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taintandviolent · 6 months ago

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Tangled ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: One lazy summer day, Eddie discovers something new about you when his rings get tangled in your hair.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, established relationship, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), light praise, no use of y/n, hair pulling kink, soft dom Eddie if you squint, fingering, p in v, doggy style.

a/n: this was an anon request! I hope you enjoy, wherever you are! divider by @/strangergraphics!!

fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It started out innocently. Really. It did.

A warm, summer breeze drifts through the trailer. The two of you sit on his mattress, sheets strewn about, and your bodies snuggled together like the lovebirds you are. Wayne’s out of town, so you’ve been spending as many nights at his house as you can, sleeping in his bed and waking up in his hot, bare arms. You wouldn’t trade that feeling for the world, if anyone offered.

Today, you’re lazily thumbing through a copy of Teen Beat. He’s sloppily sketching out ideas for his next campaign with his left hand, and absent-mindedly, the ringed fingers of his right hand play with strands of your hair, twirling them around his digits. A sudden pain erupts over your scalp, sending a bolt of electricity right to your core. Feeling sudden resistance, Eddie panics, pulling his hand away, which pulls your hair harder. He’s snagged a knot on one of his rings; specifically, the pig.

“Shit-shit-sorr–!”

As he yanks away, you tilt your head back to lean into him, a lewd, high-pitched moan falling from your mouth. So lewd, that Eddie freezes mid-pull, and looks at you, brows high on his forehead. You immediately clap your hand over your mouth, as if that could take it back.

“What… was that?”

“Ummm… I… it hurt.”

He smirks, his full pink lips spreading across his teeth. “That didn’t sound like it hurt, princess.”

In one strong movement, Eddie has you on top of him, straddling him. Like a serpent, his hand slowly slithers up your spine, to the nape of your neck and into your hair. He makes a fist in the soft tresses and tugs softly, not enough to hurt, but enough to elicit another reaction from you.. The reaction is similar; your eyes roll back in your head, and your thighs squeeze his as you try to clamp them together. A desperate little whining sound comes from your mouth, and Eddie, beneath you, is absolutely beaming.

“Someone likes their hair pulled, I see.” He has that dominant, theatric voice he uses in campaigns. Damn him.

You scramble, trying to defend yourself. “I do not! It's just… I was…”

“Uh-huh, you were uh-huh.” He teases and tugs again, a little bit harder than before. This time, you bite your lip, your hands finding and gripping his bare shoulders.

“Eddie, stop…!” You plead, though it sounds as fake as it feels. He’s too smart to believe that.

The look in his pretty, chocolatey brown eyes says everything; he’s not going to let up until you admit it. He grips your hair at the back of your skull, tugging it tight and pulling your head back slightly. Your jaw drops, your eyelids fluttering shut. Between your legs, you can already feel the telltale throbbing, the damp heat accumulating. His voice is low and lusty, something he knows is a weakness of yours. He could get you going just by talking, but when he uses that particular voice… you’re done for.

“Sweetheart, c’mon… look at you. You’re practically coming undone just like this. You know you don’t need to be shy around me…” He pulls again, and you whimper.

“Eddie….” you mewl, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. You feel his free hand tap your jaw a few times, bringing you back to him. He knows that you close your eyes to avoid dealing with things – another way you can’t weasel out.

“Ah-ah. Eyes on me, baby.”

You lock eyes with him, and your resolve crumbles. He’s giving you that look, the one that oozes mischief, playfulness and hunger, the one he gives you right before he pounces on you, tackling you to the bed.

You take a big breath, and say it all in one breath. “Okay, fine, that felt really good and it turned me on. Happy now?”

“Immeasurably.”

Eddie brings your body closer to him, guiding you right to his waiting lips. You’re glad you’re already on your knees, because the kiss that he plants on you is enough to bring you there if you weren’t. It’s loaded with a newfound hunger; he loves finding out things about you. Even though you two have been dating for a few months now, he always thinks you’re like a little puzzle box, spring loaded with secret compartments that hold more untold secrets. The hair pulling was one of them.

“Let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

He drums out a little rhythm on the fullness of your hips, urging you up off him. You flop over backwards onto the bed, onto your elbows, and watch him as he crawls on all fours towards you. As he does, he frees his swelling erection. Only clad in a pair of plaid boxers, he doesn’t have much to shed. Neither do you, for that matter, as you’re in a cute little nightgown and nothing else. Eddie pushes the satin up your thighs, revealing your glistening cunt.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart…. Look at this.” He runs a single finger along your slit, and your body shudders. “Such a mess.”

Though he doesn’t need any help getting himself hard, one hand wraps around his cock, pumping it slowly in and out of his fist as he gazes over your body. There’s something so… domestic about the way you’re looking at him, waiting for him to fuck you. He exhales through his nose, smiling, and leans forward to press a kiss to your bare stomach. His finger ghosts a path down your tummy, all the way to the soft mound between your legs. Gradually, he teases your entrance, spreading your arousal over your folds until you’re coated in it. He brings his thumb down over your clit and traces it in tight circles, pleasuring you until your thighs start to quiver – his favorite thing. Quivering like a scared little bunny in his hands… drives him crazy. You blindly reach for his forearm, feeling for the warm skin. God damn guitar players…. Their stupid nimble fingers….

“Turn around, pretty girl,” he hums.

You’re more than eager to complete his request, flipping over onto all fours. You lower yourself back down onto your elbows and in doing so, stick your ass up for him to admire. Tenderly, Eddie reaches forward to gather all your hair into a ponytail before giving it a firm tug. Your whole body spasms with pleasure; your cunt throbs and your back arches up into a tantalizing curve.

“Fuck,” Eddie grunts from behind you, lining the leaking, flushed tip of his cock up with your waiting slit. The head nudges your folds, twitching against them in anticipation. You brace yourself, taking fistfuls of the sheet below you. “Ready, baby?”

You nod against the mattress.

“Words, princess. We talked about this.”

“Mhm…. please fuck me, Eddie. I wanna’ feel you…”

That’s all he needs. He sinks himself inside of you, until his torso is pressed against the firm curve of your ass. The feeling of his cock is always enough to get you off – it always does. But when Eddie tightens his fist around your ponytail and yanks it hard, you let out a moan that is loud enough to rattle the trailer’s windows. He finds his rhythm easily, rutting his hips furiously against your ass and keeps a firm grip on your hair, almost using it as leverage to pull into you.

“Fuck, fuck… oh my god…. Oh my god, Eddie!!”

He pulls harder, and a melange of pain and pleasure erupts at the crown of your head – you swear you’re seeing stars at this point.

“You like that, baby? Huh?” Eddie asks, breathlessly.

“Yeaaaah…!” A pressure builds above your sopping cunt, feeling white hot. The room is filled with the sounds of skin against skin, and the wet, slick sounds of your cunt as Eddie buries himself inside you. The air is heavy with the scent of sex and you’re breathing it in deeply, each of your breaths laboured and loud.

“Fuck yeah, baby… oh fuck…”

Eddie thrusts hard, burying himself to the hilt and pulls back out, admiring the way your pussy clenches around him like it’s trying to pull him back in. His cock aches, you know it does, because the few seconds spent away from your cunt, you can hear him stroking himself, nudging your entrance with the cockhead. He’s trying not to come. He’s edging himself. Something he only did when he was really worked up.

“I’m gonna’... Eddie, I’m gonna’ come… fuck me.”

Wasting no time, Eddie sheaths himself back inside, and presses his stomach against your back, angling his lips next to your ear. He pulls hard on your hair, and you bend your neck back, screaming out in ecstasy. Hot, erotic tears prick the corners of your eyes as Eddie pulls, fucking into like his life depends on it. When he finally speaks, it’s a hissed whisper, and sends a chill down your spine.

“You like that, huh? My good girl likes her hair pulled, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, yes! GOD! YES!”

Your cunt clenches around him like a vice, warm and slick, as your orgasm washes over you. Eddie feels it – but he doesn’t stop thrusting. He chases his own orgasm, humping you feverishly, and in doing so, pulls another screaming two orgasms from you. He laughs breathily as his thrusts slow, hips rolling against the curve of your ass. You can hear the smile in his laugh, and collapse against the sheet.

“I learn something new about you every day, princess. Every damn day.”

#Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #myfics

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jinusajas · 2 months ago

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05/04/25; 10:25pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you are their favorite love interest ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

notes: i know that this has been done before, but this is just my own take on this fun thought, and i hope you readers give this a chance, too (⺣◡⺣)♡

when sylus first heard of this new game that was celebrating its day one launch, admittedly, the onychinus leader had zero interest in it-

that is, until a particular trailer was showcased introducing a rather enticing love interest-

you.

to say sylus was hooked would be a complete understatement. within seconds of your trailer’s release, sylus downloaded the game and got to work. he did not hold back when it came to his spendings, already adding in the details of his sleek black credit card before customizing his mc. after making his mc look as close to him as possible, he chooses you to be his partner while running through the main storyline.

thanks to his endless amount of wealth, he manages to obtain all of your five star cards that were available in game, maxing out all of your memory upgrades while unlocking all of your secret time audios in just a few week’s time. and despite how seductive and alluring you were during those intimate audios, sylus’s favorite card of yours happened to be one of the sweetest memories, with you taking a walk with his mc in the snow.

to say he was enamored with you would simply scratch the surface of his feelings for you, for this man was entirely devoted to you. the story of your life-

the trials and tribulations that you faced gave sylus the strength to continue on with his life. after a particular grueling day working as a leader of a conglomerate, he enjoys laying in bed while replaying his favorite memories with you before falling asleep with your audios playing in the background.

even though many would find his feelings for you, a mere fictional character, to be silly (and maybe a little cringey) sylus doesn’t give a damn-

for he will always bask in the feelings of peace you give him.

admittedly, zayne only downloaded this popular new game after his coworkers convinced him to. during his lunch breaks, he finds himself opening the app to go through the main storyline while being drawn to one of the main love interests-

you.

there was a subtle beauty that he could see from you, with your quiet yet headstrong nature making him crack a tiny smile while he read through the storyline. after finishing the main branch, zayne puts in some time (and some much needed funds) to obtain your five star memories.

yet perhaps what zayne enjoyed more than your memories were the quality time feature that the game had. he had managed to raise your affinity to the mid 50s level and enjoyed watching you study or work with him. even though he knew that you were a character made of pixels, zayne couldn’t help but let his fondness for you grow.

even as he was doing his own paperwork, zayne couldn’t help but sneak glances at you, only to feel his heart clench when you stare back at him with a sweet smile on your face. the cardiac surgeon would quickly look away from you, cheeks dyed a faint rosy hue as his lips were unconsciously tilted up in a smile that lasts.

being a bit of a passionate gamer in linkon, xavier was one of the few players that was able to play the game during its beta phase before the official launch date.

and the reason why he signed up to be one of the first couple of hundred players to test out this new game?

why, it’s because of you, of course!

xavier had come across your trailer during an announcement for your game, and he was completely hooked on your strength and overall aesthetic. when the developers announced that they would allow a handful of players to test out their game, xavier was the first to put his name on the list-

and by some stroke of luck, he manages to obtain your game roughly 6 months before its official release. despite having some minor hiccups with loading screens and a few glitches, xavier thoroughly enjoyed the game while playing through some chapters of the main storyline.

yet what the young hunter really excelled at was level grinding you, his favorite girl. he hates seeing you get hurt, so he will spend a decent amount of his money getting as many of your cards that he could (bonus points if he manages to obtain your myth pair!)

xavier would be the first to clear out any fighting stages with how powerful you are thanks to his careful dedication to you, and when xavier finds out he can keep his progress with you even after the game’s official release, he couldn’t be any happier-

because in xavier’s eyes, it was you and him against the world.

rafayel would be an obnoxious player, simply going through the motions of the main storyline to unlock certain outfits before showing you off with his own mc in hundreds of photo shoots.

being an artist at heart, when he first met your character in the game, rafayel had hearts in his eyes for you alone as he matches his mc’s aesthetic with your own. he loves going on dates with you, finding enjoyment in how you struggled to get the plushies he wanted at the claw machines, or how you would always pout at him when he beats you at kitty cards.

rafayel would also be dedicated to you, managing to get to devotion with you thanks to his own funding that he put in your game. the moment you shyly hand him a box with his engagement ring, the young artist would be over the moon!

he enjoys interacting with you, often teasing you by poking you through his phone’s screen. rafayel swears that he lives to see your cheeks puffed out in a pout while turning your back on him. just seeing all of your cute reactions makes rafayel grin like an absolute fool.

and truly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

caleb was a f2p player, but had the worst luck when it came to pulling for your cards. 99% of the times, he would pull a different love interest, or lose to a 50/50 to one of your five star memories that he really wanted.

however, him being a f2p player went down the drain when your springtime date banner was announced-

and he was hooked on your beauty and how gorgeously soft you looked in your sundress. due to how lovely you looked, caleb swore that he would do anything to obtain this precious memory. during his day off, he focused his entire attention on getting your banner, using his card to buy the needed pulls to obtain that precious memory.

shockingly enough, you came home to him just a mere thirty pulls later, with caleb nearly jumping for joy when he gets your card. not wasting another second, he plays the date while basking in your beautiful smile. during the memory, caleb couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of his mc-

because why was his mc able to touch and hold you, while caleb was left feeling like a third wheel?

but he digresses.

shoving down his unreasonable feelings of envy, he enjoys the tranquil kiss scene, his heart melting at the sight of you falling into his mc’s arms before pressing your lips against his.

with a stupid smile on his face, he finishes reading through the memory of your springtime date before spending the flowers he saved up to purchase the exact sundress you had worn during the date.

as he interacts with you, cooing at his phone’s screen about how pretty you were, caleb realized that you were worth every penny.

end notes: hehehe finally some more fluff from yours truly

(⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

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theetherealbloom · 7 months ago

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Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him.

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions.

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go.

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home.

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close.

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave.

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

2K notes · View notes

mwphisto · 3 days ago

Text

LaDs: How they’d propose

~ just some fluffy head canons!

~ all love interests included, reader’s gender not specified

A note from Soul: my friend just got engaged the other day and now I’m in the mood to brain storm how the lads men would do it! Gotta love fictional men because I can mold them however I want (jk) lol - I started drafting this before the wedding banner was announced so I'm not really going off of anything seen in the trailer!!

Xavier

He and Jeremiah spent months preparing this.

The back of Philos has been perfectly prepared for Xavier's grand proposal idea. He and Jeremiah had tediously grown and tended to some of your favorite plants for what felt like forever. Treating them as if they were real babies, nurturing them with only the best soil, water, and daily sunlight.

Now, they were all in glorious full bloom. The greenhouse smelt of the prettiest florals, decked out in warm fairy lights, and a table for two with a white table cloth and fancy dinnerware was set up in the middle of it all. It was perfect, exactly what Xavier had envisioned.

"Woah, Xavier..." you had been starstruck the moment he guided you back there. Your eyes twinkling as you took in all the flowers, the decorations, the soft melody playing from a speaker hidden somewhere among all of this. It was breathtaking.

