you were still out of it, though you’re not sure how successful they were.
You eat mostly in silence, but you don’t mind. You don’t have the brain power to think enough for a conversation, and you’re more than happy to just bask in Price’s calming presence.
Gaz and Soap return after dinner, Price taking his leave again. You’re sure he’s busy, especially after this incident, but you can’t help but feel the sting of it just a bit. He had helped you through your distress, calming you down. You want him to lay next to you, to hold the back of your neck and remind you that he’s here, that he’s got you.
That he’ll never leave you like that.
Instead you curl up between Soap and Gaz, letting the calming present of betas relax you back to sleep.
You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up. Soap is gone, but Gaz is still pressed against your back, breathing evenly. You grab one of the phones off the nightstand, glancing at the time. It’s just past one a.m. You’re feeling thirsty again, and like you need to stretch your legs. Gaz is coiled around you, and you’re not sure how to get out without waking him up. You don’t want to disturb him, and you want a second to breathe and clear your head without the influence of his scent.
You carefully roll away enough to grab the strawberry pillow off the floor from where it likely rolled after Soap left. You slowly ease it between your bodies until he’s wrapped around the pillow, settling with a sigh. You let out a quiet breath, rising from the bed slowly and padding quietly to the door. Your eyes are on him as you unlock it, slipping out quickly. You leave it cracked open before sneaking down the hallway towards the rec room.
It’s quiet in the barracks, almost eerily so as you slip into the empty room, heading for the fridge. You stand there, half debating on a beer instead of water. Perhaps a little alcohol might numb at least some of the ache in your joins, or at least clear your mind a bit. You hate the taste of beer, though, and Gaz would know immediately.
You sigh, grabbing a water, the back of your neck prickling as you stand up. You close the fridge door, whirling around, a scream caught in your throat.
“Are you going to scream?” Ghost’s voice rumbles from behind his mask. He’s standing just inside the rec room, blocking the doorway.
“Are you going to hurt me?” You ask, flattening yourself against the fridge.
“Why would I do that?” He has the gaul to sound almost confused.
“You seemed pretty eager to this morning.” You say, clutching the water bottle to your chest. “You abandoned me.”
“I didn’t. I was right behind you the whole time, until you went into the med center.” He explains, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“Well how was I supposed to know that?” You snap, getting agitated by the alpha and how he’s treated you thus far. “You just up and left me by myself in a vulnerable place. How was I supposed to know you were still there? For all I knew you were halfway back to the barracks. Was I just supposed to blindly trust that you would be there, that you would follow me if I decided to brave walking past a bunch of worked up alphas? I can’t trust that. I can’t trust you like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you haven’t given me a reason to!” You almost shout it, just managing to keep control over your volume so you don’t accidentally wake the others. “You don’t like me, you keep treating me like shit. Just going off of that, I wouldn’t put it past you to just up and leave me to fend for myself.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“But you did! You did today! You put me in danger! I distressed because of you! I haven’t distressed since-” You cut yourself off, deflating a bit at your near slip of words. You’re not sure you want to open that can of worms, allow for that kind of vulnerability with the alpha that had nearly killed you earlier. But, maybe you do need that kind of vulnerability. Maybe he needs it. “Since I was taken to the institute.” You finish, feeling yourself deflating a bit.
Tears prick at your eyes, his own figure visibly deflating a bit. That scent is back, the one from a couple nights ago when you had run into him in a similar situation. You want out of here, you want back to the safety of doors around you, doors that could be opened and Ghost pulled from you easily if needed.
“Move.” You say, bravely squaring up to the alpha blocking you in.
He says your name like a warning, not budging an inch.
“Move!” You shout, going for his middle with your shoulder, but he’s faster, catching you before you can hit him.
“Calm down.” He growls, trying to hold your squirming form.
One scream. One scream and the others would be on you. How quickly could Ghost act, though? How quickly could his hand close around your throat and squeeze, or maybe even twist?
“Calm down!” He growls again, forcing you backwards.
Your feet slip on the tile, sending you back onto your back. You wince at the jolt to your already sore body, the air leaving your lungs in a harsh gasp. Ghost sinks down to the floor next to the couch, leaning against the side of it like he can’t bear to hold himself up anymore.
“It was a long time ago.” He starts, the tiredness evident in his voice. His eyes are on the floor in front of you, not even looking up as you push yourself up onto your elbows. “Back when I was a newly made Sergeant. My first deployment, first mission. We were hunting a man, real scum of the earth, chasing him through the jungle.”
You almost want to stop him, unsure if he can even be telling you this, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.
“Things got complicated when he swept through a village, picked up all the local omegas. He was using them as human shields. We cornered him in some run down shack. Him, his men, and the poor omegas. The commanding officer in charge of the mission started hostage negotiations, tried to get him to let the omegas go. He knew he’d lost, he’d never get out of there without being captured or killed.” Ghost shakes his head, letting out a heavy breath. “So he agreed. The commanding officer had to have known. We all should have known.”
He goes silent, the quiet of the barracks and the world outside almost eerie. You’re sitting up now, almost holding your breath in anticipation. You’re not sure he’s ever spoken this much to you at once before, much less something that’s obviously so vulnerable, and potentially confidential.
“He sent the omegas out in all directions, running straight at us. We were ordered to stay where we were. We couldn’t run out there, we couldn’t help them.” His hands close into fists, his scent souring. “They started firing at the omegas. There was one running straight at me. I still remember her, the look on her face. The fear in her eyes as she raced towards me.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I remember how the blood felt splattering on my face. The bullet shot right past my ear. She fell close enough I could have reached out and touched her. Clean shot right through the back of her head.”
He shakes his head, finally looking at you. Tears have gathered in your eyes as you stare at him. His scent is sour, tinged with the tanginess that you had smelled a couple nights ago when he ran into you coming back from the rec room.
Fear.
That scent is fear.
“I still think about it. What if I had disobeyed orders? What if I had just reached out to help her? Would she have made it? Could we have brought at least one omega back to that village? Would the bullet have hit me instead?” He lets out a long breath. “I still have nightmares about it. See it clear as day, that look on her face seconds before her life ended.”
You’re moving, crawling closer to him. He doesn’t move, not even a blink or a flinch as you get closer and closer until you’re in front of him, close enough to see the light blonde color of his lashes. He still won’t look at you, his gaze on the floor as you sit in front of him.
“You saw me.” You say softly, not needing him to explain further. “Instead of some omega, it was me in your dream. You’re afraid. That’s why you treat me the way you do. You’re scared if you get close to me, if you allow me into the pack, allow me into this life, that something like that will happen to me. That’s why you were afraid that night, when I went to the rec room to grab water. You woke up from a nightmare about me.”
He doesn’t say anything, but you don’t need him to. You’re beginning to understand him now. One moment of vulnerability and the complex specter that is Ghost is beginning to become clearer and clearer to you. He’s beginning to take shape, forming out of the mists of confusion and aggression that have plagued you since your arrival in his life.
“That doesn’t make what you did okay.” You say, breaking the eerie silence again. “It doesn’t make the way you treat me okay, but I guess...I guess I can understand why now. Why you’re so hard on me, why you resist my mere existence here. You don’t have to like me, I’d just like you to be nice to me a little bit. You’re never going to convince Soap not to pursue anything, so, you’re just going to have to get used to me being around.”
The corners of his eyes crease. It’s a half a second of movement, but you manage to catch it. He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, eyes emotionless as they usually are when they look at you.
“I still don’t forgive you for what you did.” You say, staring up at him. “And I don’t trust you,” You pull your knees up to your chest. “But I suppose I was also a bit at fault, saying those things to you.”
“I deserved it.” He says. “I was being a dick.”
Your brows raise as you stare at him. “Are you...apologizing?”
“Don’t rub it in.” He says, the warning clear in his tone.
“Well, I guess it’s a start.” You say. “I should probably get back to bed before Gaz notices I’m gone.”
Ghost lets out a huff. “I’m surprised you escaped without him noticing.”
You shrug, pushing yourself up to stand slowly. “He’s snuggling a stuffed strawberry right now, so...that probably says a lot about one of us and I’m not sure which is worse.”
“Come on.” Ghost motions with his head. “Last thing we need is another panic at 2 am.”
“Another panic?” You ask, dropping your voice to a whisper as you leave the rec room.
Ghost chuckles. “You’ll have to ask Johnny about that one.”
You stare at him for a moment as you stand in front of your cracked door. “Goodnight, Ghost.”
He nods to you before you slip in, closing and locking the door. He stands there, listening to the bed shift as you crawl back into Kyle’s hold. He can picture the way the beta’s limbs coil around you like a snake. Would you lie facing him and cling to him like a koala? Or would you prefer facing away from him, letting him envelop you in a feeling of security and protection?
Ghost shakes his head, inhaling the faint whiff of your scent still in the air before he turns, staring at his door for a moment before moving back down the hall, slipping into Johnny’s room instead.
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#tf 141 x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#omegaverse#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#a/b/o
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The Pit
COD masterlist
Part 1/2
Ghost/Soap/female reader
6.3k words - AO3
Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.
Winter in the mountains can be cruel.
This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable.
Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.
There are predators who thrive.
“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles.
“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top.
“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod.
“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.”
“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.
“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts.
“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.”
Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights.
Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse.
The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one.
Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind.
An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.
Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded.
You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area.
You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling.
Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body.
It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm.
You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and-
You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath.
You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment.
Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding.
But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind.
Sleep.
You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.
There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.
You try to call for help, but you can’t.
You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.
You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.
Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel.
Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.
Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-
You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?
Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.
The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.
You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.
One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.
That’s when you see him.
A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.
“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.
“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.
“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.
“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.
It's snowing.
You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.
You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.
This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened?
And why do you hurt so fucking bad?
“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.
“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.
“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”
“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.
“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.
“Nnrgh-“
“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.
Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.
“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”
“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.
“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”
“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?
“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember?
“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.
“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?
“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?
“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?
“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.
“I don’t… why-“
“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.
“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate?
“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?
“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?
“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.
“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.
“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”
Oh. Oh no.
“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“
“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye.
“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.
“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip.
This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-
There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-
“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.
You sleep and wake in a haze.
You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.
You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.
You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.
You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.
You sleep.
You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.
You sleep.
You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.
“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”
“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.
“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.
“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.
“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”
“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.
“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”
“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:
“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.
“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down.
Still…
Didn’t Johnny kiss you?
The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.
The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.
“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.
“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.
You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.
You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.
“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.
“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.
Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.
“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.
You’re naked. They’re fully clothed.
“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?
“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.
“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”
“A treat?” You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.
“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones.
“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.
“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.
“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.
“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”
“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.
All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience.
“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.
“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.
“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.
“Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.
“Fuck.” You hiss.
“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.
You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.
“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.
What just happened?
You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.
The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.
“Sweet dreams, little dove.”
#peaches writes#dub con#ghost x soap x reader#soap x ghost x reader#ghoap x reader#john soap mactavish#ghost x reader x soap#simon riley#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#Ghoap#soap x reader
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Heavy Weather
In which yours and Azriel’s mission is disrupted by a major inconvenience: your cycle.
WC: 4.1k
Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff and period stuff!
—————-
Gods, it was cold.
The snow fell down in sheets, covering the forest floor and soaking into your leathers. Azriel was trekking about twenty feet in front of you, eyes scouring the area, although his grip was loose around Truth Teller at his side.
“The Winter Court…” you grouched, mimicking your high lord. “Why couldn’t it have been Day Court. Or Autumn.”
Azriel chuckled. “You wanna spend time with Helion and Eris? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
The air in front of you steamed as you let out an exhausted breath. You both had been pushing through this snow for hours. You couldn’t even remember what you were looking for at this point. You had only been there for about ten hours, and a little into the cold wilderness, you found your brain becoming foggy and your body fatigued. You really needed a blanket and sleep.
“Helion would never let me freeze. He likes body heat too much. And Eris has fire powers.”
“Something tells me Eris wouldn’t be too keen on helping.”
You shrugged, lifting your foot to step over a snow-covered log. “He’s always been fine to me.”
A muscle in Azriel's jaw jumped, his wings going tight against his back. You could barely make out the pink coloring of his mouth through the snowfall. “I don’t trust him,” he said. “Not after Mor, and not with you.”
“So dramatic.” You attempted to ease the tension in the air at your mention of the soon-to-be High Lord of the Autumn Court.
“I’m dramatic? You live in the Night Court and suddenly you act like snow is going to kill you.”
You did feel like it was going to kill you. You didn’t know what had you so exhausted, why the snow seemed to be soaking through your clothes and seeping its way straight into your bones. You had slept okay last night, hadn’t you? You were wearing weather-appropriate clothing. You had done enough training and exercise that this hike shouldn’t be wearing you down this much.
You hadn’t realized that Azriel had turned around to look at you, stopping in his tracks as he waited for you to catch up.
“Are you actually okay?” His voice was more serious this time, less teasing.
Giving him a nod, you focused on putting one foot in front of the other. “Yeah. Let’s just make shelter somewhere soon. I really am cold.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. You didn’t blame him, you must have looked pathetic. Your teeth were chattering so loud the same spies you came to the Winter Court to track would no doubt be able to hear you if close. Your body felt like you had weights pulling you down under the earth, with each step comparable to trudging through quicksand. And you just felt off - like you could pass out or throw up at any moment.
Azriel waited until you were by his side once again before continuing to move.
“There’s an abandoned cabin not too far from here. We’ll camp there for the night, get you some rest. Maybe a blanket or two.”
The wind burnt your cheeks as you tilted you head to look at him. He seemed completely unaffected. In fact, it was as if he was taking a stroll through the Summer Court, right along the water, basking in the breeze.
“How are you not freezing?”
His lips quirked up at your angry tone. “Believe it or not, Sunshine, I grew up in the snowy Illyrian mountains.”
You nodded, only half-hearing his response. And then your feet were stumbling over one another, and Azriel had to reach out quickly to prevent you from falling.
“Not too far now,” he reassured. But he kept his hand on your leathers the rest of the way to the cabin, monitoring your movements and ensuring you wouldn’t just topple over. Every so often, you felt him look over at you, as if he didn’t trust his hand and wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen behind again.
It felt like hours before the rickety structure came into view, and by that point, you truly knew something was wrong with you. Had you been poisoned at some point during the trip? Were you sick? You didn’t think you’d ever been sick in your entire life as fae.
Once you were at the landing of the cabin, you realized Azriel had been supporting your weight much more than you had intended or thought. His entire forearm was supporting your back now, pushing you forward until you crossed the threshold into the enclosed space.
You heard the door shut tightly behind you, sucking the sound of the wind out with it. In the silence, you nearly collapsed.
There wasn’t much time to take in your surroundings. You briefly saw a couch, a kitchen area, and a fireplace. There was probably a bathroom down the hall, maybe a bed if you were lucky. Your thoughts didn’t go past that though as you stumbled for the sofa.
Azriel watched as you fell into it, your head tipping back and eyes scrunching closed. You tried to school your features into something less uncomfortable, but you doubted it was convincing.
“I’ll get a fire going.”
You heard his footsteps move toward the fireplace, the scuffling of movements as wood was moved from the keep to the hearth. However, despite his action to get the cabin warm for you, you could still feel his eyes drifting toward the couch intermittently.
Wood began cracking, a light forming in the corner of your vision. Still cold, still weak, you tried to breathe steadily.
You were about to say something to distract Azriel from your odd behavior when you felt fabric being laid over your body. Your hands automatically went to grip the blanket, pulling it up to your chin weakly before peeking your eyes open.
Azriel was already moving away from the couch, but he didn’t leave the room before muttering a quiet, “Get some sleep.”
Sleep, unfortunately, did not come easy to you. You alternated between feeling like you were going to vomit and feeling like you were being stabbed. Your muscles ached, and it seemed to take all of your energy to rise your chest in a breath.
You tried to focus on the fire, on the way sparks flew from the wood, briefly illuminating the dark stone. The warmth of the flames was drifting toward the couch now, and you tried to adjust your body to move closer to it.
In your movement, though, you noticed the way your damp clothes felt different against your skin. The snow had soaked into the fabric, but the feeling you recognized in your core at your movement toward the fireplace had you nearly whimpering.
Azriel was there before you could make it fully off the couch, reaching his hands out to catch you from falling.
“What are you doing?”
