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punkshort · 1 month

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In Another Life | Part II

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)

Chapter Summary: Danny unexpectedly drops Marcus off at your office, but it works to your advantage when you decide to use him as the subject for your next article, and your research brings the two of you much closer together.

Chapter Warnings: language, typical brother embarrassing his sister, threats of physical violence, a little fist fight, some blood from said fist fight, mention of drugs, jealousy, food consumption, fluff, flirting, sexual tension, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, fingering

WC: 8.4K

Series Masterlist

Your apartment had devolved into utter chaos the last two days. It seemed like every time you rounded a corner, you had to dodge some person or scrap of metal or power tool, and it was getting on your last nerve. New York wasn't exactly known for spacious living arrangements as it was, so to have what little space you did covet overrun with your brother's shit really sent you into overdrive.

"Lizard's mom has a house in Queens, why the hell is all this shit here and not in her basement?" you snapped at Danny early one morning after you stubbed your toe on a drill.

"He's worried about her finding out what we're up to," Danny explained, and you immediately scoffed into your coffee.

"She's deaf in one ear and hasn't stepped foot in her basement since his dad died."

Danny agreed to move his time traveling project to Queens later that day.

The scowl on your face smoothed out the moment Marcus entered your kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking absolutely devastating in the pajama pants you had bought for him just a few days prior. It took all your willpower not to let your eyes drop below his waist, having already made that mistake the day before. The noticeable bulge hidden amongst the thin sleepwear had you spacing out the entire train ride to work and you couldn't afford any distractions that day. You had a big meeting at eleven where you had to present the next topic for your column and you were scrambling. The source you had for your long-distance relationship idea fell through last minute, so now you were tasked with brainstorming a spectacular backup plan in the next four hours.

"Morning, General. How did you sleep?" Danny asked as he scooped cereal into his mouth.

"Quite well, thank you," he replied, then his eyes met yours and he smiled. "Good morning, my lady."

You grinned like a school girl, your heart fluttering excitedly in your chest when you stammered, "G-good morning." Danny rolled his eyes but chose wisely to keep his mouth shut.

Marcus was able to find his way around by that point, however he still seemed hesitant to just start opening your drawers and cupboards when he needed something. Tired of reminding him to just help himself, you set down your coffee and picked up your loaf of bread from the corner of the counter.

"Same as yesterday?" you asked him as you popped two slices of bread in the toaster, anticipating his answer.

"Please," he said with a grateful nod, then dutifully clasped his hands at his waist.

When Danny watched you crack some eggs into a frying pan along with a few sausage links, his jaw dropped.

"You're making breakfast for him but not for me?" he whined.

You swiveled around and pointed your spatula in his face. "He is our guest, thanks to you," you reminded him, and Danny quickly shut up.

"I do not wish to be a burden," Marcus said. He hadn't moved but his broad frame felt like it took up the entire room.

"You're not a burden, Marcus," you told him softly, then gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"Yeah, no worries, man," Danny said, clapping him firmly on the shoulder before dumping his dirty dishes in the sink. "I'm just giving my sister a hard time because it's obvious she wants to jump your bones."

"Danny!" you shrieked while throwing an oven mitt at his head. He dodged it and ducked out of the kitchen, his laughter fading down the hall towards his bedroom.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you turned your focus back to the frying pan. When Marcus cleared his throat, you closed your eyes in dread because you knew what was coming.

"What did that mean, jump your bones?"

"Nothing, just ignore him," you said, sliding the eggs and sausage onto a plate. A few seconds passed when Danny's voice shouted down the hall, "It's a euphemism for sex!"

"Goddamnit," you muttered through clenched teeth. You began to storm out of the kitchen, prepared to kick Danny's ass, but Marcus shot an arm out to stop you.

"You look lovely today."

You gazed up at him, mouth agape, while you tried to find your voice.

Say something. Anything.

"Thanks. Uh, thank you," you mumbled, smoothing down the pink and white floral dress you picked out. On days where you had your big monthly meeting, you tried to make an effort to look like you belonged at a fashion magazine.

"Do you have plans today?" he asked, his eyes swooping down your frame appreciatively, and for once it didn't make your stomach turn when a man looked at you that way. "Daniel tells me there is a beautiful park in the city. I desire to see it and would very much enjoy your company."

You knew you were reading too much into it, but you couldn't help but feel like he was asking you on a date.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Marcus," you said, "I have to work today. But I promise we will see it before you go home."

Home.

His face fell at the word and he quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Of course, I understand. Thank you for breakfast," he said, sliding past you so he could pick up the plate you made for him. You chewed your lip and glanced at the time. If it were any other day, you would just call in sick, but today was too important to miss.

"I promise, okay?" you told him as you gathered your bags. "We will see Central Park before you leave. And whatever else you want."

He nodded and took a bite of his food. Although he appeared to be unbothered, you still felt an enormous amount of guilt.

"Danny!" you called from the front door, "this shit better be gone by the time I get home!"

"Yes, Mom!" he shouted back sarcastically from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes and gave Marcus a quick wave before hurrying out the door.

You were fucked.

You had one hour until your meeting and you had absolutely nothing.

Already, you had done your usual brainstorming techniques five times over. You scrolled through social media, hoping to find some trend or topic that might be popular and garner attention, but you were coming up dry, so you kept circling back to your long distance relationship idea. You had sent out every feeler you could think of, asking any of your usual contacts if they had anyone you could use for a story about your chosen topic, but so far you weren't having any luck.

Suddenly, your phone rang and you lunged for it, hoping it was a lead, then groaned when you saw Danny's contact picture pop up on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey..." he began, and you could tell by the tone in his voice that you should brace yourself.

"What did you do?"

He laughed on the other end. "I didn't do anything. Actually, I did do something - I am getting all this stuff out of your place, but there's just one thing."

"Spit it out," you said, your eyes flickering to the time. 45 minutes to go.

"I can't take Marcus with us to Queens. There's no room in Lizard's car."

"So let him stay in the apartment."

"I'm not leaving him all alone in New York City!" he protested. You heard some familiar sounds in the background of the call and you frowned.

"Where are you?"

Danny paused and you instantly began to put your defenses up.

"I'm... in your lobby. With Marcus and Lizard."

"You're what?!" you exclaimed in a loud whisper, glancing around to make sure nobody overheard you in your cubical.

"I told to him to just stay in the lobby and read your crappy magazines and if anyone asks, to tell them he's here for meeting."

"Danny! You can't do this, I can't babysit a fucking Roman General right now!"

You heard Danny walk a few paces away, presumably to get some privacy so Marcus wouldn't overhear, before he answered.

"He'll stay downstairs, I promise. I told him what floor you're on in case of an emergency but maybe you can pop down and take him for lunch. You've been making heart eyes at this Roman General for the past three days, don't try and lie."

Anger coursed through your veins but you were running out of precious time, so you gave up.

"Fine," you seethed.

"Great!" Danny said cheerily. "But I might not be back til late. We're burning tons of time moving all this stuff, we got work to do."

"So I have to bring him home?"

"Yes, you'll have to bring him home. You're going there anyway, aren't you? What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is he's going to be bored and lonely all day down there!" you snapped.

"He's not going to be bored. He's in New York City. The elevators alone are blowing his mind right now."

Despite yourself, you smiled when you remembered how in awe he was the first time he rode in an elevator.

"Tell him I'll be down to take him to lunch in like, a little over an hour. I have a meeting at eleven."

"You're the best!" Danny said, then before you could respond, the line went dead.

You grumbled obscenities under your breath when you heard a familiar voice say your name from the opening of your cube.

"Hey, ready for the meeting?" Matt asked. You practically dropped your phone from his sudden appearance and he chuckled. "Did I scare you?"

"Yes," you hissed as you began to gather your things, trying to hide your annoyance. You looked over the top of your cubical wall, hoping and praying you would see someone - anyone - else to walk with to the conference room, but you were shit out of luck.

"Doing anything fun tonight?" he inevitably asked, like he always did, and you sighed. You made the mistake of hooking up with him after one particularly rowdy work happy hour and ever since then, Matt's been waiting for his next opportunity. "I know a guy who works at that new French restaurant, I can get us a reservation and then, who knows..."

"I have a friend in from out of town," was all you said. No matter how many times you turned him down, he remained persistent.

"That's cool. Girls night, then?"

"My friend's a guy," you quickly corrected him.

Matt stumbled over his feet as you reached the conference room. It was the biggest one on your floor, directly across from the elevator banks. The entire wall was made of glass, floor to ceiling, so you could see through the room to the opposite wall, where there was a fantastic view of the city.

"Oh, like a cousin, or..."

"Nope," you replied, voice clipped so he knew the topic was closed. With a frustrated huff, Matt plopped down next to you and flipped open his portfolio. You gave him a sideways glance, momentarily feeling bad for him. He was by all accounts a good looking guy. He wrote a column for the men's health section and based on his physique, you assumed he practiced what he preached, but sadly his looks is where his good qualities came to an end.

Charlotte, your editor, breezed into the room, her presence enough to make everyone sitting at the long table quiet right down. She ghosted her palm over her perfectly coiffed grey hair and sat her portfolio down in front of her chair at the head of the table. As you got yourself organized, your mind scrambling to come up with a lie about a long distance relationship source, Charlotte placed her phone down delicately next to her leather portfolio, then slowly uncapped the expensive looking pen someone once told you was gifted to her by Marc Jacobs. Everybody watched and waited until she was ready, which was signified by a dainty clearing of her throat and a quick, sweeping glance over the table followed by a curt nod. At that point, the usual routine began.

Without having to be asked, one by one everybody took their turn presenting their idea for the month. Each person's name was listed on the agenda in the order Charlotte wished, and mercifully yours was dead last.

Your anxiety began to spike when Sara, the girl who was before you in nutrition started to wrap up her brief speech about some gluten free lifestyle benefit bullshit.

Keep it short. Keep it vague, and you'll figure it out later. Everyone wants to leave, it's almost lunch.

Then some movement by the elevators caught your eye. Your breathing ceased and you broke out into a cold sweat when you saw Marcus had stepped out of the elevator and was fucking talking to the receptionist. Then you locked eyes when they both turned to look towards the conference room.

"Shit," you whispered.

Matt nudged your ribs and you startled, glancing around the room to see Sara had sat down and half the table was staring at you, waiting for you to begin. You shakily stood up and swallowed the lump in your throat when Marcus began to weave his way towards you through the maze of cubicles.

Call it a stroke of genius or divine inspiration, but an incredible idea hit you right as you opened your mouth to speak. You had about half a second to decide if you should wing it and trust your gut or talk out of your ass about your first idea.

Fuck it.

"This month, I have a very interesting idea that I'm super excited about exploring," you began, watching when Marcus came to a stop outside the glass door. He looked back and forth, his fingers twitching at his sides. "My topic will be Romance without Technology," you announced with a confident smile. "I'll be researching how adults navigate their love lives without the help of dating apps, social media, or even texting," you said, listing each item on your finger as you spoke.

"Who's that guy?" Sara asked, pointing towards the door. It was at that point you realized most of the table was gawking at the tall, broad, handsome looking Roman General waiting to get your attention.

You smiled and walked toward the door with your arm outstretched.

"This is Marcus," you said, holding the door open and ushering him inside. He murmured your name but you cut him off. "He's the subject I'll be interviewing for this month's article. He doesn't use technology of any kind. In fact, he doesn't even own a cell phone."

The entire room gasped and Marcus looked around, confused, but understood what you needed him to do. He raised one arm up to greet the room and said, "Good morning."

Most of the women began to whisper excitedly to one another, shooting him looks and giggling behind their hands until Charlotte cleared her throat and once again, the room fell into silence.

You chewed your lower lip anxiously as you waited for Charlotte to silently appraise you both. Finally, you saw the corner of her mouth twitch and she gave you a barely perceptible nod.

"I look forward to reading it."

She stood abruptly and collected her things, signifying the end of the meeting, and relief flooded your veins.

"Are you okay?" you asked Marcus, pulling him to the side while the room stood and slowly filtered out. He nodded.

"Yes. There were many vehicles that passed by with bright lights and loud sirens. When I asked what it was for, I was told there was an emergency."

You giggled and shook your head. "So the fearsome General was scared?"

His brows knitted together for a moment before he answered.

"No. I grew concerned for your well being."

Your heart could have melted on the spot.

"Oh," you said softly, and just like that, the annoying little flutter in your chest was back. "I-I'm fine, but thank you. That was... that's really sweet, actually."

He grinned as his eyes swooped down your frame, causing butterflies to awaken in your stomach.

"Did you wanna get something to eat?" you asked as you stared up at him, his large frame making you feel so tiny in comparison. "It'll be on the company's dime since I kinda just signed you up to be the subject of my next article."

He cocked an eyebrow at you and shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis, the action bringing up the memory of you measuring his inseam and you felt your face begin to heat up. God, you must have looked ridiculous, standing there in front of Marcus in the middle of your office, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Of course," he replied, "but what do you intend to write about me?"

You grinned and hurried back to your abandoned chair, scooping up your things before pointing to the door.

"Let me drop this stuff off at my desk and I'll explain everything."

"My marriage was arranged," he reminded you from across the table draped in white linen. You decided to take him to a nicer steakhouse not too far from your office, one that didn't enforce a dress code but still had good food that you rarely sprung for out of your own pocket.

"I know, but I'm sure you can still give me an idea of what romance was like," you replied. "For example, did you get her any gifts? Give flowers? Take her to places that were meaningful to you? Or to her?"

Marcus dropped his gaze to the table and shrugged. "We knew each other for such a short period of time, there was unfortunately not much in the way of romance."

You clocked the forlorn look in his eye and began to feel guilty for bringing it up. "I'm sorry. I'll just make something up, don't worry about it. No one'll know."

"No, no, I wish to help," he said quickly, his hand stretching across the table to loop two of his fingers around yours. "Just because I do not have many personal stories to share does not mean I cannot help with your research."

"I don't want to reopen any old wounds," you explained, your eyes fixed on the way his hand linked with yours so naturally on the tabletop.

He chuckled softly, his smile causing his deep brown eyes to sparkle and a dimple to appear on his cheek.

"It was a very long time ago."

When your salads arrived at your table, Marcus released your hand to pick up his fork, frowning down at the bowl before asking, "This is the salad named after Julius Caesar?"

You giggled and shook your head, the sound causing him to lift his chin with a warm smile.

"No," you said once you collected yourself, "No, it's named after another Caesar. The guy who created it, I think."

Marcus didn't seem to mind he was wrong or that you found his error so funny. In fact, he enjoyed it.

"You have a beautiful laugh."

Instantly, your cheeks flushed and you shyly looked down to focus on your salad. "Thank you," you said softly.

He watched you silently for another minute more, admiring the way your eyes fluttered shut when you tasted something good or tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, then took a hesitant bite of his salad.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you grinned from behind your napkin.

"Delicious."

You giggled again and nodded. "Yes, it is."

Once your salads were taken away and before your main course arrived, you pulled out a notebook and flipped to a blank page.

"Let's start from the beginning. You don't have to go into excruciating detail. Maybe just some things you know of that others did to... court women? Is that even the right word?" you mumbled the last part to yourself as you scribbled something at the top of your paper.

"It was seen as a sign of weakness for a man to become infatuated with a woman," he said, and you looked up at him in surprise.

"Why's that?"

"Marriages rarely were based on affection. They were viewed as a way to improve your social standing, but it was mutually beneficial," he explained, his finger tracing the design engrained in his fork. "Women were taken care of, looked after and tended to while the men were able to claim a high ranking senator or nobleman as their family. And, of course..." he trailed off, his cheeks staining pink when he dropped his gaze to the table and said, "received the traditional benefits of having a wife."

You smirked to yourself as you wrote notes on your pad of paper.

"Thought you were used to talking about sex openly," you teased. He cleared his throat and your pen paused over your paper to meet his eye.

"I admit, at times I feel nervous around you."

"Me?" you balked, but he just nodded and your brain scrambled for something to say that wouldn't entirely embarrass you. You landed on deflection.

"I thought it was a sign of weakness to grow infatuated?"

He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "I never said I agreed with that line of thought."

"No, I suppose you didn't," you said, shyly dropping your eyes to your paper. His gaze was too intense. Every time you looked at him it felt like he could see right through you. "So, tell me. Hypothetically. If we lived in Rome and I caught your eye, what would you do? How would you win me over?"

Marcus took a deep breath, his broad shoulders relaxing as he thought about your question for a moment, staring at your pen hovering over your paper.

"I would write you letters every day," he said softly, forcing your eyes back onto him. His voice was low and deep, smooth yet firm as he spoke. "I would write of your beauty. I would compare the color of your eyes to the flowers and fauna that grew in my garden, delicate and all encompassing. I would tell you how food tastes better on my tongue when you are around, and how I ache for you when you are not near. I would try to explain how difficult it is to breathe without you, and how I would gladly die a thousand deaths just to feel the softness of your lips against mine."