"You did all of this for me?" Mentally, you were trying to recall if you had forgotten an anniversary or an important date. but you came up empty handed. "Yeah, with Jeremiah's help of course, but the ideas were all mine." There is a light blush on his face, the hand holding yours squeezes suddenly and you can't help but feel nervous.

"What's the special occasion?" You two stop right before the table, and Xavier turns to you, pulling your other hand into his and bringing both to his lips. "Do I need a special occasion to shower you in love?" Of course he didn't, but this felt so... special.

"I love you, my little star. More than you would ever be able to comprehend." He starts slowly, eyes lingering on your hands before traveling to your face. Your heart is pounding in your ears, you can feel the anticipation radiating off of his body.

"I cannot fathom spending another day without you by my side. I don't dare to dream of a future that doesn't have you in it. I don't want to wake up to bed without you snuggled beside me." And your heart jumps into your throat as Xavier slowly gets down on one knee.

"My starlight, my universe. I love you so much it hurts. Would you do me the gracious honor of being my wife?"

Your vision is blurred with tears, so blurred that the ring he presents you is nothing more than a sparkling blob in his grasp. You're nodding before the words can leave you, a babble of "yes" and "of course" and about ten million "I love you too"

Zayne

He didn't tell a soul what he was going to do, he had only told his parents of his intent to propose to you.

A week long trip to the Arctic in the middle of a grueling summer. A rented cabin just for the two of you, and a well thought out itinerary so you can see the aurora each night. It would be at its strongest, brightest, and most vibrant on your first night. That's when he'd do it.

"It should start any minute, right?" Your eyes were full of child-like wonder, staring excitedly up at the stars in the night sky. "Yes, any minute now." Zayne was a bundle of nerves, surprising himself when his voice came out steady and unwavering.

You two had just finished eating dinner. A comfort meal you prepped together in the cabin's kitchen. Sharing some wine, light music playing on an antique record player, the fireplace a blazing warmth. It had been so perfect, so cozy, that Zayne nearly popped the question as you two ate. But he held off, he had a vision in mind.

He sat back against the cushions, watching his breath puff out in front of him as you excitedly stood at the railings of the cabin porch. Your head unmoving in its upward tilt towards the cosmos.

The moment the aurora made itself known, Zayne would get down on one knee and pop the question that he's been dying to ask. The custom ring he designed sitting safely in a velvet box, just inside of his pant pocket, his fingers a little clammy as they held it.

Then he heard it, your gasp of wonder as the skies filled with greens and blues and even touches of purple. "Zayne! The aurora!"

You were bouncing on your heels, pointing as if he couldn't see the image filling the sky, and whirled around with a smile on your face. Except, Zayne wasn't sitting on the couch anymore. Your smile faltered - but not in a bad way - no, it turned into a look of awe.

Zayne's ears were red, his cheeks flushed all soft and rosy as he presented himself on one knee, a dazzlingly ring sitting in a navy blue velvet box just inches from you. "I had a whole speech written in my head, and now I'm finding that I've lost all my words..." He laughs a little before glancing down at your hands.

"You know me well enough to know I have never been great with expressing myself through words. But for something as special as this, I have been giving it my best practice for months to make it worth while." You can feel your throat tighten, staring at him in the same way you had stared at the aurora.

"I can't imagine going on with my life without you by my side. You have turned my dreary world into one full of color and wonder." He takes your hand, and you realize it is trembling just as badly as your own. "Meeting you changed the entire trajectory of my life. Meeting you gave me purpose, and I never thought I’d get so lucky.”

"Would you do me the greatest honor of spending the rest of your life with me?" And you can barely get the "yes" past your lips before you're falling into his arms and hugging him like he'd disappear if you didn't. "I love you so much." It's a gentle whisper as he takes your hand, slipping ring onto your finger.

Rafayel

Only Thomas and Talia knew vaguely of what Rafayel planned. For once, Thomas restrained himself with pushing deadlines - not that Raf would have cared either way. He appreciated the sentiment.

His goal was for you to be completely surprised, to not suspect a thing. So, he didn't plan anything grand leading up to the actual event. He just did things that you two loved doing together. Dinner at your favorite restaurant - the same one you had your first real date at. Then, the little desert shop just down the road for ice cream.

Only when you arrived back at Mo Art Studio did your suspicions raise. "What do you think?" The sun was setting, bouncing off of the ocean water and creative a pretty spectacle across all the art that Rafayel displayed for you to see. "Rafayel..."

You had a million and one questions on the tip of your tongue, eyes glossing over as you jumped from piece to piece. Each one was so distinctly you. Some detailed portraits, others abstract, some of just you, some with the both of you, you couldn't breathe.

Rafayel stood by the entrance and watched, watched as you circled each piece with bated breath. "Rafayel when in the world did you have the time for all of this?" You spun to look at him, noticing the smile on his lips as he unfolded his arms and pushed off the doorway. "Every time we were apart, every time I missed you, I got to work."

He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently before lifting it to his lips. "Painting, sketching, sculpting you, us, it helped the loneliness be a little more bearable." Only then did you notice the lit candles, the ambiance accompanied by waves crashing on the shore. The ocean breeze cascading through the open windows. Rafayel had used his evol to light the candles, they wouldn't do any harm.

"Speaking of loneliness." His throat cleared, drawing your attention back to his face. "I don't like being alone. I don't like waiting, either." And then? You were gasping, eyes wide as dinner plates as Rafayel got on one knee before you. "I intended on doing this down by the water, with the sunset as our backdrop. But now, right here in this moment, seems like the best time to ask you this."

"You have renewed my life with the most vibrant color palette. Not a day goes by that you don't bring a smile to my face." His hand is trembling as it squeezes yours, his other fishing for something in his suit jacket's pocket. "I never want to lose that vibrancy, nor the joy that you have colored my days with."

He pulls out a box, flicking it open with his thumb to present you with the most stunning ring you'd ever laid your eyes on.

"My beloved, my heart, my entire world... will you marry me?"

You're choking on a sob, "Of course I will, Raf. Yes." He can barely the slide the ring onto your finger before you're pulling him up and into your arms, crashing your lips together as tears leak down your cheeks. It's only when you part that you realize he is crying too.

Sylus

He didn't trust anyone with this information. Not even the twins.

Coming from him, you'd expect something larger than life. But, instead, Sylus had a much more intimate idea in mind. "Why won't you tell me where we're going?" But you're giggling, playing with the rings on his fingers as his private jet cruises the sky. "Because it will ruin the anticipation. You know how much I love seeing you squirm."

The destination was a sprawling flower field. The kind you'd never find in the N109 Zone, and one that would be a lot less grand a much more artificial in Linkon. He'd seen so many pictures of this place, and not a single one did it justice. Just as he had suspected, which is why he flew the two of you all the way out here.

"Oh my god, Sylus! It's gorgeous!" You were entranced, turning on your heels to stare at him with wide, glittering eyes. The sun was making its lazy decent, casting the field in a warm orange glow. The breeze was warm, rustling the flowers - which were as far as your eyes could see, disappearing into the distance.

"I knew you'd love it." With the rental bike parked and your helmets secured, Sylus entwined his fingers with yours. "A picnic?" You looked at the old-fashioned wicker basket hooked on his arm, a lopsided grin gracing his lips. "Yes, c'mon let's go."

He guided you through the rows of flowers, chuckling softly as dragonflies and bumblebees dances around the blossoms, making you jump and cling to him a little tighter. "Don't worry, there won't be this many where we are heading." And the destination in mind was one of the large trees spread out among the flower field.

By the time you got there and set up the picnic, the sun was ready to disappear beyond the horizon. As if on queue, fireflies began popping up among the flowers. The sight was mesmerizing, and the conversation flowed easily between the two of you. "So, are you going to tell me what the occasion is?" You brought a napkin to your lips, dabbing the strawberry juice - that Sylus desired to kiss - off.

"I wanted to make this as grand for you as possible, but in a way that it was still only you and me." He starts carefully, crimson eyes boring into your soul as you give him your full attention.

"I adore you, more than words can possibly convey. The love I feel for you is so strong it knocks the wind out of me sometimes." And he shifts, moving from his lounging position to one knee. And you swear the entire world begins to spin as he pulls a maroon leather box from his pant pocket. "You are the other half of my soul."

"Sylus-" but it's carried away on the wind, that same lopsided smile on his face as he lets you process before continuing.

"I want to keep building my life with you, I don't want to keep going on without you bound to me for the rest of eternity. Just as I am forever bound to you. I would be the happiest man alive if you promised to stay with me as my wife, until we both cease to exist."

You're nodding, eyes glossing over as stray tears leak down your cheeks. "Yes, Sylus. I'd want nothing more than to be your wife." And you can barely breathe as his trembling hand slides the ring onto your finger. Your knuckles graced by the warmth of his lips.

The soft whispering promise of "I love you, more than anything."

Caleb

Not a soul knows of his intentions, and he feels its better that way.

Everything was planned meticulously, you just had to come along. Caleb had set up an entire mental itinerary of everywhere he'd be taking you. The last stop being Skyhaven, aboard his personal aircraft. Then, he'd pop the question.

"Last stop on our adventure, pips. Almost there." He's smiling at you, noting the slightly tired look in your eyes as you stare mesmerized out the window of his aircraft. "We did so much today! How are you not tired yet?" But even as you spoke, your eyes were widening at the sight of cotton candy clouds. The sun had just set only moments prior, the last few rays gracing the world until morning.

"I could never be tired if I'm spending my time with you." And he could hear your eyes rolling without you having to say a word never mind look at him. "Trust me, pips. This last stop is worth it." But you could only chuckle. "I must be missing some sort of anniversary. How come we've done so many special things today?"

"I just enjoy doing things with you, isn't that a good enough reason?" But you could always see right through him. Yet, for some reason, something in the back of your mind told you to stop pressing and just let things be. "It is, I suppose. I like doing things with you too."

Luckily, your last stop was Caleb's backyard. He had set it up before leaving to get you in Linkon earlier that day. Blankets and pillows set up in the grass, lights adorning the large apple tree that resided in his yard, music playing softly thanks to Otto, and lastly two glasses and a bottle of wine. It was intimate, meaningful, and you could both crash right after. Because with all the tension in his body, he knew he'd be lucky if he didn't pass out after hearing you answer.

"There is a meteor shower tonight, I figured we could watch it together." Warmth filled your chest, a smile spreading from ear to ear as you took his hand and dragged him towards his own set up.

"I totally forgot about that, Caleb! This is perfect." The ring was already grasped in his other hand, letting you sit down first before getting on one knee. The look only your face was utterly priceless, worth every ounce of stress it took for him to get his timing right.

"I've beens struggling for over a year now to figure out what to say to you when I finally did this." And the ring was presented to you, no box, just between his fingers, and it was as if he held the whole world right there instead. "And even now, I still don't have a clue how to put everything you are to me into words."

"Though, I'm sure you know very well by now that you are my everything. You've always been my everything, since we were kids." The first meteor is streaking through the sky, but nothing can draw your attention from him. "I want you to stay with me, and I promise you that I will never leave you alone ever again."

Your throat is tightening, eyes brimming with tears as you're nodding before he even says the words. "Will you marry me? It would be my greatest achievement in life to be your husband." And your answer leaves your lips like a never ending prayer. Yes after yes, I love you after I love you. The ring is slid onto your finger, and you've never felt more whole in your entire life.

"I love you, with every fiber of my being, Caleb."

Hope you enjoyed!! - Soul

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frogbogus · 1 month ago

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‎‧₊˚ ✧ LOVE AND DEEPSPACE SYLUS ✧‧₊˚

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You’re injured during a car shoot out and try your best to hide it from Sylus.

This is PART 2 to this post: SYLUS - please read part 1 before continuing.

a couple of people requested a part 2 so, of course, i happily obliged. i hope this post finds its way to them, and i hope it’s up to your expectations. <3

[ Based ONLY on the TRAILER to the Death and Rebirth main story update ]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

In the darkness of your mind you hear a deep, resonant hum rumbling, like a lullaby sung by the earth itself. You can’t help but be drawn towards the sound, something about it is alluring. Almost as if it’s guiding you, grasping you with its chords.

Your eyes open slowly, squinting as you take in the surroundings. Your hands twitch and you feel a soft plush blanket along your finger tips. The dark red interior was the first thing you noticed, how meticulously every decoration is placed, the way the moonlight shines through the large window to your right. Your eyes follow the moons rays across the room, to reveal a silhouette sat on a couch in the corner.

‘’I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to notice me.’’ Sylus states with a small, teasing smirk curling at the edge of his lips. Two red embers glow in the darkness of the room, and though they would have frightened others, they only pulled you closer—familiar, warm, and impossibly tender.

‘’Was that you humming?’’ Comes a mere whisper from your mouth, before he could respond you add, ‘’It sounded beautiful.’’ Sylus stands up then, with a grace only he could adorn, and walks towards you to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

‘’How are you feeling?’’ His hand reaches up to your forehead, then to your cheek where it lingers for a moment before he pulls away. With him this close, you notice the faint pink tint to the top of his ears — Is he embarrassed?

‘’I feel… surprisingly good.’’ You state as you breathe a sigh of relief and go to lift yourself up to a sitting position, but his large hand grips your shoulders gently, ‘’Be careful, take it slow.’’ His eyebrows furrowing as he helps you sit upright.

‘’I’m really okay, Sylus… Thank you so much. How can I ever repay you?’’ You lock eyes with him, your eyes full of appreciation. ‘’Repay me?’’ He lets out a low chuckle, gentle and rich, like velvet brushing against your senses. ‘’You owe me nothing,’’ he says softly. ‘’Your heartbeat is my reward.’’

He grabs a glass of water and swiftly places the rim along your lower lip, ‘’Drink.’’ His red eyes bore into yours. You know you’re perfectly capable of just drinking it yourself but something in you halts, allowing you to just give into the temptation. Allowing him to fully take care of you, as he wanted to. His other hand slithers its way to the back of your head, tilting it upwards ever so slightly, allowing the water to flow freely into your mouth. You were so thirsty, surrendering yourself completely to the stream, letting it spill across your tongue and down your throat.

He pulls the glass away, placing it on the bedside table. You go to wipe your mouth but his thumb is already there wiping the water from your lip, the pad of his thumb ghosting over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. His touch was slow, deliberately slow. His gaze lingers on your lips for what feels like minutes, before finally snapping up to your eyes.

‘’Good,’’ Sylus breathed out, his thumb brushing just slightly along your lip as he said it. The word came out slow, controlled, like he was holding back far more than just words. A strained exhale escapes his mouth as he moves away, standing up, towering over you. ‘’If you need me…Don’t be afraid to call out my name.’’ With that he starts walking towards the door, his hand reaching for the handle, ‘’You’re leaving?’’ The words slip out of your mouth before you can think, the disappointment more evident than you hoped.

The pace in which he turned his head to look back to you is almost humorous, like he was secretly hoping you’d say exactly that. ‘’You want me to stay?’’ His words are careful, as if he doesn’t want to scare away a stray kitten. You nod faintly, feeling shy under his gaze.