“I- I need to-“
“-Lay down,” he interrupted. “Rest.”
You tried to breathe through the pain. Your vision was becoming blurry with each stab through your abdomen, and you honestly did not understand how you missed your symptoms earlier.
“I can’t, Azriel… I need-“
“-I know.” He gently guided you back onto the couch, hands pulling the blanket over you once again. “I know. Just breathe. I’ll be right back.”
Did he know? Could he sense it now? Could he smell the blood? Recognize the symptoms too?
There wasn't time to be embarrassed because he was gone again quickly, and you couldn’t help the tears that escaped at the pain running through your body.
When you had first met Feyre and she had told you the difference between fae and human cycles, you had nearly cursed the Mother for torturing your kind. You had been literally stabbed before, beaten, and burned, and nothing compared to the pain of your cycle.
“Here,” Azriel said, reappearing before you. He laid some sort of steaming broth he must have found in a cupboard on the table in front of you, along with some torn pieces of cloth, presumably from a towel found in the rest of the house.
You looked at the items, tears blurring your eyes again. You felt like you couldn’t move, everything ached, everything hurt, everything felt wrong-
“I need help,” you got out through your tears, your voice sounding weak even to yourself.
“Okay.” Azriel nodded. “That’s okay.”
He gripped under your legs and behind your back, pulling you up until you were on the edge of the couch. "I have changes of clothes for us in my bag. Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?”
You nodded, too embarrassed to look at him. Azriel didn’t say a word though, instead grabbing a few of the pieces of cloth, his bag off the ground, and scooped you up into his arms.
He walked you both to the bathroom, and you kept your face buried close to his chest both so you wouldn’t have to see if you got anything on the couch and so that Azriel wouldn’t see the redness in your cheeks.
When he entered the bathroom, he set you onto the counter before setting the supplies down. From his bag, he pulled out the extra pair of underwear, pants, bra, and shirt you had packed for yourself.
“Do you want to wash off?” He asked genuinely, glimpsing over his shoulder at the antique bathtub.
Did you want to be clean? Absolutely. But your entire body felt like it was going to fall through the floor, weighed down with aches, pain, and exhaustion. You weren’t even sure you could get your arms to move enough to scrub yourself clean.
You whimpered at your inability to do what you needed, at how weak you felt, and the frustration that coursed through your veins.
"Hey, it's okay." Azriel brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, bringing your eyes to meet his own. "What do you need? What can I do?"
You just shook your head, face flushing red. "I can't ask you to help me with this."
Because this was embarrassing and some males thought it was weak and gross and something to be kept taboo. You were quite literally bleeding through your leathers, with your abdomen, back, and legs all twisting and cramping in pain, heat scouring your body, and you felt like a little kid again -- needing to be taken care of, unable to do the basic task of looking after yourself. It was humiliating, but especially in front of Azriel of all people. Someone so composed, so strong.
It wasn't as if your friends didn't know about your cycle or what you female fae went through. On the contrary, they always offered to help where they could. If you missed out on training because of your cycle, Cassian would always bring up some tonics or some extra food and water to make sure you were okay. A few cycles that were particularly bad had Rhys sending after Madja, and Azriel rushing when he heard. He was the one who had advocated for Madja to give you some sleeping tonics to help you sleep through the pain instead of withstanding it.
But here? On a mission? This was too much.
"Why not?" Azriel's question brought you back to the present. He looked genuinely confused, his brows furrowing slightly.
"Azriel..." you pleaded with his questioning, arms wrapping around your stomach as pain hit you again. You swayed slightly on the counter, Azriel's hands dropping from your face to your waist to steady you.
"You're in pain." His voice was serious, and you wanted to hide your face in his chest. "Let me help you. I don't like seeing you like this."
You swallowed, trying to reign in your shame and embarrassment. It wasn't a big deal, you told yourself. This was natural. And Azriel is over five hundred years old, surely he's seen and dealt with cycles and all they entail before. It doesn't have to make a difference being yours.
"Okay," you whispered. "Could you- could you uh, help me wash off? I don't think I can..."
He didn't make you finish your sentence once he realized you didn't know how to explain your own weakness at the moment. He just nodded, bringing his hands to your arms and rubbing up and down comfortingly.
"Of course."
You nodded, more-so reassuring yourself that this was okay. He was okay. Right? He'd say if he was uncomfortable?
Azriel turned and twisted the faucet to the bathtub, fingers resting under the water that came out until he found the temperature pleasing. The water was clear, thankfully, and the tub looked clean as well.
Once that was filling, he turned to the cabinets you were seated on, bending down and looking through them for any kind of soap and towels. Finding the supplies he was looking for, he set them by the edge of the tub and turned to where you were sitting.
"Arms up?"
His question was hesitant, asking more than if you needed help. Did you want to completely undress? Were you comfortable with him seeing you like this?
You lifted your arms, the weight of your limbs feeling heavy. You wanted to throw up, to go to sleep, to cry.
Azriel's gentle hands moved the fabric up your torso, keeping his touch to the clothing only. Once it was free from your form, you nodded at him to keep going.
He grasped your hips and lifted you to stand, holding onto the majority of your weight when you seemed unstable. His hands gripped your own and brought them to his own torso.
"Hold onto me."
And you did, allowing yourself to lean into his strong form as he unbuttoned your snow-soaked pants and began to pull them down. You rested your head on his chest, turning your face into him to hide your embarrassment at the blood that no doubt coated your pants and your middle.
Tears pricked your eyes at how vulnerable this all was, but you blinked them away as Azriel backed up, your bare form now before him.
His casual look over you wasn't one of lust or desire but of care and concern. He was looking for injuries, hypothermia, anything that would need immediate attention before the bath. When he was satisfied, his gentle touch led you to the edge of the tub, grasping your forearm and helping you ease into the water.
You sank low into the heat, releasing a breath you hadn't known you had been holding from your cramps.
Azriel seemed to notice how you had been holding your breath too. He brought a hand up to push some of the sweat-slicked hair back from your forehead. "Make sure you're breathing, sweetheart."
You nod, closing your eyes and trying to relax through the stabbing in your back.
You could hear the soap bottle cap opening, the sound of liquid meeting a hand, and scrubbing. Peeking an eye open, you see Azriel getting his hands wet and reaching for one of your arms.
"Is this okay?" He asked.
Your heart thumped in your chest. He was too good for you. Better than any male you had ever met.
"Yes. Thank you." Your voice was small, weak in your state, but you both could hear the emotion in it.
"You don't have to thank me," Azriel responded, his hands moving up and down your arm softly before reaching for the other. "I'm sorry you have to go through this."
Humming in response, you sat up so he could help get your back. He was mindful of your comfort, sweeping over any vulnerable or inappropriate places lightly to ensure you were clean but never lingering.
While he washed, he told you stories of Rhys' sister. How when they were younger and she had gotten her first cycle, Rhys hadn't known what to do. None of them had. They thought she was dying, and Rhys' mother had to corral them together into the living room to get them to calm down and stop their panicking. He laughed at the story, and you couldn't help the relaxed giggles of your own.
"I can't imagine the stoic shadowsinger panicking over a girl's cycle."
His lips curved into a soft smile, eyes bright with adoration. "What do you think I'm doing now?"
You looked up at him, smiling. You couldn't believe how comfortable you felt, how normal this all felt. You were completely naked in front of him, completely bare to his touch while he sat clothed next to you, but it felt safe.
"You don't seem too panicked," you tried to tease.
He scoffed. "You should have seen me in the kitchen when we first got here. I was borderline scrambling."
You laughed, and he led you to a sitting position, stroking your back with his fingers lightly. "You ready to get out?"
At your confirmation, he scooped you up into his arms, no doubt getting water everywhere on the floor and also all over his own clothes. You squeaked in protest, but he didn't seem to care, only setting you back onto your feet and wrapping you up tightly in a towel.
Teeth chattering at the newfound cold outside of the bath, you gripped the towel around you, staring up into the bright hazel eyes of the male in front of you. He was still holding you tightly, eyes surveying your form. You wondered what he was thinking in this moment, but you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and let him keep holding you.
His hands moved with the towel, rubbing your arms before bringing the fabric down to your legs.
Right. You needed to get dressed.
"Here we go." Azriel grabbed your spare change of clothes, starting with your underwear. He took some of the makeshift pads he had created, placing one in the underwear before leaning down.
He looked up at you from his knees, and you wanted to frame the image. The sight of this angel, his dark hair messy from the snow, hazel eyes shining with care, on his knees for you, hands open to help take care of you. You wanted to jump on him, kiss him, and never let him stop touching you.
But this was Azriel, and he had never given you any inclination that was something he wanted.
You stepped into the fabric, allowing the shadowsinger to pull it up your legs. Once those were on, he bundled you up in your new shirt before holding the pants in front of you.
"Did you want to wait until we leave for these? They are leathers. I don't want you to be more uncomfortable just for the sake of feeling like you have to wear them."
"I'd rather not."
He nodded, setting them aside before wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you back to the couch.
You were feeling a little better now that you were clean and not bleeding down your legs, but you still felt drowsy and like someone was hacking your insides apart. On your way back, your knees nearly gave way with the pain of a particular cramp, and you couldn't help the cry that escaped with it.
Azriel caught you swiftly, hiking you back up into his arms.
When he laid you back onto the couch, now covered in blankets with even more on top of you, you looked up at the exhausted male. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he said. He sounded genuine, but you couldn't help but feel guilty.
You gritted your teeth through the pain, gripping your abdomen tightly. "I ruined this mission."
"Nothing has been ruined."
He walked over to the fireplace once you were settled, stoking the logs to get the fire rising again. "Well," he continued. "Except your pants."
You couldn't help but laugh, and the shadowsinger actually cracked a smile at the sound. But then you were grimacing, tears coming to your eyes and your breath hitching in your throat at your body's attack on itself.
Azriel frowned, hands twitching at his sides.
"We'll get ahold of Rhys," he reassured. "Get you to Madja."
You tried to breathe through it, knuckles white from gripping the blankets around you. You could hear his footsteps getting closer, feel his heat as he kneeled down next to the couch beside you, feel his strong hands unravel your fingers from the blanket and grip them in his own.
His other hand came up and slowly stroked your hair back, gently weaving his fingers through the strands. Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch, despite how tightly you squeezed his hand.
"I'm okay," you tried to convince him. "It's just a cycle."
You weren't sure why you were trying to downplay your pain so much. Were you trying to come across stronger than you were? To impress him? Did you think he would truly find you weak?
"I've seen fae be out for a full week because of a cycle. Not eating or drinking, just trying to make it through... You don't have to be okay."
And it was as if you needed his permission, because as soon as the words left his mouth, you tilted your head back, eyebrows scrunching in pain, and let the truth flow past your own lips.
"Yeah, it fucking hurts."
He laughed, but the sound was sympathetic. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss there, and you nearly shot up at the action. You tried not to think too much into it but his lips on your skin was something you couldn't just ignore.
"Is there anything else I can do?"
His voice was soft, gentle, reverent. And he was looking at you like he would do anything you asked. Like you could tell him to go sit in the snow for an hour while you basked in the heat, and he would stand up diligently before marching his way into the blizzard.
He looked at you expectantly, and your heart swelled. One day you would tell him. Tell him how you loved him, how you thought that maybe there was something there between you two, something that tied your souls and hearts together.
"I'm still kind of cold," you admitted. "Could you lay with me?"
At first you thought the question was a bit of a risk, something he might not be comfortable with. But then you thought about how you were completely naked before him not even twenty minutes prior, and you felt less embarrassed to ask.
"Are you sure? There's not much room."
You nodded, and he looked down at his own snow-soaked leathers. He grunted in disapproval and discomfort, reaching down and lifting the tight clothing from his body. You nearly gasped at the action, at the toned body that now faced you. Gods, he was beautiful.
He walked away briefly, presumably to gather his other change of clothes. He might have even cleaned up a bit, because when he appeared again, he looked clean and comfortable. And then he was reaching under the blankets to adjust where you laid.
His body sunk into the cushions of the sofa, and he gathered you into his arms until you were halfway on his chest, his soft and clean shirt overwhelming your senses as you curled into him.
You hummed. "This is nice."
His arms were loose around you, but his hand was resting purposefully curled around your side, his fingers inching over onto your abdomen in a protective and comforting gesture. As if he could take your pain away with just a touch.
"Try to rest. We should be able to get back to Velaris in the morning."
You pushed away the pain radiating through your body, the disorientation and dizziness, and instead focused on the warm muscled body underneath you. The way he encased you, the way he made you feel safe and at peace despite your current state. The way he cared for you.
You would tell him soon -- how you felt.
But for now, you buried your face deeper into his chest, your body falling lax against him. For now, you would rest and savor this moment.
For now, you would pretend like he was doing this because he loved you too. And you held onto that until sleep took your pain away.
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Simmer #7
CH7. Spice Box | The Menu
[4.1K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.
Eddie held the door open for you as you approached the trailer, hand waving you in as he smiled, shy.
The trailer was tidier than you’d ever seen it before, a valiant effort made in anticipation for your arrival. The usual piles of washed laundry were moved from the dining booth bench, the ashtrays moved from the living room coffee tables. The trailer was unusually quiet, smelling like mountain cedar, if the can of air freshener on Wayne’s armchair was anything to go by.
You did your usual, despite the way you felt like you were there for the first time. For a first date. But you toed off your shoes by the door and lingered in the kitchen, fingers twisting together as you wondered what came next. This? This part was new, this was different.
Eddie smiled shyly as he followed behind, hands skimming your shoulders as he squeezed past you and the counter, opening the fridge. The white-yellow glow filled the room, clashing with the pink sunset that came in from the living room blinds.
“Okay, what are you feelin’?” Eddie said into the refrigerator, his fingers tapping on the door. “We got stuff for omelettes, I could do pasta, oh, hey, I make a mean gnocchi.” Eddie emerged with a quart of pesto, wiggling one of the diners' plastic containers at you.
You smiled, shrugging easily because you’d be happy with some toast if it meant Eddie kept looking at you like that. You leaned against the dining table edge, lips pressed together and trying your hardest to keep it together. Eddie looked too pretty in the sunlight, that peachy pink golden flow, the last rays turning his brown eyes the colour of caramel as he looked at you.
“I don’t mind,” you told him softly, “anything you make will be good.”
Eddie grinned, bashful, cheeks pink and he held his hand out to you, coaxing you into holding onto his fingers so he could tug you forward. You were supposed to look in the fridge too, check out the mountains of fresh ingredients he liked to pack into it, the tubs of homemade sauces and pickled veg. But instead, you stumbled into the boy, socked feet touching his boots, knees bumping.
It was awkward in an innocent way, your smile shy and matching Eddie’s, his faltering a little when he realised how close you were. His hand held yours a little tighter and when he realised you weren’t moving away, well shit, he didn’t bother to either. His fingers twisted in yours, thumb running over the backs of your knuckles and he swallowed hard as he looked down at you.
“Uh, we could, uh, I could make some lasagna. Or, or a stir fry?” Eddie stumbled over his words, brows furrowed in concentration as he studied each part of your face. The line of your nose, the fan of your lashes, the curve of your lip. “If you want. I don’t, I don’t mind cookin’ whatever.”
You felt bolder than ever when you let your hand slip from Eddie’s and climb up his forearm, finger wrapping around the cords of muscle there, thumb rubbing at the sensitive skin on the inside crook of his elbow. It made the boy still, lips parting in surprise. It felt nice to be this close, chests almost touching, Eddie’s hand falling to hold your waist instead, fingertips pushed to the soft cotton of your sundress.
“I’m not, I’m not really all that hungry, right now,” you told him softly. You were nervous, wondering if this was supposed to happen this way. If this was supposed to happen this soon. But you couldn’t bring yourself to step away.
The refrigerator door was still open.
Eddie nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, sure. No, same. We can eat later, if you want.” You watched his Adam’s apple bob, felt his fingers squeeze a little tighter at the plush of your hips. “How’s your head feelin’?”
You smiled at his concern and met his gaze. This much eye contact wasn’t all that surprising but the fact you hadn’t been interrupted yet by someone yelling about hot dog bugs or asking where the napkin refills were was. “It’s fine,” you promised him. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”
A lie, it was a little tender. But definitely no concussion. You’d iced it when you’d gotten home but for a shorter time than you should’ve, too preoccupied with the idea of jumping into a warm shower and shaving every inch of your leg in preparation for your date. If anything, the idea of spending time alone with Eddie was what had your head spinning.