You stared at him, hand frozen where you left it resting on your notebook. He waited patiently until you finally blinked yourself out of your stupor and inhaled a shaky breath.

"Uh, s-so love letters, then," you stammered, shakily scribbling down something incoherent on your paper. Jesus fucking Christ, get it together.

"Yes. Love letters," he repeated. He sounded so cool and collected. How was he so relaxed? A moment ago, he was admitting you made him nervous. Maybe he was just better at hiding it than you.

Your server arrived and placed your food down in front of you, the heavenly scent wafting up and making your mouth water. Placing your pen down in favor of picking up your fork and knife, you asked, "Have you ever had steak?"

"I am not sure. What animal is it?" he asked, picking up his fork and testing the tenderness of his steak by giving it a little poke.

"It's cow. Try it, it's good."

"Cows were used for farming," he said before slicing a piece off and examining it closely. "We could not afford to slaughter them."

You watched as he popped a bite into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before giving you a smile and nod.

"Good?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat at finding another food he liked.

"Very," he replied once he swallowed. "You are quite perceptive and have good taste."

"Thank you," you answered, taking another bite and trying not to preen too much from the praise.

"So tell me," he said after he finished up his filet and moved on to his potato, which he eyed wearily. "Do you not receive love letters as a form of courtship?"

"Uh, no," you replied with a laugh. "Closest thing to that nowadays would be a text and even those are... sub par."

"So what is it that you do?"

"What do you mean?"

He pointed to your notepad with his fork. "For romance. What activities do you take part in?"

"Oh," you said, wiping your mouth and pushing your empty plate to the side. "You mean dates. Uh, this actually. Get dinner together. Sometimes see a movie," you paused and rethought your word choice when you saw his face. "A show, or a play. Um, sometimes go to a bar. Stuff like that."

He nodded and let your answer roll around in his head for a moment before asking, "So, is this a date?"

Marcus smiled when he saw you become flustered. You thanked the server for clearing your plates and leaving the bill before responding.

"Uh, I don't know," you finally said shyly, making his smile grow even wider. "Do you want - I mean, well... I'm technically working, but, you know, if - if that was something you were interested in, then, I guess w-we could classify this, or, you know, it could be construed-"

"Yes or no," he said, interrupting your insane ramblings with a soft look and an outstretched hand. Your face was hot with embarrassment but you reached out for his hand, anyway.

"Yes."

"Yes," he repeated, squeezing your fingers. You grinned and nodded, your stomach doing cartwheels as you tried to steady your breath.

Once you paid with your corporate credit card, you walked back out to the street, Marcus holding the doors open for you before offering you his hand. You sheepishly accepted it and walked a few paces in the direction of your office before he stopped you.

"Must you return to work?"

You gave him a sad smile and took a step closer. "Yeah, I'm sorry. But maybe I can play hooky tomorrow."

Marcus raised a curious eyebrow at you while playing with the material of your dress with his free hand, gently pinching and feeling the fabric between his fingers. "What does-"

"It means I'll call in sick without actually being sick so I can have the day off," you explained without him needing to finish asking.

He grinned and dropped your dress in favor of cupping your cheek. "I would like that very much."

"Me, too," you said, gazing up at him while leaning into his touch. His strong, calloused hand felt rough against your skin, but you liked it. As if reading your mind, he stroked his thumb over your cheekbone and murmured, "You are so soft."

You hummed, not trusting yourself to speak when you watched him slowly lean down to your level, your eyes fluttering shut as you waited to feel his mouth against yours. But just when his shadow got close enough to block the sun behind your eyelids, you heard someone shout your name.

You swiveled around angrily, your hand still laced together with Marcus's as you looked for the person who interrupted one of the more romantic moments of your life.

And then you saw Matt stalking up to you from the direction of the restaurant.

"Is this why you've been ghosting me?"

You frowned and tilted your head. "What?"

Matt came to a stop in front of you both and jutted his chin towards Marcus. "Too busy sleeping with your profiles to hang out?"

"W-what?" you stammered again, too shocked to fight back with your usual vigor. You felt Marcus stiffen next to you. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he immediately sensed your discomfort. "I'm not - this isn't-"

"Oh, sure," he sneered, crossing his arms, his biceps bulging out of his thin dress shirt. "I saw you two in there. You were three seconds away from crawling into his lap."

Your mouth hung open in shock and humiliation. "Were you following me?"

Before Matt could answer, Marcus took a step forward.

"I am going to have to insist you stop yelling," he seethed, and even though Matt followed his own advice in his articles and worked out plenty, Marcus still towered over him.

Matt's eyes went wide for just a moment before his bravado returned. "C'mon, man. She's just using you, don't you see that?" Matt prodded, then he scoffed. "Unless you're good with it. Then by all means, have fun. She's a good fuck but I don't think she's got much else."

It all happened so fast, you couldn't remember Marcus dropping your hand and cocking his fist. You couldn't remember the first sickening crunch of his knuckles against Matt's nose, but you did remember hearing his pained howl.

Marcus only landed a few more blows before you came to your senses and tugged him by the shoulder. It was laughable to think you would be strong enough to move him, but you must have also said something because Marcus immediately stopped and turned back to you.

"Jesus Christ!" you cried shakily, hands trembling as they hovered in the air. You weren't sure what to do and people were staring as they walked by, driving up your anxiety. Marcus was fine except for his skinned knuckles, but Matt was much worse. He had a busted lip and already a bright blue shiner forming on his cheekbone, and when he stood to face you both, you noticed another cut on the other cheek.

"The fuck is wrong with you!" he spat, blood dripping down his chin.

"Mind how you speak to women and perhaps they will wish to spare you their time," Marcus snarled. Matt turned his attention to you, the pad of his thumb swiping against his lower lip.

"Who is this guy? What the fuck is his deal?"

You took a deep breath, your mind settling and your fortitude returning.

"If you had just backed off when I said no the first dozen times, maybe you didn't have to find out!"

"Oh, come off it. You like the chase. You get off on guys trailing after you-"

"You're the only fucking one, Matt!" you yelled, no longer caring who was looking. "We hooked up once, years ago, and you just can't take the hint! I'm not interested!"

His eyes clouded with disbelief as he propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight to one foot, standing there as if he were somehow new to being shot down.

"I'm telling Charlotte about this. About your little..." he trailed off and gestured vaguely over your shoulder, "guard dog. I'm sure she will love to hear about one of your profiles assaulting an employee."

You crossed your arms defiantly and made a face. "Oh, yeah? Do that and I'll recommend to HR they give you a drug test."

His face paled for a moment but he tried to hide it. "Drugs? I'm not on drugs."

"Oh, so you're telling me your balls are just naturally that shriveled up and small? Because, shit," you laughed, "if it's not steroids, you might want to see a doctor about that. That's not normal."

Matt swallowed tightly and clamped his mouth shut. You smiled and turned around to Marcus, who had been listening to your entire argument and probably understanding less than half of it.

"Let's go."

You tugged on his arm and he obediently followed, leaving Matt to lick his wounds.

"Your work - the building is the other way."

"I know," you said, raising your arm to hail a cab. "I'll figure something out. We're going home."

Marcus watched as you paced around your kitchen, phone pressed against your ear as you spoke to your boss and faked a sudden illness that included the word cramps. When you finished up, you looked over at him from across the room.

He looked so normal now. Sure, he spoke a little strangely but without his tunic, clad in khakis and a polo shirt, he looked like he fit right in. Like he always belonged right there.

"I don't think I even thanked you," you said. Marcus smiled and shrugged.

"No need."

He was so damn adorable, it was killing you. "I've never met anyone like you before," you confessed, leaning a hip against the edge of your counter.

"In a good way, I hope?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. You giggled and nodded, the sound making his heart soar.

"Yes, in a good way."

He brought his hand up to smooth over his mouth nervously and your stomach dropped.

"Oh, my god! Your hands!" you exclaimed, crossing the room to snatch one of his massive hands within both of yours.

"It is alright, there is no-"

"Come on, let me clean up your knuckles at least," you said, pulling him towards your tiny bathroom, which somehow felt even smaller when you were both crowding the space. "Sit here," you told him, pointing towards the closed toilet seat, "I have some stuff somewhere," you muttered under your breath as you rifled through the medicine cabinet behind your mirror, then tugged open the drawer in the vanity that always stuck. Marcus did as he was told and watched you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Ah ha!" you announced victoriously when you held up a bottle of clear liquid and a box of bandages. He smiled as you washed your hands before meticulously laying everything out you would need. Picking up a cotton ball, you doused it with the liquid and turned to him, having little choice but to stand between his knees and lifting one of his hands to look at it closer.

He splayed his hand out flat, palm pressing against your palm while you carefully dabbed at the dried blood.

"You have laid with that man before?" he asked out of the blue. Your cheeks felt warm when you nodded and avoided his eye.

"A long time ago. It was a mistake."

He didn't say anything else for a few minutes, just watched as you tenderly cared for his broken skin, your proximity and touch overwhelming his senses.

"Did he mistreat you?"

Quickly, you shook your head. "Oh god, no, nothing like that," you told him. "It just... wasn't a good fit."

Marcus couldn't stop staring at the soft slopes of your face and the bright sparkle in your irises, growing infatuated with the way your brow scrunched together in concentration while you worked.

"Did he not worship you?" he asked softly, watching as your breath hitched and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Uh, no," you finally said, setting down the cotton ball in favor of a tube with some salve. You squeezed a small dot onto your finger and began to apply it carefully to his knuckles. "Can't say there's been a lot of worshipping happening in my life," you added with a dry chuckle.

"No?"

You shook your head and wiped your finger with a tissue and tried not to let his injured hand that had fallen to your hip distract you.

"No," you whispered, your shaky voice betraying you.

He tsked and brought his other hand up to your hip, slowly splaying his fingers wide and crumpling the fabric of your dress. "Shameful. You deserve to be worshipped."

All of the air rushed from your lungs, your body thrumming with desire. Marcus noticed the fine hairs on your arms raise when goosebumps flashed across your skin and he delicately picked up your hand, flipping it over so he could press a kiss against the inside of your wrist.

His deep brown eyes met yours and with his lips still brushing against your skin, whispered, "Will you allow me to worship you?"

You found yourself nodding before your voice had a chance to catch up with you, then his hands gently cupped your face and pulled you down to his level. The moment your lips finally met, you forgot how to breathe, how to move, how to think. His lips were so unexpectedly soft and tender as they slowly massaged against your own that it sent you into a tailspin.

You pressed your mouth against his with a little more force, the fear that he may just stop at one kiss gripping your throat and driving you forward. He made a soft, surprised noise in the back of his throat when you began to kiss him with more intensity, but he didn't skip a beat. He tightened his hold on your face, fingers dimpling your cheeks and his nose bumping lightly against yours.

Your hands pressed against his chest, then your fingers curled to grip his shirt, wanting to tug him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere but you were still in your stupid fucking tiny bathroom and it was difficult to maneuver. Seemingly anticipating your next move, you felt Marcus stand. Your head tipped back, neck craned upwards at an impossible angle, refusing to break the kiss even for a moment so he began to carefully walk you backwards towards the door. Every step towards your bedroom felt like you were walking deeper and deeper into the sea, drowning in his overwhelming presence and touch.

Marcus's palm slid over your shoulder, down your arm and only stopping when he found your ribs. He wound his arm around you as you both stumbled through your doorway with as little grace as you would expect from two people growing more and more intertwined by the moment.

Once you felt your mattress pressing into the backs of your knees, you released your death grip on his shirt so you could reach behind you and unzip your dress. The cool air washed over your bare skin when it pooled around your feet and suddenly, you felt extremely exposed. What kinds of women was he used to being with? It felt like every day when you went into work you learned something new that men found desirable in women. How could you possibly be expected to keep up in the modern world, let alone with what Marcus might find appealing?

But when his palm reconnected with your middle and he felt your smooth skin under his hand, he grew desperate for more to the point where you could sense it, pushing your insecurities to the back of your mind. His injured hand left your cheek so he could glide both massive hands over the soft swell of your curves, his fingers twitching as he sought out more of your skin but when he came in contact with your bra, his hands stopped.

You could feel his hesitation by the way his lips stalled against yours so you took his hands and wrapped them around your back, wordlessly guiding him to the clasp as your tongue slid inside his mouth.

He figured out the hooks on your bra after only one or two fumbles and it dropped to the floor to join your dress.

"Fuck," he whispered when he finally managed to pull away to admire your nearly naked body. Your eyes widened with surprise.

"I don't think I've heard you curse before."

He inhaled a ragged breath, his eyes still drinking you in when he murmured, "I did not have a reason to before now."

He gently grazed over your breast, barely even touching you while he watched with fascination as your nipple tightened from the brief contact. "You have stirred something within me," he said softly, his eyes and hands continuing to roam. "Something I believed did not exist for a long time."

You leaned into his touch when he cupped your breast, enraptured with how soft you felt under his hand. Your fingers curled around the waistband of his khakis, sliding your nails across his lower stomach, across the coarse hair you very much wished to see while his mouth descended on your throat. His beard tickled the spot below your ear and it sent a shudder down your spine. His lips curved into a smile against your skin at the involuntary movement and he asked, "What else do you like?"

It was becoming difficult to breathe. The way he was so slow and careful yet sure of himself was unlike anything you had ever experienced before with a man. It was making your knees weak and your head swim.

When it took too long for you to answer his question, he lightly pinched your skin between your teeth, causing warmth to bloom just underneath the mark.

"T-touch me," you stammered, your eyes sliding closed and your head tipping back, surrendering yourself completely to his prowess.

His hand slipped down your body, over your stomach and underneath your panties. You gasped sharply when you felt one thick finger part your folds, sliding over your clit and dipping into your entrance, drenching him with your arousal.

"Lay down for me," he whispered in your ear while wrapping his free arm around your back, holding you steady so you didn't collapse from the torture of his singular finger working in and out.

He laid you down carefully in your bed, his hand never losing its rhythm and his mouth still ghosting over your neck and chest.

You whined and bucked your hips under him, fingers getting tangled in his thick curls while he whispered words of adoration into your skin, imprinting himself on you forever.

He could feel you growing rigid, your muscles tense and your exhale coming in short bursts. He brushed his lips over yours at the same time his thumb grazed over your clit, making your jaw drop and a sob erupt from your throat.

"Relax," he murmured, increasing the speed of his wrist while slowly sliding his tongue alongside yours. "Relax and let go for me, cor mea," he said against your mouth.

Your body convulsed beneath him when he brought you to your climax with just one finger. His mouth locked over yours, swallowing down your cries and allowing them to feed his ever growing desire. When you whimpered and lightly pushed his hand away, he withdrew from between your legs but continued to deepen the kiss. It was so sweet and loving that it sent you reeling, wondering how you would ever find satisfaction from another man again after Marcus.

"Take these off," you breathed, tugging on his belt loops. He reared back to sit on his heels while deftly undoing the button and zipper of his khakis, leaving them gaping open at his waist before yanking his polo shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. You bit your lip, admiring his bare chest for the first time while he pushed his pants down and kicked them off.

"Christ," you muttered, eyes trailing over his tanned and scarred skin. You reached out and traced a particularly jagged one on his shoulder but he was more focused on ridding you of your underwear. If you ever questioned the validity of his time traveling story, any doubt was erased from your mind when you saw his body.

"Did these hurt?"

He paused and followed your gaze to his marked up torso.

"Some, at the time, yes."

Your expression softened to one of pity as you continued to scan his body, losing count of the shiny, pale scars.

"W-what... how did these..." you trailed off, unable to keep the emotion from your voice. Marcus cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss against your lips.

"It is alright. I have been in many battles. It is my job, and just like yours, I must do it."

You laughed but you didn't really find it funny. "You risk your life every day while I write about best places to take a first date or what to do if you're faking orgasms with your boyfriend. You can't compare the two."

Marcus cocked an eyebrow as he hovered above you. "And do you have much experience faking orgasms?"

You felt your face flush. You knew he was just trying to distract you, but it was working. "Some."

He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose, then each one of your eyelids before asking, "But not a moment ago?"

You shook your head and raked your fingers through his hair, making him growl at the sensation of your nails across his scalp. While he focused on positioning himself at your opening, you dragged your mouth over his shoulder, tongue dipping to trace over his scar. You couldn't do anything about them now except show them love, something you were realizing Marcus was desperately lacking in his life back home.

Home. The thought entered your brain right when he first pushed inside you, stealing the air from your lungs and bringing tears to your eyes. You did your best to brush it aside and focus on the present, like the way he stretched you open or the soft noise he made when he fully sheathed his heavy length deep within you.

"Fuck," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders while you tried to get your bearings.

He released a groan so guttural and deep it had you squeezing around him. Your mouth found a home on his neck as he slowly began to rock his hips, your lips and teeth leaving temporary marks over his skin to join the scars. Every kiss was slow, every touch was attentive and it was hard to stop yourself from giving into him.