He reaches his hand to his mouth pretending to be in deep thought, but really he’s just trying to hide the soft smile that has appeared in his face. He couldn’t help it. You were… undoubtedly Cute. ‘’Okay then,’’ He starts walking towards the bed once more, ‘’I hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep on that couch. It is very uncomfortable.’’

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, ‘’No - Of course not, this is your bed. Only makes sense for you to.. sleep in it.’’ You shimmy over slightly to make room for him and tap the mattress, a giggle about to escape your lips at how bizarre this situation is. You’re in Sylus’ bed. The leader of Onychinus. And now you’re about to be in his bed together.

He carefully peels back the cover and slides into the bed, right next to you. He’s laid still, one arm folded under his head as he stares off at the ever so interesting wall ahead of him. Sure, you’ll admit, there’s a slight awkwardness in the air, a weird innocence, nervousness. But it’s comfortable. You feel safe.

You go to lean on your side so you can face him, ready to start a conversation, but you wince out as you move your right shoulder. He reacts in an instant, facing you and warily hovering his hand over your injured arm. ‘’I told you.. To take it slow.’’ He states, his voice etched with concern. He begins to move slowly, and repositions his free arm under your head, becoming a makeshift pillow. Noticing your injured arm awkwardly laying against the side of your body, he takes a hold of it gently, ‘’Here, put your arm over my chest.’’

‘’Thank you…‘’ You sheepishly say as you allow yourself to mould against him. This feels nice. You tilt your head up to him, he’s already looking at you. His gaze softening. He feels a sense of pride and protectiveness as he looks at you. ‘’Can you hum for me?’’ You blink up at him expectantly, you know it’s a silly request, but he truly sounded beautiful.

He sighs, opening his mouth, then closing it again. He was about to decline. But how can he? How can he ever resist you? He begins to hum under his breath, the deep timbre of his voice wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. A quiet song only you get to hear. The vibrations of his chest begins to lull you to sleep. Your eyes drooping and before you know it, you’re in a deep sleep.

Sylus’ eyes have also drifted closed as he continues his humming, the warmth of your body against him offering the most comfort he has ever experienced. He’s never felt so… human. He opens his eyes slightly, glancing down to your sleeping form. A faint smile on his face as he leans down to plant a kiss atop of your head. ‘’Goodnight.’’ He whispers to you, inhaling your scent as he does so and the worries fade away as he gives into the best sleep he’s ever had.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

thank you so much for reading. i love writing Sylus. i hope i captured his true essence. i have yet to proof read this; so if there’s any errors i apologise.

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus ff #sylus au #sylus x you #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus

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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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A McLaren Meltdown

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Mclaren’s staff reactions to Oscar Piastri’s surprise marriage reveal.

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Sophie had three rules for race weekend PR.

Control the narrative.

Anticipate the chaos.

Never trust a “quick” fan stage.

She was halfway through writing a press release about tire strategy when her phone buzzed once. Then twice. Then thirty-seven times in under two minutes.

The group chat with the digital media team had caught fire.

[McLaren Media 🔥] 💬 “OH MY GOD.” 💬 “HE SAID HE’S BEEN MARRIED SINCE HE WAS EIGHTEEN.” 💬 “WE NEED A STATEMENT.” 💬 “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘MARRIED’???” 💬 “Lando spat water. There is video.”

Sophie blinked at her phone, stunned.

Then came the link.

She clicked. Watched. Listened.

Oscar, calm as ever:

“Well, I already did one of those things.” Lando, shrieking: “YOU’RE MARRIED?!”

Sophie made a sound not unlike a dying animal.

She stood, tablet in hand, walked to the nearest wall in the media trailer, and very calmly banged her forehead against it.

Twice.

Across the room, one of the interns whispered, “Is she okay?”

“No,” someone else replied.

Sophie turned to the team.

“Does anyone have a marriage certificate? A formal quote? A—a photo? Anything we can use?”

Her email pinged.

Subject line: Netflix Inquiry — Episode Rights: Oscar Piastri Reveal

Another ping.

BBC Radio Request: “Interview With the Most Mysterious Woman in Motorsport.”

And then, like he’d been summoned by sheer rage, Zak Brown strolled in, looking far too calm.

“Hey team. Saw the fan stage. Oscar’s married, huh? Wild stuff.”

Sophie slowly turned. “You knew.”

Zak gave her a sheepish smile. “Mark Webber mentioned it once. Years ago. Said she was great. Didn’t seem relevant at the time.”

“ZAK.”

“What?”

“HE’S BEEN MARRIED FOR FIVE YEARS.” Sophie was dangerously close to combusting. “He’s our youngest driver and he eloped at eighteen. That’s relevant!”

Zak held up his hands. “I didn’t think it was a secret. Oscar’s a private guy.”

“Private guy?! He said ‘on the bed’ like it was a normal engagement location!” Sophie nearly shrieked. “Do you know how many headline puns they’ve made about that already?!”

Someone from graphics called out, “Can we use ‘Lights Out and Vows Away’ or is that too much?”

“It’s not damage,” Zak said helpfully. “It’s engagement.”

“I swear to God, Zak,” Sophie hissed.

Slack was already full of memes. Someone had gif’d Lando’s meltdown with the caption “Me finding out my best friend is secretly married like it’s a normal Thursday.”

The press inbox was collapsing under subject lines like:

“IS SHE A CELEBRITY?” “DO THEY HAVE A CHILD?” “LAN-DRAMA: Norris Betrayed???” “Can we get her on The Paddock Panel?”

Sophie clutched her forehead. “Okay. Okay. Deep breath.”

“We need Oscar to post something,” she declared, her voice rising above the din.

Zak tilted his head. “You sure? That might just fuel it more.”

“He already fueled it, Zak. He turbocharged it and strapped fireworks to the back.”

“Fair point.”

Sophie groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’m going to have to rewrite everything. Update the media deck. Issue a statement. Reprint bios. Plan a WAG-friendly feature piece. And deal with Lando, who’s spiraling like his best friend betrayed him.”

A pause.

“And someone call Netflix,” she added darkly. “Tell them they just got their best episode of the season. No edits required.”

***

Andrea Stella prided himself on knowing his drivers.

Their tells, their ticks, the way they thought—how they braked, how they communicated, when they needed space and when they needed a push. It was part of his job. But it was also personal. He’d always believed that good leadership came from paying attention to the whole person, not just the lap time.

Which is why the events of this morning left him quietly, genuinely stunned.

He hadn't seen the fan stage live—he’d been in an engineering debrief—but by the time he stepped into the media office, it was all anyone could talk about.

Oscar. Married. For five years. Since he was eighteen.

The video played on loop in the corner of the room, muted but unmistakable. Oscar’s dry calm. Lando’s shocked scream. The social media team was in shambles. The PR team looked like they were trying not to hyperventilate.

Andrea just… stood there for a moment.

Watching.

Processing.

He felt the frown settle between his brows. Not anger. Not exactly disappointment. Just… a quiet ache in the chest of someone who’d thought he was closer to one of his drivers than maybe he actually was.

Oscar had been married. For five years. And Andrea hadn't known. Not even a hint.

He stepped out of the room, calm as ever, but his mind raced.

And then, with all the subtlety of a man who’d been blindsided one too many times today, Andrea found himself heading toward the physio area—toward Kim.

Kim Keedle was Oscar’s trainer, his shadow, his constant presence in the garage. If anyone knew Oscar better than Andrea, it was probably Kim.

Andrea found him in the paddock gym, casually adjusting a resistance band on the wall.

“Kim,” Andrea said, voice even. “Quick question.”

Kim turned, cheerful as always. “Hey, boss. What’s up?”

Andrea tilted his head, arms crossing. “Did you know Oscar was married?”

Kim blinked. Then blinked again. “Uh… yeah?”

Andrea waited.

Kim scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah. They’ve been married since—what—just after graduation? Felicity’s great. ”

Andrea was silent for a beat too long.

Kim winced slightly. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” Andrea said softly. “I didn’t.”

And that—that was the part that surprised him the most. Not the marriage.

But the fact that Oscar, his driver, his stone-faced, brilliantly strategic driver, had managed to keep an entire wife away from the paddock spotlight… and never once let it slip.

He thought about all the long flights, the post-race reviews, the hours spent talking about the future. He had asked Oscar about his offseason plans, his training routines, even his travel preferences.

Never once had he thought to ask if Oscar had someone waiting at home.

And Oscar, ever calm, had never offered.

Andrea nodded slowly. “Thank you, Kim.”

Kim gave him a sympathetic smile. “He didn’t mean to keep it from you, you know. He’s just… private. He thinks if something doesn’t affect the job, it doesn’t need mentioning.”

Andrea looked away, exhaling through his nose. “Still. I would’ve liked to have known.”

“Yeah,” Kim said, voice gentler now. “I think he’ll understand that.”

Andrea gave a small nod, but the sting remained.

He wasn’t angry.

Just... quietly hurt.

Because he cared about his drivers—not just the helmets and telemetry and podium stats, but the people beneath all that.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought they cared enough to let him in too.

***

The room had all the energy of a bunker mid-airstrike.

Half the PR team was gathered around the conference table in McLaren hospitality, the other half hovering behind Sophie, who had summoned Oscar with the same tone one might use for code red, house on fire, or Lando’s Instagram Live just crashed the website again.

Oscar walked in like it was any other media meeting.

He sat down. Calm. Collected. Completely unaware that his entire personal life had set the internet on fire six hours ago.

Sophie didn’t even look up from her laptop. “Okay,” she said, voice clipped. “Let’s talk about The Reveal.”

Oscar blinked. “The what?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Zak leaned back in his chair, thoroughly enjoying himself. “You nuked the internet with six words.”

Andrea Stella, unusually quiet, just sat with his arms crossed. Still processing. Still mildly wounded.

“‘Well, I already did one of those things,’” Sophie quoted flatly. “That’s what you said.”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah. Because I did.”

“You have been married for five years,” Sophie said, very slowly, “and you did not think that was something the team—your teammate, your PR department, the people who make the media decks—should know?”

Oscar gave her a polite shrug. “I didn’t hide it.”

Sophie made a strangled noise. “You also didn’t say a word.”

“Different issue,” Oscar said mildly.

Andrea exhaled sharply through his nose.

Zak smirked. “To be fair, he has a point.”

Sophie gave him a look that could kill.

“We need a response,” she snapped. “A controlled response. Instagram. Twitter. Something that gives people what they want without fueling every gossip rag on Earth.”

Oscar nodded thoughtfully. “Okay.”

Sophie blinked. “Okay?”

“I already have a draft.”

The room fell silent.

“You what?” Sophie asked.

Oscar reached into his hoodie pocket, pulled out his phone, and calmly opened his Notes app. “Wrote it earlier,” he said. “Figured you’d ask.”

He passed the phone to Sophie.

She scrolled.

Stopped.

Scrolled again.

By the third paragraph, she was blinking fast and biting the inside of her cheek. By the end, she was holding the phone with both hands like it was a fragile heirloom.

One of the interns leaned over her shoulder. “Did he just… write a romance novel in his Notes app?”

Oscar shrugged. “Seemed easier than a press conference.”

Andrea, still quiet, tilted his head. “You wrote this yourself?”

Oscar looked at him. “Yeah.”

Andrea just gave a small nod. No words. But something in his expression shifted. A little less hurt. A little more understanding.

Sophie passed the phone to Zak.

Zak read three lines, then huffed. “Jesus. You really are a wife guy.”

Oscar shrugged again.

“Well,” Sophie said faintly. “It’s perfect.”

Oscar took his phone back. “Should I post it now or wait until after FP2?”

Sophie threw her hands in the air. “How are you so calm about this?!”

Oscar looked up, deadpan. “Because I’ve been married for five years.”

And there it was again—that maddening, infuriating, charmingly psychotic Oscar Piastri calm.

Sophie sat down, defeated. “Fine. Post it. Pray Lando doesn’t say anything unhinged in the comments.”

Andrea glanced at him one more time. “Next time, Oscar,” he said softly, “you can tell us. It doesn’t have to be relevant to the car.”

Oscar looked at him, then nodded. “Noted.”

And with that, he pulled out his phone, opened Instagram, and hit post—like it was the most normal thing in the world.

(Which, to him, it probably was.)

Ten seconds later, Sophie’s phone buzzed again.

And again.

“Buckle up,” she muttered. “Here we go again.”

#formula 1 #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #Oscar Piastri fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #op81 fic #op81 imagine

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dearest-nell · 11 months ago

Text

charmed

e. munson x reader, 3k

summary: eddie comes home from a long day at work to discover wayne has a pretty surprise for him includes: established!eddie x reader, wayne being the sweetest paternal figure, mumblings of a found family, wayne manifesting a daughter in law by years end warnings: afab reader, non descript

a/n: writing from the boys perspective is always way more fun. i have so many thoughts about wayne and eddie's relationship.

Eddie had intended to be home earlier, a far cry earlier than the 9:30 that blinked hazily on his vans dashboard as he pulled in before the trailer. He was meant to be home hours ago, hoping to enjoy a Friday night the way that a young person ought to – out with the people he loved. Instead he sat in his driver's seat, covered in oil and grime and god knows what else from under the hood of some deadbeat richman from the other side of town. The apprentice had fucked the repair of a rather pricey car, one that was to be picked up first thing monday, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to let the little guy drown under the barrage of abuse from an intimidating customer.

So he stayed back, and now he was paying the price. Dinner would have been long over by now, and it was unlikely that Wayne was still home at such an hour. He usually had the night shift on this pay cycle, but Eddie couldn’t tell one from another these days. The lights were still on, his indication that he’d gotten his weeks wrong.

Worn leather boots beat against the gravel as he trekked towards the door, hand running through the curls that hung low on his forehead; wild, in desperate need of a trim. He was spent, body weary and limp from the extra strain. He wanted to call his friends, to call you, to ask for good company, but he knew even now he was too tired to go anywhere.

The door was unlocked, so he slipped into the warmth of the trailer with an involuntary shiver, eyes blinking tiredly to spot the figure propped up on the couch. Wayne. Beer in hand, chin shadowed with stubble; Eddie’s hero, if anyone were to ever ask. The old man was his favourite person, whether he knew it or not.

Wayne gave a gruff smile, tilting his chin up at his nephew. “Long day, boy?”

“Yeah.” Eddie breathed, voice more gravelly than he’d realised. “Got stuck back, sorry I didn’t call.”

Wayne shrugged. “I figured, though there’s a surprise in your room f’you.”

A surprise? Eddie couldn’t possibly guess what. “You’re joking.”

Wayne simply smiled in response, shaking his head. “You go have a look ‘n tell me if I’m joking. Just be quiet about it.”

Eddie gave a quizzical sort of look, boots resounding against the floorboards as he moved towards the room, a quick mumble from Wayne catching his attention again.

“Quieter than that.”

Eddie scoffed, his demeanour still playful despite his disbelief. He took more careful steps this time, readjusting the band wrapped clumsily around his bound tresses, trying to alleviate the steadily subsiding headache from two hours ago. Wayne had never been much of a secret keeper, nor was he one for dramatics. He was a pragmatic, realistic, nonfrivolous sort of man, which made that excitable little sparkle in his uncle’s eyes all the more amusing. Wayne didn’t play tricks, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel he was walking into one.