“Good,” Eddie nodded and you could see him thinking, too much, before he sucked in a quiet breath and lifted a hand to cup the back of your neck. His hand was big enough that it curled all the way round, his thumb tucked into the space under your ear, right along your jaw. You wondered if he could feel your pulse - he probably could. You wondered if he could feel that way it was fucking racing. “Doesn’t hurt, if I do this?”
You were scared to move, worried if you shook your head it would break the spell, scared that Eddie would stop touching you. So you whispered instead, one word on a shaky breath that made Eddie’s eyes get a little wider. “No.”
Eddie pushed his thumb to your jaw a little firmer, suddenly not as worried about touching you, holding you now like you wouldn’t shatter underneath him. “So this is okay?” He whispered back and oh my god, it was more than okay, it was exactly what you wanted and you were still in the middle of his kitchen with the refrigerator light casting over your socks, your shins.
You licked your lips and gave a small nod, eyes trained on his mouth and you heard the boy suck in a breath. “Yeah, it’s okay.” You swallowed, throat bobbing and Eddie felt it under his hand, the movement making him dizzy. “More than okay.”
His thumb moved up, skimming over the apple of your cheek, fingers fanning out over the side of your neck until they were pushing into your hairline and pulling goosebumps from your skin. You didn’t realise you were both walking you backwards until your hips hit the counter. It was a soft bump, everything Eddie did was gentle and his eyes were watching yours the entire time, searching for any hesitation.
It’d been a while since he’d been in a situation like this, but he was pretty fucking positive there was none there.
You confirmed his thoughts by clinging to the front of his shirt, fingertips tugging the material so he’d take the hint and move closer, meeting his chest with yours and it was as much of a first move as you could manage. Shyness still swallowed you, your heart beating embarrassingly fast and all you wanted to do was push up onto your toes and press your lips to Eddie’s but if he rejected you now - for whatever reason - you think you’d have to quit your job and move back to Chicago.
Your back was against the worktop edge, softened only by the way Eddie let his other hand cup your hip and your chest was against his, chin tilted up to look at him, eyes half lidded and matching his own. You could see every freckle, the fan of his lashes, a tiny silver scar on the left corner of his bottom lip that you’d never noticed before. You wondered if he was close enough to feel the heat from your face, the way your bones must’ve been rattling from the thunder of your heartbeat.
It was delicious, the way he crowded you, thumb pushing into your cheek so you’d tilt your head up for him, noses almost brushing now, just waiting for something to give. It had been two months of working alongside Eddie Munson, two months of being his friend, learning how he worked, what each of his smiles meant, how lucky you were to receive one.
Two months of wondering how much longer it would take until he would kiss you.
He licked his bottom lip, tongue peeking out just slightly, eyes studying every move you made, so hesitate, so unsure, as if the way you were pressing yourself against him wasn’t enough of a clue. “We could, uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, nervous. His hand was squeezing the dough of your hip over your dress, the soft material bunching in his palm. “We could watch a movie, if you wanted.”
He said it so distractedly that you were sure the boy didn’t actually know what he was asking. Eddie’s pupils were blown wide, eyes dark, a familiar sight except there wasn’t the haze of smoke between you both now. You smiled, nervous and shy and giddy and brave all at once.
“I don’t wanna watch a movie, Eddie,” you breathed and out and the boy folded, the boy melted like butter under the hot sun and you saw his brows draw together, his tense shoulders fall in relief and then he was nodding, eyes on your mouth and moving closer and closer—
“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighed in return, pushing into you in a rush, his lips crashing to yours before he even finished talking.
It felt like kismet, that first kiss. It felt like it was supposed to happen, because after your heart soared and your stomach somersaulted, Eddie moved his head one way and tilted yours the other, drawing him closer still with your fingers hooked into the collar of his T-shirt. He made the softest noise, nose pushed to your cheek, his thumb dragging over the corner of your mouth and when you gasped for him, his tongue touched your bottom lip, a silent question.
More?
You parted your lips for him, kiss deepening, Eddie’s hand on your waist gripping you tighter as your tongue licked over his and you couldn’t remember when kissing someone felt like this. It felt like a summer heatwave, like someone taking care of you, it felt like a bowl of the most perfect food pushed in front of you, like cracking your fucking head off a table and watching the world spin.
There wasn’t any noise in the trailer except for the hum of the still open fridge door and the soft, breathy sounds from both of you. A sigh, a gasp, a muted groan. It was easy to get caught up in it, no one to interrupt, a whole evening, just for you two. It was a long time coming, a simmering pot, finally bubbling over and when you let out a little moan when Eddie’s hand trailed from your jaw down to your neck, fingers splayed over your throat, the boy pulled back to pant heavily and swear.
Any shyness you’d ever felt was gone with the way he was looking at you, curls falling across flushed cheeks, lips swollen and probably a matching yours. You reached for him, desperate, your hands tangling into his hair as you tried not to pout. “Don’t stop. Please, Eddie,” you whispered and your voice cracked with need and god, it made Eddie’s eyes stutter shut, jaw dropping before tensing.
“Fuck, fuck,” he was whispering, moving back to you with an eagerness that was almost overwhelming.
You thought he was going to kiss you again, but he ducked just slightly and you squeaked when you felt his palms, warm and calloused and so fucking big, wrap around the backs of your thighs. He hauled you up, setting you on the edge of the kitchen counter so you were at his height and both of you ignored the angry squeal of the coffee container, the bread bin and mug stand as your body pushed them out of the way. A new pace was set now and Eddie’s mouth was back on yours before you could ask.
A desperate, messy kind of kiss, deep and longing and all tongues and teeth. The boy nipped at your bottom lip, groaned when you whined and you didn’t even think twice about bringing your legs up to his hips, caging him in and pulling him against you until you felt the scratch of denim again the cotton of your underwear.
It should’ve been too much too fast, it should’ve.
But it wasn’t.
“This okay?” Eddie asked you breathlessly, words gasped between kisses. He pulled back just slightly, hands cupping your hot cheeks, thumbs soothing over the apples of them. His forehead pressed against yours, a grounding touch. “We don’t have to— just tell me if you wanna stop, yeah?”
You nodded, eyes fluttering shut because you were already pulling him back to you and Eddie followed willingly, one hand dropping to your knee, coasting upupup until he was squeezing at the dough of your thigh and groaning into your open mouth. You felt like a couple of teenagers, making out somewhere you weren’t supposed to, getting felt up by your crush in his parents kitchen. It made you dizzy, it made you wet, embarrassingly so. A dirty, hot throb that wrecked your body and lit up, electric, every time Eddie touched you somewhere new.
He didn’t go any higher, his hand stayed there, respectful as he could be when you were kissing him like you didn’t ever want to stop. A few inches below the hem of your dress, practically a gentleman, but his tongue was doing wonderful things against yours and when you rocked yourself a little, using your arms around his neck to press yourself against him, Eddie’s own hips canted forward and he moaned.
It made it easier to drop his other hand from your neck, fingertips skimming just along the curve of your breast before he was dripping your waist and pulling you into him. It wasn’t the best place to be grinding against each other, not when the sofa and his bed were both so close by. But the height of the counter made for the perfect kind of friction and it was dizzying being so close, to be so wrapped up in Eddie. He smelled the same, like lemongrass and smoke and a little bit of cologne.
And when you gripped his curls a little tighter than before and tugged, Eddie fucking whined into your open mouth, barely kissing, just panting into each other's lips and his gentlemanly touch on you wavered. His hand skirted up, fingers sliding under the hem of your red dress and when they skimmed over the elastic edge of your underwear, he was swearing, eyes squeezing shut tighter and raking his blunt nails back down your thigh.
You shuddered, ripping away from Eddie’s lips to suck in a breath but the boy only moved to your neck and you keened at the touch, opened mouth kisses along the line of your throat, his tongue peeking out to lick across your skin, teeth grazing and fiu let him, head thrown back until the already tender spot hir against the kitchen cabinets.
It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.
Not when Eddie was dragging his fingers across the neckline of your dress, pushing your sleeve out of the way to expose your shoulders, kissing and sucking at the crook of your neck, mouthing his way down your chest, no bra straps to get in his way. You sighed, the sound coming out with the letters of his name, a noise that made him groan aloud and fuse his lips back to yours, your fingers splayed out over his jaw so you could keep him there.
You were on fire. It was hotter than being in the kitchen. The simmering pot was spilling over now, the flames were licking higher and the lid of it was crashing to the floor, jolting you back to reality.
You pulled back, sucking in air, eyes unfocused and the world was spinning too fast and god you just needed to—
“We should slow down,” Eddie gasped, sounding as wrecked as you felt. His hands were still on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, two hands smoothing up and down your thighs. “Fuck, you’re— that was—”
“Yeah,” you agreed and god you sounded drunk. “I know.”
You tried to diffuse the heat, tried to turn down the flame so everything went back down to a simmer, smiling softly as if the kitchen was on metaphorical fire and Eddie wasn’t harder than he’d ever been in his life. “Umm, do you, d’you wanna eat now?”
Eddie laughed into your neck, cheeks flushed rosy pink and he was hot all over, breathless and the happiest he’d been in a long time. He hummed, nodding before he pulled back, dotting a kiss to your lips, much more chaste than before. He couldn’t help himself, placed another on your cheek, your jaw, the slope of you nose too.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned. “How does a grilled cheese sound?”
You laughed too, nodding, because you didn’t think you’d be able to focus on chopping up ingredients or kneading out a dough right now either. “You gonna make it real fancy for me?”
Eddie beamed, brows scrunched together in disbelief, like he was shocked you had to even ask. “What? Sweetheart, please,” he pushed one last kiss to your lips, grimaced at the open fridge door and kicked it shut witn his foot. “S’gonna be the fanciest grilled cheese you’ve ever had.”
—————
“You have a hickey,” Robin poked at your neck, stating the news very matter of factly as she leaned in between the drivers seat and yours.
You batted at her hand, eyes wide, cheeks hot as you leaned back to glare at her. “What? No I don’t.”
Steve snorted and pulled into the diner parking lot, joining Eddie’s van and the other few cars that were waiting for a late breakfast. “Wow, that sounded so believable,” he deadpanned. “Enjoy your hot date with the chef last night?”
The day after your dinner with Eddie only egged on your good mood. A bright day, with blue skies and warm air, the kind of Sunday morning that was straight out of a photograph, big white clouds, sunflower fields in the distance, the smell of coffee and waffles coming from the diner doors.
Eddie had dropped you back at your apartment late, later then he should’ve when he was starting work at six am the next day but you’d stayed to eat grilled cheeses on the sofa with him, pretending to watch some B-roll horror movie as you talked about everything and nothing, legs draped over his lap.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to say but your words got tangled in a grin and they came out too happy, making Steve’s eyes roll as he climbed out of the car.
“You’re a fuckin’ awful liar,” he told you over the roof and Robin snorted in agreement, bending down to peer at her reflection in Steve’s window. She snapped her gum, baby pink against rose coloured lip balm and flipped Steve off when he popped her bubble. “And we’re all late, ‘cause someone couldn’t find their keys, c’mon.”
It felt like a proper friendship, the way you walked around the side of the diner with Steve and Robin, jostling each other and laughing when they took it too far, the girl shrieking when Steve pulled her into a headlock, encouraging you with a grin to give her a noogie. And the laughter bled into the kitchen when you all stumbled into the fire exit door reserved for staff, smoke breaks and crying sessions in the alleyway. But the laughter stopped when you caught sight of Eddie at his station, whisking a bowl of egg yolks and butter, exactly like you expected him to be at eleven am on a sunday.
You didn’t expect the girl, though. Or recognise her.
Strawberry blonde and petite, her uniform shorter than yours, her elbows leaning on Eddie’s station as she beamed up at him. She was pretty. Really pretty.
She turned at the noise of the three of you coming into the kitchen, laughter still on Steve’s lips, a faux argument brewing between him and Robin as they tailed off towards the lockers. You stayed standing, a little shocked. You weren’t sure why, you knew there was staff you hadn’t met before, seasonal members of the diner who split their time between Jim’s and other jobs. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.
She was just— standing too close to the boy you spent the night making out with.
Eddie had put down the bowl and whisk, cleaned his hands on the front of his apron and smiled at you, his face lighting up at the sight, a genuine slice of joy in what was about to be an awkward moment. He said your name, almost shy, looking like he didn’t know how to greet you.
“This is, uh, this is—” he gestured to the girl, trailing off when she bounced over to you, hand extended.
“I’m Chrissy, it’s so nice to meet you,” she gushed. “You’re new, right?”
“Uh, kinda,” you laughed a little weakly. You didn’t feel new anymore. You felt like you belonged. You told her your name, even though she’d already heard Eddie say it. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
No one else really knew what to say then and your plans to greet Eddie with a kiss seemed ruined. The boy looked at you as if he were thinking the same, his smile lopsided and sweet. But he dished the eggs into a pot and started scrambling them, brushing away a stray curl with the back of his hand and he asked you, “have you had breakfast?”
You rolled your eyes, affection lingering there and you relaxed a little, knowing this routine, loving this routine. You grabbed your apron from the hook, tying it round your waist as you brushed past him, a hand skimming his lower back, the closest thing you could do to a greeting.
Chrissy tracked the movement with curious eyes.
“Not yet,” you told him softly and you ached to perch yourself on the stool by his station - your stool - but Chrissy had already walked back over and claimed it. “You gonna tell me off?”
You said it shyly, a hint of flirt there, cheeks warm and smile soft as you gazed up at the boy. Eddie responded in kind, the tips of his ears turning pink and he tried to scowl at you, brows pinching together but he grinned like he couldn’t help it. “I would, if I knew it would work,” he smiled down at you, head tilted to the side all lazy. “You want some eggs? Or I could make you some pancakes?”
And before you could tell him that eggs were perfectly fine, Chrissy’s voice interrupted, she was pushing herself onto the table, leaning on her hands, cheeks coloured with a pretty pink blush and squished together. “Don’t tell me I leave for the summer and you’ve got another favourite waitress already,” she pouted, lips shiny and glassy and pink. “I thought I was your number one, Ed.”
Her words made you feel too warm. That rolling heat that creeped across your chest, your neck, your face. An awfully uncomfortable sensation, anxious, unsettled. You tried to laugh when she did, but the sound came out weak, stilted. Chrissy was looking at Eddie, confident, playful, so sure of herself.
She looked at him like she really knew him, like there was an inside joke that you didn’t know about.
You backed away, ignoring how Eddie’s hand tried to catch yours. “Uh, I’m actually not that hungry,” you smiled but it wavered. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Thanks though. I’ll, um, I’ll catch up with you later. It was nice meeting you, Chrissy,” you nodded at her, hoping she didn’t see your glassy eyes before you turned and left them in the kitchen.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson au#linecook!eddie
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ACOTAR MEN X READER, GETTING CAUGHT BY YOUR CHILD
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ summary: you’re caught in by your kids, how do you guys handle the situation?
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ warnings: nsfw, crack, fluff, kids feeling traumatized
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ amara’s note: thank you the req anon!!
Azriel
Your bent on all fours, gripping your sheets as Azriel slutted you out, hands on your waist as he thrusted in and out.
As much as you loved hanging around everyone, you were in some desperate need of him.
Azriel had been away on many affairs, often leaving you alone. And though you were surrounded by everyone, you still felt a crushing loneliness that only he could fill
When he finally came home after a two weeks long business trip, you stuck to him like glue. Seriously, whatever he was doing, you were doing too
Azriel saw it snd decided to treat you good after a long time alone
“Right there,” you breathlessly tell him, urging him to speed up just a bit, his throaty groans and moans making you crazy wet
“D’ya know how—how much i missed you and this pretty little pussy? Hm?” his charming, teasing voice made your walls tighten around him, your whines getting more messy as you got closer to cumming
“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he praises with a smile, proud of your strength.
It’s really not easy keeping up with Azriel, esp not in bed
“I like makin’ you feel good,” you whimper out, short gasp falling from you at the end of the statement, finding the spot inside you that makes you go insane
“Yeah, what else so you like?” he asks with a little smirk
You’re so far out of it, you barely notice the doorhandle being pulled.