"You - oh," he moaned, eyes sliding shut as he lost himself in the moment. It might have been the first time you'd seen him ever falter, and the thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. "You are so soft and beautiful," he mumbled before finding your mouth once again and plunging his tongue past your teeth. "I fear it is almost too much for me to bear," he confessed between kisses.

Marcus was unlike any man you had ever met in so many ways. His vulnerability staggered you. Most men you had known would consider it weak or embarrassing to speak the way he spoke, but Marcus managed to do it without sacrificing an ounce of his raw masculinity.

His broad shoulders and thick arms caged you in, giving you a feeling of safety and security you never felt before with another person. It was always you who had to be strong, who had to figure everything out and be responsible. And for once, with Marcus, it felt like you could let go and not have to worry.

Your body relaxed beneath him, legs spreading even wider to accommodate his powerful thrusts. He pulled an arm out from underneath you to press down on your thigh, pushing it into the mattress next to you in order to open your hips up even more. Then he leaned up just a fraction so he could grind his hips against you with his new found space, drawing a shaky moan from your throat when he came in contact with your clit.

Marcus paid attention. He took note of what you liked, what made you writhe and gasp and he teased you with it until you were begging him for more. He couldn't deny you, so he gave you what you asked. When you whined for him to go faster, he did. When you begged him to touch you, he did. He gave you everything you asked for until your legs trembled and your breath quickened and you were tossing your head back into your pillow, his name on your lips as you fell apart for him.

Then you gazed up at him, eyes smoldering, your lips swollen and parted and looking more beautiful and satisfied than he ever could imagine. Pulling him down to you by the back of his neck, you whispered his name in his ear and he shuddered, his hips faltering for a moment all because of one simple word from your lips.

"Marcus," you whispered again, mouth sucking a bruise into his neck. "Are you going to come for me?"

"Yes," he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he neared his peak. A lazy smile spread across your face, body still flooding with pleasure as he fucked you a little harder seeking his own.

His hand fell to your side, pulling you closer, rolling your hips in rhythm with his, and with his teeth bared and eyes flashing with hunger, he came with a broken groan that sent a shiver down your spine. You gasped at the feeling of him emptying himself inside you, eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy. His mouth crashed over yours with your eyes still closed. Your tongues danced together, first with lust, then once your heart rates slowed and your skin stopped tingling, with something more. Something like longing and desperation to hold onto the moment as long as you possibly could.

You both spent a little too long sharing tender kisses and gentle touches. For once, the world around you ceased to make noise and the only thing that mattered was what to order for dinner so you didn't have to leave your bed the rest of the night. You picked Mediterranean food and spent the hour after it was delivered discussing how it compared to the food he was used to, neither of you daring to mention the elephant in the room.

You curled up into his side, his arm draped around you, his back leaning against your headboard as you watched a romantic comedy together. Just as you were explaining the plot and how you had used the movie as inspiration for an article the year prior, a breakthrough was happening in Queens.

The volume on your phone was off and neither of you were paying attention to it lighting up on your nightstand, too busy ignoring the movie in favor of fusing your lips together again with your limbs slowly tangling together under the covers to notice the text come through.

Danny: staying in Queens for the night, we're on a roll. The mighty General shall be out of your hair b4 you know it.

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #in another life fic #marcus acacias smut

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haeryna · 9 months

Text

thinking about idol!gojo and rockstar!geto (tw: mentions of underage drinking, implied abandonment, implied homophobia from gojo's parents, vague mentions of illness)

how you three, along with shoko, lived in the same ratty small town in the middle of nowhere. you'd moved when you were six, all shy and scared of the house your parents had moved to in order to help your sick grandmother that you barely remembered because the last time you'd seen her was when you were four. you were from the city; you'd never seen fireflies, or grass that stretched out as far as your eyes could see, and so when you saw the first firefly appear just as the sky turned to dusk, how were you supposed to resist it?

so you chased it down to the creek, all smiles and filled with excitement, until you realized it was dark, and you were in the forest, and you were scared. you couldn't help but start to cry, and that's where geto found you.

"are you lost?"

sniffling, you peered up at the dark haired boy, whose soft brown eyes filled with a sort of concern. "y-yeah," you hiccupped, and geto offers up a gentle smile. "it's okay, i know the way back."

and so, you'd taken his hand, let him tug you out of the creek bed, and lead you back toward the house that still didn't quite feel like home. you'd learn, his name was suguru. suguru geto, and wherever suguru geto was, satoru gojo was never too far behind (although you didn't know that, yet).

"you crying?"

you'd let out a startled yelp, still clinging to suguru's hand, twisting to look at the other boy who was staring at you with unrestrained curiosity. even at the age of six, you found him beautiful, with the piercing blue of his eyes, and the soft white down of his hair, even as he mocked you. satoru hadn't known how else to express the sort of silent jealousy that had torn its way through his chest once he saw you holding suguru's hand.

the two of you bickered, all the way back until they left you at your front door, much to suguru's displeasure. yet satoru was beaming; nobody but suguru and shoko dared to speak to him that way. he was too young to understand the way his heart seemed to churn every moment he saw you after .

later, you would meet shoko ieiri, who instantly took a liking to you, defending you with the stubbornness of an older sister you never had.

later, you would realize just how beautiful suguru and satoru were, as they grew. you were the one who pierced suguru's ears (a decision made at 1am in his basement), who bought satoru his first eyeshadow palette (his parents would have died if they'd ever see him use it). and it was eventually you who brought them into music, as you stared up at the ceiling of suguru's basement. the lights grew hazy as you blinked up at them, empty bottles of stolen beer surround you. suguru and shoko were busy smoking a pack of (also stolen) cigarettes, and satoru was on his phone.

"what if we like. made a band?"

you were only 16, and dreamed of leaving the small town you'd moved to. the temporary stay had turned permanent after your grandmother had inevitably passed. shoko immediately snorted. "i love you, but i can't sing for shit."

but you were persistent. you thrifted an old guitar that you gave to suguru as a birthday present, encouraged satoru's angelic singing.

you should have known they would outgrow you.

you're 21 now, still living in the old house, taking care of your parents. the dreams you'd had years ago turned into ash in your mouth. even shoko had left, off to pursue medical school.

you can't stomach looking at the news anymore. satoru has broken into the idol industry, creating equal amounts of chart toppers and scandals. an idol like that only comes once every one hundred years, they say. with the way he moves, the way he acts, you're inclined to believe it.

(when you watch him for the first time, on some variety show, you see him, see the way they've done his makeup, and you're brought back to sitting on the couch, telling him to stop moving or he'll mess up the eyeshadow you attempting to apply. you wonder if his parents were furious at the decision. you wonder where the eyeshadow palette you gave him went. did he take it with him before he left for good? bile rises heavy in your throat, and you shut off the television, unable to stomach it any longer.)

the radio is equally as traitorous. you know suguru has been dominating the indie charts, to the point where it's simply suguru and satoru competing against each other. you hate how whenever you go to the local bakery, you can hear his voice again playing through the speakers. hate how when you make the long drive to pick up your parents' medicine, how you can hear him through your car's speakers. it feels intimate in a way that you cannot bear.

(still, you hear the guitar and remember the look in his eyes when you gifted him the one you'd found in the thrift store. suguru had treated it reverently, telling you with an earnest sort of smile that, "the first song i write will be for you." he's traded out acoustics for rock. he has no need for that guitar anymore, you think absentmindedly. just like he no longer needed you.)

but what you don't know is that every time satoru's makeup artist gets to his eyes, he has to keep them firmly shut or else he'd burst into tears. she didn't do it like you. she never would. every time he steps onto the stage, he looks for you, though he knows he'll never find you. it never stops him from looking. how he sings his heart out in the hopes you'll hear him, unaware that despite his popularity, you avoid his music like it's deadly.

what you don't know is that every time suguru writes, he realizes how he lied to you. "the first song i'll write will be for you," he remembers, and yet now every song he writes is about you. now, girls he doesn't even know, screams his name, screams along to his songs that he wrote for you. they pretend that they're the girl who was left behind, the girl that he's never stopped loving.

(he'll never forget the way your hand fit into his, how even at the age of six he knew that you were the only one who ever had his heart along with satoru)

how on days he misses you particularly badly, the piercings you'd given him burns. he writes his love into his music, the music that you shut off every time you hear it come on the radio.

it changes nothing, if they come back, you tell yourself. suguru and satoru have each other. they don't need you.

but one day they do come back, come back for you, and it changes everything.

#haerinwrites #satosugu x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader #satosugu #suguru x reader #geto x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #you cannot tell me gojo would not be a kpop idol he is so bbygirl #i need indie singer geto so bad. not want. need.

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crappymixtape · 2 months

Text

hang on tight, baby • part two

NAVIGATION -> PART I • PART II • PART III favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+ | ( 3.1k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

H A N G O N T I G H T, B A B Y • P A R T T W O 🎶 parachute, chris stapleton

White noise buzzed in your ears, a scratchy static that closed in around you tight and suffocating and you couldn’t move. Stuck to the glittering red plastic bench seat and staring out the window at the thin twist of cloud pulling closer and closer to the ground until a hand pressed firm into yours.

“Sawyer, you with me? C’mon, we gotta move!”

Tyler’s eyes were wild, sea glass turned stormy with adrenaline, and the way his thumb flexed against your palm pulled you back to the present.

“Wha–oh–shit,” a string of curses fell from your lips and you pushed yourself from the booth.

“Dot! You got a basement?” Tyler called over the loud drone of the siren blaring outside, but the old woman was already ushering her patrons through the kitchen and out the back door.

“Honey, I’ve done this enough times I could do it with my eyes closed! You go kick those folks out there into gear,” she shoved the last of the diner guests out the door and waved a hand toward the lot where Tyler’s rig was parked.

You hadn’t quite made it all the way into downtown, just on the outskirts, but there had been plenty of people milling around before the warnings started. The post office across the street was filling up with panicked folks and Matty’s Mechanic just around the corner was sure to have people in it too.

“Alright, listen to me,” Tyler took hold of your shoulders and stooped down so that his gaze met yours, setting fire to the flicker in your chest. Steady, sure, safe. “I’m gonna go around to Matty’s, think you can check the post office?” he was nodding at you – you can do this – reassuring, but your heart was hammering against your ribcage so hard you were sure it was going to crack.

“Uh, ye–yeah–”

“Hey. You got this, okay? Okay?” he squeezed your shoulder. “We meet back here in two minutes tops. Right? And if I’m not here you get to Dot’s cellar.”

“What? Without yo–”

“I’m gonna be here, but I’m sayin’ so cos I know you like a good, organized plan,” he tried a small, half-hearted grin, but it fell at the edges and you thought for a minute, maybe he was just as scared as you were.

“Fine. Two minutes,” you breathed and when his hands left your shoulders the hammering in your chest gave way to an ache you’d been pushing back on since the first time you laid eyes on Tyler.

Come back.

“Two minutes. Now giddy-up,” and with that he was already out the door and down the street to Matty’s.

You watched him disappear around the corner just as the sky opened up. Split in two and heaved buckets of rain down onto the pavement, the wind picking up strong enough to start shredding the flag on the pole in the lot.

This wasn’t your first tornado and it sure as hell wouldn’t be your last, but it never failed to scare the shit out of you when the sirens wailed over the howl of the wind. Tyler was right though, there were people across the street that needed help, needed a shove back to reality and you could do it.

You could do it.

Shoving the door open against a gust of wind, it nearly pushed you back into the diner, but you shouldered into it and stumbled out into the parking lot. Rain drenched you within seconds, droplets the size of quarters, too warm and carrying with it the promise of destruction.

Boots splashing through the puddles, you sprinted across the street and into the post office only to find it was full of people – wall-to-wall and standing room only. Your heart stopped for a second, where in the hell were they all gonna go? And then you saw the post master.

“Hey! Hey!” you shouted at him over the cries of children and adults alike. “You got a basement or a cellar?”

He looked like a ghost, white as a sheet, like a deer in the headlights and you shoved through the crowd to get to him. Gripped his shirt in your hands and shook him.

“A cellar, basement, anything!”

“I don’t–s’my first day–what are we gonna do??” he shouted at you and you tossed your gaze out the bay of windows to the street. Diner, empty office space, abandoned gas station–

“There!” you pointed, the wind screaming outside now and pulling all kinds of debris and branches through town. “That gas station has a cellar, I’ve seen it. Get these people over there now! Hurry!”

You watched as your words cut through his panic, his expression steeling against the fear swelling in him and he hollered over the sound of the storm.

“Everyone! Hold hands! We’re gonna get across the street to that gas station over there, alright? Buddy system! Hold ‘em tight!”

A small smile flickered at the corners of your mouth — ‘atta boy — and one at a time people nodded, murmured okay, we got this, let’s go.

Leveraging the door open with every bit of strength you could muster, you held it against the gales as they ripped through the street, making sure every single person made it out. The post master did his duty too, running the line of people and shepherding them along before kicking open the old cellar doors at the gas station and giving you a thumbs up.

Safe.

Now it was your turn, and you were definitely sure it’d been more than two minutes. Your eyes flicked up to Dot’s and saw Tyler running back to the lot through the wind and rain, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Tyler!” you shouted against the storm, but it was loud now, the sky inky black as that tiny twist of cloud turned giant finally connected with the dirt and began swallowing everything in its path. Growing bigger and bigger by the second.

You knew you were out of time.

❝ I KNOW EVERY SINGLE FENCE POST, EVERY ROCK TO GO AROUND. I’VE BEEN STARIN’ AT THE RED OAK, WHERE I KNOW THEY’LL LAY ME DOWN. ❞

“Sawyer! Sawyer!” Tyler felt like he was gonna be sick. It’d been more than two minutes and you were no where to be found, but you had to get back to Dot’s, otherwise you’d–

“Tyler!”

His head whipped to the side at the sound of your voice carried somehow by the wind and when he caught sight of you holding open the door to the post office he heaved a sigh of relief. Thank, God.

“C’mon! Get outta there, we gotta go!” he shouted, waving an arm at the diner, but when you moved to come back out into the storm a heavy gust whipped down the street and slammed the door shut, throwing you back inside with it. “Sawyer!”

Tyler didn’t hesitate, not even one second as he tore across the parking lot to you despite the danger he was putting himself in – staring death down for you. It took every ounce of strength he had to pull the post office door open against the wind, but he got it cracked just enough to slip inside, breaths falling heavy from his lips.

And then he saw you. Sprawled out on the floor with your head propped against the wall of P.O. boxes and chin lolled down to your chest. The sight gripped him tight like a vice spinning shut, crushing his chest and squeezing his heart so hard he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, God–shit–no, no, no–”

Clambering down onto the tiled floor he ghosted a hand over your forehead, wanted to sweep the hair from your eyes, but didn’t. Not now. Right now he needed to make sure you were okay. Checked for signs of blood or broken bones and when he didn’t find any, felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. He pressed his head to your chest for a heartbeat – thud, thud, thud – and that was all he needed. Scooping you up, an arm around your back and the other tucked under the crook of your knees, he lifted you from the ground.

“You with me, sweet stuff?” he asked and when you groaned he let out a shaky laugh. “Damn, Sawyer, you sure know how to scare a fella,” he teased weakly, gaze flicking up to see the tornado ripping through the buildings just two streets over. “Hang on, I’m gonna get us outta here,” he promised.

The wind outside the building was howling so loud he could barely hear himself think. The windows flexed, creaking and whining at the pressure building on the other side, and Tyler’s mind started to race.

Where the hell were you gonna go?

Dot’s was out of the question, too far now, and he’d seen all those people go to the gas station, it’d be full, but then a memory struck him like lightning.

He couldn’t have been more than seven, at this very post office with his granny to mail a package to his uncle Jasper when the sirens started wailing. The old post master had ushered them around the back of the counter and if you hadn’t known where to look you would’ve missed it – the thin outline of a square in the floor with a tiny handle and latch, a bunker.

Now this was years ago, and there wasn’t any guarantee it was still there, but he was willing to take his chances. Bumping the low swing door at the counter with his hip, Tyler pushed you both back to the post master’s desk, eyes frantically mapping the floor.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered, the roof overhead beginning to rattle and shake. It was bound to be overhead any second and then he spotted it, dirt caught in the grooves and faint, but it was there.

“Sorry,” he apologized, trying to set you down as gently as he could in a hurry, and yanked at the handle.

A high pitched whistle filled the room, the air getting sucked out of every nook and cranny, and an explosion sounded outside – propane tanks or Matty’s garage – and Tyler flinched.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch!” he yelled at the door and gave it one last yank until it flew open in a cloud of dust. It wasn’t very big, but more than enough room for the both of you, and he let the breath he was holding go just as a piece of the roof ripped off and spun up into the angry swirl above him.

No time.

Grabbing hold of you, he tossed you over his shoulder and practically fell down the ladder into the bunker just as the rest of the roof gave way, debris tumbling down into the hole after you.