With a slow turn of his door handle, Eddie eased the gap open, his eyes scanning the silent dark until his gaze settled upon the mountain of blankets upon his bed. There, buried under three blankets of comfort, was you. It might have been hard to tell under any other circumstances, but even half asleep and exhausted out of his mind, Eddie knew he could recognise your silhouette anywhere. He softened instantaneously, body slackening slightly under the slow wave of adoration that overcame him. You were here to see him. Talk about a surprise, he hadn’t expected to see you today, and now he felt his ribs pressing in tightly together, chest constricting with a glad sort of giddiness.

He was gentle in closing the door again, his smile bemused at his now grinning uncle. “And how’d my girl end up in there, hm?”

He toed off his boots, movements suddenly precise and careful under the presence of your company. Even through the closed door, he had no desire to rouse you just yet. Not until he was ready, clean and showered and shed of all other obligations, able to dedicate himself to your company.

“She came by at 5,” Wayne explained, turning down the quiet shout of the television set with a well worn remote, “thought you’d be home soon, wanted to surprise you. I told her she was welcome t’wait, thinkin’ you’d be round earlier. But y’weren’t, so we had some dinner.”

Wayne paused, nudging his chin towards the fridge, which Eddie took to mean there was leftovers waiting for him inside. He began rustling through, finding what was left of a roast and vegetables wrapped up neatly in foil. It was a little more extravagant than he had expected, and Eddie chalked that up to your aid in the kitchen. He could see the container of biscuits on the counter, too, with little hearts and flowers piped onto the tops. Pinks and blues and reds and whites, this wasn’t a house for sweets and softness, though Eddie welcomed your charms in any way he could get them. He sat at the table to feast, unbothered to even reheat the feast.

Wayne continued on. “Thought she might go lookin’ for y’, but we got a’talking. She’s a real sweet thing, y’know, made a real effort to chat. Even offered to sit down ‘n watch a game with me, thought I didn’t have the heart t’put her through it. Ended up watchin’ some Antiques Roadshow thinkin’ she’d like it better; you ever seen me watchin’ that before? I ain’t never had much care, but we had good fun.”

“No shit!” Eddie piped up, astounded by the softened edges of his Uncle. You’d charmed him, he thought, with your curious questions and kind smiles. For Wayne to sit down and talk to anyone was a miracle, one that only an angel could perform. His Angel.

“We got guessin’ and everythin’.” Wayne added, wiping roughly at his smile. “Seemed tired, though, so I told her to crash in your room. She’s been out maybe half an hour.”

Astounded was an understatement. Eddie had brought girls home before he met you, though none had bothered to exchange more than polite pleasantries with his Uncle. He’d never been serious about them, so he’d never thought much of it, and then came you. Three months into this new connection, a relationship born of spring flowers and whisky nights and loud music and soft touches. Eddie had never been serious until now, until you, and now he couldn’t picture being anything else but.

He was glowing, beaming from ear to ear. “So you like her, then?” He was so hopeful in his question, a sincerity Wayne only ever saw reserved for the most heartfelt of Eddie’s dreamings.

“I do.” Wayne announced, washing down his contentment with another swig of his beer. “I hope y’re serious ‘bout her, she’s real soft on you, and I think she’s a good one. Seems to make you happy enough, you ain’t mopin’ nearly so much these days.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, groaning with faux annoyance, rolling foil into a tiny ball to toss across the room, missing Wayne by a good foot of space. “I don’t mope.”

“I don’t mope my ass, kid, you mope plenty. Just not anymore.” He was laughing now, worn lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “I said she should come back f’dinner another night, we can all eat together. She was tellin’ me ‘bout this story she was readin’, and I’ll be damned if I don’t know how it ends.”

Eddie knew how this story ended; it ended with you. It began with you, too. It was all you, he couldn’t see any other ending for him.

“Yeah, that sounds good, old man.” He was doing his best to stomach the meal, but his words were caught around hastily eaten mouthfuls half chewed and uneasy to swallow. He’d give himself heartburn if he wasn’t careful, and it would have been worth it.

Eddie took a moment to pause, swallowing thickly, belching unceremoniously in a way he was glad you weren't there to witness. “I am serious, y’know, about her. Real serious. I got a good feeling.”

“Yeah?” Wayne questioned, sinking back into the sofa.

“Yeah. She could be the one; ain’t that somethin’? I always thought it was bull when people said you just know, but…” he laughed with astonishment, “I think I just know.”

“Well shit,” Wayne exclaimed, clearing his throat, “that’s real good, Ed’s. You just be good and treat her nice. Be a gentleman.”

Eddie wasn’t too sure he knew how to be a gentleman, but somehow, he knew you liked him all the same. He didn’t need to be anything but himself around you, and that was a one in a billion kind of feeling,

He was quick in his cleaning, fumbling around the kitchen to pack away a still soaking plate, his mind skating over the plastic drying rack by the sink entirely. “I’m bein’ good, I swear.”

“Bullshit.” Wayne teased, shaking his head. He braced himself on his knees, slowly rising to his feet with a groan. “I’m goin’ to bed. Tell her she’s welcome to stay whenever she likes, okay? Show her where the spare key is.”

“I will.” Eddie nodded, barely able to fight his slow building excitement. He could feel himself getting restless, hands flexing just at the thought of holding you. “G’night, Wayne.”

“G’night son.” He echoed back, disappearing into the quiet of his own room.

Eddie made sure to lock up on his way, switching off the tv and lights as his own sort of wind down ritual. They’d be on all night if he wasn’t careful, and he’d spied the last bill long enough to have a mind for the electricity now. Besides, he needed to be calm when he woke you. He’d half frightened you to death last time he came barrelling in.

Once again, he retreated towards his room, slipping into the dark like a shadow of the night, slowly shucking his way out of his overalls to kick to the side of the room. He didn’t mind staining his sheets with oil, but not you; you were something worth caring for. He knew he should have showered, but the sweat on his skin could hardly deter him from the need he had to be close to you, to ease away the troubles of his way with the balm of your skin against his, your whispers ringing in his head.

He fumbled his way to the edge of the mattress, your sleeping body facing away from him to the back wall of the room. He peered a little closer into the darkness, a sliver of moonlight cascading across the bare curve of your shoulder, arm wrapped around something small, something fuzzy…

“Well shit, Ted, what’re you doing in here?” Eddie hadn’t thought to consider where the ragdoll cat had scampered off to. Teddy had been adopted only a few weeks after Eddie came to live with Wayne, his Uncle’s way of easing the boy into this entirely new world together. Teddy had been his childhood companion, and by the way he was burrowed into the pudge of your stomach, purring louder than a car engine, Eddie could see you’d won him over too.

The cat barely stirred, rather giving him a grumbled sort of chirp at being disturbed, before wriggling his way further under the blankets. You, however, made the softest of whining noises that left Eddie’s heart near strangling in his chest. He lifted a ring clad hand to that moonlight shoulder, brushing callouses across the line of freckles that dusted your skin, watching as your eyes began to flutter open, head turning slightly to face him.

“Eddie!” No one in the world had ever been so enthusiastic to see him before, not one. His name wasn’t the kind to roll off the tongue, to be begged for or shouted out or held tenderly on someone's lips. Never before, but the way your mouth wrapped around the letters seemed to change the word entirely. Nothing had ever sounded so tender, so wanting, so pleased. You were always pleased to see him, a feeling he never had to doubt when he could see it so plainly reflected in your irises.

“Honey.” He cooed back, tugging up the corner of the bedsheets to slip beneath them, curving his body to fit the shape of your own, nudging his knee between your two just to feel your skin pressed against his own in every possible way. The hair on his body was just as wild as the hair on his head, but nothing felt like home to him more than the brush of your skin to the mess of his. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You exhaled a lengthy yawn, muffling the sound into his pillow with a hum. Your hair, once styled, now seemed mussed and flattened under the weight of your head. His bed linens were already tattooing precious creases into sleep warmed skin. You were too beautiful for him to even comprehend.

You turned in his arms, careful not to disrupt the grumbling cat beside you despite your eagerness. He felt arms press their way around him, your nose nuzzling at his chin. “Wayne let me in. I hope that’s okay.”

Literally nothing else could have been more okay in his mind. It was perfect. This was perfect; coming home to you. “Come by anytime, baby. I’m just sorry I wasn’t back sooner. I made you wait.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t mind. Wayne’s really cool. He kept me company.”

“So I heard.” His voice was edged with an air of amusement, his hand lifting to brush back the strands of hair falling across your face, leaving his palm to cup at the plush of your cheek, his eyes admiring even in the dark. “Antiques Roadshow?”

You let out a giggle. “We panicked! I was trying to make a good impression, and he suggested it so I thought why not. Honestly it was pretty fun, I could totally watch another episode.”

“Mm.” His lips met the button of your nose dotingly, his voice slackening to a syrupy smoothness. “He’s impressed, I’m impressed; you’ve got us Munson men wrapped around your pretty little finger. Even Teddy’s on your side.”

“I do not!” You chided, helpless against his onslaught of affection. He left you preening and giddy, a little lightheaded when he loved on you like this, and Eddie never had any intention of stopping. “Teddy just wanted a cuddle.”

“Him and me both.” Eddie asserted, snaking his other arm beneath the arch of your waist, wrapping around the small of your back to tug you in further, his smile resoundingly bright at the way you hummed happily. “We’re not too young to be asleep by 10, are we?”

The way you eased into the very fabric of him, your bodies so close and so connected, wrapped tightly in the warmth of his room, was enough assurance to him that you were just as content here as he was. “No. I’m not leaving this spot. You just got home, and I’m all sleepy, and Ted’s gonna get mad if we move.”

Ted chirped an affirmative sound, leaving Eddie to rasp a laugh. “Well we can’t make Teddy mad, can we. Gotta stay here all night with my girl.”

You chuckled softly in turn, your voice quieting under the weight of exhaustion. “I was meant to keep you company, but I’m so sleepy.” Another yawn parted your plush lips, leaving Eddie with no choice but to press his own to the corner once they came back together again.

“You are keepin’ me company. Think I’ll sleep a bunch better with you keepin’ me warm. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow, hm? After a big sleep in?”

“You’re so sexy when you talk like that.” You mumbled, your lashes fluttering shut to rest against your cheeks. “I’d kiss you stupid if I could move.”

Besotted was not a strong enough word for what Eddie felt in that moment, but he was overwhelmed with the urge to litter a smattering of kisses from the edge of your cheekbone to the corners of your forehead, each one softer than the last, lulling you into that sweet place of slumber you were already drifting towards.

“Kiss me stupid tomorrow. Sleep, sweetheart.” You didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, Eddie watched the light in your flicker to a dim, pale glow, your breathing evening out to something unhurried. Peaceful. It didn’t matter to him that he had only had those brief moments with you tonight. Five minutes with you was enough to chase away all the strife of a day otherwise written off in his mind. And that was what his life had been missing, after all. Someone who made going to sleep at 10pm look like the greatest moment of his life. He wanted to keep you to himself, a greedy kind of possessiveness stirring in his gut, for as long as he was able, knowing full well that less than twelve hours from now, Wayne would without a doubt be waiting to make you both breakfast on his morning off.

Like he said, you had all the Munson boys charmed.

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just-aake · 7 months ago

Text

Endearing Entanglements

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You give Natasha a visit in Norway and remind her she has more friends to call on for help.

Warnings: fluff, implied sexual themes

Words: 1300

Pulling up to the safehouse, Natasha’s eyes narrow as she catches a faint trail of smoke curling from the trailer’s ventilation.

Instinct kicking in, she turns off the engine and quickly reaches for the gun stashed in the glove compartment.

She’s still on the run, and Rick isn’t due to check in for another week, which means the sign of someone else being here is a red flag she can’t ignore.

Sliding out of the car, Natasha moves silently. As she approaches the door, her grip on the weapon tightens as she takes a steadying breath.

With a practiced calm, she swings open the door, stepping inside swiftly with her gun raised. Her eyes dart across the room, scanning for any immediate threats.

But instead of chaos or an ambush, she’s met with the quiet, domestic sound of sizzling food.

Your back is to her, the scent of spices mingling in the air as you casually tend to whatever is cooking on the stove.

You don’t even flinch at her dramatic entrance.

“You should go freshen up, love. Dinner will be ready in ten,” you say, your tone easy and unbothered, not even sparing a glance in her direction, as though she hadn’t just stormed in with a weapon aimed at your head.

Natasha freezes, her suspicion warring with confusion. She sweeps her gaze around the small trailer once more, confirming that you’re alone, before finally lowering her gun with a disbelieving huff.

Her tension melts into exasperation as she holsters her weapon and crosses her arms.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

You chuckle softly, finally turning to face her. The spatula in your hand gestures toward the small, cluttered living space.

“I came by to drop off your package,” you reply, your tone light but with a teasing edge.

Natasha’s eyes flick to the black case sitting on the rickety table. She knows without opening it what’s inside—customized weapons and gadgets uniquely gathered and prepared for her.

Like you’ve done countless times before for her.

“I didn’t order anything,” she says skeptically.

“Hmm, you’re right. You didn’t,” you say with an exaggerated nod. “You called Mason instead. And he got you this…quaint little setup.”

The lights flicker as if on cue, emphasizing your skepticism about the condition of the safe house.

Natasha catches the faint jealous pout in your tone and sighs, moving closer until she’s leaning against the counter beside you.

“It’s nothing personal,” she murmurs, her voice softening. “I just needed something quick and discreet.”

Your lips twitch into a slight smirk as you turn to her. Without warning, you tug her closer, capturing her lips in a kiss.

You nip at her bottom lip in reprimand before pulling back, your eyes glinting with amusement.

“Love, isn’t that how most of our…entanglements end up?”

Natasha huffs a soft laugh, her smirk matching yours. Her hands find your waist, pulling you in closer.

“How much longer did you say dinner would take?”

Your grin widens as you turn off the stove, tilting your head closer to hers.

“All done,” you whisper against her lips.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Leaning back against the wall of the trailer, Natasha sits on the bed, a now reheated plate of food in her hands. She eats quietly, her mind half on the simple meal you had prepared and half on the intimate moments you and she shared earlier.

The room is still, save for the occasional flicker of the dim overhead light and the low murmur of your voice.

At the edge of the bed, you handle a phone call that interrupted your dinner with her.

“No worries, love, I can get it to you by then,” you say smoothly, your voice oozing charm as you multitask, the phone pressed between your ear and shoulder while you pull on your pants.

Natasha’s brow arches slightly at your casual use of the term of endearment. Setting her plate aside, she moves toward you.

“Have I ever let you down?” you continue your conversation nonchalantly, though, the slight tilt of your head indicates you notice her movement behind you.

Wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, she leans into you, her warmth pressing against your back. Without a word, she begins trailing soft, deliberate kisses along your bare shoulder, her lips lingering just enough to send a message.

For a split second, your voice falters, the smooth flow of your words disrupted. You clear your throat, attempting to maintain composure.