You gasp when Azriel pulls out and with his cold shadows whisk you away to the cabin. You went from being fucked on all fours to standing up, so fast that your knees almost buckled had it not been fpr azriel holding uou up
”Az, what—what is going on? is this some sort of punishment?” you whined, grinding your ass against him.
”Not a punishment, just saving us from the most awful moment in our lives,” he says lowly as his shadows report your twin boys looking for you.
It takes a minute for your brain to register where you actually are. Rhysand’s cabin.
You also realize your both completely naked
“Az, what are we doing here?” you furrow your brows in true confusion
“The boys were about to walk in, i had to move us.”
“So you moved us to rhys’s cabin in the illyrian mountains? a closet or another room wasn’t an option?” you remarked, genuinely curious.
“I obviously wanted to be on safe side,” he said as if you were the crazy one, not him for bringing you thousands of miles from home
Rhys
After a day of teasing him relentlessly he finally caught you alone, planning on having his version of fun with you
“You think you can play with me all day and i won’t play back?” he tilts his head a little at you, surprised you actually think he’s gonna let it slide
your teasing had ranged from projecting nasty flashbacks of him pounding you in his mind to fun little kisses to his neck while he was talking to someone
“Um, no. But i was just horny, you can’t punish me for that, right?” you say slowly backing away from him as you did ur best to save your ass
Rhysand would definitely not let you cum, he would drag it out for hours and you for sure would be left crying
He pulls you closer, guiding you to bend over his lap. “You need to learn patience, my dear. And I'll be the one to teach you.”
Approximately 20 minutes into him fingering you then pulling away just as you’re about to cum, a knock is heard.
Rhysand looks at the door and calmly uses magic to clean you both up, not a hint of your activities left
“Papa, can you come to my room, i had a nightmare,” your son cries, fat tears rolling down his cheek as he clutches his favorite teddy.
Your heart breaks for him as you watch Rhys pick him up, carefully rocking him in his arms.
“Of course, buddy. Let’s go to your room, I’m here to protect from everything.”
Just before he leaves with your son, Rhys snaps his fingers, removing your clothes and binding you to the bed.
“Don’t think you’re in the clear,” he chuckles into your mind.
Cassian
He had been crazy horny all day
Anything you did was just an insane turn on. Cassian justified his horny urges by saying it was your fault
But was it really normal to be turned on by you leaning over the sink to wash your face?
Cassian sure thought it was, anything you do is sexy in his head
Reading, sexy. Walking, sexy. Eating, sexy. Yelling at him, super fucking sexy
So he was on you, having fun makeout sessions in the most random places like rhysand’s wine cellar or Mor’s closet when you borrwed a dress
“Let me hit,” he begs, arms wrapping around your waist
“Is that how you ask for me?”
“Please, let me have sex with you. I’m dying for it, i’m dying for you.” he says the last part with a smug smile, thinking he is rizzing you up like crazy
You still let him hit tho
So you crawl into his lap, his body leaning against the headboard as you settle in, his hands roaming your body
He rips your shirt clean off, leaving you in nothing as he starts playing with your tits
“Dad, i’m feeling sick. Do you think Madja is still—” your daughters voice makes cassian panic, resulting in him throwing you off his lap, scrambling to look normal
“Hey, babygirl. What’s up!!” he says, smiling up at her as he tries to ignore your glare.
“Ew, oh my gods. Please tell me you guys weren’t having sex, i think i might actually throw up.”
She looks at you but you just look away, keeping the blanket around you.
“Excu— sex??? wha—what are you talking about? Babe, please, are you hearing this nonsense?” he chuckles nervously as he points to your daughter with a scandalously shocked look, like he couldn’t believe her words
“Yeah, i’m going over to auntie Feyre’s. Bye,” your daughter leaves before you have the chance to say anything else
“I mean, sex is super overrated. I don’t even partake in such activities, okay? I don’t even like sex, yuck!” he yells , hoping your daughter hears as she vanishes
You stand up from where he threw you, narrowing your eyes at him as you clear your throat
He looks back at you with wide eyes, holding his hands up in defense as he remembers what he has done
“Babe, thats was a lie. Sex is fucking amazing, especially with you. And i’m sorry for throwing you, i panicked.”
“Make it up to me and i might forgive you.”
Bro makes up for it good, like really REALLY good
Eris
Eris is just like Azriel, he will not let anyone catch you. He has sealed your bedroom over and over again with tricky, protective spells.
The only way in is by blood, only his and yours.
And sometimes when he’s balls deep into you, making the bed creak, he forgets the fact that your children are a mix of those two blood types
So when you start moaning and letting out noises of pleasure, it shocks your 6-year old daughter who thinks her dad is hurting her mom
“Please, make—make me cum again, please, Eris.”
Eris is so mean sometimes. He had edged you all day, only allowing you to come once.
”You think you deserve it?” he asks
You whine, ”Fuck, please— be nice to me— please, pleaseeee.”
“An impatient slut like yourself don’t deserve to cum. You knew this would happen and you gave me fucking attitude anyway,” he scoffed.
A loud cry and fading footsteps are heard as you both freeze
You get dressed instantly and run out, worried about why your daughter was awake and wailing.
“Hey baby what’s wrong?” Eris squats down next to her crying self before he recieves a punch to the gut.
“I heard what you said to mommy, you hurt her and i hate you!” she yelled as she sobbed in your arms
You both look at each other in embarrassment, obviously understanding what she was referring to
“Oh! Um, no daddy wasn’t hurting me or was being mean. It was a game, i promise. See? I’m fine, sweetheart.”
Eris felt nauseous. He didn’t want your daughter thinking he was hurting you, just like his father had hurt his mother.
“Kit, i could never hurt your mother. I love her more than anything. It was just a game and i promise, you’ll never hear it again.”
She nodded before kissing your cheek and then running into his arms, dead asleep in just a few seconds
You kissed Eris, reassuring him that he wasn’t being to rough or mean and that you actually liked it.
Still, he never degraded you again, despite your wishes.
Lucien
It is your 100th anniversary as mates
Of course there’s a massive celebration for you
Grand balls, beautiful gowns, exclusive parties for a week straight, expensive drinks, luxurious vibes
You had the time of your life with the love of your life (see what i did there)
Azriel and Feyre had been tasked with keeping your children safe
But they get distracted for one second, allowing your girl to slip away
You and Lucien are in the bathroom, making out with your hands down his pants
You were supposed to leave for a trip after, a vacation to celebrate your love for a century but you couldn’t wait
Since you two didn’t have to worry about your kids and keeping an eye on them, you had free reign to give him a handjob whilst he played with your nipples
“You just couldn’t wait, huh?” you said smugly, sliding your thumb over the slit of his cock, making him groan
“Like you can talk, you’re here with your tits out like some common whore,” he retaliated, tugging on your sensitive nipples, enjoying the way you melted
“Daddy what are you doing?”
Your heads snap to the door in horror when you hear your toddlers voice
Feyre runs in exhausted from chasing your daugher before her eyes widen in shock as she covers your girls eyes before dragging her out.
“I’m so sorry, she managed to run away!” she exclaimed as she hurried out, shutting the door thoroughly
You and Lucien look at each other, laughing before getting dressed again.
“Is this a sign to just wait for the trip?”
“Yeah, i believe it is.”
#talkswithamara#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#azriel#rhysand#eris vanserra#azriel fic#rhysand acotar#cassian#cassian x reader#cassian acotar#eris vanserra acotar#eris vanserra fic#eris vanserra x reader#eris acotar#eris x reader#azriel imagine#lucien vanserra x reader#lucien x reader#lucien acotar#lucien vanserra#rhysand x reader#rhys acotar#rhys x reader#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger
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Marry me? Nah. Marry me? Yeah.
4 times Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you refuse. 1 time Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you accept.
A/N: I have been working on this for the last day, so enjoy. HOWEVER, I wrote it on my phone and refuse to proof it.
Warning(s): Some canon level violence, swearing.
Note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.
You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.
—
Proposal 1
The first time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you aren’t even dating. The two of you are paired on a mission to dismantle a HYDRA base hidden deep in the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky. You had met before but never shared more than polite conversation. Steve had assured Bucky you weren’t scared of him, but that you wouldn’t push him to speak with you. Bucky never quite believed him, so he never attempted to converse with you either.
However, when you’re paired on this mission, you take that as the go-ahead to finally speak to him.
“So, Barnes,” you say, nudging his shoulder with your own, “guess we’ve got to come up with more conversation topics than the weather.”
“Guess so,” he replies.
It is during the mission he proposes. There are more HYDRA agents active than expected, and they come at the two of you guns blazing while you’re distracted setting up an explosive at a structural point of the complex.
“Y/L/N,” Bucky says to grab your attention, “we’ve got company.”
You bite your lip, finishing your task before standing and pulling your rifle from your back, preparing yourself for a fight.
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got this one,” you tease, shooting him a wink before unleashing precise kill shots before Bucky even thinks to pull his own trigger. After taking out a dozen soldiers, a few manage to get close to you, and you hit one in the head with the butt of your gun and then quickly pull a knife from a thigh holster while pivoting on your foot to slit another’s throat. You shoot the unconscious soldier in the head for good measure before wiping your knife on your pants.
With your knife returned to its home on your thigh, you look up at Bucky who is staring at you with a dumbfounded, albeit impressed, look on his face. You had taken out 14 men on your own. He was in love.
The words “marry me” slipped past his lips before he could stop them, and you laugh.
“Maybe buy me dinner first, Sarge.”
Proposal 2
The second time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you’re comforting him after a nightmare. It is late at night, at the point it was really morning, and you happen to hear his screams through his bedroom door.
You stop at his door, letting a frown set on your face before reaching out for his doorknob. You hesitate before opening it, wondering if he’ll appreciate you barging in on him in such a vulnerable state. Then, he screams again—louder—and you turn the doorknob, letting yourself in.
The sight you’re met with is heartbreaking. Bucky is tossing and turning, his sheets bunched at his feet, comforter on the ground. He’s sweating buckets and whimpering what sounds like, “Please, no. Not the chair. Please!” over and over again. You choke back a sob before crossing over to him, gently lying a comforting hand on his shoulder and calling out his name.
“Bucky, honey, wake up. It’s just a dream, hun.”
The touch and sudden sound wake him up from what is truly a light sleep. Bucky shoots up into a sitting position, right hand shooting out to grab the hand touching him, and eyes darting around the room until they land on you.
“Shh,” you coo, “you’re okay, Bucky. It’s me, Y/N. It was just a dream. You’re safe.”
Bucky’s heart rate slows to a normal pace, and he lets out a shaky breath.
“Y/N?” He asks hesitantly. “W-what are you doing here?” His voice is small, like a terrified child’s, and you can’t help but frown at the thought.
You let your hand move to cup his face, noting that he relaxes at the gentle touch, leaning his face ever so slightly into your touch.
“I was headed to the kitchen and I heard you scream. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
He nods, eyes searching yours for some sort of anger or resentment for bothering you. He doesn’t find any.
“Can I do anything to make you feel better?” You ask kindly.
“Um,” Bucky says, voice shaky. “Would you mind—you don’t have to—but would you mind staying with me? Only if you want.”
You smile kindly, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek before climbing into his bed with him, pulling his head close to your chest.
“When I was little, I lived in a house in the woods for a while,” you say randomly, catching Bucky’s attention. His eyebrows scrunch together in some sort of confusion, but he says nothing. “At dinner one night, I look out the glass door onto the porch. Wanna know what I saw?”
Bucky hums his agreement as your hand works it’s way into his hair and your fingers begin to massage his scalp.
“4 raccoons!” You exclaim. “3 babies and a mama. We had a toddler slide on the porch at the time,” you continue, “and the baby raccoons kept climbing the little ladder and sliding down. The mama just sat a little bit away and watched and stole cat food occasionally.”
Bucky chuckles, finding your story cute but also recognizing your attempt to distract and soothe him after his nightmare. He appreciates it more than he himself understands; he is comforted by your voice more than he feels he should be. He lets the proposal slip a second time: “Marry me?”
You grin and press a kiss to his head.
“Not yet, hun.”
Proposal 3
The third proposal comes after the two of you begin dating.
Bucky takes you out on a date to a little coffee shop in Brooklyn you both had become fond of. You’re standing to the side of the café, out of the way, waiting on your order. Bucky has his right arm around your shoulders while you lean into him; his left hand stuck in his jacket pocket.
“So Natasha’s screaming at Clint to show himself so that she can kill him, right? Like, she was so fucking pissed at him. And Clint is in the fucking air vents—like those big ones people crawl through in action movies—hiding from her. Over a remote, Bucky!” You excitedly recount one of the most ridiculous encounters you’ve ever had with the Avengers to your boyfriend who is quietly listening with a fond smile.
“Like, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ my ass,” you scoff. You’re about to add another thought to the discussion when you hear someone else’s conversation from a few feet away.
Bucky tenses. You tense.
“Personally, I think they should’ve carted him off to the South, or somethin’, and put him in the chair,” a younger man—college age—says. “The death penalty, y’know? An eye for an eye, and all that. I mean, the guy killed a lot of people.”
“Fuck, man,” his companion, another college aged man, says. “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I mean, he’s also like a war hero and a prisoner of war.”
“He killed innocent people, man. Like, people’s kids and shit.”
“I guess.”
Bucky clenches his jaw, and he also tightens his grip on your waist when he feels you start to move away from him.
“It’s fine, doll,” he assures you, but he doesn’t seem fine to you.
The barista calls out “Barnes” and Bucky kisses the top of your head before moving to grab your drinks. You, however, take the opportunity to address the disrespectful boys while your boyfriend isn’t holding you back.
“Excuse me,” you say, walking up to them.
“Fuck!” One says, jumping a little. “You’re an Avenger.”
“Mhmm,” you agree. “So is Sergeant Barnes who you so innocently suggested deserves the chair.” You jam a finger into his chest.
“You have absolutely no fucking right to talk about him that way. He gave his life for this fucking country; fought alongside your grandparents. The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Shit. It’s not like my opinion is gonna change anything.”
Before you can say anything else, you feel Bucky’s hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from the college kids and into his side. He leans close to your ear to whisper, “Doll, it’s fine. Come on.”
He pulls you out of the coffee shop before you have time to protest.
Walking down the street, you’re ranting, letting your arms flail around angrily.
“What the actual fuck is their problem?! You can have your obviously wrong opinions, but why would you express them so loudly in front of the person you’re talking about? You’re a fucking Avenger. You’re a good man. Why would they pardon you if you weren’t? Why would the Avengers adopt you as one of our own if you weren’t? Pieces of shit! Hateful, fascist, brain dead, ungrateful, military-hating, assholes!”
Bucky can’t help but laugh at your insults, and he can’t help but feel flattered that you care enough to defend him.
“Sweetheart, it’s really fine. I’m used to it,” he assures you, finally handing you your coffee he’d been balancing in his hand.
You take it, but shoot him an incredulous look.
“Like hell it’s okay! You deserve better than that bullshit, Bucky. You deserve to go out on a date with your girlfriend without being fucking harassed.”
Bucky pulls you into his side, kissing your head like he had earlier, and murmurs into your hair his third proposal.
“Marry me.”
You smile softly.
“Nah,” you say, leaning into his hold. He laughs.
Proposal 4
The fourth time Bucky proposes to you, it’s less direct.
In fact, you’re in the field, lying on your back in Bucky’s arms while he frantically puts pressure on a bullet wound in your gut.
“Steve,” he says into the coms, “Y/N’s down. She got shot. I’ve got to get her back to the jet.”
“Go,” Steve responds quickly, “I’ll cover you.”
Bucky’s attention falls to you, grimacing at the blood covering his hands.
“Hold on, baby. I’ve got you,” he says, lifting you into his arms as gently as you can.
“I’m fiiinnneee,” you slur, unsteadily and awkwardly reaching to pat his face. Your action, meant to be comforting, only adds to your boyfriend’s anxiety.
“Doll, you’ve been shot, and it isn’t a clean wound.”
“That’s nothin’!”
Bucky grunts indignantly in response.
Finally, he gets you back to the jet, moving through the aircraft quickly to get you to a stretcher to triage you best he can. When there is nothing more he can do, he holds your hand, doing his best not to cry or show how scared he is.
“Y/N, stay awake for me, alright?” He pleads, squeezing your hand.