“Shit–hang on!” he called out to you, shielding your body with his, and the feeling of his chest pressed to your back pulled you out of your daze.

Eyes fluttering open you blinked against the dark, the small space illuminated in a flash every time lightning split the sky in two, and you sucked in a gasp. Where were you? Your hands scrambled for purchase and found the piping running along the wall Tyler had huddled you both against.

“Tyler!” you cried and he freed a hand from the old rusty pipes to grab hold of your waist, his palm wide and warm through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hang on, just hang on!” he yelled.

The howl of the wind was deafening now, an unyielding roar overhead ripping and tearing and shredding everything in its path. Distant booms and crashes telling you this was bigger than any EF-1 or 2. Tears welled up at your lash line, head pounding where you’d hit the mailboxes upstairs, and you squeezed your eyes shut against it all, pressing your hand into Tyler’s.

Please, please, please, you prayed silently to whatever god might be listening, Tyler’s chest heaving against yours, his heart hammering heavy in his chest until finally the roar began to dull. Slowed and stretched to a low growl, breathed its last breath and then plunged everything into silence.

❝ SUN COMES UP AND GOES BACK DOWN, AND FALLING FEELS LIKE FLYIN’ ‘TIL YOU HIT THE GROUND. SAY THE WORD AND I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU – BABY, I WILL BE YOUR PARACHUTE. ❞

You opened your eyes to slivers of bright light chasing across the dirt floor of the bunker, the sounds of sirens and emergency vehicles dipping down through the tattered door overhead, Tyler’s hand wide and warm still pressed to your waist.

A shaky breath fell from your mouth.

Alive.

“You okay?” Tyler asked, panted breaths fanning over your hair and it sounded small, vulnerable – no hot air or bravado. A side of Tyler you didn’t know. A glimpse of the fact that he was human just like you. That he felt fear just like you. That there was more to him than you’d wanted to accept and a tiny pang of guilt pinched in your chest.

“I think so,” your voice wobbled as you swallowed down the bile that had crept up your throat upon the sick realization that: had that bunker not been there, you wouldn’t be here and neither would Tyler.

Slowly straightening up, Tyler stooped just a little in the cramped space and kept his hand on your waist, his other reaching to take hold of yours.

“Slow, slow,” he eased, pulling you to your feet, coaxing you up from the dirt, quiet encouragement and then…your name.

Your actual God-given name.

Not Sawyer, not sweet stuff, not honey and it wrapped you up in a soft haze. Sounded like heaven and earth and the moon hung lazy among the stars in the sky and when you lifted your gaze to meet his, your breath caught in your throat.

Green eyes, sea glass, the long sweep of his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, brows knitted together with worry and something else, something warmer, and you wished you could figure it out. Wished you could swim in that soft sea green searching for what it was. Closer, closer, closer–

“Tulsa fire department!”

A voice rang out above you and you both startled.

“Oh–hey! Down here!” Tyler called up and a shadowed face appeared at the bunker entry.

“I’ve got two!” the man shouted over his shoulder before turning back to you, “Are you alright? Any injuries?”

Thinking felt like wading through molasses and you couldn’t put words to the man’s question. A beam of light flicked on, flooding the bunker and when Tyler stole a glance at you out of the corner of his eye he watched as your pupils stayed dilated.

“Damn,” he started, quiet, worried. “Yeah—er–yes. Possible concussion,” he told the EMT and the man nodded.

“Let’s get her up to the rig for an assessment,” and then he backed up to give you room to crawl out.

“Okay, you,” Tyler murmured, trying for his teasing tone and working overtime to quell the worried whispers in his head, “Up we go.”

Taking both of your hands he helped you gain footing on the ladder, nudging your boots onto the rungs with his own and curling your fingers around each hand hold.

“I’m right behind you,” he reassured as you started to shake, shock digging its hooks into you, “Easy, slow and steady.”

You took it one step at a time like he said, slow and steady, your frame trembling as you went. Tyler kept a hand on the small of your back the whole way, silent encouragement, up, up, up until the EMT grabbed hold of you and pulled you out.

Wincing at the sharp light from the sun, you buried your face into the crook of your elbow and let the man guide you toward the ambulance.

“Possible concussion here, pupils unresponsive to light, but no visible external wounds. Her partner here says he’s fine.”

The voices of the paramedics blurred together as you let them guide you to sit at the edge of the ambulance – the press of a stethoscope to your chest, your back, fingers feeling at your wrist for your pulse, a bright light blinding you for a fraction of a second and leaving behind little neon dots in your vision.

“Alright, seems minor, but she needs to be monitored for 48 hours,” the EMT said and you didn’t realize who he was talking to until you blinked away the pinpoints of light and Tyler swam into focus, “Are you her husband?”

That same flush from earlier bloomed across Tyler’s chest and up, up, up to his cheeks and all the way to his ears.

“Oh, n–no, I’m just–”

“He’s a friend,” you finished for him, rescued him from any further embarrassment and felt a small smile tug at the corners of your lips.

“Do you live alone?” the EMT asked you and the smile faded.

“Yes,” your turn to blush.

“Well, I’m right next door,” Tyler cut in, “I can check on her.”

The man flicked his eyes from you, to Tyler, and then back to you – unimpressed with whatever this was.

“Sure. Well, friend, she can’t be left alone at all for that duration. No sleep for the next 6-8 hours and if she throws up she needs to be seen again. After that she should be in the clear,” he jotted something down on a pad of paper, the two of you staring holes into the ground, like you were sitting in the principle's office or something. “48 hours, right? Right. Take care now,” the EMT leveled you both with a look then took off around the rig to help with the next injury.

Clearing his throat, Tyler rubbed at the back of his neck and closed the gap between you, the toes of his boots almost brushing with yours.

“My truck’s still here,” he thumbed over his shoulder at Dot’s, which was still standing in one piece and his big, red, pickup sitting in the lot. “Thought we were gonna have to walk,” a weak laugh pushed itself from his lungs, but his heart wasn’t in it. Crouching down, Tyler dropped to your eye-level and put a hand over the toe of your boot, “Let’s get you home.”

Taking your hand in his he supported your balance, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. Walked you to the truck and eased you onto the bench. Gently buckled you in and drove carefully around all the debris and wreckage back down the road and in that moment he became more than just your obnoxious neighbor. Became more than a face on a t-shirt. More than his stupid catchphrase.

He was Tyler Owens and he just saved your life.

[ NOTE -> THIS IS PART 2 OF A 3 PART SERIES – STAY TUNED FOR THE LAST INSTALLMENT! ]

crappymixtape™ • tyler owens / twisters masterlist to come! ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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natsaffection · 2 months

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Hi hi I know this is a random request but I just watched smile and I was terrified so I was wondering if you could do like a wandanat x reader where the reader watches a scary movie on their own coz they was bored and wandanat were working and reader gets super scared and runs to them and they just laugh at her because she is so scared but explain it’s just a movie then they watch the movie with her instead and it leads to ya know lol

Sorry if this is a weird request ignore it if it is sorry :)

Comfort. | WandaNat

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Threesome, fingering, slight begging

Word Count: 1,1k

A/N: Again something Cuteeee. When I wrote it, my Tv suddenly turned off and it scared the shit out of me (it was midnight when I wrote it) That’s a sign..

The rain pattered gently against the windows of the cozy apartment, a soothing backdrop to the evening’s activities. Natasha and Wanda were both deeply engrossed in their work, papers and laptops spread across the dining table. Their focus was intense, each woman lost in the tasks at hand.

In the living room, you curled up on the couch with a blanket, deciding to pass the time with a horror movie. The movie was one you had seen recommended, but the eerie soundtrack and sudden jump scares quickly proved to be more unsettling than you had anticipated. With each creak and shadow on the screen, your anxiety grew, until a particularly terrifying scene caused you to yelp and scramble off the couch.

Heart pounding, you bolted from the living room, seeking the comfort of your partners. Natasha and Wanda looked up in surprise as you burst into the room, your wide eyes and trembling hands betraying your fear.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, her voice laced with concern. You hesitated, feeling a bit silly for your reaction. “I..was watching a horror movie, and it just…it really scared me. I wanted to see you both.“

Natasha and Wanda exchanged amused glances. Wanda couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, you got scared by a movie?”

You nodded, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah… I know it’s just a movie, but..” Natasha chuckled, standing up and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s take a break, shall we?”

Together, they guided you back to the living room. Natasha grabbed the remote and paused the movie, examining the screen with a raised eyebrow. “This is the culprit, huh?”

You nodded again, feeling more embarrassed by the second. “Yeah.” Wanda sat down on the couch, patting the space beside her. “Come here. We’ll watch it together.”

Natasha settled on your other side, sandwiching you between them. With a teasing grin, Natasha pressed play. The movie resumed, and Natasha and Wanda’s amused expressions helped to ease your nerves.

As the movie played on, Natasha made playful comments about the unrealistic plot points, exaggerating her reactions to the scares. “Really? Who runs into the basement?” she quipped, making you giggle.

Wanda, meanwhile, conjured a small red glow in her hand, creating comforting patterns in the air to distract you from the scarier scenes. “Remember, it’s all just special effects,” she said, smiling.

Your fear gradually ebbed away, replaced by a sense of security and warmth. Natasha’s arm around you and Wanda’s playful magic made it easier to endure the scary scenes.

When the movie reached a particularly steamy scene, you felt yourself blush deeply. You glanced at Natasha and Wanda, expecting them to fast-forward, but Natasha simply raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Well, this movie just got interesting.” Natasha murmured, her voice low and teasing.

Wanda giggled, her fingers tracing light patterns on your arm. “Looks like we chose quite the film, didn’t we?” You felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement, your heart racing for a different reason now. Natasha’s hand began to move slowly, her fingers brushing lightly against your thigh, while Wanda leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “Feeling better now?” Wanda whispered, her voice sultry. You nodded, your breath hitching. “Y-yes, much better..”

Natasha’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned in to kiss you softly, her touch both tender and possessive. Wanda’s hand joined in, caressing your other thigh, their combined warmth making you feel cherished and desired.

As the movie continued in the background, forgotten for the moment, Natasha and Wanda exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with affection and a hint of mischief. Natasha’s hand slid up your thigh, her touch light and teasing. “You know,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear, “we could make this evening even more interesting.”

Wanda’s hand mirrored Natasha’s movements, her fingers trailing up your other thigh. “I think that’s a wonderful idea..“ she murmured, her voice low and inviting.

Your breath quickened, your body responding to the gentle, teasing touches. “What do you have in mind..?” you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Natasha’s smile widened as she leaned in to kiss you deeply, her hand sliding under the hem of your shirt. “Just relax and let us take care of you. Let you forget the creepy scenes.” she whispered against your lips.

Wanda’s lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, her kisses soft and tantalizing. “We want to make you feel good.” she breathed, her hands roaming over your body.

Natasha’s hands moved with expert precision, peeling away your clothes with a mix of tenderness and urgency. Wanda’s touch was equally skilled, her fingers dancing across your skin, igniting a trail of warmth and desire.

As Natasha’s lips traveled down your body, her kisses growing more intense, Wanda’s hands continued their exploration, each touch sending shivers of pleasure through you. Natasha’s tongue flicked out to taste your skin, her movements deliberate and sensual.

Wanda’s fingers found their way between your thighs, her touch light and teasing. “You’re so beautiful..” she whispered, her voice filled with admiration and desire. Your breath hitched, your body arching towards Wanda’s touch. “Please..” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Natasha’s eyes met Wanda’s, a silent exchange of affection and understanding passing between them. With a nod, Wanda’s fingers moved with more purpose, finding your most sensitive spot. Natasha’s lips and tongue followed suit, their combined efforts sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

The intensity of their touch increased, each caress, kiss, and stroke designed to bring you closer to the edge. Natasha’s mouth worked in perfect harmony with Wanda’s fingers, their movements synchronized and relentless.

Your moans filled the room, your body trembling with the overwhelming sensations. “I’m so c-close..” you gasped, your fingers gripping the couch cushions.

Natasha’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she increased the pressure of her tongue, while Wanda’s fingers moved faster, their rhythm perfect. “Let go,” Natasha urged, her voice husky and commanding. “Let us take you there.”

With a final, shuddering breath, your body tensed, and you cried out in ecstasy. The climax washed over you in powerful waves, leaving you breathless and spent. Natasha and Wanda held you tightly, their touches gentle and reassuring as they guided you through the aftermath of your release.

As your breathing steadied, Natasha pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “You did so well, Detka..” she murmured, her voice filled with love and pride.

Wanda smiled, her eyes glowing with affection. “We love you so much.” You nestled between them, feeling more loved and cherished than ever before. “I love you both..” you whispered, your heart full.

The three of you stayed intertwined, the movie long forgotten, the rain outside continuing to fall softly against the windows.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wandanat #wandanat smut #wanda smut #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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ctrlhope · 3 months

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I need a Spider Jimin in my life. I have a fear of them and had a giant one in my room, I couldn't kill it or move it, so I just stared at it, hyperventilating and crying. Couldn't look away because if I did, where would it have gone! In the end, my roommate got it after I called for them.

I need Jimin to tell them to leave my space alone or for me not to see them 😔

NOOOOO!!! I used to be so scared of spiders too <//3 like once there was a spider in my room and i stg i looked like i was working in a meth lab with the gear i put on to grab it and take it outside AJHBJSB like had a hoodie tied tight around my head, my old lab safety goggles on, gloves, and a face mask armed with cup and paper in hand. I don't know what i thought it was gonna do to me bro 😭😭 now they don't scare me (i'm now the designated spider-taker-outsider lol) but it must've not been fun at all for you :(((( i'm glad your roomate was there to help you out!! Little spider jimin blurb under the cut to help you cope with the trauma 😔😔

— Dangerous Predator

wc: 1.7k

genre: fluff, hybrid au, soft yandere

content: soft yandere!jimin, hybrid!jimin, spider!jimin, fem!reader, manipulation, kisses, jimin is a good actor, and he’s really sweet <\\3 -> the pitfalls of silk drabble

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

Oh god. Oh god what is that– that thing?!

If your eyes were a second slower, they would’ve missed it. If your reaction speed was just a feather more hesitant you would’ve never noticed the massive creeping brown arachnid skittering across your floor. Legs longer than you’ve ever seen, a massive thorax sticking high in the air making it look all the more menacing, as if it was actually threatening you. As if it had its sights set on you.

The yelp that tears through your throat makes its way out faster than you can stop it, your body jumping high as it tries to scramble on the kitchen counter– plant itself high off the ground, away from where the predator lurks. Ready to do… do whatever it was thinking of doing… yeah.

Okay, maybe you don’t exactly know what its plans were, but they can’t be any good! Not when it was moving towards your foot like, like that! When your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen, hiding away, sulking in the basement, pretending the food you're cooking doesn’t smell as amazing as it does.

Sure, you can handle the small spiders– the little ones that appear as no more than dark spots in the corners you can’t see. The ones that cohabitate peacefully, giving you your space and keeping theirs. Two lives nearby yet never crossing paths. But the big ones, the big ones are a struggle no matter how hard you try to adapt. Especially when they move so close to you, disrupting the peaceful environment you’ve created.

Jimin normally handles this, is normally the expert on dealing with 8-legged creatures you’d rather not share your domain with. But right now, he’s nowhere to be found. A disagreement only a few hours ago putting a halt on all communication with him. Rather feeling the urge to stew in your own feelings.

But now, right this very second, you could not give less of a shit about the petty argument. Can’t even remember the cause of it in the first place. The only thing you do know is the rush of adrenaline through your veins, the way your eyes lock onto the predators on the floor. The way it takes slow steps in your direction, moving ever so slowly to where you sit pressed on the kitchen counter, lettuce in hand– the perfect defence.

If you truly believed what Jimin told you about his ability to talk to spiders, if you thought any deeper about them then you do right now– you would think that it’s actually mocking you in the way it steps. Each slow, careful movement as it keeps its eyes locked on yours deliberate and teasing.

Fucking prick.

“Jimin!” Your voice calls before you can stop it, another yelp leaving your lips as you helplessly toss your leaf of lettuce at the mighty beast, completely and utterly missing. It’s almost ironic, really, that the biggest spider of all is the only one that can save you at this moment.

No more than a second passes before you hear his legs bounding up the stairs, scurrying as fast as he can to meet you. To see what the problem may be. Faux nerves taking over his being as he hears the fear in your tone, calling for him. Wanting him above anybody else.

He wants to laugh once the scene in the kitchen comes into frame. He really does. He almost feels bad for it, honestly, but you just look so cute as you try to struggle away, eyes not leaving the arachnid below.

But he’s supposed to be your knight in shining armour. He can coo over how adorable his mate is later.

“Pretty? What happened?” He asks in a hurry, concern buried deep in his tone as he quickly approaches your shaking form. Arm reaching out, gently taking one of your hands in his own. He brings it to his face, using your palm to cup his cheek as he presses a gentle kiss into the surface, gaze burning with worry over your tied expressions.