“I—I gotta go,” you murmur into the phone, your tone edged with faint exasperation as Natasha’s kisses continue. “Mmhmm, I’ll call back later with the details.”

You end the call quickly, sliding the phone onto the table before turning to face her.

Your expression is a blend of amusement and mock disapproval as you take her in. “Really?”

Natasha shrugs innocently, feigning ignorance as she murmurs against your shoulder, “I thought I was ‘love.’”

Your lips curl into a smirk, your brow quirking as you tilt your head to meet her gaze.

“Oh, are we making certain things between us exclusive now?” you reply, your tone light but carrying a playful challenge.

Natasha huffs a small laugh and rolls her eyes, pointedly ignoring your question as she leans back on her elbows, watching you with a small smile as you finish getting dressed.

After zipping up your jacket, you lean over the bed, running your hand along her bare legs before resting it on her thigh.

“I do have other clients besides you, you know,” you say, rubbing your hand in small circles before pinching her skin lightly, “Just like how you have other contractors.”

Natasha slaps your hand away with a scoff.

“Rick’s just a friend,” she says reassuringly.

You hum thoughtfully, your smirk widening.

“And you’re the only client I ever end up in bed with.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, unable to hide the flicker of satisfaction at your reassuring words.

Grinning, you pick up the black case from the table and set it on the bed.

“So…I guess that means we’ve come to an understanding.”

But Natasha’s smile fades as she pushes the case back toward you.

“I can’t take that.”

“If it’s about payment, I can give you a discount this time,” you offer, your tone playful. “Considering your…circumstances.”

“It’s not that.” Natasha shakes her head, her gaze dropping to the bed. There’s a moment of hesitation, a rare crack in her usual composure. Finally, she murmurs softly, “I don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

Your expression softens, the teasing edge replaced by something more genuine. You step closer, catching her chin lightly with your fingers, tilting her face up until her eyes meet yours.

“That’s sweet, love,” you say gently, your voice warm but unwavering. “But unfortunately for you, you’re my favorite client. That means your problems? They matter to me, too.”

Her lips part slightly, a breath catching as the weight of your words settles in.

You smile, a slow and reassuring curve of your lips, at the sight of the Black Widow so caught off guard by the care laced in your voice and tap her nose playfully in goodbye.

Before she can respond, you turn on your heel, heading toward the door.

Pausing in the archway, you glance over your shoulder, your silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from outside.

“Oh, and,” you add, your voice carrying a casual charm that hides just how much you mean it, “whenever you want an upgrade from this charming little safehouse, you know how to contact me.”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as you lock eyes with her one last time.

“Always looking forward to your call, love.”

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Natasha sitting there, a small, fond smile on her lips.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a little cute fluff before I get back into my series. thank you for reading!

Part 2

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

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dreamsteddie · 3 months ago

Text

Instinctual

Written for the @stmarchmm day 30 prompt “omega nests/alpha nests” | Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington

Divider - @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Also posted on Ao3

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing or why it’s pissing him off so badly.

There’s been this itch under his skin for the last couple of weeks, and even if Eddie doesn’t like to conform to the expectations of his designation, he’s also never been one to ignore his instincts. When he’s mad, he’ll fill the place up with his scent. When he’s overwhelmed with love for his pack, he’ll force them all into a big, messy puppy pile. Wayne likes to say he’s just a big pup disguised as an alpha.

But none of that explains why he’s been madly redecorating his den. He can’t help it; his instincts are telling him that it isn’t right, even though his den has been diligently crafted and maintained since he moved in with Wayne and didn’t have to compete with his dad for space anymore. The light is hitting his face wrong in the morning, his sheets are the wrong texture, and for some god forsaken reason, the big tapestry blanket he was very proud to thrift needs to cover the far wall that connects to Wayne’s room instead of remaining on his bed.

Normally, Eddie is happy to follow his instincts, but he also usually knows why he’s doing something. Eddie would actually really like to not be doing this, but he doesn’t feel like there’s much of a choice, hence the irritation.

He’s in the middle of moving around the pile of blankets on his bed again — why his instincts want so many blankets is beyond him. Spring in Hawkins isn’t that cold — when he hears the door open. Wayne won’t be home for another six hours, so that means it must be Steve.

Despite the judgemental looks the old bitties in the trailer park give them, the omega has been coming over almost every day since the not-so-end-of-the-world. It started off as pack bonding, everyone cramming into the double-wide to be with Eddie and Max when they were both too injured to go far. Eventually, everyone settled. The kids, Nancy and Robin, all went back to school, but Steve stuck around. Eddie won’t try to say he discouraged it. He kind of loved having an omega in the house. Loved having Steve in the house.

All that is to say, Eddie doesn’t bother to go see who’s at the door, he lets Steve know he’s in the bedroom knowing the omega will meander his way in after he kicks off his shoes and grabs a glass of water the same way he always does. Eddie just keeps working, instinct screaming at him even louder now that someone is going to see his incomplete den. It has nothing to do with that person being Steve. He swears.

When Steve finds him, Eddie is mid-wrestle with a particularly ornery fitted sheet, which has decided to betray him and come undone. Steve pays him no mind, flopping down directly onto the mess of his bed after putting his glass down on the dresser.

On a normal day, Eddie would pay this no mind. Steve is good at making himself at home wherever he is, and with so much time spent with Eddie at his house, he doesn’t bother with asking permission for much anymore. Eddie's house is Steve’s house as far as either of them are concerned, but today is not a normal day.

Today, Eddie is wound up and trying to figure out what his instincts want from him. Today, Steve flops down on Eddie’s bed, in Eddie’s nest, and lets out that same happy groan he always does when he can finally get off his feet after a long day. Today, Eddie realises what exactly he’s been doing, and for whom.

He’s nesting.

He’s building a full-on nest in his room for Steve Harrington.

Eddie must make some kind of noise because Steve lifts his head from where it had been happily buried in a stack of pillows, tilting his head in that puppyish way that is far too cute for Eddie to handle at a moment like this.

“You alright, man?” Steve asks, all mind concern and genuine curiosity. Eddie knows from experience that if he says he’s not feeling well, Steve will invite him in for a friendly pack cuddle and trill at him in that sweet way that makes Eddie’s heart squeeze. He can not handle that right now.

“Yes. Yup. All good here, Harrington. Just trying to conquer this fitted sheet.” Cool, he’s totally being cool.

“If you say so…” Steve responds, clearly not buying it but willing to let it go for now. “I like what you’ve done with the room, by the way, very cozy.” The omega turns on his back, stretching big and long like a cat settling in for a nice nap. It makes his t-shirt ride up, exposing his soft, hairy belly. Eddie is going to die.

He makes himself look away, cheeks flaming in a way that is definitely not cool so he can finish forcing his sheet into submission and maybe even get a goddamn grip. Unfortunately, he’s so focused on getting a grip that he doesn’t even notice himself getting up to gather one more sheet for the bed. The entire thing is covered in blankets, but it needs a nice, smooth layer over it so it doesn’t get too hot on his omega’s skin.

It’s the errant thought of his omega, and the sudden realization that Steve hasn’t said a word in almost five minutes makes him snap back to reality. He doesn’t want to look up, but he knows not looking would be weirder, so he forced his eyes up and oh.

Steve knows.

He’s looking right at him with those big hazel eyes like he’s just had an epiphany, and he’s staring right at where Eddie’s just finished tucking in that last, incriminating sheet.

“Eddie?”

“Uh…this is not what it looks like.”

“Eddie.”

“Ok…” Eddie says, hands going up in the air as if he can pretend someone else made the nest if he moves his hands away fast enough. “Ok, it’s exactly what it looks like, but…but!” He’s scrambling, looking for any kind of way he can pass this up as a completely platonic nest, as if alphas ever make nests if it’s not for their mates.

He’s just about to start spewing some bullshit about stress (constant but not more than usual) and mating season (junk science Eddie loathes) when he realised that Steve looks, well, he looks like he’s waiting to get his heart broken, like Eddie has that kind of power over him. Like Eddie denying what they both know is happening will hurt, but he’ll accept it.

And, well, Eddie promised himself that he wouldn’t be another thing, another person, who hurt Steve. After all the supernatural bullshit, after his old friends, his old alpha, and his parents, Eddie doesn’t want to be another thing Steve has to recover from.

It’s time to be brave. Time to stop running.

“Fuck, ok yeah it’s exactly what it looks like,” Eddie says, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m uh, I’ve kind of been crazy in love with you for like, months. Maybe since the beginning of the whole Vecna thing, if I’m being honest.” Eddie can’t look at Steve when he says this, looking off into the middle distance, too caught up to try and parse out the individual notes in Steve’s scent. “I’ve been too chicken shit to ask you to court, but I guess my instincts decided enough was enough.”

“Can you look at me, Eddie?” He doesn’t want to, but if it’s Steve asking, he’ll do just about anything. But, really, Eddie should have known better than to be scared, the omega has never looked at him with anything but kindness, not in a long time. Steve is smiling at him, a sweet little thing that sets Eddie’s heart to fluttering. “It’s a real nice nest,” Steve says, and suddenly Eddie can’t breathe. Everything he’s ever wanted is staring him right in the face, asking him without asking to take the last step.

Maybe Eddie doesn’t subscribe to any of the stupid designation stereotypes that say alphas should be in charge and omegas should follow their lead, but he also thinks that Steve deserves to be asked. He deserves a moment he can recall fondly to his kids of the day his alpha asked him to court.

“Well,” he pauses, licks his lips and wishes he could grab that glass of water Steve left on the dresser because his throat is suddenly parched, “It’s all yours if you want it, Stevie. There’s no other omega I’d make a nest for. And, uh, I’d love to court you, if you’d give me the chance to prove myself.”

Steve is smiling at him like he put all the stars in the sky, scent blooming sugary, cinnamon happy. “Well, with such a nice nest, how could I say no, Alpha?” The omega simpers, the coy effect lost as he hauls Eddie up into the nest, their nest, by his shirt.

And then they’re far too busy to say much of anything, for a while.

---------

This is my last submission for March Mating Madness 2025! It's been so fun working on these and reading what everyone else has written.

#march mating madness #omegaverse #omega steve #alpha eddie munson #nesting #steddie #fanfiction #stranger things #dreamer speaks #steve harrington #eddie munson

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aurorawritestoescape · 4 months ago

Text

HOLD MY HAND || Clint x f!reader

Summary: you have good news for Clint and it seems that you two are ready for another big step in your relationship.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, ANGST, unspecified age gap, gun violence, death, soft!Clint, Clint in love, f!oral, unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, pregnancy, mention of puking, swearing.

Word count: 1,4k

A/n: I’ve been obsessing over this story since this morning when I saw the ‘Freaky Tales’ trailer and I need it out of my head otherwise it’ll explode lol Kisses to my baby @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and helping me😘 Love y’all! Don’t hate me. Bye❤️ Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

“No, please, too much.”

“C’mon, jus’ one more, baby.”

You try to push away Clint’s massive hands on your hips, pinning you to the bed, but to no avail. You smile weakly, watching him rub his scruffy cheek against your inner thigh, his eyes glinting with lust in the dim light of the bedroom.

“For me, sweetheart.” His voice is soft and your heart melts when he asks you like that, looking at you like that.

“I need to tell you something.” You barely hear yourself, your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“You’ll tell me when I’m done with you.”

And he winks at you.

“Motherfucker,” you mumble and he chuckles before diving back in.

Your head dips into the pillow when Clint’s lips latch onto your poor puffy clit, but knowing how overstimulated you are, he laps at it gently, then carefully sucks your bud into his wet hot mouth, and you moan so loudly, you’re sure your neighbors can hear. To hell with them! You’re in heaven.

A little sob escapes your mouth when you feel yourself on the brink of another climax— third or fourth that night, you lost count, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his caress, drunk on him.

“Please, Clint,” you whine, asking for more or less, you have no idea.

“Here, hold my hand, sweetheart.”

His sweaty palm slides up your naked belly to your sternum, and you grab it, wrap your fingers around it tightly, ground yourself to him, while he’s eating your pussy out with his whole jaw, his thick digits pumping into your drenched cunt — in and out, in and out. Your core tightens, your nails scratch his hard skin and you come hard, your walls clamping around his fingers. Clint growls into your pussy, feeling the grip of your ecstasy,

“Mmm, yeah, good girl.”

You’re shaking against the damp sheets, crying— fuck — you’re really crying.

When your body relaxes, Clint immediately climbs up the bed, lies next to you and pulls you into his embrace.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, baby.” He cups your wet cheek and carefully wipes your tears off with his thumb. ”Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, sniffing.

“No-no, you didn’t. I’m fine.”

You reach up and kiss him, thanking him for the pleasure, silently confessing your love to your man.

He’s rock hard against your thigh, his hot tip smears wetness over your skin. Still making out, you pull him over yourself and he settles between your legs.

“You sure?” he asks, breaking the kiss, and you nod eagerly, tilting your hips up for him.

“Ok, sweetheart. Here we go.”

He feeds you his cock, slowly pushing it into your pussy, and then begins languidly fucking you, grunting into your mouth, your legs wrapped around his hips.

You feel him everywhere all at once and you love it. Love his tongue in your mouth, his chest hair caressing your nipples, his body caging you to the bed, his damp curls between your fingers, his cock kissing your soft spot. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You break the kiss and take a deep breath.

“I love you,” you exhale, so quietly, you think he doesn’t hear you. You just can’t not say it right now.

“I love you too,” he echoes and you smile, nuzzling his jaw.

He makes you come on his cock and only then spills his cum inside you.

You make out while he’s softening inside your stuffed pussy, until you pull away and search for his warm eyes. A little smile curves your lips as you whisper,

”The thing I wanted to tell you. I’m pregnant.”

You knew Clint wanted your little family to grow as much as you did but you never expected him to fall so deeply in love with the bean growing inside you. He began cooing at your stomach as soon as he heard the good news, making you giggle with happiness.

He was next to you every step of the way - getting you to and from the doctor, caring about what you ate, holding your hair when you were puking out what you’d just eaten, patiently listening to your complaints about morning sickness, heartburn, raging hormones and anything that was making you irritable that day. You always found comfort on his lap and in his arms, big and strong, and when you inevitably would begin grinding your pussy against his thighs he’d give you as many orgasms as you pleased, carefully making you unravel on his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He was a perfect father-to-be.

For you, for the three of you, he retired, and when bad guys offered him one last job he always told them to go fuck themselves.

Clint helps you to get into his car and you plop into the seat with a huff.

“Told you everything’s fine,” he gruffs, getting behind the wheel.

“Yeah.”

You give him a little smile and look down at your huge belly. You rub it, deep in your thoughts after a doctor’s appointment.

“She’s gonna be here soon,” Clint cooes, putting his palm over your hand. His touch calms you down a bit but it still feels like you’re suffocating.

”Yes, very soon,” you nod, your eyes downcast. ”I can feel it.”

You try to steady your shaky voice but as usual Clint reads you like an open book.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks and you stay frozen. You’re afraid you’ll cry if you meet his eyes. His eyes full of excitement and happiness. ‘Of course,’ you grumble inside your head, ‘he‘s not the one getting ready to push out a giant baby. You are.’