Your eyes flutter open and you smile goofily.
“No worries, Doll,” you giggle as you call him by the pet name he reserves for you. “I’m A-Okay.”
Bucky scoffs.
“You’re bleeding out.”
“You fixed me.”
“Not fully; I put a bandaid on you really.”
“Silly. Bandaids fix you!” You try to comfort, but you fall into a laughing fit.
“Doll, I need you to take this seriously so you make it. You’ve gotta marry me.”
“You didn’t ask me to!” You say, narrowing your eyes and pointing accusingly.
Bucky smiles at your antics.
“Marry me, Doll?”
You smile fondly as you stare up at Bucky.
“Ask me again when I’m not bleeding out.”
Proposal 5
The fifth time Bucky Barnes proposes to you is the last time.
You convince the super soldier to go hiking with you; you argue he deserves to sit and watch a waterfall with his girlfriend. He gives in easily because you’re not easy for him to say no to.
The two of you find a local hiking trail that leads to a decent sized waterfall, and you’re pleased to find the trail is mostly deserted. You only run into a few stray hikers along the trail.
Bucky smiles as you hike, watching as you excitedly stop to watch centipedes cross the path, or point out woodpeckers, or smell flowers. Finally, the two of you reach the waterfall and you squeal in excitement, running a few paces ahead of Bucky and jumping to let out some excited energy.
“Buck, look! It’s gorgeous!”
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, slowing to a stop behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin in the crook of your neck.
The two of you stand like that, in each other’s embrace, for a few minutes, watching the waterfall, listening to nature around you.
“Thank you for coming up here with with me,” you say, turning around to place a grateful kiss on Bucky’s lips. He gently returns the kiss before pulling away.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.”
You peck his lips again before turning back to the waterfall.
“Look!” You say upon turning around. “Bucky, a rainbow!” The spray of the water and the beams of sunlight meet to display a rainbow in front of you.
When Bucky doesn’t respond, you curiously turn around.
“Bucky? Oh!”
Bucky is on one knee, a ring box open in his hands, held out to you.
“Y/N, will you marry me?”
There is no speech, there is no absurd gesture. There is just Bucky, and there is just a question.
It’s perfect.
“Yes.”
“Finally.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#marvel x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky barnes x reader fluff#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky x g!n reader
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☾ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ☽
ᴀ/ɴ: I am already back with a new fic for Sam. I am in a groupchat with some amazing people and I decided to write some ideas out that were thrown around. I hope you enjoy! Maybe I will do Alex or Elliott next... Anyway, thank you so much for your time! ✧
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Reader (afab)
ᴡᴄ: 3884 words.
ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: alcohol consumption, drunk sex, doggy style, cursing, unportected sex, drooling, exhibitionism, public setting, teasing, creampie, hornyness all around.
Sam’s mouth was watering, and the sole reason for it was you. Sam had fallen in love with you the moment you had stepped foot into Pelican Town yet had never managed to utter a single word about it. But now, the blonde was absolutely hammered, and that allowed him to shamelessly stare at you. Pupils blown, chest heaving and falling quickly, his eyes were focused on your ass while you were bent over the pool table, focused on your next shot in your game with Sebastian. The only thing that kept him from dropping on his knees and begging to be allowed to suck on those slender fingers wrapping around the cue was the fact that he still wasn’t sure if you liked him back.
When you wiggled your butt a little, a small groan passed his lips. It was desperate, and rough, making the attention of the room fall on him. “Are you okay, Sam?” You asked, worry in your voice. “Yeah…yeah…Yeah, ‘m fine… just gonn…you need help, dontcha? Winnin’ against Seb, I mean,” he slurred, pushing himself up on his legs, steadying himself using the pool table. Sebastian cocked his pierced brow; Sam sucked at pool when he wasn’t drunk, and now he was absolutely shitfaced. What help could he be?
Sam placed himself right behind you, pressing his crotch against you a bit, hoping – no, praying – that you didn’t catch on that he only did that to feel you against his growing buldge.
Though you were a smart girl. The feeling of his erection didn’t go unnoticed, but you kept up your pokerface. “I guess I could use a little help,” you murmured, voice coated in innocence. You leaned forward, smiling up at the oblivious Sebastian. “Sorry, I told you I haven’t played in ages,” you explained, directing the black-haired man’s attention back to the game. He shrugged nonchalantly, waving off your comment and watching you adjust the cue, but Sam had seemingly become hyper focused. He leaned over you, shaking hand gripping your wrist. He was so close, so close to you. He could smell you and feel you. If his mouth was watering before, now it was drooling. He had dreamed of this so often, having you bent over under him, and now he had, and you didn’t even notice his ulterior motives.
A thought that was disproved when he felt it. You pressed your ass against him, circling your hips just ever so slightly to cause friction. An accident? Sam didn’t care. The whine that slipped couldn’t be caught anymore; the despair obvious. The need to beg for you to at least let him feel you for one night, even just a single hour, maybe just put the tip in you if that was all you wanted to give, hanging onto his tongue by a thread. The only thing that kept him from speaking was a pair of attentive eyes that were placed on him.
„Ugh, drunk like that? It’s best he sleeps on the couch here, Jodi’s gonna flip otherwise… and I doubt I can drag his drunk ass up the mountain.”
“‘S…’s a bad position,“ Sam slurred in a weak attempt to explain himself, but he didn’t even really care. He cared about you, boxed in-between his wobbly arms. He could lean down, kiss your neck, suck on it. Leave his wet marks all over you – and who would stop him? “He’s right,” you mused, shifting yet again. This time you rubbed your ass from side to side as if to figure out how to stand, making sure to add pressure against his dick. Sam was creaming in his pants by now, his knees wobbling as he lowered his head. He licked his lips, hot breath hitting your neck. The goosebumps that appeared made him want to drool all over you, but still, he cleared his throat and guided you into a sloppy shot. Trying to stay strong, not to make it too obvious. But fuck, your gentle grinding into his cock, the way you pressed into him – he swore his cock was about to burst right then and there for you, and if you kept it up, he’d cum in his pants in the saloon.
“Damn, Sam. You wanted to help her win, not make her lose. Maybe you should step back,” Sebastian grunted, an obvious edge to his voice, yet he would have never expected his best friend to actually growl at him in return. That was the only way the sound that radiated through the blonde’s chest could be described; it was deep and rough, almost threatening. Possessive, even.
While it shocked the other man, it sent a shock straight through your whole body. It was enough for you to put your cue away and stand up straight, giving Sebastian a small smile. “I think it’s time we get Sammy boy here to sleep.”
Perfect.
“I’ll take him to the farm, then. Until our ways part we are about halfway there, you can help me drag him.”
Sebastian sighed dramatically, but put the cue away, which probably signalled his agreement, or at least you decided to take it as such.
Both of you draped one of Sam’s arms over your shoulders and made the strenuous way up to your farm, Sebastian stubbornly staring ahead, while Sam was slumped between you. His cheeks were red, but the way you looked at him made him wheeze. The look that he gave you, so lustful and horny, eyes drowning in need, made your legs buckle every now and then, straining a grunt from Sebastian that now had to basically drag two whenever you did. “You sure you want him on your farm? I can stay over-“
“No,“ you interrupted, flashing him a quick, reassuring smile. “You’ve got to work with Robin tomorrow, and she will freak out if you’re not there. Besides, I have a guard dog, and if this fella acts up, he’ll be sent to the doghouse.”
Sebastian smiled a little and nodded, the thought of Sam sleeping in a small hut clearly bemusing him. Smacking his friend on the back, which almost sent the poor boy tumbling over, Sebastian turned. „Behave, you hear? Or I gotta whoop your ass.” With that and a wave, he began to make his way home.
Silence.
“So…,” you began when Sebastian’s silhouette had blended into the deep night, looking at the blonde hanging onto your shoulder. “What was all that about?”
“All…hicc… what about?”
“In the bar. You drooled on my neck.”
Sam giggled at that, tilting his head back as his laugh became deeper. “Yea…that-…that probably was ‚cause I really fuckin‘ love you…an‘…an‘ cum in my fist every night thinkin‘ of fuckin…fucking you.”
If that wasn’t drunken honesty, you didn’t know what else would be. “But I didn’t know hoooow to tell youuuu. So, don’t tell on me, m’kay? Don’t want ya to..hate me, ya know.”
Chuckling quietly, you pushed a strand of hair out of his, face, dragging your lower lip between your teeth. “You know who you’re talking to, right”
“Mh..course. My little farmer princess.”
“And you know what I did to you in the bar?”
“Mhhhhm. Was so close to cummin‘. Still…still am.”
“Do you know what could mean, Sam?”
“That… you suck even more at pool than me?”
You snorted, head tipping back as you laughed. Yoba, he wanted to lick down your throat, down your body, devour your cunt. He wanted to taste you so, so bad. He could have bet that you had the prettiest pussy he would ever lay eyes on, and he would make sure to worship it. With slow licks, the fast ones, by spelling his name on your clit and with your legs over his shoulder so he could get into as much contact as possible.
“No, Sam. I’m into you. I have been for a while. Didn’t you ever notice me flirting? Not even when I told you you should show me what else those fingers can do than play guitar.”
You could literally see the corks in Sam’s head reeling, trying to connect the dots of the information that had just been relied to him. “So…ya…like me back?”
You rolled your eyes, deciding that in this state, only actions seemed to count for Sam. Words took too long to process. You leaned down to kiss the man deeply - an opportunity he leaped at. His tongue immediately dragged over your lips, coating them with the taste of alcohol. The moan that left you was to his advantage, he shoved his tongue into your mouth clumsily, letting it run over yours, licking at it as if he was starving. His hands had found your body for support to stop himself from swaying back and forth. “Need ya…need ya so bad. This kay?“ He slurred against your mouth, pretty blue eyes staring at you, begging you without words.
You bit your lip and tried to steady Sam again, “Come on, let’s get to the farm, we can…we can-„ Sam’s mouth hit yours again, his teeth sinking into your lips gently. You moaned again, tugging at his hair, but your surroundings made you pull away and tug at him him. “Let’s get to the farm, I need you,” you ordered, setting a rather fast pace for drunken Sam.
He whined, begged and pleaded, but in the end, he strolled with you, legs buckling and wobbling, and the lack of blood in his brain seemed to make the short path to your house even longer. The fabric of his clothes rubbed against his buldge so uncomfortably, and the way your hips swayed when you walked brought him close to tears. He wanted you. He had wanted you for so long, he couldn’t wait any longer.
The moment you reached the bus stop, Sam dropped to his knees, almost making you fall over due to the sudden weight shift. “Sam! What are you doing?”
“Fuck…fuck, please. ‘M beggin’ you. ‘M so fuckin’ hard…it hurts so bad…shit, you look so pretty for me,” he gasped, rutting against his hand that he had rested in his lap. The moonlight hit you so perfectly…you looked so amazing. Amazing enough for him to throw his head back, now gripping his length through his clothes. “Pretty please,“ he added, helplessly looking up at you. You bit your lower lip again, your own knees growing weak. You could feel the wetness pool between your legs, and it was hard for you to not just let him have his way with you.
“But what if anyone is gonna see us? We can’t risk being caught. It’s not that far anymore…”
“No! No one will see us!” Sam cried, “I promise…promise I’ll be quick. I’ll be quiet. Anythin‘, princess. Pretty please. I beg you. Please. I’ll be good. Just…please.”
You seriously doubted the value of a completely horny, drunk and in love person’s opinion, but before you knew it, you found yourself on your knees, kissing Sam sloppily.
The blonde immediately pounced on you, pressing his crotch into yours, his hands seemingly everywhere. “So pretty,” he panted against you, kissing down your jaw, down your neck, and then he already lapped at your throat. You seemingly felt him everywhere at once, making you moan out lowly. That only urged Sam on more. He wanted more. He wanted to hear you, smell you, taste you, feel you. He wanted you. No, he needed you.
“You know how often I’ve dreamed of fucking you?”
It was just a murmur against your neck on which he greedily sucked. “How often I’ve dreamed of holdin‘ you in my arms? Pretty baby, makin‘ you all mine.”
Sam had seemingly sobered up a little but that didn’t help much – he was was already intoxicated by you again.
He tugged at your pants and at his at the same time, trying to get them both off at the same time, causing you to laugh out breathlessly. He gave up his attempt and back, licking over his lips.
“Need you so bad,” he repeated while he unbuckled his belt, struggling out of his pants.
You licked your lips and opened the button to your pants much slower, pushing them down your long legs centimetre by centimetre. Blue eyes were glued on you; Sam’s mouth hung open as he watched you, tongue hanging out just slightly. He was pretty sure you could see his dick throb against his already wet boxers, but fuck, who cared? He sure didn’t. The hunger in his eyes made you shiver, no man had ever looked at you like he did, and you were sure he was already fucking you in his head.
“The panties,” he stammered, making you grin to yourself. “The panties. Please, princess. Take them off. You’re so wet already, fuck, please, I- am pretty sure I’m gonna die if you don’t.”
“You mean these?” You teased, gripping at the waistband and letting it snap against your hips. The blonde groaned, the force of the sheer lust hitting him almost making him drop forward again.
“You want them off?”
He nodded, eyes yet again filled with tears. “Yoba, please, yes…need…need to see your pussy.”
“Then take them off.”
Sam was incredibly quick to move, much quicker than you had deemed in the range of possibility, he did have a lot of drinks, but he was on top of you the moment you gave the go. He pushed your shirt upwards and messily pulled your breasts from your bra, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. He trailed his tongue around it, before switching sides, his hand trailing towards your panties already. He let his finger glide along your slit over the fabric, growl escaping him upon feeling your wet spot. “All that teasing gotcha wet, huh?” He hissed, biting your nipple gently before he slowly licked down your cleavage, staying in-between your breasts for a moment longer, just inhaling deeply and leaving his love bites. You smelled so good, so sweet; it was hard to not get lost in his in his need. However, after a moment he picked up his journey again and licked down your stomach, until he finally reached the hem of your panties.
The night air began to fill with moans that tumbled out of your mouth, the eagerness you were treated with leaving your cunt pulsing. By now you felt a need similar to Sam’s, making you pretty sure you needed him all over you to ever think properly again, even though right now, you were far from it. He let his fingers run up to your exposed chest, gripping your nipples between pointer finger and thumb and rolling them gently. “Lift your butt,” he ordered, almost smiling to himself when you did. He gripped the lace of your panties with his teeth, slowly tugging them down. You shuddered when the cold night air hit your hot wetness, and Sam moaned lowly upon seeing your cunt.“ Look how beautiful. Such a sweet little cunt…all for me, isn’t it? All for my cock and me,” he rambled, having to sit back on his heels for a moment. The beauty of your almost naked body had him dangerously close to the edge, and he would have forever hated himself if his own dick cockblocked him right now.
“Sam-“
“Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty baby.”
You sucked in air through your teeth, eyes dragging down his body. He was hard as a rock, and you were sure his boxers were about to rip, so you slowly settled on your hands and knees. Maybe it was also because you just needed to be absolutely stuffed with cock.
You tried to wait patiently, even though your own need made that incredibly hard, but you couldn’t risk getting Sam distracted. His gaze seemed to burn holes into your back, making you shift around on your knees. Then you finally heard shifting and the gentle sound of skin smacking against skin.
“You are so ready for me, baby,” he murmured, his fingers spreading your drooling lips slowly. One of them pushed inside of you, low groan falling from his lips. He curled his finger and then thrusted it knuckle-deep, breathing in sharply upon feeling you basically pulling him in. You were so wet and warm… and he could finally get his dick into you. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was about to be ripped apart by the feelings tumbling around inside of him, and you were the only thing on this whole planet that would ease this ache he had for you.
You felt his finger leave you and whined, wiggling your ass in the air. Much to your surprise, a hand came down on your butt, forcing you to yelp out Sam’s name. “Teasin‘ me all night already,” he slurred, pressing his tip against your soaked hole. “And it worked…”
With that, he slowly pushed himself inside of you and the world seemed to disappear.
All he could hear was static, and the sound of his own heartbeat, mixing with your moans. He was pretty sure the world could explode and he wouldn’t have blinked an eye. All he could think about was how good you felt; despite only having the tip in, you sucked him in deeper already.
“This okay?”
You nodded eagerly, pushing back against his dick in a desperate attempt to get more. Yoba, you needed more. This time it was you that wanted to cry and beg for him, but Sam seemed to pick up your silent prayers.