You wish you could say you were soothed, that his presence alone brought peace to your quivering heart but it couldn't. Now that the predator was out of your vision, blocked by the very man you called for, you couldn’t be more alarmed. Your body twisting against him, head trying to poke past him to see the beast still lingering nearby.

“Min! Min there’s a spider! You have, it’s going to eat me!” You shout, pointing over his shoulder with the other hand. How could he not see how urgent this is! This is a matter between life and death!

The gentle annoyance that finds its way into his veins is quickly washed away, discarded into his brain for later. The only mention of it being the quiet narrow of his eyes, ever so slight that no one would notice it. How could you still be concerned over a little spider when he is right in front of you, saving you?

Did you forget that he is a predator, too? He can’t believe he’s jealous of a spider right now.

Mmm, but he knows how humans can be. When they get all scared like this they can’t help themselves but to clamp up, frozen out in fear. One of the reasons he never wanted to be the cause of it. The misfortune that bespoke your mind every waking minute. No, he wanted to be the sunshine on a beautiful day, a field of flowers to dance in. Maybe even a handsome prince on a horse, ready to carry you away.

So that is exactly what he’ll be.

Soft eyes looking up into your own, half lidded and dangerous with affection, “Well that just won’t do, will it?” He pouts, lower lip jutted out in a cute expression that can’t help but take your breath away. Mince your mind in half, one side still focusing on the obvious threat while the other causes your heart to pound. Causes a fluttering to erupt from deep within.

Your pretty boyfriend spins on his heels, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest in a manner that can only be described as the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. His cheeks blown out in much the same way, forcing your brain to think about nothing else other than kissing him.

“Now listen here!” He tuts, admonishing the spider. Somehow, he even seems to make glaring cute. “You better leave my pretty mate alone! This is my territory so unless you wanna mess with me, I suggest you leave.” He huffs, yet can’t hide the playful undertone in his words, only half serious.

You know he probably isn’t taking you seriously. Can never truly understand your fear of the same arthropod you're dating. And you know the spider probably doesn’t even understand a single thing going on– but at the same time you can’t help the battering of butterflies in your stomach at his words. That he’s going these lengths to make you feel protected and safe.

“She doesn’t like you around here, and she’s the most important in the world to me. So, if you don’t leave right now and tell all of your friends you're not welcome around here, I'll have no choice but to do it for you.” The spider takes a hesitant step back, suddenly lowering its body closer to the floor, almost as if…

Shit. Maybe he really can talk to spiders.

“Get out.” And with those final words, the spider quickly turns around and scurries out of the kitchen and into the yard, practically waving a white flag all the way. Your eyes widen in shock, mouth hanging open as your legs drop against the counter walls. Fanning either side of Jimin in his embrace.

A cute smile is on his lips as he turns around– the cocky, proud kind that you normally roll your eyes at. But this time you can’t help but stare at him in shock, blush dusting your cheeks. Even as he leans closer, planting a gentle kiss against your lips as a reward for himself.

“There.” He smiles, hands coming to rest against your thighs. Any thoughts of dinner completely abandoned. He’ll just order take out once he has you in the nest. “All better.”

“How– you, you!” You hesitate against the sound of his adorable giggle, his hands pulling you closer to his body. Legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

“Mhmm, they won’t come around here anymore. I promise, baby.” He hums, lifting you as if you were nothing more than a stuffed animal clinging against his body. “What do we say when your handsome mate helps you out?”

Your eyes narrow into a glare at his teasing, but you can’t help wrapping further around him. Pulling him close as he ensnares you further into utter devotion. Becoming your safety net against all things scary in the world.

“Thank you.” You grumble quietly, a gentle peck against his too-soft lips given as a token of your appreciation in that moment. Stopping yourself before you melt into the feeling of his fangs pressed against your lips. “I appreciate it Min…”

As you’re finally able to hide your face away in his neck– snuggling against his skin and blocking your vision from any other scary things that might exist in the world, you completely miss the way Jimin tosses a small pile of bugs near the window. The same window that was left open just a crack too wide. The same window that he allowed a spider to crawl inside.

The same spider he may have made a deal with.

He hates when you’re mad at him. Hates it more than anything else when you take away the single thing he craves most– you. So could you really, really blame him for hatching a little plan? One he knew would send you into his arms. Make up for your whole little argument in a second.

Never, ever wants to be the cause for your fear. But every once and awhile it can serve a purpose, he supposes. Especially when it gets him out of the dog house. Gets you nestled into his web, watching movies for the night. Curled in his embrace, gentle words and soothing hands warming you.

#🧭 ctrl.nonnie #🧭 ctrl.asks #🖇️ ctrl.the pitfalls of silk #jimin x reader #bts x reader #yandere jimin #hybrid jimin #yandere bts #hybrid bts #jimin fluff #park jimin x reader #jimin #bts #jimin x you

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monsterfactoryfanfic · 25 days

Text

I'm transcribing an interview Aaron King did with me about Detente for the Ravenous and I had to stop and clip out their answer about what they think constitutes good writing. With the story breaking about NaNoWriMo supporting AI text generators, I was just reminded how fucking good it feels to hear someone talk like they give a shit about the craft.

Transcript below the readmore.

"The first time, no, the second time I dropped out of college, I moved to a different town and I was working at an old timey confectionery and ice cream place. So four to five days a week, I would go in and put on black pants and a nice white shirt and an apron and a paper hat. And I would either be scooping ice cream or washing dishes or helping the owner's dad, an 80 year old man named Oscar make homemade chocolates and stuff. So we were on a main floor of a building. We had the ice cream shop, we had a coffee shop, and then we had a basement where we stored all this bulk candy that we ordered from people. And we had the place where Oscar would make these chocolate turtles: almonds, caramel, chocolate. And one day Oscar was like, “Hey, look at this.” And he took me to the basement stairs and he pulled down this plywood slide that he had constructed on a hinge that would cover the right half of the stairs. And he took a big box that we just received and put it at the top of the slide and shoved it down. And he was like, “What do you think of that?” And I said, “Well, that saves me a lot of time carrying stuff down the stairs.” And he was like, “Yeah, every day you try to improve a little bit. You try to make this place a little better.”

And I just like was almost crying because this man that could you know, not lift anything was so old, was still just like making these weird little changes around here and thinking of other people other than him. That's one of the things that I just carry forward in this process of making stuff is just like… I will never be a Will Jobst. I will never be “insert name of my favorite writer here.” But I'm driven to make these things. There's no reason for me not to make them. I might as well try to get a little better every single day. And sometimes that means reading and sometimes that means sitting down and doing some hard self assessment and figuring out where the weaknesses are. Or how to get better or how best to spend my time. Sometimes it's fun. Sometimes it's really hard. But I don't… I'm not going to become fucking William Faulkner, you know? I'm not going to become Louise Erdrich. But that's poison brain, to try to like become and overcome them or whatever. I think it's just, if this is something I'm going to do, no matter what, I would like to get a little bit better at it every single time I practice it. Then hopefully someone will put that on my gravestone. “Tried a little bit every day. Here lies Aaron King.” "

#detente for the ravenous #aaron king

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misserabella · 2 years

Text

eugene’s secret

ellie williams x f! reader

summary; basically the scene in tlou II where ellie comes across eugene’s stash but with changes and additions!

cw; weed, smoking, cursing, tension, sexual thoughts and action, 18+ content, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, kissing, making out, the knee thing, thigh riding, teasing, dom! ellie and sub! reader, ellie being a little mean, praising, hickeys, nipple play, overstimulation, finger fucking, scissoring, getting caught!!…

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

��What’s he got down here?” you said as you close the door behind your back, stairs to your right.

“It’s obviously a sex den.” Ellie joked, and you playfully pushed her with your shoulder. She smiled as he gave you an amused look. “That’s why he didn’t tell you about it.” you two started to go down the stairs, her auburn hair swaying with her steps. She looked exceptionally pretty today, with her hair on a low bun and her green jacket.

“I hope it’s a sex den, for his sake. He was so lonely man…” you laughed, and she shook her head.

When you reach the basement, you two found the double doors to your right and slowly opened them up, the strong smell of the plants residing down there hitting you on the nose.

“Oh… oh my god… It’s weed.” Ellis said, shocked as you two entered the room, illuminated by lightbulbs.

“It’s a lot of dead weed.” you nod, looking around. “This explains a lot…” you mutter, watching her take a piece of the weed in between her hands.

“Maria would lose her shit if she saw this place.” Ellie said, smelling the weed.

“How the fuck did he get this together?” you were astonished by the amount of them that stood on tables under the growing lights.

“Must’ve taken him forever.” your friend muttered as she let the weed fall to the floor, her hands now feeling sticky.

“I wish he had told me about this, man. It’s been ages since I’ve smoked. Could’ve helped him out…” you whined, following her.

“Hey!” Ellie called out for you and you looked at her, seeing the videotape she was holding on her hand. “He’s got that videotape thing.”

“Huh. Let’s see what he’s got.” you scoffed, bending just the slightest to get a hold on the rest. “ ‘Dong of the Wolf’, ‘Smash Brandi’s Cooch’…” you read their titles and Ellie frowneds.

“Are these…”

“It’s porn.” you confirmed and she laughed.

“Interesting taste, Eugene…”

You two moved on until something caught her attention.

“y/n. Look. It’s a gas mask bong.” she said while walking towards you for you to see.

You sigh. “God, he was so smart…” you whine and take it from her hands, putting it on. “How do I look, huh?” you inquired her with a silly smile that she couldn’t see as you posed for her.

“Well… It certainly is a look.” she shrugged and you frowned, taking it off and putting it back where she had found it.

“Rude…”

“Oh, shut up. You love it.” she said as she walked away, unable to see just how hard you rolled your eyes behind her back. “Ah…” she mumbled as she took a glass jar from the tables.

“Oh…” you came closer, eyes in the jar. “There you go.” you smiled, taking it and inspecting it. “Jackpot.”

“You think it’s still good?” Ellie questions, and you shrug.

“Mmm-mm. Let’s find out.” you said as you tried opening it. You groaned when it wouldn’t, bending over yourself to push the lid harder.

“You having a hard time?” she inquired you as she unbuttoned her jacket, after having left her backpack on the floor. She seemed amused by your struggling.

“No, I got it.” you promised, but the lid wouldn’t fucking budge. “Fuck.” you said and her hands were ready to take it.

“Give me.”

“Oh yeah, like you’re going to get it.” you rolled your eyes just as she rolled up her sleeves. And then, with a quick and harsh motion of her wrist, the lid popped open. “You bitch.” you said, shocked and at the same time hurt. Your pride was hurt.

“You were saying…?” she cockily asks and you push her on the chest, trying to ignore just how good her hands were looking and how their veins were visible. Shit.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” you huffed, taking one of the perfectly rolled blunts in between your fingers and smelling it. She put the jar back on the table. You smelled it, smiling. “Smells good.” you handed it to her so she could do the same, but instead, she looked at you and slowly pulled it up to her plush lips, taking it on her mouth.

You stared as she sat down on the couch. “I mean… We’re gonna be stuck her a while, right?” she shrugged and you squinted your eyes with a little smile. Oh you knew where this was going…

You shook your head, amused, and sat down beside her, your back against the side of the sofa, legs to your chest. “Totally trapped…” You looked at her as she lit it and took a drag, closing her eyes when her throat burned. Her side profile was beautiful, with her perfect nose and long eyelashes, reddish cheeks decorated with freckles…

You wanted nothing more than inhale back in the smoke she was letting out her lungs.

You accepted the blunt when she offered it to you, taking a hit and smiling as you threw your head backwards. “Shit. That’s good.” she let out a chuckled watching you, leaning backwards against the sofa with her legs spread, perfectly exposing her firm thighs. Oh what you’d do to be able to sit on them…

You two shared the joint in between a little chatting, taking in the peace of the place and just how comfortable you were around each other despite last night’s events.

You were high out of your mind when she talked once again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I don’t know, can you?” you eyes, reddish and half-lidded squinted at her, an amused smile decorating your face.

She shook her head with the same smile before going back to you and moving to face you just the slightest. “Scale of one to ten…” she started and you offered her the blunt. “One being like absolute trash, and ten being life-altering… How would you rate our kiss last night?” she inquired, now fully facing you and taking a hit.

You felt warmth crept up your cheeks, your heart pounding faster inside your chest. You scratched nervously your neck. “Why are we still talking about this?” you asked, taking the blunt and taking a drag. “You said it was a mistake.”

“Did I say that?” Ellie frowned, looking at you, raising her eyebrows, not truly believing it.

You leaned in, looking at her with those beautiful eyes of yours, your legs now one against the other and bended to look at her. “What are you doing?”

“I asked you to rate our kiss.” she repeated while stealing the blunt, her eyes flickering just the slightest to your lips.

“I don’t know…” you shrugged, looking at your lap and away from her green eyes.

“I’d give it a six.” she said after having thought it through.

“A six?!” you inquire, astonished, taking the blunt and smoking a little bit more. “Wow…” you nodded as you exhaled the smoke.

“Like a solid six.” she continued.

“Okay.” Ouch.

“There were a lot of people around.” she clarifies and you look at her.

“Yeah, but, six?”

“Oh, what?” she takes the blunt. “I mean, now I really want to know how you’d rate it.” she said and you looked away.

“I don’t think you do.” you mumbled, and once you looked back and found her smirking. Cocky. “You’re infuriating.” you groaned.

“Have you met you?” she contra-attacked, sarcastic. She was getting closer.

“You make me want to go back outside into that blizzard.” you said, and she smiled, leaning so close you almost lost your breath, her eyes on yours.

“No one is stopping you.” she whispered, and that made you look at her lips. They looked so fucking soft. And for what you knew, they felt just as they looked. She smiled, looking at your dazed face and down at your lips, dampening her own and watching you bit your lower one.

“This better be better than a six.” you whispered and she smiled, flicking and throwing away the remains of the blunt to harshly grab your face and bring you towards her lips. You let out a gasp at the contact, at the intensity. She was kissing you so passionately you felt like melting in between her arms.

She bit down on your lip and you let out a moan that allowed her to push her tongue inside your mouth, humming. Your tongue met hers and after a few seconds she pulled away to look at your eyes before leaning back in once again. You smiled against her lips, her hands leaving your face to grab at your hips and push you back onto the sofa, climbing on top of you. The kiss was heated, not like last night’s. Was needy, was perfect.

Your fingers found her hair and pulled, making her moan in your mouth. She breathed against your lips with her eyes closed as she pulled back and you smiled, raising your eyebrows when her reddish eyes found yours. “Better than a six, huh?” you cockily inquired her and she groaned.

“Shut up.” and she really made you shut up, ‘cause her lips were back on yours. She sucked on your bottom lip, making you whine, before starting to kiss down your jaw and neck, sucking on your skin and making you tug harder on her hair.

“Ah, shit, Ellie. It hurts.” you said as she latched to your neck, biting and licking the marks she’d leave behind to help with the sting. But you really weren’t paying attention to the pain, since now her hands were unzipping your jacket.

“It hurts, baby?” she sarcastically pouted, before you could come back with a smart answer, her leg pushing in between your thighs and against your cunt.

“Fuck.” you moaned when she bucked your hips against her thigh, making you ride it, your jeans pressing against your clit from above your underwear.

“That’s it. Ride my thigh, baby.” she smirked against your chest when you started to press yourself against her harder. You helped her rip off your shirt, leaving you naked from your waist up. “Fuck. No bra?” she inquired, and you moaned when one of her hands grasped your right tit. “You’re so fucking pretty…” she muttered against your skin before her lips latched to your left breast, sucking on your nipple, her index and thumb pinched the other, overstimulating you and making you whine.

“Ellie…” you sighed her name, taking the hand that was on your waist and pulling from it to push it against and between your thighs. “Please, touch me, please…”

“Shit.” she cursed, quickly getting rid of the button of your jeans and throwing them aside after having dragged them down your legs, leaving you solely on your underwear for her to see. “So fucking beautiful…” she whispered, taking off her own shirt and bra before pulling herself closer and on top of you one more time. You moaned when her fingers pushed against your panties, playing with your clit over them. You were so sensitive due to the weed that you felt like crying.

She kissed you as her hand pushed your underwear to the side, letting your glistening cunt made contact with the cold air of the basement. “Oh god…” your head got thrown backwards when she finally touched you, her fingertips glistening with your arousal and sliding so easily in between your lips.

“ ‘S that for me?” she inquired, her head dizzy with the feeling of just how wet you were for her, how pretty you looked under her body, with her fingers on your cunt.

You nodded, whimpering when her middle finger started to circle your clit, electricity cursing through your veins.

“Use your words for me, pretty girl. I want to hear you.” she said, kissing your neck, and you moaned when she plugged her middle finger inside, your walls tightening around it and sucking it in.

“Yes, yes, Ellie. ‘S for you, only for you.” you breathed out, feeling as she started to fuck it in and out of you, the dirty sounds your pussy was making while taking her finger filling the room and making your cheeks burn.