You shake your head and stare in front of yourself.

“Hey.” He pinches your chin and gently turns your head to him. “Tell me.”

He doesn’t command. He begs. This huge dangerous guy begs for you to talk.

“I’m scared,” you finally squeak and tears well up in your eyes.

He leans closer to you and pulls you into his embrace. You push your face into the crease of his neck and let it all out. She’s gonna be here soon but you’re not ready. How can anyone be ready for it?

You’re crying quietly in his arms, enveloped by the scent of his cologne and his leather jacket as he’s hugging your shoulders, his hand on your stomach. He’s silent.

When your sobs get quieter and less frequent only then Clint starts talking. The vibrations of his chest make you sink deeper into his embrace as you listen to him.

“I know you’re scared. I’m terrified too. But you’re strong and — yeah, I’m not a fucking prize. I’m older and — shit, there’s so much blood on my hands. I—I don’t know how I’m gonna hold our babygirl with these hands.”

You lift your head off his chest and look at him. His eyes are slightly red, glossy with the emotions he’s been holding inside, for your sake, and now they’re spilling out.

“I’m done with that shit, sweetheart, but — .”

He’s shaking his head, his lower lip trembles and you take his face into your hands, your wet eyes darting between his.

“No. Listen to me. My fears are never because of you. Never. I know you’re gonna be the best dad for our girl. I’m sure of it.”

You shake his head a little and you both smile. He takes your hand off his face and presses a kiss to your palm.

“I love you, Clint. Your past— it’s behind you. And I’m happy that your future is with me. And her.”

You bring his hand to your belly and you both feel the second heartbeat under your palms.

“I love you. Both of you,” Clint mutters and kisses you. His chapped lips move slowly, his tongue pushes between your lips and tangles with yours. The taste of him ignites your core and you gush, squirming in your seat.

“Need you,” you whine against his mouth and he chuckles, pulling away from you.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

He sits straight and puts his hands on the wheel.

Suddenly you see a man, standing by the car.

A muzzle of a gun pushes into the window. Clint reacts fast and grabs it.

Bang!

You feel pain. So much pain.

You hear Clint. He’s talking to you. He’s crying.

“Hold my hand, baby. Hold my hand.”

His voice gets quieter and quieter until it disappears altogether and your world goes black.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name

#pedro pascal #clint #freaky tales #fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #clint x reader #angst #clint freaky tales #clint x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #fluff #joel miller #tw pregnancy #tw death #pedro pascal angst #freaky tales spoilers #pedro pascal fic

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steveseddie · 5 months ago

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happily ever after

read on ao3

Steve doesn’t know when it happens but at some point, he stops hating Dungeons & Dragons.

He still calls it anything but its actual name to the kids’ faces, and he still bitches and moans about having to drive them to and from their stupid meetings, but he can admit that he kind of likes it, at least to himself.

Definitely not enough to play it. He still believes there’s way too much math involved and he gets a headache just thinking about memorizing an entire character sheet, but he does enjoy it enough to sit and watch the kids and Eddie play.

Eddie is also probably a big part of why Steve started liking it. He has a way of making everything interesting. His voices, the way he insists on randomly jumping on his chair or shooting up to his feet, and the twists and turns he weaves into a story so expertly.

There’s also the fact that Steve is head over heels for him and sitting through one of their games is the perfect excuse to stare at him all he wants.

Realistically, he can’t be at every one of them. He has a job and a tiny shred of reputation to maintain. He can’t be seen dedicating all his free time to a game for nerds.

He can, however, dedicate his Friday night to it when Eddie invites him over for the big finale of their latest campaign.

“It’s going to be great, Stevie, I’m telling you!” Eddie says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “You can’t miss it!”

“I won’t, Eds, I promise,” Steve tells him, trying not to show just how easy it is for Eddie to get him to agree to anything.

The big finale does end up being great. The kids spend the whole time sitting at the edge of their seats and Eddie delivers twist after twist until finally the legendary sword is found, the kingdom is saved and everyone lives happily ever after.

Or maybe not everyone.

There’s something that stays with Steve even after Eddie dramatically announces it’s the end, but he doesn’t get to ask him about it until two days later when they’re hanging out at the trailer.

Steve is sprawled on the bed, leafing through a sports magazine he swiped from Wayne’s stuff and Eddie is pretending to organize his desk. In reality, he’s spent the last twenty minutes playing with a rubber ball he found among his things.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve says just as Eddie throws the ball toward the ceiling. He turns his attention to Steve and forgets about the ball, which bounces against his face.

“Ow! Shit!” He swears, rubbing at his eye. Steve stifles his laughter behind the magazine. “What’s– what’s up, Stevie?”

“Can I ask you a question about Dorks & Dweebs?”

At that, Eddie snaps to attention. His eyes are wide and one of them is a little red from the ball hitting it. “Steve Harrington, did you just say you want to ask me about Dungeons & Dragons?”

“I said Dorks & Dweebs, but yes.”

“I don’t even care that you refuse to call it by the proper name,” Eddie chuckles disbelievingly, then he jumps to his feet and joins Steve on the bed, a big grin on his face. “Holy shit, yes! Of course, ask me anything you want!”

Steve can’t help but chuckle at Eddie’s excitement. The way he rests his chin on his hands and stares expectantly at Steve like this is the most amazing thing to happen to him. It’s very cute. “Okay, you weirdo,” he says, his voice dripping with fondness. “At the end of your last game–”

“Campaign.”

Steve waves him off. “At the end of that, what happened to the singer guy? The bard? Uh, Everard?”

Tilting his head, Eddie asks, “What?”

“You know, the– the guy that helped the kids– uh, the party find the legendary sword. The EMT or whatever.”

Eddie’s mouth twitches amusedly. “The NPC.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well,” he says, scratching his head. “He died.”

“What? Why?”

“Because he got mauled by carrion crawlers, Steve.”

“You got mauled by bats and you lived!” Steve argues. Eddie’s nose scrunches up, most likely at the mention of his near death. “Couldn’t one of the kids have used like, a healing spell or something?”

Eddie taps his lip with his finger, thinking it over. Steve can’t help but follow the movement with his eyes.

“I guess they could but– he’s not important, man, he’s just there to help them find the sword.”

Steve averts his eyes from Eddie’s lips and crosses his arms over his chest. “If he’s not important then it doesn’t matter if he lives, right?”

“Okay, sure,” he snorts. “He can live if you like him so much.”

“Good,” Steve says, nodding. Eddie rolls onto his back, probably assuming the conversation is over but there’s something else Steve has been wondering about. “Does he go back to the princess?”

Eddie’s whole body visibly tenses up. “W–what?”

“Everard is in love with Princess Soliana, right? Does he tell her?”

“No,” Eddie says, his voice sharp.

“Why not?”

Eddie groans, sitting up on the bed so he’s facing away from Steve. “Because that’s not relevant to the campaign!”

“It’s relevant to me,” Steve huffs stubbornly.

“Why?”

Because Steve is a romantic and from the first time Eddie mentioned this NPC or whatever, Steve felt drawn to him for some reason. It might sound stupid, he’s just a character after all, but Steve wants him to be happy. “Because Everard loves her.”

“So?” Eddie snaps, “there are things even love can’t fix.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “In real life, maybe, but in fantasy, man? Anything can happen.”

“That can’t,” he grumbles. He still won’t face Steve, his shoulders hunched over.

“But why?”

“Because!” Eddie snaps, finally turning around. His face is pinched, his lips pursed. “Bards don’t marry princesses, Steve!”

“Says who?”

“Me, and I’m the DM so I make the rules.”

“Which means you can change them, give them a happy ending!”

Eddie drags his hands down his face. “There’s no happy ending for Everard, Steve. He knows that. He’s not the hero who gets the princess, he’s the sorry son of a bitch who almost dies. Even if he lives, he won’t do it. He won’t risk the friend– the kingdom when he knows the princess doesn’t love him back.” He says all of that through gritted teeth, and his voice sounds sad like– like he knows what he’s talking about.

“She’s royalty, Steve. She’s beautiful, she’s brave,” Eddie goes on, his eyes boring into Steve with an intensity that makes him shiver. “And he’s– he’s no one and he’s broken and– and scarred, and–-”

“You,” Steve whispers as the realization hits. “He’s you.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut. He gulps, but he doesn’t deny it. He can’t. Now that Steve knows it’s so obvious. The similar name, Everard’s funny and flirty personality, the way he joins the party later in the campaign, and how he’s mauled by creatures trying to save them.

And if that’s Eddie then–

“The princess is me.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Finally caught on, didn’t you, Stevie?”

“You– you based those characters off of us?”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “But you killed Everard.”

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, well. I took some liberties, I didn’t want to make it too obvious, you know? And I did die for like a couple of minutes, so–”

“But the part about Everard being in love with the princess. Did you take liberties with that?” Steve asks quietly, holding his breath as he waits for Eddie’s answer.

“No,” he says, ducking his head, his hair falling over his face. “That part was accurate.”

The admission makes Steve’s heart try to beat out of his chest. “You– you love me?” He asks with a shaky voice.

“I do,” Eddie says, his big doe eyes finally meeting Steve’s gaze. “But I meant what I said. Everard wouldn’t risk anything, not when I know– when he knows you– the princess doesn’t want him.”

Eddie’s eyes are sad and pleading, like he’s begging Steve not to be mad at him. But Steve is mad. Just not for the reason that Eddie thinks.

“You don’t know that,” he says, frowning.

“I told you–”

“You told me what Everard thinks, now let me tell you what the princess thinks,” Steve says, shutting Eddie up. “She doesn’t think Everard is broken, she thinks he’s strong. He might be scarred, but so is she. And– and he’s beautiful too! Maybe she never thought she could fall in love with a guy– with someone like him but she loves him, Eddie.” He reaches for Eddie’s hand on the bed. It’s shaking. Steve squeezes it. “And I love you.”

Eddie’s jaw goes slack. “Steve–”

“That’s Princess Soliana for you,” Steve tells him, trying to lighten the mood.

It works. A joyful, high-pitched laugh tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he agrees with a giddy chuckle. “I– did you– do you mean it?”

Another squeeze. “Of course, Eds.”

With his free hand, Eddie grabs a lock of his own hair and tugs it across his face to try and hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks and that just won’t do. Steve uses his hand to tuck the hair back behind Eddie’s ear. “So, now that Everard knows this, what’s he going to do?”

Eddie doesn’t even need to think about it. His eyes instantly dart down to Steve’s mouth. “He’s going to kiss the princess,” he says, his jaw set in determination.

Warmth shoots through Steve’s body, the corners of his mouth curl upwards. “Good,” he says, and then Eddie is pulling him in by his shirt, their lips crashing together in a kiss. Steve’s hand finds its way to the back of Eddie’s neck so he can keep him in place, kissing him back for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes.

“I guess– hmph, I guess Everard did get his happy ending after all,” Eddie mumbles against Steve’s lips after some time. “And so did I.”

Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Nah, Eds, this might be the end for them,” he says, pushing at Eddie’s shoulders until his back hits the bed and he can climb on top of him. “For us, it’s only the beginning.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddiebingokiss #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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swanimagines · 2 months ago

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Hi! Could you write a short Eddie Munson x reader blurb where it's just morning cuddles and kisses in his bed 🥺 Please and thank you!

A/N: Makeout scenes always feel weird to write to me, but I did my best haha 😅

GOOD MORNING METALHEAD

When the first flickers of light penetrated through the windows of Eddie’s trailer, it illuminated your and Eddie’s sleeping bodies. Tangled in blankets and in each other’s bodies, his bed far too small for two people, but you still, somehow, had managed to fit.

You were the one stirring first, squinting to make sense of the alarm clock beside you and groaned — you should get up within fifteen minutes and leave for school. At least, if you wanted to take care of your hygiene before leaving.

You turned your head to look at your sleeping boyfriend and sighed, lifting yourself up to your forearms. You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and stared at his face for a moment. You knew you should get up already, your teachers already weren’t thinking too fondly of you two as you had lost the track of time and (more or less accidentally) skipped classes because of making out somewhere.

But you just couldn’t help it, looking at Eddie’s face, laying there, in warmth… it just always pulled you towards staying with him and pushing your responsibilities back for him. Someone might say he’s bad company because of that, but it was really just teenage love.

“Mm, you’re staring at me,” he suddenly murmured, making you flinch slightly and sit up straighter.

“I didn’t know you’re awake.”

He opened his eyes a crack. “I had the most amazing dream,” he murmured, blinking at you lazily. “I was in my bed with a literal angel.”

You pouted. “Disappointed it’s just me?”

He snorted. “Why would I be disappointed? My dream turned out to be better than reality.”

You felt yourself blushing and bit your lower lip. “You’re such a sap.”

He shifted, raising himself up a little to lean his head on his hand, before he grinned. “Only for you, baby.”

You were quiet for a moment, just basking in the morning warmth, before you sighed. “We should really get up.”

He pouted. “Don’t ruin the mood.”

“I wouldn’t, unless we weren’t an inch away from failing in our classes again.”

He flopped back down onto his bed, pulling you against him. “Eh, we still have our whole lives ahead of us. Being left on class won’t hurt just yet.”

You didn’t argue with that, even though you knew that way of thinking was madness. But you couldn’t help but think how in his arms, your grades didn’t really matter.

You felt his lips trailing down your jaw, so you tilted your head to return the affection, kissing the corner of his mouth before he pressed his lips against yours. Soon, you had rolled over, your lips moving together and you were giggling every time you parted. You threw your other leg across his while his hand trailed up and down your bare back, slightly pulling you closer.

It was always as addicting, kissing with him. Time always seemed to fly by, which wasn’t always a good thing, but you at least pretended not to care.

It took a while, and your positions changed at least ten times before you finally parted to glance at the clock again.

The school was starting in twenty minutes, no chance of making it in time. You groaned and flopped back against the pillow. “Shit. We should really stop doing this.”

Eddie snorted again. “Kiss each other stupid each morning you’re over? Not a chance.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know I sound like I’m nagging, but it’s really messing with our school and possibly our future through that. Teachers aren’t going to take ‘our lips were glued together for an hour, sorry’ for an explanation.”

He hummed, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Let’s make up another explanation, an acceptable one, and make out for one hour more?”

You should have said no. Everything in you screamed a no. It wouldn’t be a good idea.