His hips shoved forward eagerly; it seemed like your walls were made for his cock. You fit so snuck around him, cunt welcoming him with a wet sound. The two of you moaned and you had to rest your head on your arms to keep at least your butt up in the air for Sam, the promise of being quite long forgotten. Centimetre by centimetre Sam pushed inside of you, making sure to take his time, to really split you in two for him and only him. One of his hands was resting firmly on your hip, the other cupping one of your breasts. When he was balls deep inside of you, he abruptly stopped, his penis twitching violently inside of you. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had just had his orgasm, and when you turned around you could see his eyes watering. You were about to ask, yet the thought was immediately cut off when Sam pulled back and rammed back into you.
Suddenly you could feel the weight of his upper body on your own as he angled himself to get better access to your sweet cunt.
“Mine, all mine,” Sam panted into your ear as he began to pick up a fast pace, humping you like an animal in heat. The sound of his balls smacking against your wet pussy and the way his pelvic bone hit your bare ass created sounds lewd enough for anyone within a kilometre to know what was happening. Neither of you cared.
You were a moaning mess beneath the blonde, and he was whimpering, close to sobbing your name. Sam sucked on your neck to mark you up, keep you away from dirty, greedy eyes such as his own, his cock bullying into you at a fast pace; your walls sucking him off so well. His eyes rolled in the back of his head when he felt you clench around him as he began to gently circle your clit.
“Like that, huh? Like when…I do this?” He snarled, licking his lips and kissing down your spine; a task that was rather hard given that his hard thrusts made your whole body shake.
“Sam!” You sobbed, trying to meet his thrusts desperately as if you just couldn’t get enough, and Sam was happy to deliver. He pressed you into his body and fucked into you as if his life depended on it, tongue hanging out and droplets of saliva falling on your back.
You swore you could see little fairies dance around you when Sam hit your sweet spot, this combined with his relentless spelling of his name on your clit made you approach the edge with fast steps.
Sam wasn’t much better – he was staring at his thick perverted cock vanishing into your pussy, spreading open your sweet little hole with each thrust. He loved to see how he forced wetness out of you with each thrust, and he swore to himself he’d make you cream.
“Sam, fuck, Sam! I’m gonna cu-cum!” You cried, the thought of if you could maybe wake someone with your needy cries for dick crossed your mind, but it quickly turned into arousal. You would love for people to hear how well Sam was fucking you, how mean he was to your cunt, snapping his hips back and forth mercilessly, accompanied by the sound of his skin smacking against your reddened ass that by now was sporting a red handprint.
“Gonna cum, Sam, gonna cum!” You slurred, feeling his wet tongue trace patterns down the side of your neck again. White light flashed in front of your eyes, your toes curled up as you felt your face growing numb.
What the two of you didn’t notice was the text from Sebastian’s number that made the screens of your phones light up. Nice show. Make it less obvious that you want to fuck next time or send me videos so I can rewatch.
Sam’s whimpers and small groans had turned into dragged out whines, adoring how you let him fuck you out here near the bus stop. He wanted people to hear you. Show them you were his and his alone. He would have loved for each of the guys to see him ruining you, so they’d keep their hands off. Seeing how his cock vanished inside of you with each thrust, how his precum and your juices were mixing together, dribbling down his shaft. The thought of them seeing you sprawled out and crying for him and the feeling of you drooling all over his throbbing dick, begging for more was enough to push him over the edge.
His body tensed up, a cry of sheer pleasure was being bellowed into the night as his orgasm washed over him, his cock pressed deep inside of you. The feeling of his cum inside of you was too much. You sobbed his name, fingers wrapping around strands of grass as your body convulsed, the numbness that caught up to you soothing as you clenched around your lover’s dick, making it hard for Sam to move. The blonde gritted his teeth, his thrusts slowly slowing down as he hung his head; his breathing hard and laboured
You were lying beneath him, panting as well as your hand slowly searched for his. Upon finding it, you intertwined your fingers, and for a moment you two just sat there, Sam’s dick still buried inside of you, your hands interlocked.
“Round two when we reach the farm?” You whispered after a while, despite having his cum drip out of you as he pulled back slowly, making Sam smile like a lovesick puppy.
“Round two when we reach the farm.”
#sdv#sdv sam#stardew valley#stardew valley fanfic#stardew valley farmer#stardew valley smut#sdv sam x reader#SDV fanfic#SDV Sebastian#Stardew Valley Sam#smut#SDV smut#enjoy!#fanfic
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friends on vacation | mattheo riddle x reader x slytherin squad
mini series pt. 1
summary: you and your friends go on vacation before you start your last year at hogwarts. Let‘s just say it get‘s interesting between you and your best friend Mattheo.
warnings: modern slytherin group, vacation to spain, cursing, making out, touching a little, lap dance, hickeys, kissing pansy as friends in game, english is not my first language
Enzo, Blaise, Draco, Theodore, Mattheo, Pansy and me. We all sat together at my house around a big round table. My parents and I had a big house in New York, living there when the wizard world got a little too much.
It wasn‘t the first time that I had all of my friends over, we were inseparable. Everybody knew. So after a few years I showed them a little of my second world, leaving them no choice but to like it. Just like me, they liked to escape our world sometimes, leaving all the monsters and unicorns behind for some relaxing. Just like now.
"So.. where do we wanna go, huh?" Theodore asked into the round, lightning his cigarette.
"Why don‘t we think about what kind of vacation we want first?" I said, taking my Ipad in front of me and opening my vacation apps. " Please somewhere near the beach. I wanna tan and we‘re around the forest and mountains all the time in Hogwarts." Pansy said, stretching her legs over Draco‘s and Blaise‘s laps who were sitting on my garden couch.
"Yeah I agree, If I see one more forest I‘m gonna die." Blaise joins the conversation with a dramatic sigh at the end.
Mattheo and Draco teased each other at the meantime like little kids, throwing their cherry pits at each other.
"What about Italy? There‘s beach and sun." Enzo asks, sitting on the grass beneath us, playing with my dog. "Nah, I already live there that‘s no vacation for me." Theo answers, shaking his head and blowing out some smoke while speaking.
"I have an idea! Spain is beautiful and it‘s really hot there too, perfect to tan. I was there a few years ago with my parents. And the flight from there back to Hogwarts isn‘t that long. 2-3 hours I think." I suggested and looked around the table, all eyes on me now.
"Where exactly in Spain?" Mattheo asks me, sitting right next to me on a second couch, throwing a pit at Draco again. " Alicante is a great vacation spot. Lots of palms, beach, great fruits and sun. You guys will love it." I smile, already looking for flights for the next days.
"Sounds fine to me." Enzo shrugs, smiling up at me while the rest of our group joins in with "great idea" and some "let‘s do this".
2 days later
" Oh my god its beautiful! " Pansy says, stunned at the apartment I booked for us. "Wow, what a view. You really did a great job y/n." Blaise agrees.
The apartment has indeed a beautiful view, you can see the ocean right in front of us even tho it‘s night, you could see it because of all the lights from the little shops and restaurants along the ocean.
"Soo I booked this apartment with the balcony, 3 bathrooms which should be enough for us and 5 bedrooms. Pansy and Draco will share due obvious reasons." I started looking at them. "Also a kitchen so we can.. i din‘t know, have breakfast or have some snacks if everything is closed at night. And this big fat living room we‘re standing in."
" Blaise is right, you really did a great job at that." Mattheo grins, standing right next to me and looking around the living room.
We all settled in and unpacked our things. Pansy and I marked the biggest bathroom with our makeup and skincare stuff so the boys directly knew its our territory.
"Hey guys Theodore and I are going to a store, getting some groceries." Enzo shouted trough the apartment before walking outside the door with Theo.
"Pansy and me are showering!" I shouted so they‘d know what we‘re up to.
Mattheo and Draco looked at each other, before storming off the couch and sprinting to our bathroom only to realise the door was already locked. "Ugh."
I laughed at them together with Pansy as I shook my head. I took off my makeup as Pansy already got in the shower. "Mattheo is so smitten by you it‘s obvious." She laughs, shampooing her hair.
"You know we‘re just friends, Pansy." I say, cheekly smiling. Mattheo and I are best friends since first grade. All of us got friends real quick. Mattheo and Draco knew each other because the Malfoy‘s raised him for Voldemort. Pansy got a crush on Draco and didn‘t leave his side. Pansy and I had to share a dorm in Hogwarts which made us best friends too really fast. I met Enzo at my first class as he was my partner for the whole year. Blaise met Draco in the common room as they battled for the coolest broom. That‘s how we kind of found our way to each other and I wouldn‘t want to change it for a second.
"Yeah but he looks at you different as he looks at me for example." she answers. "Yeah because you‘re with Draco and he would chop Mattheo‘s dick off!" I laugh before joining her in the shower.
"No y/n, because he likes you a little more than just friends do. And hey I‘m not saying he loves you but all I‘m saying is that there is a little spark between the two of you."
Mattheo and I liked to flirt with each other a lot but we never really did something about it because we‘re just friends. And we just like to flirt for fun. Thats it. I think..
As we were ready we put on some clothes and walked outside the bathroom, our hair still wet from the shower. Pansy sat next to Draco, putting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. I had to smile at them, they always made me smile no matter what they did. Draco always acted cold towards eveyone around him, besides from his friends of course, we are like family. But he acted really warm around her which made me happy for both of them.
I sat down between Blaise and Mattheo, making myself comfortable laying my legs over Blaise his lap and my head on Mattheo‘s tigh. "Why am I always getting your girls legs?" Blaise complains with a little smile on his face. "Oh shut up you love my legs." I say winking at him which just made him laugh and shaking his head.
A few seconds later I felt a hand in my hair, massaging my scalp which made me purr a little. "Like that?" Mattheo asks, grinning down at me. "You know I do, Matty." I sigh, closing my eyes and enjoying his touch. "Your hair smells really good when it‘s wet. What is it, peach?" he asks me and lowers his head a little bit to my hair. " Oh so my hair only smells good when it‘s wet? But yes, it is peach indeed." Mattheo chuckles at my answer. "No it always smells great. It just smells more intense when it‘s wet."
Suddenly I heard a gagging noice which made me lift my head and see Blaise fake gagging. "Can you two take a room?"
"You‘re just jelous because you‘re alone." Draco snickers from the side, stroking Pansy‘s back. I laugh at his comment before I get a death glare from Blaise.
We all get interrupted by our phone‘s ringing. I take mine out if my pocket just like the rest did and saw a notification from our group chat. Yes, I made them get a phone a year ago but they all only used it between the holidays. Never in Hogwarts. But I did and I also made everyone of them an instagram account a while ago but Theo, he only joined this week.
Theodore: Yo guys we‘re on our way with all the groceries get ready for some drinks! And aye y/n this app you showed me is fuuuull of hot girl why didn‘t you show me sooner dude! *picture attached*
I laugh at his message just like the others do and answer him.
Y/N: I told you but you didn‘t want to join! 😤 I‘m getting the glasses 👀
As i send the message i stand up and walk towards the kitchen to get some glasses and shot glasses. "I‘m gonna help." Mattheo speaks as he stands up from his spot and follows me.
As I grab some glasses from a shelf above me, I feel his presence behind me. "Are you smelling my hair again?" "Yeah it‘s kind of addicting." He admits and kisses the top of my head before he grabs some glasses too and brings them back to the living room and sets them on the table in front of the couch.
I turn on the tv and switched to netflix putting on some random show for some background noises. Just in time Theo and Enzo came trough the door with bags full of alcohol and some food. "Hey guys, just put it on the table, glasses are ready."
"Yo Y/n we got something for you." "What is it?" I wondered as Theo pulled out a big bowl of fruits, handing them over to me with the words "here principessa, you talked the whole fucking flight about the food and especially the fruits here."
"Oh thank you thank you!" I hugged them both tightly and opened the bowl exited to eat some fruits right away. As the first piece of melon hit my tounge I moaned dramatic, sitting back down on the couch. "Ugh I love it so much. Here guys, try some fruits."
They all laughed at my behavior and took some fruits out if the bowl. "Wow these are really good." Blaise nodded, eating a piece of pineapple.
I took out a strawberry and put it to the half into my mouth, slightly sucking on it as I looked over to Mattheo, holding the bowl out to him as he was the only one who didn‘t take some.
He sat down to my left and took the other half of my strawberry, eating it while looking into my eyes. My cheeks flushed a light color of pink and I had to look away which made him smile.
"Come on guys let‘s drink something." Draco says standing up and taking the first bottle, looking towards me. "What‘s that? Jim Bean. There‘s an green apple on it, does it taste like that?"
"Uh- a little bit, it‘s strong alcohol like firewhiskey but with a hint of green apple." i tell him.
"Sounds fire." he says and pours something into our glasses, mixing it with Coke. We all took one, cheered and took our first sip. "And? You like it?“ i ask Draco with a smug face on my face. "Yeah i like this muggle stuff more and more." We all laugh at that and continue drinking and chatting, also planning a little bit what we‘re gonna do the next few days.
A few hours later we are all drunk, sitting on the couch and on the floor, but all around the table, playing uno. It was only Pansy against Blaise, the rest of us already lost. Blaise lay‘s down a wish card, seeing Pansy has only left 1 card. He thinks for a sec and says "blue" before Pansy springs up happy and dancing, throwing her blue card on the table. " Uno! ha!" Blaise groans in annoyance and lets himself fall back onto the couch.
"Let‘s play something more interesting guys!" Pansy suggests." Somethink like.. never have I ever or.. truth or dare!"
"Truth or Dare!" I giggle, taking an empty bottle from the ground. " I have a perfect app for this guys! It‘s called piccolo." I took out my phone and put all of our names into it so it could give us our first quest.
Draco and Enzo tell us about your most embarrassing story ever.
We all look at them, waiting for them to tell. Enzo tells us how his pants ripped at a date and Draco claims nothing embarrassing has ever happened to him but Pansy tells us how he sneezed into her face at the first dinner with her parents.
Theodore, choose someone‘s glass at the table and drink it all.
Theo groans and try‘s to take the glass with the least drink in it and chooses Mattheo‘s who has a little less in it then mine.
Mattheo, fill up your glass again.
Now Mattheo‘s the one who groans and does as the phone tells him to.
Y/n, choose your left or right for a at least 10 second kiss.
My eyes widen as I look to my left and see Mattheo grinning and to my right Pansy. "Sorry Mattheo." I giggle as i turn to my right and look at Pansy. She has to giggle too and comes near my face.
"Damn boys am I dreaming or are you seeing the same thing I do?" Theodore asks as he gawks at us.
"Shut up and be quiet!" Draco hisses and looks at us too. "Let‘s give them a show." Pansy giggles and pulls me closer. Our lips meet and I can‘t help but smile against her lips.
"Shit.." i hear Enzo whispering. She giggled against my lips as she hears him too and as the 10 seconds are up we seperate and look around us. They all look at us with big eyes and drooling mouths. "God what is it with boys that they find it so hot when teo girls are making out." Pansy asks.
As I lean back into my spot, Mattheo leans right next to me, his lips beside my ear as he whispers inside it "i don‘t know if i should be jelous or lucky to see something like that." My cheeks heat up again but I try to hide it with rolling my eyes and answering " you‘re a little pervert, mattheo." But I still have to laugh.
"And they‘re gone." I hear Blaise saying, which makes me look at them again to see the last bit of Draco and Pansy before they leave the living room and stumble kissing inside of their shared room.
I shake my head chuckling, Theo shouting "Use condoms my kids!"
Enzo, choose someone to drink against you, loser has to do the cleaning.
Enzo looks around the room and grins at me. "Oh my god why.." i half laugh and half whine as I take my glass and start drinking as fast as I can but Enzo is way faster and smashes his glass back down onto the table it almost broke. "Ha! yes!" Enzo celebrates.
Theodore, choose someone in this round and give them an interesting task.
Theo thinks for a moment before his lips curl up into a devilish smile. "Y/n.. " he starts "choose someone of us to give a lapdance to."
My face heats up at his words and my mind starts to think who to choose as I stand up to walk over to Theodore, but a pair of hands grip my hips and pull me into their matching lap. "Don‘t you dare pick someone else than me little peach." mattheo‘s deep voice echoes in my ear.