“Atta girl, taking it so good. Listen to her, she’s so wet and ready for me…” she sucked on your nipples and you threaded your fingers on her hair, arching your back when she curled her finger and found that spongy spot inside of you that made your skin burn and your thighs shook. “There it is.” she smiled, curling it again, and again, and again… Until you were a moaning mess underneath her. You were so lost on the pleasure, so needy for her…

“Please Ellie, please, fuck, fuck me, fuck me please…” you begged.

“Such a good girl, asking for it so nicely… You want me to fuck you baby? Leave you all pretty and fucked out?” you nod, and she chuckles when you start to undo her jeans. “Needy, are we?” she teased and you whined.

“Please, Ellie…” she gave in, ‘cause truth be told, she needed you just as badly as you needed her. She got rid of your and her underwear, kneeling in front of you. She was perfect. Perfect with everything he would had on, and off.

She straddled one of your thighs so her glistening cunt would be pressed against yours. You two let out a moan at the contact.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Ellie…” you cried out as she started to move, your clits pressing against the other and making you whimper.

“Shit, you feel so good…” she moaned, taking your hips to grind against you harder, your juices mixing with each other’s as your pussies slides one against the other.

“Please don’t stop.” you begged, kissing her, grasping at her back and clawing at her skin, already over the edge due to her previous toying and teasing.

“I won’t, baby, I won’t. Are you close, hm? Are you gonna come for me?” you nodded, a whimper leaving your lips.

“Yes, yes, fuck.” tears were brimming your eyes, the pleasure was too strong. Her hands felt like pure fire against your skin.

“That’s it, good girl. Cum for me, baby. Wanna see you fall apart.” and with that your back arched, your walls clenching down on nothing and pulsing as you gushed against her cunt and moaned over and over again, each time louder as you reached your peak. “Fuck.” she muttered, watching as you came undone, fucking you and herself through it until she too was falling over the edge and on top of you, moaning and groaning against your neck.

The two of you were breathing heavily, bodies sticky with sweat and glued together. You could feel her quickened heartbeat. She left soft fluttery kisses against your neck and up your cheek towards your lips, where she left a sweet peck.

“Then… Better than a six?” you inquired her and she hit you on the shoulder, making you laugh and making her follow you.

“You’re so stupid.” she shook her head, and you kissed her.

“Oh, shut up, you love it.” you whispered against her lips before she’d lean in and kiss you again. Hands on your hips, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. And just as her tongue entered your mouth, you heard someone screaming your names.

“Ellie? y/n?! Are you two down there?” you pulled apart and looked at each other with eyes widened and faces that clearly said: fuck, Jesse.

You two quickly got up, staggering to get your clothes aback on. You pulled on your underwear and pants, reaching for your shirt as you screamed back.

“Yeah! We’re here! But… Don’t come down! Stay there!”

“Oh fuck.” Ellie said as she fought to put on her sports bra. And if you weren’t about to get caught post-sex, you would have stopped to stare at her smushed tits.

“What the hell are you two doing down… Oh my god!” Jesse screamed and looked away when he caught a glimpse of your naked back and Ellie’s naked legs.

“Fuck, Jesse!” you screamed at him.

“I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t know you two… Fuck.”

“Just shut up, and turn around, oh my god!” he did what you asked so you two could finish dressing up, although Ellie was having a little too much fun kissing your neck instead of helping you put your shirt on.

a/n; fun fact, i dreamed about ellie after smoking last night and now i can’t get her out of my head.😭

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starlightsuffered · 3 months

Text

Air Hockey

Info - Timmy looking at boobs, argument, fucking up against a wall, reader going wild for Timmy, unprotected sex, sex in someone else's house

"Come on, play air hockey, it'll be fun," he begged me.

"I'm enjoying dancing, the air hockey is in the basement," I said.

"Plilllease," he whined

"Okay fine, but, you owe me a dance," I said. We started up the machine. After a bit, I noticed he was losing, and bad, which wasn't like him. I tried to figure out why and quickly realized he was staring at my chest every time I bent down and made a move.

"Timothée Hal Chalamet," I snapped and his head whipped up from his gaze on my cleavage. He looked sheepish and I decided to mess with him and storm off. I heard him following me but getting stopped by people.

Finally, I had myself shut in a bedroom which he was in a moment later.

"You're this mad that I was watching your boobs bounce?" He asked through pants.

"I'm mad because I wanted to socialize and you wanted to play a dumb game, and then you didn't even play to win," I exclaimed.

"So now you're mad I was losing?" He demanded.

"I'm mad you were wasting my time!" I said.

"Oh, so playing a game with me is wasting time?" He said angrily.

"If you're not ACTUALLY playing it is," I said and spun so I could storm off, and let him pout. However, a hand grabbed my arm.

"I want to play a different game," he said in a sultry voice. I smirked. I turned slowly.

"Oh yeah? What kind?" I asked.

"The kind where you let those sexy tits out and I pick you up and fuck you up against the wall and watch them bounce in the proper way; when I'm slamming into you."

I didn't respond, I simply took off my top and bra for him. His eyes widened but he dropped his pants. I watched him stroke himself while I took off my jeans and panties.

He kissed me sweetly, before entering me slowly. I moaned in delight. He helped me lift one leg before whispering, "jump" in my ear. I did as he said and soon he had me slammed against the wall.

We kissed wildly as we listened to the thumping music downstairs. He was thrusting into me at top speed.

However, he situated himself for a second and then he was hitting me as an angle that felt so good I screamed his name. He stopped with worry.

"What? Did I hurt you?" He asked worriedly.

"No! No, fuck no, please keep going, that felt so damn good," I begged him. He began again and it felt just as good.

"Ahhh, ahhh, ahh, yeah!" I sounded just like a girl in a porno, but this was real, this felt fantastic.

"Holy motherfucking shit you're sexy," he said in awe. Then his eyes moved down to my breast that were bouncing heavily.

"Yeah, fuck me, ohhh, so good," I whined. "Fuck your dick is so big, splitting me open! Timmy!"

"You have never sounded so sexy," he said with wide eyes.

"Uuuhhhhh, I can't take it, m'gonna come baby," I whimpered and with his next thrust orgasm set in. My nails dug into his shoulders as I forgot how to breathe properly.

"TIMOTHÉE FUCK YES," | screamed, and I wondered, but didn't care, if the whole party could hear.

"Shit!" I heard him curse and he was cumming inside me. He had so much as drilled his cock into me. I kissed him needily, sucking on his tongue as he shot inside me. We were both panting and sweaty when he let me down.

"That was amazing, way better than socializing," I said as we got dressed.

"Or air hockey," he added with a laugh.

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messylustt · 1 year

Note

can i pls request a small fic where reader is from earth 1218 and miguel has to hide at thier house for a bit to get away? cos he dosent wanna be in a universe where he exsists, you he randomly chooses your house? doesn't have to be exactly like that but 1218 reader pls 🙏🙏

i love this. makes me feel like it could happen to me jwjidkskkkwks (i’m delusional ik. it’s okay) — also I feel like this needs a part two…

╰┈➤ ꒰ 💿 ┊bon bons ꒱

thunderstorm — miguel o’hara + reader ( spiderverse ) : miguel finds his way into your home, your universe. 1816, where no superheroes exist.

contents : kinda suggestive. suspense?? wc 3.0k. check out my spiderverse m.list

you didn’t have much planned for the day. nothing of importance. all that was required of you was to make sure you didn’t leave your sheets out on the clothes horse before the rain came.

apparently a thunderstorm. though the weather information usually stated extremes. no harm in being careful, you guess.

so, when the day got later you ventured outside, lifting on your tiptoes to remove the pegs. throwing the sheets in a basket you felt a very light drop hit your hair. looking up to the sky you could see the grey clouds slowly covering the already setting sun.

with one arm hooked around the basket, you locked the door and made your way down to the basement—to place the pegs back in their designated smaller basket. as you do, you try multiple times in flicking the switch, until it finally turns on.

you jump down the last step, throwing the pegs and moving to retrace your steps when the lights flicker off. “really…?” you quietly mutter to yourself, squinting your eyes against the darkness as you slowly tried for the steep stairs.

with only a slight misstep you reach the light switch again. flicking up down, up down, up down. and…the powers out.

luckily the sun was still barely visible when you walked back through your hallway, letting you see where you were going. you had planned to check the tv for weather news or maybe your phone. but both annoyingly won’t work. you guess that’s indication enough that the storm is almost here.

and surely so, the wind begins to howl as you stare out the window, checking that they are locked tight, as you fiddle with a lighter and a box of candles.

and just as you set up the last candle in your kitchen a noise stops your hands movements. looking to your left—down the hallway—you squint. it’s probably the storm. because the rain had begun to sound like hail on your roof.

and then just as you go for food in the fridge you hear that same noise. you can’t really make out what type of noise it is, just that it’s loud enough to run right through your entire home. you finally step out of your kitchen, walking down the hallway.

you begin to slightly smile to yourself. because this all feels too much like that horror movie you watched the other day. you stop at your front door, looking out through the key hole, and checking the lock as you slide the chain.

the house shook, as you gaze around, before your eyes widen. “shit—“ you mutter, quickly racing up your stairs to reach the bathroom. you had left the window open to help with the condensation.

and just as you began to make your way back down the steps something dark walks across your hallway. you freeze. what was that? you didn’t want to know, now your mind whirring, as you stay midway from taking the next step.

it was just…a shadow…of a tree…yeah. for some reason that got your body moving again, you don’t really know why, because a shadow that dark isn’t just some reflection.

you swiftly peek your head round the corner of your hallway, eyeing your dimly lit house. could an animal have gotten in? usually in a storm animals look for shelter. that’s why when you went upstairs to your bathroom you saw a friendly spider by your sink.

now in the kitchen you sigh, seeing no animal or anything similar. you open the fridge, scanning for food. but that’s when you hear a creak.

whipping around, your breathing caught, your gaze stops on a slowly turning figure. you’re frozen, the fridge light probably displaying your expression rather well. and then you catch this…thing’s face. at first he looked like a man.

until you saw his red, almost glowing eyes, and fangs that glinted in the dim candle light. now you’ve found your voice, while simultaneously finding food, as all you can think to do is hurl it at the figure.

“what are—how—huh??!” you’re now skirting past the kitchen island as the man-thing watches you. your hand finds a salt shaker and as you aim to throw it at his head, his hand swiftly flies up, catching it far too fluidly.

you’re breathing heavy as your eyes now physically hurt from staying so wide. he inspects the salt shaker, before placing it on the kitchen island. he has claws…

“am i going insane…?” you whisper to yourself. because that’s what crazy people do right? whisper to themselves. “yeah…you’re not…real.”

you actually look back to him. your statement a…statement, but you guess part of you was wanting some sort of confirmation.

he tilts his head, eyeing you. “it’s like you’ve never seen a spider-person before.” he finally speaks.

you blink, still pressed against the kitchen counter as if that will serve you some form of protection. in your mind it does. “what?”

he flexes his claws, as you now notice a mask in his grasp. “…are you a robber?” mask equaled robber, in your mind.

he raises a brow, looking throughly unimpressed. He has ventured a fraction closer, now more in the light, and now more visible to you. you’re slightly taken aback. because even though it looks as though he does have red eyes and fangs. he doesn’t look…horrid.

“is that really what i look like?” he asks, as you now notice his wet hair, curling around his face and a certain suit that you swear you’ve seen before.

“no.” you say slowly. “you look like a…vampire.” you could actually laugh if you weren’t so terrified. “are those contacts?”

yes, you’re still in disbelief, and denial. The man narrows his eyes, then glances out the window. you watch him carefully, your hand moving to grab something behind you.

“don’t throw that.” he holds up his hand, still looking out the window.

you stop midway from grabbing an orange as you continue to stare. “what are doing in my house?” you finally ask the essential question. whatever he is he’s still broken in.

then your brows furrow, because you didn’t hear glass smashing…you don’t think. “how even did you get in? i swear i locked everything…”

he looks back to you. “i have my ways.”

“that’s…descriptive.” you mutter more so to yourself. “are you…like a cosplayer or something?” because you swear you’ve seen his suit before.

he eyes you. “what universe is this?”

“universe?” you blink a shit tonne of times. because what?

he seems to be thinking as he gazes around, before some sort of realisation hits him. “1218.”

“12 what?” you’re utterly confused, as you scrunch your nose, pressing your fingers to your temples. Your brain was starting to hurt. but then he was moving closer.

you hold your hand out, suddenly becoming more alert. “don’t—“ you say firmly, but then his head is swiftly turning in the direction of your front door. and then he’s right in front of you making you jump, your eyeballs threatening to fall out. “what—“

“shh.” he says, placing his hand over your mouth, as his body pushes you further against the counter and into the corner—where your cupboard creates a blindspot.

you go to at least try and say something, your heart beating on overdrive, but then you hear gruff voices and a loud noise that resembled the breaking of wood, and smashing of glass. you go real quiet after that, trying to see past this large man.

miguel can feel your body still. obviously still tense, but you aren’t shoving him off you. he keeps his hand over your mouth, his breath now hitting your eyelashes.

you stay still. because this man in front of you didn’t have a weapon—from what you know—and his heaving chest and darting eyes are showing you he doesn’t like your new visitors either. then you make eye contact, and you hate to say that you aren’t repulsed by his blood red eyes.

miguel slowly removes his hands, making a ‘silence’ motion with his finger, to which you gulp and close your mouth. miguel can hear the approaching footsteps, and the crunch of glass under their feet.

then his breath is by your ear. “is there somewhere we can hide?” his words tickle your neck, making you shiver.

“uh…there’s…” you try and think. because where the hell can you hide?

“take your time.” he whisper-comments. but you ignore his sarcasm as you meet his gaze, hearing the further approaching men. “the attic.”

miguel tilts his head to the side, silently asking you to show him. but you hesitate. alone. in the attic. with this…stranger. miguel seems to catch onto your swaying mind, as he leans back closer to your ear. “i’m not gonna hurt you, if that’s what your worried about. i have no use for that.”

no use for that? but you can’t dwell because the urgency is back in his voice. “but these guys will. so, if you don’t want a bullet in your head. move.”

and you do. because a bullet in the head doesn’t sound nice. and again—this guy didn’t a weapon. you shift past him, him having moved slightly out of the way.

you lead him—as silently as possible—down the hallway, which is now littered with glass, and your front door is busted open, letting the howling wind prickle your skin.

you turn left and then right, coming to a stop as you reach the long stick you use to hook around the retractable stairs. but miguel doesn’t want to waste time, as he takes the stick from you, while simultaneously hooking his claw around the metal loop and tugging.

you stare at him, seeming to realise just how tall he is. the stairs are soon down as you hear voices, much much closer. miguel grabs your shirt, yanking you towards him as he a practically lifts you onto the first few steps. you hold down your yelp, because right now that would cause a disaster.

scrabbling up you try to keep your feet light, as miguel moves, hot on your heels. then he’s pulling the stairs up in the nick of time, and it all seems to make you sweat, as you pull at your t-shirt, fanning yourself.

miguel stands, having slid the lock, part of his suit getting caught up with cobwebs.

“okay, what the fuck is going on?” you whisper-hiss, making miguel turn to you.

“it’s nothing personal.” he says, walking past you, to look out the small, circular window.

“thank god. but that really doesn’t explain anything.” you say, a mix of fear and adrenaline leading you to anger. “who are you? and who are they? at least answer me that.”

miguel looks back at you, sighing, as he takes in your flustered state. “maybe i should have left you down there.”

“is your name that top secret?” you keep fanning yourself as you scrunch your eyes together, trying to wrap your head around everything that had just happened.

“miguel.” he finally says, making you open your eyes.

“what?”

“my name…” he says, slightly stepping closer. “is miguel.”

“ah…” you say, but then your brows furrow. “is it real?”

miguel looks at you, pausing a moment. “my…name? you’re asking if my name is real?” he’s in slight disbelief, as his expression displays what looks to be distaste.

“well, i would have assumed you’d say some…hero name. you look like you jumped out of a comic book.” okay…you may be saying too much. but your mind is fried and you desperately needed answers. of any kind at this point.

“that’s flattering.” he states dryly.

“no seriously. why are you dressed like that?” you ask, eyeing him. you hated the fact that he didn’t look…bad.

“right…i keep forgetting you don’t a have a spider-person here.”

“what? like spider-man?” you force a chuckle. “yeah, you must be some sort of cosplayer.”

“whatever that is, i’m not. just…” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “how about let’s not talk?”

“no, no, i need answers.” you stepped closer. “if not about you, then about them.” you point to the floor.

miguel licks his teeth—or more accurately his fangs, making your gaze get caught up in the action as you gulp.

“all you need to know is that they’re bad men who like to kill.” miguel edged closer to you. “if you stay out of their way you might survive.” and then he’s brushing past you, crouching by the trap door as he pays close attention to the noises below.

your gaze follows him, as you move to crouch down beside him. miguel looks slightly up, watching you try to listen. miguel tilts his head in observation, as you visibly strain to catch any words.