But, as expected, you were in his arms half an hour later too. Being late wasn’t that bad, at least if your stupid lovesick teenager brain was asked over your reasonable part of your brain…

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #reader insert #gn reader #romantic #my works

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littlexdeaths · 1 year ago

Text

i get off - e.m.

perv eddie munson x perv fem reader

you don’t know that i know, you watch me every night…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), eddie is lil peeping tom but reader loves it, they both steal each other’s shit, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, choking, spanking, dirty talk, mean!dom eddie, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, squirting, they both are nasty freaks

a/n: this is another edit and repost from my old account. it’s one of my favorite fics so i had to move it over here. enjoy freaks xx. 😘

based on i get off by halestorm

word count: 3.8k

you’re sprawled out on your bed, fingers running through your drenched folds. clad in only an oversized iron maiden t-shirt and a pair of knee high socks, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. plucked directly out of one of his dirtiest fantasies.

you can feel his eyes on you, you always do.

not that he realizes that.

and while you’ve lived barely ten feet apart for your entire lives, eddie has never had the courage to make a move.

so he settles for this— watching you through his bedroom window.

fantasizing that the delicate fingers now dipping inside you were his. and the fist currently wrapped around his thick cock was smaller, softer. yours.

the first time he witnessed you like this it was a complete accident.

you had been pent up all day, and didn’t think to shut your bedroom curtains before slipping your hand inside your panties. the bedside lamp bathing your room in a muted yellow hue. eddie had been working on a new song, guitar perched on his lap.

he was frustrated with trying to string together this new melody, glancing up in utter annoyance. that is until his gaze drifted towards the window, his eyes widened and his cock stirred in his jeans.

you looked beautiful, you always did. however this was the most vulnerable state you could be in, and the fact that he got to witness it— made you all the more enchanting to him.

he’d be embarrassed to admit that watching you touch yourself made him cum in his jeans, completely untouched. and that first time you were none the wiser, not noticing the dark eyes that were trailing your figure. but once eddie had gotten a taste he couldn’t get enough.

eagerly waiting by his bedroom window to enjoy his new favorite nightly program… you.

you weren’t sure exactly how long he’d been doing it for, but the night you caught him in the act, it awoke something within you. while eddie made sure to keep his bedroom light off, the moonlight was not on his side that night.

it had filled his room in a soft white glow, highlighting his pale skin. his naked form perched on the edge of his unmade bed, stroking his shaft in tandem with each thrust of your fingers.

his moans are what gave him away, as your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure. but he’d gotten a little too carried away, thinking about how pretty your pussy would look stuffed full with his cock.

the thin walls of the trailer doing nothing to conceal his sounds. when your eyes finally opened, you were met with the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen.

eddie fucking himself into his fist, his head tilted back as he spilled all over his ringed fingers. the image alone had your eyes rolling back, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. one of the most intense you’ve ever had, and from that night on you always kept your curtains open.

desperately chasing that euphoric feeling again.

while you didn’t always see him, you knew he was there. the feeling of his greedy eyes on you was enough to have you cumming harder than you ever have in your entire life. your whimpers were muffled but still rang through his ears as he’d make a mess all over his hand and chest.

different images of you— on your knees, on top of him, taking you from behind, or his favorite with his head buried between your thighs.

it was slowly driving him crazy, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. he needed more. he quickly found himself staring out his window any chance he could. gazing longingly as you floated around your bedroom.

he watched you change, get ready for the day, study with your college textbooks. your pencil resting in between your teeth. eddie knew it was wrong, that if you ever found out you would be revolted.

if he only knew it was the exact opposite, and how you couldn’t finish without feeling his eyes on you. but you also needed more, desperate to feel his weight on top of you. his mouth trailing over your skin, his cock stretching you out perfectly.

so you became bolder, going as far as to leave your bedroom window open. letting your moans drift through the night air, teasing him further.

and when you noticed some of your panties had gone missing it only heightened your desire for him. knowing he was in your room, touching your things… holding your panties up to his nose as he came all over himself.

grunts of your name escaped his pouted lips, and his left yours as you drenched your fingers. but it wasn’t enough.

you needed him.

fueled by your insatiable lust you found yourself gazing at him more and more. as he sat on his messy floor, playing guitar or working on a dnd campaign. focusing intently on his fingers, and imagining just how good they would feel inside you.

but your favorite was when he was fresh out of the shower. his dark curls were drenched, water dripping down his inked chest. the patch of hair that disappeared beneath his towel drove you absolutely mad.

so you took a play out of his own book, sneaking into his room while he was working at benny’s. or coming home late from a gig at the hideout, surrounding yourself in everything that was so distinctly eddie.

eddie honestly wasn’t concerned when a few of his shirts had gone missing. or a pair of his cum stained boxers, a guitar pick… as he lost things all the time. he simply chalked it up to his forgetful nature, either he misplaced them or lent them to someone.

that is until tonight, as he peered through your window for what felt like the millionth time. his heart was in his throat as he instantly recognized the iron maiden shirt adorning your frame as his.

the realization dawns on him that you knew exactly what he’d been doing this whole time… and instead of being disgusted or upset, you liked it. enough so that you began doing the same thing to him.

that epiphany made any reservations or fears he still had fade into nothingness. the male decided that he couldn’t sit back and only watch you anymore.

he had to have you.

the brunette rose to his feet, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his long legs before slipping out of his bedroom window. quickly dropping onto the ground as he walks the short distance to your adjoined trailer.

his large hands grip the bottom of the window sill, pushing it open the rest of the way before he’s hoisting himself through it. a small gasp leaves you as he tumbles inside and onto your bedroom floor.

eddie is quick to get up onto back on his feet, as you eagerly eye the obvious tent in his gray sweats. he licks his plump lips as he practically sizes you up. he stalks forward like a predator, slowly crawling onto your bed and between your spread legs.

the male grabs your wrist, coaxing your fingers out of your drenched cunt. raising them up to his mouth, slipping them between his lips with a deep groan. “such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

for once you’re speechless, his actions jumbling your already fuzzy thoughts. you never imagined he’d actually come through your window, like you’d been dreaming about for weeks.

“speak for yourself, munson…” your confidence suddenly comes rushing back, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth. feeling your wetness pooling onto the bed sheets as he swirls his tongue around them.

“guess we’re both a little dirty, huh baby?” eddie chuckles as he removes your fingers from his mouth, now leaning over you.

letting yourself fall back against the pillow, his face mere inches from yours. this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to him, now noticing the light freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose. the dimple that indents his cheek as he smirks down at you, little things that you found utterly endearing.

his hands begin drifting down your sides, his smirk only widening as you shudder beneath him. “is that what does it for ya? you like being watched, sweetness?” he grips the fabric of his shirt, starting to push it up your torso.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. “i get off on you…” you slowly trail your lips up his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto his pale skin. the male letting out a husky moan as you nip at his ear, “getting off on me.”

eddie curses under his breath before he’s pinning you down against the mattress, his lips crashing against yours. your fingers tangle in his wild curls, kissing him back just as forcefully. all the pent up sexual tension and desire now spills from both of you, as his hips rut into yours. you can feel his hard length pressing onto your thigh, causing you to moan into his mouth.

your impatience seems to get the better of you as you grip onto one of his wrists, guiding his large hand in between your thighs. a not so subtle way of telling him exactly what you wanted, the male nips at your lower lip before he’s leaning back onto his knees.

he spreads your thighs even wider, as his dark eyes zero in on the mess between them. his fingers dip between your folds, gathering your sticky nectar on the digits. swirling them around your swollen clit before moving lower.

the metalhead teases you as he circles the tip of his middle finger on your entrance. barely pushing it inside you before removing it, a wet squelch filling the room. “oh listen to her purr for me, baby… you want my fingers inside you?”

you nod frantically, lifting your hips up in an effort to get him closer to where you needed him. but he pulls them away immediately, causing you to whine from the loss. eddie grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together as he meets your hooded gaze. “i asked you a question, sweet cheeks.”

he watches as your eyes glaze over more, the dominance he was exuding turning your brain to mush. “and i expect an answer, or is that pretty little head of yours too fucked out for me?” his tone is condescending, borderline rude but it only seems to fuel the fire in between your legs.

you let out a soft whimper, the male letting go of your cheeks to trail his sticky fingers down your jaw.

“need your fingers, eddie…” you reply.

the male merely chuckles, wrapping his fingers around your neck and hovering his face just inches over yours, while his thumb strokes along the column of your throat.

“need them where, hm?” he prods.

and you’re quickly becoming impatient, and he can tell from how your lips jut out into a pout. your thighs close in around his own, in an attempt to feel some kind of friction.

“come on now…don’t ya wanna be a good girl for me?” he can see the effect those words have on you, your pupils dilating and breath hitching in your throat.

“put them inside me.” while your tone is meant to be demanding, it comes out as more of a breathy plea than anything else.

your heart is pounding in anticipation as his fingers trail over your stomach before cupping your cunt in the palm of his hand.

“and what do good girls say?”

you now realize your mistake, the male raises a brow while he awaits your answer.

“please touch me.” you plead, and eddie is quick to reward you, by plunging two fingers into your awaiting heat.

“see? now you’re learning,” he almost purrs.

and another string of curses leaves his mouth as your walls tighten around his fingers and a high pitched moan falls from yours.

“shit sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.” he curls the digits up, watching in awe as your back arches off the mattress.

“fuck, i need to taste you,” he mumbles more to himself as he slips between your thighs.

his tongue darts out, encircling your clit with an urgency you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

the noises you’re making are music to his ears, and while he’s heard them before—you’ve never sounded quite so needy. pride blossoms in his chest knowing it’s because of him, you need him. he was making you feel this good.

your thighs begin to tremble as he increases the pressure of his tongue, pumping his fingers even faster.

“m-more need more.” while eddie wants to reprimand you for not using your manners, he’s been waiting to have you like this for far too long.

but he’d make sure you didn’t forget next time…if there was a next time, he really hoped there would be.

he slips a third finger inside you, the long, thick digits reaching places you never realized existed until now.

but now that you knew what they felt like, your own would never suffice again.

“aww pretty thing, you gonna cum?” he chuckles mockingly as the sound vibrates against your core.

the feeling only aids in bringing your release that much closer, causing your eyes to flutter shut. a harsh slap on your thigh has them flying back open, your eyes meeting his own as he looks up at you from his position between them.

“eyes on me,” his tone is stern, commanding as his tongue returns to assaulting your swollen bud.

as you start to grind your hips up against his mouth, it pushes his fingers even deeper inside you. hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out a broken, “oh god, please.”

eddie hums against you, increasing the speed of his fingers. “while i prefer master…god has a nice ring to it.”

and if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm you might have found that funny, barely registering his soft laughter as he sucks harshly on your clit.

the sensation is what finally sends you over the edge, your thighs squeezing tightly around his head and trapping him there.

not that he would ever dare complain.

once you settle back down into the mattress is when he pulls away, crawling back up your body toward you. your excitement covers his chin in a light sheen, tasting yourself when he kisses you with a renewed force.

you reach for the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his thighs. you just barely feel his cock rubbing against your thigh, and you want nothing more than to feel it hard and heavy on your tongue.

“wanna taste you too, eds,” you whine as he trails his lips across your jaw, sucking onto your skin.

but as much as he would love to have you gagging on his cock, his own impatience had reached its peak.

“next time, sweetness…” he insists, “i need to be inside you.”

you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up, but the promise of a next time makes your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

eddie unwillingly untangles himself from you, now standing at the edge of the bed to fully remove his sweats. his cock stands at full attention as you sit up, eagerly crawling towards him. your mouth waters at the sight, as you’re finally able to admire him how you’ve been dying to for the last few weeks.

you wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft, glancing up at him as you lick up the pre-cum that has smeared across his pink tip. the male grips a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging you off his dick as a small whimper leaves you.

“hands and knees— now.” he nearly growls at you, releasing you as you continue to look up at him in a daze. “don’t make me repeat myself, baby.”

as much as you would love to test how far you could push his buttons, that would be saved for a later date. so you do exactly as you’re told, crawling away from him now on your hands and knees.

and you can practically feel his eyes trailing over the plush skin of your ass.

“take a picture, munson, it’ll last longer.”

what you don’t expect is to hear the snap of your polaroid camera, and you whip your head around to see the shit eating grin he was sporting. he sets the camera and picture back down onto your dresser, almost missing the wink he shoots your way.

“was just following orders, sweet cheeks.” he chuckles, crawling onto the bed behind you.

eddie lands a firm smack on your ass, his chest now draped across your back. his hot breath fans over your neck as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “face the mirror, you aren’t gonna wanna miss this, baby.”

your thighs clench together, now turning to face the full length mirror that stands across from your bed.

you glance at yourself briefly before your eyes trail upwards, now meeting his in the reflection. a cocky grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, his hands now roaming over the full expanse of your ass.

when you feel the tip of his cock brush against your core, your hips push back almost involuntarily, desperate to feel more. eddie’s calloused hands grip you tighter, stopping any further movement on your part.

“don’t be fucking greedy, you’ll take what i give you.”

you squeak out a small apology, keeping your eyes focused on him as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. you gasp once he slowly guides himself into your awaiting heat, a strangled moan tumbling from his lips.

his eyes squeeze shut as he bottoms out, his balls flush against the curve of your ass. you feel so incredibly full, the stretch so divine it makes your head spin.

“eddie, please.” you mewl, watching as his brown eyes meet yours.

desperate for him to do something—anything.

eddie’s rings dig into your hips, his eyes flicking down to watch as he slides his cock back out. letting out a low groan when he sees that you’ve already coated his length in your arousal, a sight he’d only ever seen in his dreams.

“gonna give you everything,” he grunts before slamming himself back inside, practically knocking the air from your lungs as you fall forward onto the mattress.

you grip the edge of it for support as he continues to rock his hips into yours, this new angle allowing him to rub against your sweet spot perfectly. you keep your eyes locked on the mirror, the image of him behind you—thrusting into you will be seared in your memory forever.

the black ink that swirls across his skin, the light sheen of sweat on his chest and the veins in his forearms that are much more noticeable as he grips your hips tighter. he looks more like a greek god than anyone had a right to.

your jaw is slack, mouth hanging open as you continue to watch him. the little ‘uh uh uhs’ that leave your lips mix with the sound of your skin slapping together which now fills the once quiet space of your bedroom.

“taking me so well—this pussy was made for me.”eddie moans, completely distracted by the way your pussy flutters around him. the creamy ring that’s formed around the base of his cock expanding with each thrust of his hips.

“look at me,” you whine, and that signature smirk returns to his features when he meets your eyes in the mirror once more.

“aww poor little, baby,” he coos, slipping his hand between your thighs and landing a harsh slap on your already sensitive bud. “always need my eyes on you…don’t you?”

a string of curses slips past your lips as you frantically nod your head.

“need it,” you whimper as his calloused fingertips circle over your clit. “need you.”

your words seem to have quite the effect on him, a low growl leaving him as he fucks into you even harder, “what do you need me to do, pretty girl? tell me.”

it takes you a minute before you can give him a proper answer, the male having fucked any coherent thoughts from your head.

“n-need it…inside.” is the best you can manage, but eddie understands all too well.

it’s exactly what he had hoped you would say.

“yeah, you want me to fuck you so full?” he grunts, “ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else?”

those words along cause your eyes roll back in your head, as his other hand wraps around your throat.

he handles you like a rag doll as he pulls you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest. the action forces his cock even deeper inside you, barely brushing against your cervix. his hand that was just wrapped around your throat is now cradling your jaw, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.

your half lidded eyes watch as he leans forward, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear.