I look over to Blaise and tell him to put on a song for me. "Damn she really is gonna give him one." Enzo chuckles as he watches me standing up again in front of Mattheo.
Blaise puts on a song which comes out of the music boxes beside us.
I take a deep breath in and out, hoping not to embarrass myself in my drunken state.
I take his hand and leat him to an empty arm chair besides the couch.
I start slowly circling the chair, my finger gazing his shoulder and his chest as the music starts. When I stand behind him I grap his hair and softly pull on it so his head throws back. I arch my back and lower down a bit until i tease him with brushing my lips against the skin of his neck, making him shivers in his seat. I get back up and walk around the chair again, still touching his arm softly.
When I stand in front of him I put my foot on his chair between his spread legs, slowly tracing it with my own fingers. I know how much he loves me legs, he always told me. That was the real reason why Blaise always got the legs. Because I wanted to tease Mattheo.
I saw him gulping and his hands twitching as he trys not to touch my leg. I take my leg back to the ground and arch my back again, pushing his legs together and sitting on his lap in one smooth motion.
I hear the boys whistle at my move and I have to hide a smile. I slowly start to grind on his left tight, after a minute on his right but not with too much pressure, always just brushing and gazing touch.
I looked at Mattheo, him biting his lower lip and looking down at my hips grinding. I stand up again, turn around and bend over with an arched back, shaking my ass.
After that I took a few steps towards him but still with my back to him and sat down on his lap this time, leaning my back against him and slithering one arm around his neck so his head was at my shoulder. I started grinding my hips slowly but this time with more pressure. "And you wanted to do that on one of them?" Mattheo whispers in my ear, laying his hands on my moving hips.
Without answering him I stood up as the song was over. They all cheered and clapped their hands together which made me laugh and blush. I sat back down on the couch looking over to Mattheo who stood up, his hands hanging in front of his crotch.
He walked over to me, sitting beside me with a little frown to his face which made me gulp. "What‘s wrong?" I asked him quietly so the rest wouldnt hear, even tho they were already distracted by something new. "Nothing." he mumbled and looked at the still running tv. "Come on tell me, we‘re best friends. I can see somethings wrong."
Then he looks at me with sharp eyes, taking my hand and putting it on his lap. "Does this feel like nothing to you, y/n?" he asks with a low voice, my eyes going wide as I felt him hard in his pants, because of.. me?
Without even thinking I grabbed him trough his pants, making his eyes go wide. At first he looked at the boys, then at me. "Y/n.. " "Mattheo.."
Suddenly he grabs my shirt pulling me towards him and crashes his lips against mine. This time my eyes go wide as I feel his lips against mine. They feel soft and full, tasting like the apple whiskey we drank all night long. His hands roam over my body, feeling almost every inch of me.
I lick his bottom lip before I let him explore my mouth with his tounge. "Fuck you taste so fucking good." he breathes against my lips.
My hand is still on his lap, feeling almost paralyzed as i didn‘t move out of fear what would happen next If I continue. But I could feel how much harder he got from our little makeout session.
"Mattheo.. we have to stop." I whisper against his lips, my forehead against his. "But it feels so good.." "I know it does, but we will regret it If we don‘t stop, okay?" He groans and takes me by my hips, pulling me on top of him.
"Y/n, please. I beg you. Just make out a little more with me, I need this." he slurrs, obviously still as drunk as I am. That‘s why I blame my next decision on the alcohol.
My hands grab his shirt and I pull him even closer to me, brushing my lips against his. "Tomorrow we‘re normal friends again okay? Nothings going to be awkward or different, because we just make out a little.. like friends do, helping each other just to ease a little. Promise me." the words come out as a whisper and he nodds, agreeing to them. ".. I promise."
Desperately he closes the space between us, taking my lips in for a heated kiss again. My hands were on his hair, slightly pulling on some strands. "Do that again.." he groans. I pull again and a strangled moan leaves his lips making me shiver on him.
He arches his back a little, bucking his hips against mine. He shudders when my hips move back against his, still sitting on his lap.
"What are you even doing to me, Peach – huh?" I hear him say before he traces down an invisible path down my neck, leaving light and wet kissed.
– thats all I remember before waking up in my bed in the morning with my head hurting like hell. I groan and try to get up, wanting to take a shower. It sounds like the rest is still asleep so I walk into mine and Pansy‘s bathroom, taking off my clothes to get into the shower. With one last turn I see myself in the mirror, my eyes widen. What the fuck.
I had a hickey right between my breasts and one on my collorbone but it was really small and almost bot noticeable. Who was - shit Mattheo.
—
yoo 2 posts in less than 24h ?? Crazyy
this is going to be a mini series. 🫶🏻 inspired by my vacation 2 weeks ago to Barcelona 🇪🇸
my Masterlist
xoxo Sarah <3
#slytherin boys#slytherin squad#slytherin gang#slytherin boys x reader#theodore nott oneshot#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x reader#slytherin imagine#slytherin smut#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x y/n#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle#harry potter imagine#harry potter masterlist#pansy parkinson#pansy parkinson imagine#blaise zabini#lorenzo berkshire#draco malfoy#draco malfoy imagine
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hi hi! i’m sorry you’re day isn’t going well and i hope it gets better soon <333
and since you are taking requests….can you write price fucking his civilian wife on his desk in his office on base please and thank you <333
Love Buzz
Captain John Price x fem!reader
[“Love Buzz” by Nirvana]
[18+]
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• summary - price makes you ride his thigh then bends you over his desk lol.
• rating - 18+
• wordcount - 2.6k
• warnings - fem!reader, civilian!reader, unprotected piv, thigh-riding, praise, teasing, overstimulation, baby you're getting bent over the deskkkkk, soft dom!price, strong language
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
It wasn't rare that you'd visit your husband at work.
On the slower days, days where he was bound to his office by chains of paperwork, you'd spend time with him. You'd lounge in the couch in the corner of the room, sipping your tea that Gaz had made you, watching Price puff at his second cigar of the day as he worked through mountains of paperwork.
Other times, you'd sit in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk, his hat on your head, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Price take numerous phone calls from other military captains across the world.
Some days, you'd even stand behind him as he worked, using your hands and fingers to work the stiffness out of his shoulders. He'd groan and grumble as you worked the knots from his shoulders and back, almost forgetting about the documents he was meant to be signing.
But then, there were times when, for some unknown reason, you were inexplicably horny.
Like today.
You'd been in Price's office for hours, having been on base all day. You were becoming increasingly more restless— hell, you'd cleaned the entire barracks, done Gaz's laundry, sewn up a tear in one of Ghost's balaclava, and given Soap's mohawk a slight trim.
But there was just something keeping you restless.
You were ovulating, by the feel of it, because you were so fucking horny it wasn't even funny. Diagnosed with lack of your husbands dick [LMAO].
So now, the day getting later and later, you wiggled around in the chair in front of your husbands desk. He looked so good. So handsome where he sat doing his work. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing taut, muscular forearms; large hands lined with veins shuffled paper and tapped his pen against the desk; his shirt clinging to his broad chest, the dips of his soft muscles visible through the fabric.
You were salivating.
You groaned. "John."
He spared a glance up at you, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah?"
You pouted at him, shifting in your seat. You sat up straighter, your core beginning to ache. Squeezing your thighs together, you released a short breath.
"Are you almost done?" You asked, sounding more than a little breathless.
Price picked up his simmering cigar from his ashtray, placing it between his lips as his eyes flicked back down to the stack of paper in front of him. He exhaled around the cigar, eyes finding yours again, before he extracted his cigar from his mouth and twisted it between his thumb and index finger.
"Still got a bit to do, sorry, sweetheart," he said softly, taking another inhale from his cigar before placing it back in the ashtray. "Did you want to head home without me?"
You shook your head quickly, groaning again. "No, no."
He furrowed his brows. "Are... you okay, sweetheart?"
You whined, squeezing your thighs together. The smell of his cologne and cigar smoke was driving you insane. His voice, deep and melodic, stirred your insides up until you swore you could feel a heartbeat pulsing in your underwear.
"I'm..." You were embarrassed for some reason, your body warming beneath his soft gaze.
"You're...?" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. That made his muscles tighten beneath his shirt, his pecs pushed up beneath the fabric.
You chewed on your lip, suppressing an involuntary whine. "John. Don't do that."
Price looked at you, scanning your face with his soft eyes. A small, intrigued smile crept along his face, his lips quirking.
"Do what?" He smiled.
You groaned. "Stop being hot. I'm... Jesus Christ, I'm so horny."
He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges. He sat up in his chair, shrugging, looking at you without any sympathy as he grabbed his pen again and resumed his work.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I've got to get this done," he said. He didn't sound sorry at all. "You can wait, can't you?"
No.
No, you couldn't.
You whined, rubbing your thighs together, watching your husband work. Your core was throbbing with need, and you'd no doubt be drenched if you had half the mind to put a hand beneath your jeans.
Oh. That's not a bad idea.
With a frustrated sigh, you got up, crossing the office and locking the door. You then returned to your chair, your husband ignoring you. Then, you popped the button of your jeans and unzipped the zipper— the sound making Price snap his eyes up from his paperwork to look at you.
Before you could dip a hand into your jeans:
"Don't." He whispered darkly.
You huffed, frowning at him. "Well if you're not going to do it, John..." You trailed off, sliding your hand into the front of your jeans, your fingertips grazing past the waistband of your underwear.
Price watched you for a split second before making his decision. Before your fingers even brushed past the mound of your pubic bone, Price stopped you with a sigh.
"Come here."
Excitably, you did— hopping out of your chair and hurrying towards him. He shuffled his chair back slightly so you could crawl into his lap, straddling one of his thick thighs. Immediately, the pressure against your core through both his and your denim was much needed. You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck.
You kissed him, and the kiss was slow and gentle. One of his hands rested on the desk behind you, the other settling on your hip. You licked past the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss with a satisfied sigh while his hand gripped your hip tightly.
Then, he began rocking you. He rocked you down against the thick muscle of his thigh, gently at first. You broke the kiss, panting into his mouth as he rubbed you against him. You whimpered softly, and he shushed you, pulling you down rougher and harder against him.
"I need to finish my work," he told you in a whisper. "So while I finish up, you can be a good girl and rub that pretty cunt on my thigh, but m'not gonna give you what you want 'til I'm done."
Your mouth dropped open in confusion as he shuffled the chair a bit closer to his desk so he could grab hold of his pen and resume his paperwork. He still had his left hand on your hip, but you could feel the movement of writing behind you, hearing the pen scratching against the paper.
"John, baby—"
"Get yourself off on my thigh since you're so desperate, sweetheart," Price told you. "Go on."
With a light pout, you began rocking yourself against the solid form of his thigh. Immediately, the throbbing in your core eased, replaced instead by the buzz of pleasure spreading through your lower stomach. The seam of your jeans added friction to your clit as you moved your hips back and forth, gladly— as Price put it— getting yourself off.
You struggled to maintain an appropriate volume, worried that if you moaned too loud that he'd make you stop. So you chewed on your bottom lip to stifle the mewls and whimpers falling across your tongue. You closed your eyes at the feeling, moaning lowly in the back of your throat, sliding your clothed core against him.
Price continued his work, ignoring the soft sounds that dropped from your lips and into his ear. You were warm against his thigh. He could feel how aroused you were, even through your jeans and his. He was going increasingly harder, his cock straining an uncomfortable tent in the front of his jeans.
Your legs were beginning to tremble as you worked yourself against Price's thigh, your clit swollen and puffy within your underwear, your cunt slick and dampening the fabric. Your movements picked up as you clutched at his shoulders, mewling desperately as you hurtled closer and closer to a much awaited climax.
Price was almost done completing the last sheet of paperwork for the evening. He could feel your body growing tighter and tighter against him as he began signing off the report.
"John..." You whispered, voice sultry and dripping with unadulterated pleasure.
He restricted a groan, cock throbbing.
"I want you to come on my thigh, sweetheart. You can do that, can't you?" Price whispered, the movement of your hips speeding up as you chased release.
You moaned loudly, not bothering to stifle your sounds. The pressure in your lower tummy built heavier and heavier until it released, and you moaned again— his name— as you came while riding his thigh. You sobbed out, hole spasming around nothing, slick pooling in your underwear, warm against your slit and making your face heat up. You buried your face in his shoulder, breathing hard.
Your body trembled against Price's as you came down from your high. Price noticed this, and began moving you again. Gripping your hip tight, he began the same movements that he had done all those minutes ago, forcing you to rock your clothed cunt against his thigh. You sobbed out a moan into the crook of his neck as he signed his name on the final document, then cast his pen aside.
Price held both of your hips now, rubbing you against his thigh faster than you had done. You sobbed out again, overstimulation smacking you across the face as he dragged your sensitive slit up and down the solid expanse of his thigh.
"This is what you wanted, eh, sweetheart? Just so needy that you needed to rub yourself on my thigh, eh?" Price mused, dragging you heavier and faster, making your breath stutter and your stomach flip.
"John—" You moaned, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his neck.
"I want you to come one more time on my thigh like the needy girl you are, then I'll give you what you want."
You felt hot and sticky with sweat. Your heart was beating out of your chest as the buzzing pressure of overstimulation turned into newfound pleasure, and your second orgasm began building in the base of your tummy. You keened, arching your back, your chest flush with his as he pulled and pushed your hips along his leg.
You were thoroughly fucked out and he hadn't even fucked you yet.
Brain muddled, post-orgasmic thoughts fizzling away to make room for another, you muttered out a strained: "Captain."
You knew he was smiling like a fucking idiot.
"Come on, sweetheart, come on your captain's thigh," he whispered in your ear. "Be a good girl for your captain, come on."
Body shaking, you came across his thigh for the second time. You moaned his rank, and it made him groan, as you trembled down from your release. Your underwear was sticky against your core, and you'd be surprised if the seam of your jeans didn't have a wet patch.
Price wasted no time in standing you up, placing your backside on his desk while he got up. He ripped your jeans down your legs, discarding them hurriedly along with your shoes. Then, he spread your legs, and your whole body was warming up as his eyes locked onto your underwear.
"Just look at you," he mused, running a finger up your clothed slit. Your underwear was drenched. You whined as he pressed against your swollen clit through your underwear, before dragging his finger back down. "Soaked. Absolutely soaked."
Gently, he pulled your underwear down your legs, his eyes fixed on your cunt, shining with your two releases. He groaned, eyelids lowering further.
"Such a needy, needy girl for your captain," Price tutted, then he finally looked up to you. "You want me to take care of you, yeah?" He got to his feet, putting his hands on your hips again and leaning in close. "You want me to fill this needy cunt with my cock, do you?"
Two of his fingers eased into your cunt, and you choked on a gasp. He smiled at your facial expression, fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt quick enough that his office filled with lewd, wet squelches.
He chuckled softly under his breath. "Just listen. Poor baby just couldn't wait until we got home. Just so desperate for her husband's cock."
"Captain," you whined pathetically, shifting your hips to meet the movements of his fingers, trying to take him deeper. "Need you... please, fuck. I need you."
He grunted, curling his fingers inside you. "Just... be patient."
You whined loudly, impatiently, clawing at his back, fingernails dragging down the smooth planes of his shoulder muscles. "Please, Captain, please, I need you, I need—"
Price removed his fingers abruptly and pulled you off the desk. You yelped as, with one hand, he turned you around and bent you over the sleek wooden surface. At the same time, with his other hand, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, pulling his hard cock out of the confines of his denim.
"You need," he muttered, cock bobbing against his abdomen as he kicked your legs apart and placed a hand to your lower back, making you arch for him. "You're just so needy all the fuckin' time."
You felt the warm head of his cock at your soaked core, and only had enough time to suck in a sharp breath before he was spearing you on it. You moaned loudly as he entered you in one fluid motion, the sound wet and pornographic, his balls slapping heavily against the curve of your arse as he bottomed out.
He groaned through gritted teeth when he pulled out and roughly slammed back into you, setting a pace with his hands holding your hips in place.
You moaned wantonly into the surface of his desk, eyes on the verge of rolling as the tip of his cock slammed into the spot within you that made you sob in pleasure. You had been begging for this, and he was giving it to you.
His fat cock stretched you open repeatedly, notching at the plug of your womb. You were wet and warm and tight around him, pulling grunt after grunt from his chest as his own pleasure built. It never took him long to come when it came to you. Just look at you.