“you can’t hear them.” he states bluntly. you look up. “then why did you look so intent as if you could hear them?” you ask, narrowing your eyes on him.

“because i can.” he simply answers, catching the intruders’ words again.

“wait…check that.” one of the guys are saying. “don’t most boring houses have those things called attics?”

miguel is then quick, because the little bolt locking you guys in isn’t gonna hold if they try to come up here. he grabs your arm, pulling you to stand, as you slightly jolt at the fast movement. all you had heard was muffled voices.

miguel pulls you closer as he scans the room, stopping on a nook that even he barely noticed, along with a mattress that he could slide over as coverage. before you could say a word, miguel’s hand has moved to your shirt, making it easier to move you with him.

“what’s going on—“

“shut up.” miguel whisper-hisses by your ear, pushing you towards the nook, as you both crouch down. miguel then webs the mattress tight against the wall, making it inhumanly possible to move it if you didn’t have the type of strength miguel had.

your eyes widen as you see the fading orange strings shoot out of his wrist, before he’s pulling you back to him. but with the harsh, unexpected pull, your foot slips.

miguel reacts quick, because if you fell, the thud would alert them of your hideout—“them” having now bashed through the trap door. your breathing hitches, as miguel moves, your head almost hitting the floor.

now you rest against the dirty ground, breathing erratic as miguel hovers over you, breathing equally as hard. his hand is holding the back of your head, as the other cages by your hip.

and you can’t move, because they’re already walking up into the attic. you sew your mouth shut, as you do your eyes, the slight scrunch of your features getting noticed by miguel. whose face is millimetres away, his breath tickling your heated skin.

“why am i even helping you…” he mutters so quietly you almost don’t catch it.

“i’d like to know that too.” you whisper just as quietly back. you slightly crack your eyes open, meeting his gaze. you press your lips together, at the close proximity. miguel’s eyes narrow. “don’t talk.”

“you talked first.” you reply, slightly lifting your head to his ear before placing your head back down. “and you can move your hand—“ because it was still placed under your head, but then miguel’s finger—or claw—was pressing firm against your lips, shushing you.

the footsteps were near, and you actually hold your breath. miguel slightly pushes down on your stomach, forcing you to breathe, as the warm air hits his finger—still pressed against your lip. then his breathe is by your ear. “it’d be a wasted effort if I didn’t keep you alive longer.”

your heart is beating in your chest, his practically right up against yours. and he doesn’t leave his spot by your neck, as his breathing tickles the hairs there. “mi…miguel.” you carefully whisper, and his hold on the back of your head tightens, his claws sinking into your hair.

“didn’t i say to be quiet?”

“then stop talking.” you mutter back. and miguel could actually laugh at you. because what position are you in to use that harsh tone. he grabs your cheeks with his hand that was placed by your hip, resulting in him being practically on top of you, making you tense.

he squeezes your cheeks so that your mouth was forced to open. “stop. talking.” he said slowly. and now you physically couldn’t with his claws pressed to your cheeks.

but then the footsteps grew very very close. right by the mattress. and both you and miguel turn your head. you then glance down because you felt a breeze across your ankle. your foot was in an easy view and you want to curse. because was that really going to be your undoing?

miguel notices your body’s movement and your almost frightened gaze. looking down, miguel clenched his jaw. his hand moved down your body, wrapping around your thigh, as he very slowly widened your legs.

your look is of harsh question when miguel meets your gaze. but he doesn’t stop, pulling your foot out of few, by spreading your leg to the side, resulting in him practically laying between them.

you rest your head back, clenching your jaw as you ignore anything and everything. then miguel is pulling your chin back to face him, as he listens to the men’s steps. “anything else I need to fix for you?” he whispers so quietly in your ear. you want to hit him, because this position makes you feels far too vulnerable.

but you can’t say a thing. you know you can’t. not until the men leave. you slightly shift, your hip bone pressed into the wood. miguel’s hand flies to grab your thigh again, holding you still. tou couldn’t do that. god, you really couldn’t do that.

he keeps his hand on your thigh now, spreading it even wider, making your breathing hitch as you force your lips to press together till it hurts.

how the hell did you go from organising your washing to being under a large man…vampire…thing, where you could feel everything? that’s an answer you’d love to know right about now.

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sanjoongie · 23 days

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ᆞAᆞᆞlᆞᆞpᆞᆞhᆞᆞaᆞ

ღ @pirateeznet 2nd anniversary Fic~

ღGenre chosen: sci-fi, with prompt: a lab-engineered [unspecified] has broken out of the lab, and you/a member find you/a member hiding in an alley

ღPairing: Scientist! Jeong Yunho x Hyena Hybrid! Reader (f)

ღGenre: smut

ღau: sci fi, hybrid

ღtrope: s2l

ღword count: 2,698

ღsummary: when yunho gets fired from his big corporation job as a scientist, on his way out, he finds you in an alleyway and brings you home. what he doesn't see coming is exactly how much more of the animalistic side of you there is...

ღspecial thanks to @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii for helping me iron some details out

ღsmut warnings below cut!!

ღwarnings: toxic male moment!, futa, dom! Reader, sub! Yunho, oral (f), fingering (f), cock stepping, degradation, Mommy nickname (f), baby boy nickname (yunho), praise kink, degradation kink, orgasm denial

ღmood board inspiration by daeeun @daemour for inspiration:

Yunho was having an absolute shit day.

Yunho worked in a top-class, corporate funded lab. The problem was that he was stuffed into an absolutely useless department. What the fuck was Developmental Analysis anyways? So Yunho felt like his academic mind was rotting away in a basement suite.

So what if he drank sometimes at work? It was boring. He didn’t actually do anything. He could be studying and breaking down genetic makeup, but noooooo he just filled charts and wrote up papers that he was pretty sure weren’t getting read.

His boss, some frou-frou higher up that probably didn’t know the difference between an atom and an apple, looked at him distastefully from across their desk.

“I’m sorry to inform you, but we’re letting you go.” Except for this man, Yunho squinted at the name plate at the desk, Park Seonghwa? Yeah, this guy didn’t look sorry at all.

“Here’s a box to put your things in and leave the premises immediately. I’ll have Jongho escort you for old times' sake.” Seonghwa put on the most half-assed sympathetic smile and then waved his hands to show he was finished with Yunho.

Yunho hiccupped while he put his framed text photo of Every disaster movie starts with the government ignoring a scientist that his best friend Mingi had bought him when he first got the job. Yunho didn’t need this job. This job needed him! Yunho sent a glare around at the open concept office, and everyone ducked their heads.

“C’mon, Yunho.” Jongho gripped his upper arm rather roughly. “This hurts me more than it hurts you, big guy.”

“I’m the one that got fired. How are you hurting more than me?!” Yunho pointed out but nonetheless grabbed his box and let Jongho tug him towards the elevator.

Jongho turned his head away and, with his free hand, wiped a finger at his eyelashes. “You’ve the best work friend I’ve had, Yunho.”

Yunho rolled his eyes and dropped his jaw, making a face. He was so over this place.

Jongho didn’t let go of his arm, even as they reached the rotating doors to the upper level. “Seonghwa says I’ve got to take your lab coat too, Yunho.”

Yunho sent a look of disbelief at the security guard. “I paid for this out of my own pocket!”

Jongho shrugged his shoulders. “They’ll remove the charge from your severance pay anyways, bro. Just do it.”

Yunho squared his shoulders stubbornly. “I may be fired, but I’m still a scientist. They can’t take that away from me.” And with that final sentence, Yunho twirled around on his heel to leave. He overestimated and did an extra half twirl, facing the wrong way to leave. He put his converse-covered feet in front of each other, heavily crossing his legs, but eventually, he made his way out of the building forever.

“Stupid corporate bigwigs,” Yunho mumbled under his breath.

Where did he park his car again? Yunho instinctively turned down an alley. He was pretty sure he jaunted down it on his way to work this morning. Who fires someone on a Monday anyway?

Something pushed a can into the middle of the alley, and Yunho stopped. No object moved without a force behind it. Was it an alley cat or a homeless person?

Yunho started to dig into his box. “Uhhhh, if you want something of worth, I suppose this pen might be good for a few bucks at the local pawn shop, but I can’t make any promises,” Yunho muttered.

“Help…me…” A raspy voice says from behind some garbage bags.

Yunho took a step back from the rustling bags. “Listen, you don’t want a piece of this, buddy.” Yunho dropped his box and brandished his old letter opener.

“...please…”

Yunho grabbed his phone from his back pocket and turned on the flashlight. You blinked up at him, dark eyes reflecting back the light. Yunho shook his head. Didn’t only nocturnal animals have that feature?

“Who are you?”

You whined, hands in between your legs, that sprawled out on either side of you. “...I…escaped.”

“Me too! I’m so glad I never have to go back to that place. You know what? We should celebrate! At my place.” Yunho pulled his flask from his box. “I’ve got more where this came from!”

As it turned out, Yunho’s car had gotten impounded from its less than auspicious parking spot in front of a computer café. Yunho lugged his box to the nearest bus and paid for both your fares.

“A little early for Halloween, isn’t it?” The bus driver shouted.

Yunho pouted as he sat down on the bus. “I’m a real scientific man!”

You hesitated at the front, arms wrapped around your body. Yunho patted the seat beside him, and you scurried over. You tucked yourself into his frame and shivered. Yunho instinctively put his arm around your shaking shoulders.

“Hey hey.” Yunho patted your shoulder in reassurance. “We’re better than that place! There's no need to cry.”

Yunho stumbled off the bus steps, missing his bus stop by several stops later. But that was okay. Because he had his flask and he had you now as company.

“So, what do you go by, fellow escapee?” Yunho giggled, tipping his head back and taking a shot of his whiskey.

“Fi--”

Yunho hiccupped, interrupting you. “Fi, huh? That’s cute. I’m Yunho.”

“Yu--” Yunho shoved the flask at you. “Yu?”

“Yuyu!” Yunho giggled again. His nose and ears were red. “I love it. Yuyu and Fi!”

You sniffed the flask and then growled at it. Yunho shrugged and took the flask from you. “More for me then!”

How Yunho managed to drink, balance his box, and make it back to his apartment is a mystery, but the fired scientist does, in fact, do everything AND unlock the door to his place.

“You stay as loooooong as you want,” Yunho says, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’ll never kick you out. I’m not mean like that horrible place.”

“I--” You take a long look at the bachelor pad. “Do you live alone?”

“I used to have a roommate, but he got a girlfriend.” Yunho rolled his eyes. He landed on his couch pretty heavily with a huff. “San, the romantic.”

You tug on the beanie over your head and the long jacket over you. Yunho squinted at you. Did you have those on earlier? What did he care? “Make yourself at home.”

Yunho spent the rest of the night drinking any liquor he could get his hands on. He bitched and whined and complained about his job and his place of work. You listened to him, preferring his babble to the thoughts in your own head.

Eventually, Yunho laid down on the couch, mumbling under his breath about the idiocy of the 1%, arm outstretched to the floor. Tentatively, from your position on the floor along him, you reached your hand to brush your fingers to his.

“You and me, kid,” Yunho grunted from under his breath. “We’re gonna take over the world.” His fingers curled into yours before you both fell asleep.

When Yunho woke up, he groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Oh fuck.”

The toilet flushed, and then you came out of his bathroom. Yunho was too busy rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I need water,” he noted to himself.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you said sweetly, “My clothes were…dirty--”

Yunho shouted and jumped on his couch. “What the fuck?”

You winced. “I’m sorry, I’ll take the clothes off immediately!”

Your hands grabbed the hem of Yunho’s t-shirt and began to yank it off. Yunho’s eyes ran over your soft thighs, your tummy, your underboob and then covered his eyes. “No no, it’s quite alright, you can wear it!”

You chewed your bottom lip nervously. “You don’t remember last night, do you?”

“Well, by the way I’m fighting nausea, and a half naked woman is coming out of my bathroom, I can make assumptions.”

You shook your head vehemently. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Bad idea to fuck me? I’m sure others told me I'm better when I’m drunk…” Yunho scratched the back of his head in confusion.

You whined in the back of your throat. “You didn’t fuck me, Yunho. You helped me escape.”

Yunho chuckled dryly. “Oh right,” he said mirthlessly, “I got fired.”

“I really appreciate what you’ve done,” you said in a worried tone. “Not a lot of people would have stuck their necks out for me.”

Yunho waved his hand. “It’s nothing, Fi…” Whatever else was going to come out of his mouth was gone as you pulled your yellow tail around your body and anxiously pulled at some black hair at the tip.

“Oh, I’ve fucked up.”

“Please, Yunho, don’t kick me out,” you begged immediately. “You said you’d never kick me out last night!”

“I also said I’d solve the majority of Einstein’s theories!” Yunho yelled back.

You winced, curling your shoulders forward to make yourself smaller. “Please,” you whimpered.

Yunho zoned in on the black tipped yellow ears on your head. Oh he was so fucked. He had heard rumors about the Genetic Experimentation level, but he just thought it was other scientists razzing him.

Adrenaline rushed through Yunho. He grabbed your arm roughly, akin to the way Jongho escorted you out of his old work and started towards the door. “I’m taking you back before I get sued. What the fuck was I thinking? A million dollar investment in my apartment? I’ll tell them I found you and I brought you back as soon as I could!”

“No, you can’t!” You struggled in Yunho’s grip, digging your feet in, but still the man pulled you to his door.

“The hell I can’t!” Yunho snapped. “This is my house and my life. You will listen to me.”

Something snapped in you. No one ever out ranked you. You were the strongest, the fastest, the better one in this situation. Who the fuck was Yunho to tell you what to do???

You growled, deep in your chest, and planted your feet. You broke the grip. Yunho had you by hitting his hand off you with your fist. Yunho yelled in surprise and held his wrist to his chest. You placed two hands on Yunho’s shoulders and dug your fingers in cruelly to his neck muscles. Yunho whimpered and was driven to his knees. “You weak-minded man,” you sneered.

“Weak minded?!” Yunho gulped as he stared up at you.

“You are below me in every single fucking way,” You spat. “How dare you try to evict me when you promised me safety. Are you that scared of the world that you can’t stand for your own words? Pathetic.”

Yunho licked his lips. What is going on right now? What happened to the pleading woman who he could have sworn was smaller than him just a few minutes ago.

“I’ll show you who’s boss, little man,” you threatened.

Yunho watched with fascination as something rose from under his t-shirt that you still had on. “I bet you’ve never seen a clit as big as mine, huh, sissy boy?”

“clit?” Yunho’s eyebrows shot into his fringe.

“Wanna see?” You said practically giddily.

Science made Yunho nod his head.

You tucked your fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down your legs, and neatly stepped out of them. Then you raised the t-shirt to reveal that your clit had indeed engorged itself until the point where it appeared like a… Yunho’s eyes became as big as saucers.

“I… You have a cock…” Yunho whispered almost reverently.

You shook your head. “No, sweetums, that’s my clit. It’s ten times more sensitive than your pathetic cock.”

“How sensitive?” Yunho asked.

“Why don’t you suck it and find out,” You said sweetly.

Yunho nodded his head to himself. His mouth was watering. Something about your domineering attitude was honestly luring him in. He wanted to wrap his lips around your clit. He wanted to feel what you felt like in his mouth. And most of all, he wanted your approval all of a sudden. What would it take?

“There’s a good boy,” you cooed as Yunho licked the tip of your clitoris.

His eyes glanced upwards to your encouraging, smiling face and then his lips encompassed the head of your engorged clit. He sucked on it and it caused your head to cast backwards. “Fuck, Yunho, that feels amazing, baby.”

Yunho looked nervous as he bobbed his head down your length, gagging as you hit the back of his throat. Except that it felt wonderful and you needed more of it.

“Drop your jaw, sweetums,” you cooed some more. “Let Mommy fuck your throat, hmm?”

Yunho managed a tiny squeak in agreement and then you were shoving your clit down his throat. Yunho moaned in between breaths, your slick-covered clit gliding over his tongue and down his throat. Being used like this was making him hard.

“What's this?” You sang, and Yunho felt his stomach drop out of his ass.

The hard bottom of the ball of your foot pressed down on his semi-hard cock. “Are you getting turned on by this, Mister alpha male?”

Yunho whimpered as you continued to step on his cock. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and you sighed in disappointment. “More like a sweet baby beta, hmm?”

You pulled out your clit and grabbed it by the base. You smeared it against Yunho’s cheek, watching as his ears got red in embarrassment. “Stick your tongue out, Yunnie,” You commanded.

Yunho did, looking debauched and delicious in the process. You tapped your clit on Yunho’s outstretched tongue, enjoying the feeling of the roughness against your sensitive organ.

Your other free hand gripped the back of Yunho’s head and you shoved your clit back into his mouth.