“this pussy is mine now, got that, sweetness?”

it’s suddenly all too much, and the rubber band in your middle finally snaps as your body trembles in his embrace. cries of his name and ‘yours yours yours’ the only words tumbling from your mouth.

the brunette watches in amazement as you drench his thighs, your bed sheets—the pressure almost forcing him out completely.

the metalhead curses as he continues to bounce you on his cock, the wet squelching of your pussy finally sending him over the edge. the male grunts as he pumps you to the brim, and your body falls limp against his chest.

you’re both panting as you come down from your highs. and his grip on your hips is much more gentle than before as he coaxes you onto your back.

you hum contently, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion hits you. eddie cradles your face in his palms, pressing soft kisses to each of your eyelids before his touch suddenly disappears.

your eyes fly open in alarm, reaching out for him as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “don’t worry…you aren’t rid of me just yet.”

eddie chuckles as he spreads your thighs apart, his dark eyes watching intently as his cum drips out of you. it pools onto the bed beneath you, making an even bigger mess of your sheets.

his head dips lower, inhaling deeply as he gathers the mixture of your arousals onto his awaiting tongue. he moans before diving in deeper.

“shit, we taste good together.”

“too much,” you whimper, wiggling your hips away from his eager mouth due to the oversensitivity.

eddie presses a kiss to each of your thighs before he joins you once more, collapsing next to you with a boyish grin on his face. you reach out to trace the stubble along his jaw, your fingertips carefully brushing over his plump lips.

you feel him release a shaky breath against your fingertips, the look he’s giving you makes your stomach do a little flip.

“so…is it too late to ask you out on a date?”

#the freak writes 🫧#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson x perv!reader #eddie munson filth #eddie munson fic #[ the munson files ]

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sweetcalebb · 19 days ago

Text

caleb when you're a needy drunk ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 675

cw: intoxication, suggestive content, consent themes, just a hint of non-con (nothing happens)

for context: you and your friends thought a little get-together with some drinks would he fun. except they want to do it in a trailer, rather than in the house that's just 30 feet away

pt 2 here - fluffy!

—

You weren’t sure where everyone went. One second the trailer was full, the next it was just you and Caleb—and the bed that looked too soft not to sink into.

And Caleb followed like instinct, just standing there, head tilted and eyes soft as he watched you giggle against the cushions.

"You alright, Pips?" he asked, gently leaning over you, stretching one hand above your head to hold himself up. "Need more water?"

You turned to him, sluggishly sitting back up. "No. No more water. Tastes bad."

Caleb scoffed, leaning back to give you more room. "Really? Worse than vodka?"

"Waaay worse," you agreed, even when the very thought of vodka made your insides curl. "Mmn... I.. need somethinghg else."

Caleb paused, the air shifting just slightly. "Yeah? What do you need?"

Without a word, you crawled to the edge of the bed. Caleb watched, stepping back just enough as you swung your legs over the ledge.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his words laced with a playful edge.

But the teasing lilt immediately left he minute you clumsily grabbed his belt and tugged him between your legs.

He braced his hand on the wall, his eyes widening as he stared down at you. "Hey, hey. What are you doing?" He was serious now.

"I wanna..—wanna take this offf.." you whined, fumbling and failing miserably as you tried to undo it. The buckles were too small, the loops too tight. It was hopeless. It was like he planned this. You pursed your lips in a pout and leaned your head against his stomach.

"Calebbb.. Take it off. Mmn.. Please?"

His breath hitched, carefully reaching down to stroke your hair. "I can't, Pips."

You whined at that. It wasn't fair.

"Please.." Weakly, you nudged him back, then sank onto your knees in front of him. "I promisse I'll be good."

Caleb swallowed hard, nervously looking around.

"Hey—Honey, c'mon. Get up."

"I just wanna feel it.. Just.. wanna.." You eyed his crotch adoringly. "Just wanna kiss it."

Caleb's breath caught in his throat again, his pants tightening traitorously.

He wanted it so badly. God, he really did. It wasn't right though. He couldn't. But before he could say that, you were curling your hands behind his legs to keep you steady as you leaned forward to nuzzle into the bulge in his pants.

The friction made him bite his lip.

"Hah..! Hey, wait."

You nuzzled into him deeper, melting into the rough denim like it was just a second skin. Not a barrier. Caleb groaned softly, his hand twitching above your head, trying his hardest not to grab you.

"P-pips... Don't.."

He bit his lip harder, trying to keep the soft, breathy sighs from crawling up his throat. "But.. I just..—I wanna make you feel good," you whispered, pressing a searing kiss to his groin—open mouthed and everything. That's when he tasted blood.

"We can't—fuck—" A blend of arousal and panic licked up his spine. This wasn't good.

His free hand clawed at the wall beside him, fighting every cell in his body not to do something stupid.

And you were completely oblivious, rubbing your cheek against him, putting just the right amount of pressure that made him want to reach down and press you harder against him.

"Ss-see?"

He had to stop this.

Now.

"Alright, alright," he finally said, taking a few grudging steps back, leaving you there on the floor, all glossy-eyed and pouty.

The sight made his chest squeeze painfully. Caleb sighed, stepping toward you again and crouching in front of you. "We can't do this. Not like this. You understand, right?"

You didn't mean to be difficult, but your drunken self took that as a the worst rejection. Caleb saw it, the little sting of tears in the corner of your eyes.

He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I want to. Trust me, I really, really want to. But we can't. I should've pulled away sooner. But I promise that when you're sober we can have some fun, yeah?"

You blinked away your tears and nodded. "Okay," you whispered, letting him pull you up to guide you back to the bed. "I'm—mmn. I'm sorrrry.. That was so embarrassing." You turned to the side, hiding your face into the pillows.

Caleb only smiled though, playfully pulling you back to face him. "It wasn't embarrassing. You're just drunk."

"You still like me?"

"I love you."

—

#love and deep space #love and deep space x reader #love and deepspace caleb #caleb smut #caleb x reader #love and deep space smut #caleb #x reader #soft smut #drunk #nothing happens #reader insert #lnds #lnds x reader #love and deepspace #love and deep space caleb #self-indulgent #real life

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frannyzooey · 7 months ago

Text

Sun Drenched

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Rating: E

a/n: a little something I wrote after the premiere of the trailer — enjoy while I work on some other things! ❤️

—

Marcus’s fingers drum on the table, his eyes drifting over the wood. His gaze is unfocused, every color and fine line blending together, his mind distant from the talk of battle around the room.

The whorls remind him of your curves, the ones he left draped in his sheets.

The slow rise and fall of your breathing, your bare chest on display. He plays with the curve of your breast, reveling in the petal soft skin: fingertips circling your peaked nipple, his thumb skating over the plump weight. Bending to give it a kiss, the skin feels like velvet under his lips. A butterfly’s wings, delicate and achingly soft.

Your fingers run through his curls on a soothing loop, his scruffed cheek resting over your heart. His touch dancing along the inside of your thigh, the bend of your knee, the sloped indent of your waist.

Sated and spent, every sense satisfied.

Touch, taste, smell, all nourished for the time being.

You hum, and he listens, closing his eyes.

“General Acacius?”

His name brings him back to the present, a table of men staring at him.

“Hm?”

Some chuckle, some barely hide their impatience.

“Looks like his mind is elsewhere.”

“Between his lover’s legs, more like.”

“Can you blame the man? He’s been away for almost a year.”

His smile is tired, but good natured. He holds his hand up, silencing their comments.

“My apologies. Please, continue.”

They do, Marcus trying his hardest to focus on the plans they have laid before him, the training suggestions, the maps. Everything plotted, everyone with an opinion to voice. They fight across the table; old men and young.

“Do you have to go?”

He turns, thumbing at a mark you’ve left on his bare chest while riding him this morning.

“I can’t neglect my duty to Rome,” he says, drinking deeply from a cup of wine.

“And what about your duty to me?” you tease, pulling your naked leg out from under the sheets. Your hand drifts down along the inside of your thigh, and he stops his search for a tunic, watching. You skim it higher, and then higher still and his eyes darken when you slip it under the sheets between your legs, just out of sight.

“I think I’ve more than satisfied that,” he replies, abandoning his search for clothing. Climbing up onto the bed to join you, he takes your ankle in his hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. His lips drift higher, his grin pressing into your leg at the giggle you let out when he tugs the sheet from your body.

Settling heavy and warm on top of you, his mouth immediately seeks your own.

His voice is heard above the rest in the end. Plans settled for the day, he stands from the table, rubbing at the stiffness in his lower back from years spent in the training yard, sitting in a saddle, sleeping on the ground. The men shake his hand one at a time as they file out of the room, and he follows, walking out into the courtyard.

The sun shines down on his face, and he tilts it upwards, soaking in all he can before he’s summoned again. A council with the emperors is next, the future of Rome to be decided. More old men sitting around on their pompous asses to decide the fates of both himself, and the men that fight beside him.

Passing the training yard, the men shout their greetings to him as he passes. He molded so many of them, took them from their cradles into manhood, taught them how to be worthy of protecting one of the greatest cities in the world. He pauses, watching, the clang of swords melting into the background.

You buck underneath him, your bare skin flush with his own, your hands splayed across his chest with a shove. As hard as you can, you try to budge him, and he grins above you.

“You can do better than that, my love,” he teases. Still, he lets up a fraction and you use your weight to roll him onto his back, your thighs straddling his hips. Your breasts bounce with the movement, and his mouth waters.

“It’s not fair,” you complain, slightly breathless, your pretty pout making him thicken underneath you. “You’re so much stronger than me.” A mischievous glint dances in your eyes. “Maybe I should wander down to the training yard. See if grappling with those men makes me any better.”

Your fingers entwine with his, and he takes advantage of your momentary distraction to let you catch your breath – and then he lunges. Sitting up with a cinch, he pins your hands behind your back and tips you backwards into the bedding, trapping your arms. You laugh and fight back, trying hard to ignore the stiff weight of his cock as it brushes between your legs.

“Why, when you have the best one in your bed already?”

You try to dodge him, rolling to the side to see if you can escape the bed, and he snatches you back into place, his strong arm banding across your stomach. Faster than you can react, he’s pinned you face down into the sheets, and his knees force your legs open, his hand wrapping firmly around your plush hips to jerk them up.

Breathless and hard won, he lines up and shoves himself forward, fucking his victory into you.

Stuck longer than he would have liked in councils this afternoon, he feared they would turn into a dinner invitation. The emperors were fond of drawn out, elaborate affairs, tables of food and wine, pleasantries exchanged with the secret intents hidden beneath smiles.

He walks with a purposeful stride and a stern expression, one he’s practiced among the years. It’s a commanding gait he hopes will deter anyone from stopping him for an idle chat. He’s had enough of Rome’s business for today.

“General Acacius.”

A guard greets him as he passes, the man snapping into a rigid stance.

“Is she in there?” Marcus asks.

“She hasn’t left all day, sir. Just like you asked.”

Marcus nods, rounding the corner to his private chambers. Opening the door, he’s greeted with silence.

It’s a peaceful silence, the room drenched in the sunlight of the late afternoon, the lingering smell of the rich oil you use on your skin in the air, the curtains to his balcony billowing in the breeze. It’s there where he finds you, fast asleep on a chaise. A book open and laid flat across your chest, he admires the softness of your profile for a moment.

Long lashes, plump lips, beautiful, soft skin – and completely naked, underneath your thin robe.

He carefully takes a seat and you stir at the shadow that overtakes you, giving him a gentle, lazy smile in greeting.

“You’re back.”

“Finally,” he says, lifting the book from your chest. He gives it a glance, flipping through the pages for a moment before setting it down. “Is this how you spent the day?” he teases warmly. “Lazing in the sun?”

You roll onto your side, your robe sliding open with the movement. His eyes drop to the exposed juncture between your thighs before slowly drifting upwards: the soft curve of your belly peeking through the folds of fabric, the plane of your chest awash in sunlight. Your skin looks freshly oiled and warm, and he longs to press his face against it.

Instead, he leans in for a kiss.

“You told me not to leave, sir.” You murmur the words against his lips, your hand slipping over the curve of his bare thigh, sliding up underneath the hem of his tunic. “So I didn’t.”

He hums, pulling back with a lick of his lips. His eyes make a hooded, dark circuit down your naked body only to slowly crawl back up.

“Did you have a good day, my pet?”

The endearment is one that he knows you like, the implication that you exist only for his leisure and pleasure. If only you knew it was actually the other way around, that you held the leash of the world’s most feared general.

“I did. I’d hoped you’d join me for dinner,” you smile, bringing his attention back to your face.

“And what’s for dinner?” he asks, his voice dropping into a low, raspy tone. His hand slides up the inside of your thigh, cupping you wholly between your legs. “This?”

His fingers press against your damp curls, searching, exploring. His hold tightens, and you suck in a breath before melting into the chaise.

“If you wish,” you sigh, letting your legs fall open.

He does. He’s been waiting all day to settle between your plush thighs, to be wrapped in the warm embrace of your body. So much softness, after a life spent so hard. The way he stirs for you makes him feel like a young man again; it’s constant, his wanting. He shifts to his knees, the stone digging into his skin.

The sun catches the chestnut hidden in his curls when he bends for a taste of your sweet cunt, and you brush through the soft locks, twirling them around your finger. Every lap of his tongue makes you lazy and warm with arousal, until his nicked hand splays across the inside of your thigh to open you wider – and then the heat that he’s been stoking turns into a bright flame, his tongue flicking faster and faster.

“Marcus,” you moan, your thighs tensing around his scruffed cheeks.

With a suck, he pushes you over the edge. And when he pulls back, another flame licks hot through you at the sight of his glistening chin.

Status and wealth, lands and glory. Respected and feared, a place of honor in the Roman Empire.

All of it at your feet, lapping at your cunt.

He stands, stripping himself of his tunic, his sandals. Your own robe discarded on the ground, he kneels on the chaise and the body that he’s molded over the years both in the training yard and in battle is bare and firm, your fingers stretching out to brush through the dark hair that collects beneath his navel. His stomach is a soft curve, his cock heavy between his thighs, and you drift your touch down, wrapping your hold around it and giving it a tug. Hard and aching just for you, he groans as you explore the velvet skin, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest.

Stopping, you pull him down to join you and he lines up, pushing himself inside.

He fucks like he’ll never be able to stop.

Like he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance again.

Like every push inside is a claim, like every kiss is a mark he’s branding on your skin.

The silver at his temples and that dusts the corners of his jaw are indicators of his age, and he fucks with the same experience it would imply.

He fucks like he fights; ruthless and hard. With his hand wrapped around the curve of your shoulder, to keep you underneath him. With your leg hitched high over his hip to force himself deeper.

He’s insatiable; your cunt sore, and yet begging for more.

Sweat slicks across his back, the sun of the fading day beating down upon it. He sits back on his heels, and brings you with him, and then you’re both drenched in the light. Your arms wound tight around his broad shoulders, his arms keeping you in place on his lap.

His mouth lingers against your own, labored breathing passed between the two of you and he fucks until you cry out his name into the sky, your own on his lips shortly after.

Then he lays with you, entwined, until dusk dims the sky.

The warm breeze skims across your flushed skin, and he stands, walking back into his room.

Admiring his bare ass and strong back, you watch him call to a guard for dinner – and then close your eyes, stretching with content.

#marcus acacius #marcus acacius/you #marcus acacius/reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator ii

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