"This what you wanted?" He grunted, fucking his cock deeper into you, hips slapping against your arse. "You wanted your captain's cock, yeah? You wanted it?"
"Yes—!" You moaned.
"Then fucking take it."
You moaned again as his thrusts became rougher, your body rocking against his desk. Your legs trembled violently as your third orgasm built quickly— so quickly that your cunt began squeezing Price's cock, milking him for all he's worth.
He groaned, cursing.
"I can fucking feel you, sweetheart," he groaned. "Come for me. Come round your captain's cock like a good girl... that's it, good fucking girl."
You came for a third time, and you swore you saw stars. You gushed around him, your arousal dribbling down your thighs as he rutted into you, fucking you through your orgasm.
He wasn't far behind, grunting and groaning and slamming into you like his own personal fleshlight.
"Needy fucking girl... my needy fucking girl... yeah, my good girl. M'gonna come... m'gonna..." he wasn't talking to you, but more to himself, before he moaned your name and came deep inside you.
He continued thrusting for a long moment, before he stilled with a shuddering breath, plugging his seed inside you. Then, he was draping himself over your back, kissing along your shoulder over the material of your shirt.
"I love you." He whispered.
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ended it here cause i'm lazyyyyyyyyyyy
oh and sorry for the lack of work recently
#captainfern#captainfernsalutes#captain john price#call of duty#call of duty mw2#captain price#captain price smut#captain john price x you#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#price smut#price call of duty#captain john price x female reader#fem reader#captain'snirvana
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Lake flavored | e.w.
read this or DNI
an: first long thing I write after a small hiatus, forgive me if it sucks, enjoy the smut at least, I have a hard time writing it every time lolll
Warnings: fingering and oral, e! receiving. sub e! babe/baby. very short
You were exhausted, covered in sweat, out of breath and desperate for some water. Ellie was enjoying this though, going on a walk trough the woods and ending hiking, she loved doing this type of activities with you.
And as much as you loved her you really needed a brake, you were exhausted of both the physical struggle of this whole thing and the mental struggle of not being an ass towards Ellie who wouldn’t shut up. It’s not like she’s the reason you’re getting annoyed, well, not directly.
“I really need to rest El, can’t even breathe anymore” your hands rested on your knees, trying to hold yourself. You felt dizzy even, and the sore throat wasn’t helping at all. “C’mon I promise we’re almost there, yeah?”
Right, she’d come before and wanted to show so something, she had a special plan for you today, that’s why you’ve been walking nonstop for hours.
“What’s so special” you groaned, rolling your eyes and taking one last deep breath before holding the hand she’d just extended to you, hoping it’ll help you, it did. “Just keep walking, we’re almost there”
You obeyed, holding her hand for the rest of the hike to wherever she was leading you. The only sound being heard was both of your steps on the dirt and grass combined. The cold breeze that kept on growing as night arrived helped you as well to both, relax and actually enjoy the trip.
She slowed her peace, ranting a bit about how she wanted to see the landscape before it get darker and how you were gonna ruin everything by being so lazy. That until you walked in front of her, shutting her very pretty but annoying voice by pressing your lips on hers.
She groaned, putting a bit of force at the begging but eventually getting tender. You could feel her hands slowly roam over your lower back, pressing the sides of your waist with her palms.
“Why’d you stop?” she asked in a lower tone, almost too quiet for her. It made you smile, seeing her sheepish smile, her pretty eyes suddenly changing from her usual half-leaded kind to one’s more gentle. “Because you wanna show me something, I just needed you to shut up for a while” Ellie rolled her eyes at you, letting go of you and grabbing your hands instead.
She leaded you to a place surrounded by some small mountains, you couldn’t catch the magic on whatever she was showing you but if she felt excited then so you did.
“Here, take a look” you stepped closer to where she was, widening your eyes almost unconsciously at the sight of a lake, everything about the place and the moment, and Ellie of course, it all made it look so inviting.
So that’s how you ended with your legs around her body, holding her in place as your lips danced with her, tongues meeting and hands pulling each other’s bodies closer if possible.
It started slow and sweet but in such place, with such ambience, all alone, it was torture not to take the chance.
And hearing her whimpers in between kisses, knowing how wet she already was by just pressing your lips on hers. It made you crave this even more.
The way her hands traveled up and down your back, eventually stopping at the back of your neck to bring you closer. How her fingers ran trough your bare skin in a desperate attempt to finally touch you as she much needed to. It made you weak, it made you as desperate as her.
“Please, babe… please” her mumbling voice was heard when you had to break the kiss to breathe, it elicited a mocking smile on your face almost immediately. Your hands traveled to her face, caressing her checks with your fingers as you slowly left a trail of open mouthed kisses around her temple, down her jawline and then to her neck.
You could feel her legs clenching underneath you, kicking your core with her knee whenever she felt too desperate.
Your hands moved down her body, accompanying your lips, trailing a small rute with your fingers down her skin, feeling her stomach, teasing her nipples whenever you took your time kissing her.
“Just fuck me already” she begged, and god it sounded so pretty, her voice suddenly so shaky and high, desperate for your touch. You couldn’t make her wait anymore, it’s the least she deserved for taking you to such place.
“I will baby, just lemme take my time with you, yeah?” you replied with the sweetest voice ever, trying to comfort her while you savored everything about her “wanna make you feel good” in a way to prove it you finally unbuttoned her jeans, getting rid of any piece of clothing that could intervene and interrupt your act of thankfulness for her.
Her pretty mumbles and whines kept being heard, desperate. And it only got more persistent the moment your fingers finally rubbed her aching clit. You took your time with it, rubbing it gently at first, leaving more kisses on her stomach.
Her hand moved to the back of your head, trying to push you closer, to speak trough her actions and let you know she needed more.
“I know baby” you spoke, kissing down her stomach until you got to her cunt, kissing her bud in soft kisses. Her grip for tighter, not painful but desperate. You opened your mouth, not fully embracing her clit and playing with it with your mouth, lapping over it.
“Fuck” Ellie groaned, you could see from the corner of your eye how her free hand turned into a tighter and tighter at your every move. You hated to look her so unpleased.
So your tongue moved faster, not enough to fully satisfy her cravings but enough to relax her, to make her focus on the pleasure more than the pain and emptiness she felt.
“Taste so good babe, so so good” your voice couldn’t sound more prettier, for her it was as pleasant as the way your tongue danced on her clit, as your fingers playing with her nipples or pressing the sides of her thighs to keep her legs apart.
You teased her arousal with your tongue, licking her juices off as your nose pressed on her clit. She tasted so delicious every time, she felt so beautifully perfect, and the way her body would react to your touch made you weak. Her pretty voice begging for more, her eyebrows practically pressing together, her eyes shuttering and flickering whenever she tried to look back at you. You adored all that, it made you feel as if you could come just by looking at her.
“Lemme feel you El, yeah?” your fingers ran down her body, gently introducing two fingers inside her core. You felt her clench around you, under your tongue that kept playing and leaving kisses on her clit.
Her legs closed around you, opening whenever you went too deep or tried to take your fingers away. Whenever you stopped or did too much.
Every time your fingers plumped you could feel your hand covering in her juices, almost fully covered in wet. Your face had a similar case going on, with a mix of saliva and her flavor covering your lips, so gracefully.
You shifted your eyes to look at her, admiring her front stands of hair, now loose from her usual hairstyle, the way her hair was all messy and how it sticked to her face covered In sweat. Noticing how her back arched, how her eyes could barely keep open and how her mouth could barely keep shut, quiet.
A small chain of huh’s fell from her lips, at the same speed your fingers plumped in and out of her for what it skimmed the last few times. Your tongue lapped her clit, un and down her folds, collecting all of her.
She could barely form a sentence so you caressed her thighs with your free hand, letting her know you understood what she needed and how she felt. “so good El, so good f’ me baby”
#ren masterlist ᵎᵎ ִ ۫ ּ ⊹#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams tlou2#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x fem!reader#ellie fanfic#ellie fic#ellie wiliams#ellie x reader#ellie smut#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie x fem reader#ellie x you#ellie x y/n
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hc: acotar boys + s/o with illyrian wings
↳ including rhysand, cassian, azriel, lucien, and tamlin.
↳ some mentions of nsfw content but majority sfw, does not go into detail.
a/n: i have not read the entirety of the series nor have i wrote for acotar before. but this was stuck in my mind and i just had to see it through. enjoy, dears ❀
rhysand:
-adores taking leisurely flights with you across the night court lands, velaris, you name it and you're going. on days where you both need to get away and find some peace, you would fly away to some peak of a mountain or to a wide open field of flowers. smiles at you the whole time you glide easily next to him.
-definitely compares wing spans all the time. "no, i swear mine are bigger! look!" as he's straining and stretching the tips of them out to elongate his wingspan. you laugh and play along because you know that yours are without a doubt bigger but you'll let him win this time.
-his already large bed expands when you sleep in it together, ensuring that your wings rest on the sheets comfortably. he knows how annoying it is to tuck them in tightly or let them droop off the ends.
-if you've had a bad day, he'll ask for your permission before massaging the spots of skin surrounding your wings before gently running his hands along them, sending shivers down your spine. sometimes this will lead to more as his apt hands cause you to whimper but if it has been a particularly rough day, he is content to give you physical comfort and nothing more.
-feels incredibly proud to have you. while he hates entering the court of nightmares and putting on his persona, he secretly loves walking in to the city with you as his partner, wings fiercely on display.
-and just for some small self-indulgence, i think rhys loves wing play. when the two of you are close in bed, passionate and sweaty, he loves running his hands along your wings and he flares his out so you can do the same to him. he just can't help groaning at your reaction. enough said (i am so perfectly normal about this)
cassian:
-races with you in the air. some days he is just bounding with energy and adrenaline and nothing helps him more than leaping off of the balcony of your townhouse and soaring high in the air, dodging one another, doing tricks, etc. while rhys loves peaceful flights with you, cassian is the exact opposite.
-if you ever feel insecure about your wings, he'll encourage you to be confident about them and let them out. he may notice that a party, you get insecure about taking up so much space and you try to tuck your wings in as close as possible, placing yourself in corners. he'll come to your side, spread his wings out and tap your back to tell you to do the same. "don't feel bad about them, sweets. you look glorious."
-your sleep habits are definitely...interesting. two people in one bed with enormous wings sprouting from the backs? yeah, it's a little hard to maneuver. but you manage and usually, in the morning, you end up sprawled on the bed, limbs tangled, hair in faces, pillows off the bed, but rested and comfortable nonetheless.
-cassian loves being a tease and throughout the day, anytime he sees you, he'll sneak on you and run a finger down the most sensitive part of your wings, causing reactions that make those around you just slightly uncomfortable. he laughs and giggles and you don't stay mad at him for long.
-he would find it really attractive if your wings were bigger than his or if you could take him down in a fight. he's spent his life being a fearsome warrior, stronger than everyone, and if his partner can spread their wings and tackle him to the ground, he'll be so excited.
-you know that scene in good omens where aziraphale covers crowley's head with his wing? yeah, cassian does that. if you're walking anywhere and it starts raining, snowing, etc. he will gladly place his wing over top of your head to keep you from getting wet. you appreciate it more than anything.
azriel:
-i like to headcanon azriel as being a little fancy and bougie. he definitely has piles of oils, lotions, and skin care products for his wings that he will share with you. he likes keeping them shiny, moisturized, and clean. more often than not, he'll have you sit down in the bathroom while he does a mini skincare routine for your wings alone. you love it and look forward to it every night.
-azriel's wings are canonically the largest of the bat boys and i think he feels a secret sense of pride about this. no matter how good of a warrior cassian is or how good of a leader rhysand is, he holds that over them and this reflects in your relationship. he doesn't feel threatened by them, both because he trusts them and because he knows your affinity for his wings.
-oh my god...his shadows dance all over your wings when you're together. they tickle and give you goosebumps along every part of your body. azriel pretends to rein them in but he loves seeing you giggle at the feeling and sometimes sends his shadows out to run along your wings when you need to cheer up.
-if anyone ever hurt your wings or damaged them in any way, he'd see red and nothing else. he knows how much wings matter to an illyrian and if you come home from a battle with your wings bleeding, ripped, or scarred, he'd immediately find them and make them wish they didn't do such a thing to you.
-when crowds and people and senses become too much for either of you, you'll slip off to some secluded place, usually your home, and wrap each other in your wings, enveloping you in darkness and quiet. it's a great remedy for headaches or overstimulation. in general, i think azriel hugs with his wings. his arms will be wrapped tight around your body and his wings will encase you as much as they can.
-some more self indulgence here...i think azriel isn't as fond of his wings being used in the bedroom but as for yours...shew. you know how his shadows like to play with your wings? he revels in your sounds, gasps, and surprise at the feeling of your most sensitive spot being touched so delicately.
lucien:
-lucien has always been fascinated with illyrian wings. i think he'd ask you so many questions about them, about how they feel, how it feels to fly, etc. he'd very politely ask for your permission before grazing them with his hands, taking in the beauty of them.
-he always wanted to fly like the illyrian warriors he was familiar with but he never asked you out of embarrassment. the first time he flew with you was out of pure need as you escaped from some kind of danger together. he couldn't get away fast enough so without thinking, you picked him up and soared into the sky with him. after that moment, he looks for any chance to fly with you.
-lucien is a fast learner when it comes to learning how to care for your wings. he picks up on the spots that ache the most and pays special attention to those after long days. he speaks to cassian and azriel about caring for them, and he takes their advice to heart, buying whatever he needs.
-sometimes, he feels insecure and wonders if you'd prefer to be with someone who can match your skill set and keep up with you better. you shut down those thoughts as soon as they come up and make some joke that illyrians are a cocky breed and that you'd much prefer to be with him. you even offer to train him in some illyrian fighting techniques which he quickly takes you up on.
-if someone stares at your wings while you're at some kind of spring court high society function, he'd shoot them an evil glare which is particularly intimidating. he reassures you that there is no need to hide the beauty of your wings and that he'd deal with anyone who says something bad about them.
-lucien can't help but blush when you casually use your wings to help him throughout the day. if he shivers at a draft blowing through open windows, your wing will find a spot behind him to block the cool air. you will block the bright sun when you're walking together, barely caring about the intense warmth. if you're fighting together, your wing blocks hits and acts as a barrier between him and an enemy. when he questions himself, he thinks about those small moments that show your love and smiles.
tamlin:
-i think that tam can feel a little threatened sometimes by your wings and skills as a warrior. he places a lot of importance in his position as a protector and it takes him some time to get used to having a partner that can defend themselves. once he does, though, you two are practically an unstoppable force.
-he tries to act very nonchalant about your wings out of fear of offending you by staring at them or touching them. the first time you catch him looking at them in the sunlight, you smile and tell him that you'd never be offended by him admiring them. after that, he's constantly raking his eyes along your wingspan, creating poetic lines in his head about how the stars reflect on the silky black skin.
-tam is possessive by nature and if he sees someone complimenting them or, gods forbid, touch them, he couldn't hold back the claws emerging. he knows very well that you will stand your ground but nobody touches his partner like that and he will let them know very quickly.
-he will never really admit it but he loves seeing you in the light, pastel colors of the spring court, especially when they contrast so heavily with the dark wings on your back. he thinks one of his favorite views is you laid out in the rose garden, soaking in the sunshine with your wings laid out entirely on the ground. his love for you swells and he wishes he had a camera to keep the view preserved forever.
-he loves to spoil you with the best wing care you've ever seen. i'm talking expensive oil infused with gold that creates the most beautiful sparkle along the wings. i'm talking handmade soap sourced from velaris that smells divine which he uses while you take a bath together. he thrives when he gets to spoil you like this.
-his first calanmai after you became partners is an entire story in itself. even while ferociously charged with power, he asks for your permission to touch your wings while in the heat of things. his delicate hands are so different from the rest of the way he's taking you and he draws sounds from you that bounce off the cave walls and echo for likely miles.
i hope you enjoy this! i really like writing headcanons so if you have any requests, please let me know! <3
#acotar#acotar series#acotar x reader#rhysand#rhysand x reader#cassian#cassian x reader#azriel#azriel x reader#lucien vanserra#lucien x reader#tamlin#tamlin x reader#acotar headcanon#headcanon#wings#fluff
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