“That's it, take my clit in your mouth, just like that,” You moaned.

This sensation of having your clit sucked like this was making your pussy lips wet with desire. “Put your pretty fingers in me, Yunho, make me feel real good.”

Yunho stared up at you, your clit pushed into the soft flesh of the inside of his cheek, as he put one, then two fingers inside of you. You moaned at the dual sensation. It was nothing that you have ever experienced before; it was mind-numbing as Yunho penetrated you and sucked on you.

“Make mommy cum, Yunnie, oh fuck yes, that feels so good baby boy, give me what I want. Come on, swirl that tongue around me. Suck me good. Curl those fingers into my rough spot, that's a good boy, yeah yeah!!-”

You let go of Yunho’s head as you rode your orgasm. Yunho coughed, wiping his lips with the back of his mouth. “...what was that?” He asked.

You opened your eyes and stared down with a lust-lidded look. “That was my pseudo-penis, and that was me dominating you, Yuyu. But you liked it, didn't you, big boy?”

Yunho swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I…”

You gripped his chin harshly and began to growl. “Say it, Yunho. Say it for Mommy.”

Yunho whined, biting down on his lower lip. “I like it, Mommy. Yunho likes being your baby beta.”

“Much better.” You let go of Yunho and pushed the t-shirt back down, your clit having become normal sized again. “Now you know what happens when you try to pull rank on me.”

“You're just going to leave me like this?” Yunho called out dejectedly.

You waved a hand. “I'm gonna shower. You take care of yourself, big boy.”

Yunho watched as you sauntered to the bathroom and wondered how exactly he had gotten himself into this mess. And why exactly he was DYING for another chance for you to fuck his throat.

Yunho sat in thought. You had a pseudo penis. Your genes made you dominate him. Your tail and ears were yellow with black accents…

“Wait, you’re a hyena hybrid?!” Yunho shouted out to the closed door, and he swore he heard a cackle just like a hyena on the other side.

#pirateeznet #2ndpirateezyear #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho fanfic #atz smut #ateez scenarios #jeong yunho scnearios #topaz's work #recent #ღatz #yunho smut

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findafight · 2 years

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Ohhh fic where Steve and Robin and Dustin and Erica all casually make funny little haha jokes with each other about getting tortured/almost caught by the Russians under Starcourt because they all have that shared trauma and had many a long late night calls reassuring each other they're alive and playing dnd together and fulfilling lifetime supply of icecream obligations.

They do this because sure the rest of the party knew there were Russians under Starcourt but everything they went through in that basement was sorta...forgotten in the aftermath of literal flesh monster. And with Hopper dead and the Byers moving, there's so much happening that whatever happened to Steve's face (lost another fight...) and why he and Robin went from mildly antagonistic co-workers to codependent goobers who couldn't go literally a day without seeing the other or what made Dustin always ask if Erica was going to come for party hang outs are all sort of brushed under the rug. Not a big deal, really. Bigger things happening after everything.

And they cope together and scoops troop is a weird little section of the party no one but them really understands. Robin and Steve are attached at the hip and to a lesser extent so are Erica and Dustin (but they'll never admit it), and they all have mini gatherings together.

So, the casual mentioning of starcourt and specifically what went down with the Russians is commonplace for them. (Erica is quick to remind them she saved their asses, and are they so lame they need her help again? but she smiles and Steve and Robin just laugh and give her a big hug.) And somehow, they forget that not everyone really knows what went down before July 4th 1985.

And I want them to do it in front of everyone. I want them to have their stupid "this was so fucked up but we're alive and we got through it so now we have to laugh or we may never stop crying about it" banter at a big "we saved the world again!" Barbecue. I want the rest of the folks there to go silent and them not to notice.

I want someone to mention Steve not getting a black eye this time, congrats! and Robin going "the only reason why I didn't get one last time was because the Russians said-"

And Steve, who is lying with his head in her lap, reaches up to gently cup her cheek and says in a terrible Russian accent "don't worry, we will not ruin your pretty face!" (everyone is quiet around them, they do not notice)

She laughs. "And punched me in the gut a few more times. I peed blood for like, three days."

Steve goes "ewwww" only to be pinched by robin.

"you peed blood too, dingus. You got it worse than me and my pretty face."

He giggles and opens his hand up for a high five "pissing blood buddies, hell yeah!" And shifts in her lap. "But they bruised my pretty face. Rude."

"aww. It's okay, Stevie, your face is still so pretty. Prettiest boy in Hawkins."

"thanks Robin."

"at least Dustin and Erica got us out before they started ripping out fingernails." She shudders.

"or used the bonesaw"

"mmm. Unfortunately not before we got funky truth serum drugs though."

He leans up, looking at the two "y'all couldn't have been a bit faster?" But he's smiling, teasing. A well worn joke.

Dustin and Erica respond simultaneously with "I'm missing bones, Steve, what do you want from me?" And "I was ten and my legs were short as shit. Beggars can't be choosers." Respectively.

It is at this point an Actual Grown Up butts in.

"what. What do you mean ripping out fingernails?"

Robin and Steve look towards Joyce, who asked.

"like. To interrogate us? Because we just kept saying we worked for scoops even with the truth serum."

"because they thought we had to be superspies to get into their creepy lair and not a bunch of kids."

"mmhmm"

Hopper jumps in "wait. You were tortured by them?"

Robin and Steve give him eerily similar looks that express how obvious the answer to that is.

"yeah, duh."

"I don't go looking to get brain damage every year, you know."

Hoppers eye twitches. "Why didn't you say anything?"

#steve Harrington #robin Buckley #erica sinclair #dustin henderson #scoops troop #the party #stranger things #platonic stobin #stobin #i want eddie to be the only one who knows bc they were assigned to fill him in on the upsidedown so obvs it came up #and he is like that is so fucked up but i guess it works for you? hopefully?#steddie #mayhaps....if i ever write more of this lmao #finda writes stuff #finda's rambles

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cranberrymoons · 10 months

Text

speak a little louder

prompt: mutual pining (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: t word count: 673 words tags: fluff, flirting, nerds in a basement

welcome to Day 3 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

The campaign lasts all day.

That’s what they call it – a campaign – as if it’s an actual military coup and not what it really is, which is a bunch of teenage nerds sitting around a table in Mike Wheeler’s basement with sodas and a bag full of dice.

Steve is used to it by now, but he doesn’t expect to have to wait for a whole extra hour when he shows up to collect them, but here he is, sitting on the couch in the corner and staring at the ceiling while he listens to Eddie drone on and on about elves or some shit.

Well – drone is maybe sort of an inaccurate word, considering how into it Eddie’s getting, crouched on his seat like a gargoyle, talking with his hands, doing the voices. It’s actually kind of fun to watch, and Steve is maybe sort of pretending not to find it as interesting as he does, because he has a reputation to maintain, dammit, and he refuses to be drawn in by the spark in Eddie’s eye or the flush on his cheeks or the way his fingers weave strands of the story across the table.

Whatever. Steve doesn’t even care.

“Sorry about that,” Eddie says when it finally wraps up, when he’s climbed off his chair and is standing in front of Steve while the kids bicker over something and take their sweet time packing their things. “Couldn’t stop in the middle, they would’ve killed me.”

He reaches behind his ear for a cigarette stuck there, and Steve stares at the way his rings catch the light as his hand moves.

“No problem,” he says. He clears his throat. “Hey, can I –”

He nods his head toward the cigarette, and Eddie raises his eyebrows, holding it out.

“Bum a smoke?” he asks. “Sure, Harrington. Anything for the valiant babysitter.”

Steve smiles as he accepts it from him, and he tries to ignore the way his stomach flips when their fingers brush.

“Thanks.”

---

They take them upstairs, outside to wait for the kids, and it’s starting to get cold enough now that Steve has to flip up the collar of his jacket against the chill as soon as they step onto the porch.

“That was cool back there,” he says around the filter clenched in his teeth as he ducks his head to light the cigarette. “The thing, or whatever.”

Eddie eyes him for a moment, then flicks ash onto the ground. “It was like… the metric opposite of cool, but thanks anyway.”

Steve laughs. “Still. It looked fun.”

“You should join us sometime,” Eddie says. He clears his throat. “I mean… if you want.”

And Steve can’t help it; even on top of everything big and scary going on in his chest right now, the idea of actually playing the fantasy math nerd game sounds like –

“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I think I’ll leave that one to the pros.”

Eddie laughs a little. “Oh, we’re pros now?”

“You managed to save the elf. I think. Sounds pretty professional to me. I couldn’t save an elf.”

Eddie gives him a look. “There wasn’t even an elf in that part of the campaign. I think you’re just making shit up.”

Steve laughs too at that. “Yeah, I had… no idea what you were doing. But the kids seemed into it.”

“So what are you into, then?” Eddie asks. “If not nerd shit, then what?”

You , Steve wants to say. Mostly these days, I’m just into you .

He takes a breath. “I don’t know,” he says instead. “I don’t mind the fantasy stuff. It’s the math part I have issues with.”

Eddie smiles a little. “Then take the numbers out of it. Come watch a movie with me sometime. I bet we can find some kind of nerd thing for you to be into.”

Steve feels his stomach give another little jolt as he stubs out his cigarette. “Yeah, I bet we can.”

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

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deepestnightcolor · 4 months

Note

okok so sam fluff- Sam is the readers best friend and seb and Abby try to set Sam and the reader up and they end up confessing their feelings for each other and such 🙏🤨💕 idk maybe it's cliche but I like it I think its cuteee

ᴀ/ɴ: Thank you so much for your request, love! I hope you enjoy the story, even though it might be a little cliché! Thank you so much for your time and attention! <3

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x GN!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 1677 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: It's fluff. With a make-out session. But fluff!

☾ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ☽

"We gotta do something about this," Sebastian sighed, rolling his eyes as he rested his chin on the cue. "Definitely. He's useless like this," Abigail murmured to her taller friend.

The two of them were talking about Sam, whose turn it had been for almost ten minutes. However, the blond hadn't even noticed yet, his blue-green eyes trained on someone with a look on his face that could only be described as lovesick.

Seb didn't even have to turn around to know who he was looking at; the farmer, of course. Ever since you had moved in, Sam had been interested in you, desperate to find out more about you and get closer to you.

"Sam."

Sebastian's voice was stern, all rough around the edges with an annoyed undertone. But still, there was no reaction. The black-haired man just couldn't believe it had to come to this. He pulled out his keys from his pocket, leaning over the table and jingling them right in front of Sam's face. The blond blinked, a confused look flashing over his face as he focused on the keys, then he finally let his eyes flicker to Sebastian.

"Yeah, it's your turn, Samson." A blush spread on Sam's face, who then quickly nodded at his friend. "Sure! Sorry, was a little distracted by..." His eyes trailed back to the farmer, making Seb roll his eyes; he was quick to shake the keys again. "Jingle jingle...Pay attention, Samson."

The shot Sam placed could have as well never happened, making the dark-haired man hide his face in desperation.

"We really need to do something."

The whole town had figured out by now that you and Sam were pining for one another. Everyone, simply every single one knew, just not you and Sam. Sam had often whined to Sebastian how sure he was that you didn't really like him, that you definitely crushed on someone like Alex or Elliott, men with determination. You, on the other hand, had confided in Sebastian that you KNEW that Sam and Penny were into one another and that it would CRUSH you if he rejected you, so you just didn't try.

Meanwhile, Sebastian tried to get behind how the fuck both Sam and you always figured out when he was outside smoking to tell him about things like this. Things that were so obviously wrong, at that.

Though Sebastian wasn't cruel, which is why he decided to come up with a plan. (Maybe also because he craved a smoke break that wasn't interrupted by two lovesick puppies, but he preferred to think the plan came from the goodness of his heart). The plan was primitive, really, but it had been all Abigail and he had been able to come up with.

Luring you and Sam to his basement had been the easiest task of all - texting them he was in the mood for a round of Solorian Chronices hadn't been hard, after all.

What was hard was getting the two of you to stay in the basement together.

One of you always had to follow him when he got up, either Sam or you was always right by his heel when he got up.

"I'll get some snacks," he said. "I'll come with!" Sam had chimed, getting up so fast he almost toppled over. "I'll get my music box from upstairs," Sebastian had tried. "I'll help you look," you had offered, already on your feet and walking towards the door. "Ah shit, I forgot to bring in the laundry," he had desperately tried. "Oh, I'll help you," both of you had said, just to blush and grin awkwardly at each other. It was infuriating. Cute, he had to admit, but fuck did it piss him off.

Sebastian's fingers were drumming on the table as he watched you exchange sneaky little glances, small smiles, and shy giggles whenever your fingers did as much as brush along the other's. With every minute that passed, Sebastian's need to slam his head against the table and to beg you to just finally kiss and date grew unbearable.

He just had to get out of here.

Suddenly, he had an idea. It was just as stupid as this shit plan in itself was, but fuck, you were literally giving him no choice. When the two of you exchanged yet another set of telling glances, the black-haired man simply jumped to his feet, running to the door and smacking it shut behind him before locking it tight.

"I'll have a smoke break!" He called, already jogging up the steps before anyone could convince him to do something other than inhale a cigarette in peace.

Sam and you stared at the now closed door that had been wide open just mere seconds before in disbelief - and had you actually just heardthe s a key lock it shut? "What the fuck-" Sam whispered, chuckling awkwardly when your eyes met. "Hah, probably just... you know. Just a stupid prank. Sebastian is stupid sometimes, y'know."

The moment the words had left his mouth he wanted to smack himself. Shit, why did he always sound so stupid?

The chuckle that came from your direction made his eyes slowly flicker toward you. "Is that so?" You asked, giving Sam a smile that made his heart leap right into his throat. Why was your smile so pretty? It was unfair, really! Made him want to snuggle up to you, hold you close, kiss you. All of it.

"Isso," Sam murmured as he started an attempt to hide his growing smile under the palm of his -admittedly sweaty- hand. You bit around on your lower lip and Yoba did you look adorable like that, all shy and flustered - just like him. "And why would he want to prank us like this?"

The blond's heart was beating in his throat. How could he not find you endearing? How could he not crave your attention, your presence? How could he not be drawn to you like a moth to light? A question of even greater importance: how could he let you know all of it?

"I...don't know." Could Sebastian really want to set you two up like this? No. Only he knew of his little crush, so maybe it really was just a cruel joke on him? But on the other hand, it had been quite the surprise that Seb had made your characters in the game fall in love and date. Could that have been?-

"I..uh, dunno. Maybe just for fun?"

The two of you sat in silence for a while, staring at the board in front of you. The electricity between the two of you could be felt, but both of you were simply too shy, bordering on dumb, to act on it. Sam's leg was bouncing up and down, snapping the rubber band he had put around his wrist this morning. Why had he put it on again?

He couldn't remember.

When he looked up from his hand, he was met with this gentle smile of yours. The one that made him want to tell you how beautiful you were, how great, how he loved spending time with you-

"Did you call your grandma today?" You asked, nodding at the band around his wrist with your chin. "I think I am falling in love with you," Sam blurted out in response, having both of you stare at one another like deer in headlights.

His brain was already reeling to find a way to get out of this situation. The tension in the room was unbearable now, and he cursed Seb for both the fact that he had no window in his basement and the fact that he had fucking locked you in this basement, thus coaxing this confession out of him! It was all his fault, really! And now you would forever hate him, avoid him, maybe even change sides whenever you saw hi-

His train of thought was immediately interrupted when he felt a pair of arms around his neck, a head pushed in the crook of it. "I thought you were into Penny!" You whispered to him, arms tightening around him.

"And I thought you were into Elliott," he murmured, closing his eyes. Having you so close, being wrapped up in your arms, it all felt so...intoxicatingly right. Like all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Only after several moments of just...being with one another did Sam slowly pull away. "So...you feel similarly?"

"I feel the same!" You laughed, all the shyness out of your voice all of a sudden. The tension that had lingered in the air slowly smoothed into something...comfortable, something comfortable drenched in want.

Sam just couldn't help himself; his lips were against yours the moment the words had left your minds. And yours were so soft, so sweet. He could taste the strawberries you had eaten, the Joja cola. And fuck, he was becoming more and more addicted the longer your lips moved in sync. His hands had slid under your butt with such ease that it made you giggle against his lips. It was easy to pull you on his lap, and you did anything but mind. Your hands ran through the blond mess of hair as his hands traveled under your shirt just so he could finally feel the softness of your skin. And how good you felt under his fingertips! So... perfect.

The moan against his lips made his head whirr, his cock beginning to strain against the fabric of his ripped jeans. Such a delicious thing you were, and now he had you, on his lap, under his fingers-

"First you don't realize that you wanna fuck each other, and now you are about to fuck in my room? Absolutely not!" A voice bellowed from the door, yet it wasn't all upset. Amusement lingered beneath the sharp tone as Sebastian watched you scatter away from one another. "Fucking finally, though."

"So...you knew?" Sam asked, all shy and blushing again.

"Who fucking didn't, Samson?"

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